#finally just saying screw the indecisiveness | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ma1dita · 6 months

Text

about you

this was a request! read it here

words: 4.3k (longest one yet ohmy)

summary: james potter takes ‘easier’ for granted and finds out he now has a living reminder of that

warnings: none! sort of au, everyone lives and they win the war— angst angst angst, maybe open ended!!! groveling james and reader is a MOTHA (afab!)

a/n: guys i missed writing angst…i’m a deeply sad soul at heart so i enjoyed this a lot. I listened to ‘night shift’ by lucy dacus writing the first half, and ‘about you’ by the 1975 for the second half,,,,, both on repeat. i don’t mean to post at ungodly hours but i hope you enjoy!

posted: 11/11/23

—-

Insecurity is an ugly thing. It tugs at your frame, holding your shoulders hostage and your countenance shriveled in a scowl as you slink forward in your seat. But what should the rational reaction be when your boyfriend, the one you’ve planned out the rest of your life with— takes you out to dinner on a random Tuesday and then decidedly backtracks on everything you’ve built together? Your ears are ringing loudly, and you dumbly ask him to repeat himself when he says he wants to take a break.

“So that’s it then. You’ve made your decision and I just have to be okay with losing a year and a half of my life because you aren’t sure if you love me?” Your tone cuts through the fraying tether that holds you two together in the corner booth.

James for once, is at a loss for words. He wasn’t really sure of what to expect when he brought you here tonight, but any reaction to his admission was bound to hurt the both of you. You had to have known about his hesitations. Graduation was three weeks away, and everything was about to change, whether either of you liked it or not. Stupidly enough, James does love you, but that’s not the problem. The proximity he’s had as Head Boy working with Lily Evans makes him wonder if the life he lives is what’s meant for him. It keeps him up at night, gnawing at his resolve and comfort in being with you. He feels ungrateful to have it so easy. Loving you is easy. But the imposter syndrome sneaks into his room late at night in the form of ‘what if’.

“I…it’s just the timing of it all. We’re about to leave Hogwarts, and I don’t want to tie you down if I know I’m unsure of my—our future.”

He reaches out to grab your hand, and many a time ago, his sense of awareness was what you admired about him. You’d both get this familiar feeling of needing comfort, and within a minute, your fingers would intuitively find the other’s like it was second nature. Now, the thought of his touch might make you break his hand off to serve on a silver platter.

“Fuck your timing. If you think it’s as easy as making the decision to just quit while we’re ahead…. I love you. Don’t you…Is that not—”

You clear your throat, the fire in your indignation being stifled by the whimpering feeling of knowing this was going to happen. The understanding of his plight, the knowing that he wants more. You could see it in the way his eyes wander when you all hang out, and you could feel it when he needs time to himself before bed, letting you back to your common room in the late hours alone. Screw your heart for appealing to his indecisiveness, his fear, when the final blow is aimed at the relationship you both once wanted together. Head Boy and Head Girl share living quarters after all. What chance did you stand against the girl he fell asleep a room away from? Maybe he dreams of her too, what you couldn’t give and what more she has to offer.

“Tell me something James,” you choke as your body heaves with something akin to nausea. Being lovesick isn’t as romantic as it seems. The hopeless feeling in your tummy throbs as you clench your fists to keep it all down.

“Whatever you want.”

His reply makes you laugh, desolation gripping your esophagus. Who knew feeling empty would feel like drowning? There is no more air left in your lungs that it almost incapacitates you, your last breath spilling out your final ask of him.

“Do you love me? What did I do?”

The noise and chatter around you seems to fall silent as he zeroes in on your face, crestfallen from the words that leave your lips. It isn’t your fault, but how can he tell you that? At 18, he’s feeling stifled by the privilege of having his life all planned out for him. He knows people spend their lives searching for contentment but James can’t decipher if he’s right for all of this pressure falling upon his shoulders. The societal heir of his father’s business empire. The face of the upcoming war, bringing in a new generation of soldiers to fight.

Deep inside, he’s a wild spirit just wanting to live, to be free. And it scares him that you’d follow him to the ends of the Earth, that there isn’t much thinking involved, just doing. The lack of autonomy stifles his soul. How does one know if they’re meant for more? James doesn’t want you to have to suffer the consequences if he can’t figure it out himself.

“I love you honey. So much it hurts me. I just wonder if it’s enough.”

Your hands clatter onto the table, bumping your half-empty pint of butterbeer as you gather your things, shoving them into your knapsack as his final blow hits your senses. And all he does is watch you, face transfixed as if he sees nothing, like he isn’t making the biggest mistake of his life.

There’s no going back after this, you think silently as you steady your trembling hands. There’s also no way in hell you’ll let him see you cry. Fuck that. Your eyes fall over the curls that drape over the frame of his glasses, his face cradled by candlelight and dear Merlin, do you love this boy. All of him, even the parts that don’t reciprocate the feeling. This is the final snapshot in your memory of him, because this fleeting moment will have to be enough.

“I hope you get everything you ever wanted James. For my sake, I hope I never hear a thing about it.”

Perhaps having the last word will absolve you of the feeling that desecrates your entire essence as you put one foot in front of the other, pushing past the door of the Three Broomsticks and out into the unknown. But it’s not enough.

—

The break in routine absolutely shatters you, if we’re being honest. A year and a half of loving him, and three more before that of liking the slow steady burn that is James Potter…. It’s like looking at the world with new eyes and this window of opportunity with graduation nearing is your chance of starting anew. There’s also the custodial aspect after the end of a relationship, and it’s hard to separate the rest of what’s yours and his in your mind. Your friends are his, and his are yours. It makes quite a predicament to not have things so easy as they consider who to eat lunch with, or who’s dorm to hang out in. Hopefully, things get easier with time but you’re not as confident as you once were.

A part of you feels like you don’t belong anywhere anymore. James is the sun, after all; a natural leader— everyone revolves around his ingenious ideas and the light he brings. He’s the one who always has a plan, and everyone follows in his stead. Where do you fit in all of that? Where do you go?

His parents are likely the loveliest people to ever grace the wizarding world. Euphemia catches you by the arm after the graduation ceremony as you’re about to take the 7th year boat back across the Black Lake. With no family in attendance and no boyfriend to dote on, niceties were expended quick enough to want to run out of there and never look back.

“Darling, are you leaving without a goodbye?” Mrs. Potter smiles, calling her husband over both with grins made of sunlight.

Somehow it resonates in your brain that it’s finally over, and your lip trembles when they pull you in for a hug that rivals your hunger to be loved. You think that even if your parents showed up today, it wouldn’t have felt this kind.

“Congratulations dearest! We’re so proud of you,” Fleamont rumbles, a big man with an even bigger heart as he brandishes flowers out of thin air to hand to you daintily. You’re going to miss them terribly. Is it wrong to want more of this? But you remember why it’s not as James’s cologne floods your senses and his silhouette creeps into your periphery. Your smile grows smaller as you two stare at each other and breathe the same air for the first time in almost a month. Whatever’s thrumming in your being, he holds the key to. Mr. and Mrs. Potter try to loop you into a photo together, the magical kind that moves to capture a memory so intimately but both of you stand perfectly still as his and your hesitant dismissals go unheard.

Loving hands fuss over both your caps and the way hair sticks out until you feel your shoulders jostle together for a moment and his hand lands on the small of your back. The flash goes off as you two look at each other in something that still resembles love. You can’t unlove him, not in a day, a month, or ever, you think. Not if you’ve bared your soul to him, even if he hurt you.

You look away first, urging your heart to come back to reality. He’s not yours anymore, and you still love him. Alice told you earlier that he asked Lily out on a date for next Tuesday. What you were supposed to do with that information you’re unsure, but the feeling in your belly helps you say goodbye to the Potters, and clarify that they can keep the picture since you’re not James’ girlfriend anymore. An awkward silence settles over all four of you.

Euphemia rubs your cheek, hushed promises of keeping in touch while Fleamont looks at his son in confusion. James’ hand flexes in the absence of your body against his. He simply watches you walk away again, alone, while he’s surrounded by his friends and his family. The beating of a tiny heart matching your own as you hop onto the boat proves otherwise.

—-

A baby.

You think back to when it must’ve happened, the weekend before that Tuesday, when everything still felt right. With your last exams of your academic career finally done, both you and James were tangled in his silk sheets until dawn, an amalgamation of passionate whispers and lingering touches you could still feel in the days that followed. As you stared at the flutter of his eyelashes and relished the way he pulled you closer in his dream state, you were quite sure that he is, too, tangled within your soul to let go. That your doubts were residual anxiety from preparing for the future. For the first time in a while, you were reaffirmed that the boy sleeping next to you was your forever. Not being careful was a consequence of feeling safe in his arms, and subconsciously, you both hoped that everything would work itself out. As you walked out of the Head Students’ Lounge past noon with James’ hickeys as a necklace and donning your boyfriend’s shirt, you noticed the blush on Lily Evans’ face. You were just so sure, but that felt like forever ago.

Your parents weren’t happy when they came back from their business trip two months after graduation to find you four months along with a prominent bump and filled with so much fear. All plans of getting a job, of moving out, and joining the Order were now replaced with the startling fact that you are 18 and don’t have a single clue on what to do next. Your childhood bedroom feels smaller tonight, with both your parents standing at the door, all of you unsure of what to say. You can’t remember the last time they tucked you in, but as your dad takes a seat on the edge of your bed, it seems possible that maybe you won’t be alone in all of this.

“Whatever decision you make will be the right one, sweetie. If you love that baby, then we do too,” he sniffles, and you don’t recall having ever seen him this emotional before. One thing you are sure of, is this baby is loved, and made from love. The next is that England is not a safe place to raise your baby.

Somewhere far away, in a hidden place guarded by some of the most experienced wizards, the Order of the Phoenix meets again to determine the future of the wizarding world. James’s eyes dart back and forth from the door to whichever adult is talking about the next mission. You didn’t show up again. All of the meetings so far where he was always the first one to arrive and the last to leave in hopes of getting a glimpse of you, and you never showed. There’s a deep worry that haunts him as the months pass by, and he knows that it would be easy to send you a letter, or to show up at your door, but he’s probably the last person you want to see.

“We’re going out for a pint, you ready to leave James?” Lily whispers into his ear, arms curling around to his chest. But he’s not ready at all, sat on the sofa with his eyes on the door, just in case. Trying to love someone who’s still in love is a losing battle, Lily thinks, as she watches her boyfriend look like a child missing their favorite blanket. But in a war like this one, no one would be foolish enough to decline company.

“I’ll meet you there,” he smiles, leaning back to kiss her cheek. It’s cruel to both of them, the way he’s acting knowing that Lily won’t ever be you. Every chance he gets to have a moment to himself, he thinks of the despondent look on your face as you walked away from him and his parents that day. No more anger at all, no biting words or the fighting spirit that he knows and loves. Both of you just accepted what was to come.

Sirius and Remus approach him later after everyone’s left that they got word that you moved to America. He thinks of what could’ve been, and the thought of your safety is the only thing that lets his mind rest as guilt pushes and pulls at his heartstrings like waves.

He’s spent these months fighting in the war, loving and losing that he thinks this isn’t anything like the white house and picket fence fantasy you both used to cook up. As he grabs his coat to leave, James wonders if by being away from all of this you’ll get to live the life you want.

—

“Okay honey, hold on tight to mama.”

Your little boy was almost bouncing off the pavement with a chocolate covered grin, and it makes you laugh harder than it should. Maybe Florean Fortescue’s was not the way to start off your son’s first trip to Diagon Alley, but your new job at the Ministry starts tomorrow and you’ve been missing your favorite stationery. The town was packed with people with the war having ended and trying to start anew. You haven’t seen any familiar faces and maybe years ago that was a bad thing, but hope spreads over Diagon Alley with strangers smiling at Christopher as he skips on the cobblestone, almost tripping over his own feet at the entrance of Flourish and Blotts.

He runs forward to explore the store as you smile at your creation, letting him wander along the aisles as you have done years before. Being back here is like walking through a memory, and though it used to be home, you know yours is walking around in tiny bright red shoes that light up like his smile. Your fingers flip through the different quills and parchment on display, and after finding everything you need, you hear your son’s laughter in the opposite corner of the shop. Motherly instincts always prevail as your feet guide you to the sound of his voice, since he’s never been one to shy away from a friendly conversation.

“Did you find everything you were looking for, honey?”

James’ head whips up from the tiny boy he was entertaining with color-changing quills to see you, and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose to make sure he’s seeing properly. The both of you go quiet as time stands still, with Christopher chattering at your feet.

“Mama! Look at this one, it goes rainbow!” he says, tugging at your coat to see the quill in James’s hand. The pieces start to fit together in James’ mind, looking at your pursed lip, then to the sight of this boy smiling with the innocence he had a lifetime ago. This boy, his son, has your eyes. You shake your head rapidly as he intakes a breath of air.

“Honey?” he whispers, knowing that was his name for you.

“So what, he looks like a honey,” you say defensively, grabbing your son’s hand.

He looks like my son, his eyes say—both of you look down to the child who’s all grins and none the wiser piping up.

“My name’s Topher!”

“Yes it is, and now it’s time to say goodbye to the nice man, okay?” Topher pouts and looks up at his father without even knowing it, handing him the quill.

“Keep it. I’ll pay for it, and then you can write to me,” he says almost desperately, losing grip of everything that he’s been trying to convince himself for the past 7 years.

“Don’t be weird, Potter. Don’t…” you shake your head, eyes misting over. Seeing him again brought back everything. It was already overwhelming to have a kid that’s almost the splitting image of him, to learn of a love so pure after one that’s wrecked you to your core, but being here, within arms reach… You’re 18 again and scrambling away from the corner booth trying to get away from the man you love most not wanting you in return.

“Honey, why don’t you give us a minute to talk? Go find me some cool enchanted stickers for me to bring to work tomorrow, okay?” Your baby runs off without even questioning it, his sense of adventure also inherited from his father.

“I’m…so sorry.” James moves closer to you, and you take a step back sighing humorlessly.

“For what? He’s an amazing kid. Even though… he wasn’t planned, I don’t think I could ever see my life turning out any other way.” You shift your weight to your other foot. He looks, successful, if that’s something he would be proud of. He’s wearing an impressive suit, and his eyes are a bit hardened by the past few years, but his charisma, his smile…. He’s still the boy you fell in love with all those years ago.

“I feel foolish. I was so scared to live my life and then here you are raising our child…”

You blink softly at his words, and it reminds him of your youth, all doe-eyed and full of want. You used to want him like he still wants you. In front of him is a grown woman, a mother who’s strong and filled with memories and love that he should’ve been a part of.

“Things happen for a reason, James. We both did what we had to do.”

His hand brushes yours, and you realize you’ve been without his touch for 7 years. 7 years of being scrubbed clean of James Potter, and not a single regenerated cell in your body has been touched by him. But your son is of him, so you think that no matter how this ends, there will always be a part of you that loves James too.

You extend an olive branch to have him come to your apartment this weekend and get to talk. He knows he doesn’t deserve this kindness, but you know he deserves to meet his son.

—-

The doorbell rings and you take a deep breath as you open the front door, looking up at him holding a teddy bear for Topher.

“He’s still down for a nap. Let’s go sit in the den.” You say quietly. The hallway is filled with pictures of your boy, and of you in different stages these past few years. He stops at a portrait of your parents with Topher being swung between them.

“Your parents….”

“Were supportive; I wasn’t alone,” you muse, knowing he knows of your strained relationship with them back then.

“They actually just retired early last year. Overworked themselves and finally comfortable, so they help out when they can. What about yours?” Trying to make conversation with your ex is terribly hard, but it’s in good spirit and there’s not much to do until Topher wakes up.

“They passed, actually. Mum at the end of the war, and dad 6 months after. Never wanted to be apart, you know that.”

Your face falls at his revelation, “I’m sorry for your loss. They were amazing people. Taught me what it meant to be a parent, for sure.” Amicable silence fills the living room before you clear your throat.

“I have to be blunt, James. What do you want from this? You must be married and busy, so if Topher can’t fit into that….”

“I’m neither of those things, honey. I want to try and see where this goes,” he says scratching the back of his neck.

Your heart stops at his endearment, catching yourself looking at him seriously.

“You can hurt me, but I’m not letting you do that to him. Back then, you were all I ever wanted love to be. And then I had my beautiful baby, and I suddenly knew my love meant more.”

“I never wanted to hurt you. It was a mistake, because I was too proud to accept that I had it good. That what I had was meant for me.” James grabs your hands, begging for you to understand. The lost boy he was is a lifetime away from the man sitting in front of you now. Though it’s touching, you keep your heart guarded because the little boy sleeping down the hall is your biggest priority. You hope he can understand that too.

“He’s not a placeholder for your dreams of wanting a family. You have to build that, I did that myself. I’m not going to let you string him along and then once you have a family of your own, you just up and leave.”

“I know. I was hoping the both of you could be my family, if you give me the chance.” You bite your lip as your thumb runs against his. It’s easier to forgive than to forget. But for Topher’s sake, you can try.

“Tell me something James,” you whisper, having needed to know this for the past 7 years.

“Why did you throw it all away? Was the idea of loving me…so terrible?” He tilts your chin up, and you think that the earnest look on his face is the closure you needed to properly forgive him.

“I’ve never stopped loving you. Loving you is the best part of knowing you. Do you think I ever forgot about you?” He chuckles lowly, brushing back a strand of your hair, and you think this could be dangerous if you let yourself get too close.

“I’ve thought about you everyday for the past 7 years, I just didn’t think I deserved you after everything I’ve done. I was so stupid, I am still. But I’m trying to be better.”

“You think of me but dreamt of her. Was it guilt?” Your hand grabs his as you move it away from your cheek, settling onto your lap. The air around you is suffocating.

“It took time for me to figure out that it was intention. Lily was a distraction. You’ve consumed me since the day I met you. My dreams, my thoughts… All of it is you. I choose to think about you as much as I can, because if I didn’t I was scared I’d forget all the good things about us back then.”

You both hear a thump from your son’s room and realize you’re wiping tears away. James stands up when you do, and both pairs of your socked feet pad closer to your son’s room.

“We start this slow. We make decisions together, and if there’s any inkling I get that he doesn’t want this, it’s done. You understand?” Your hands are firm on the doorknob as he’s standing close behind you, hanging onto every word.

“Every word. There’s no turning back from this.” He wants to ask another question, but before he can, your hand unconsciously finds his and your grip is so comforting that he notices himself sniffle.

“If it all goes well, and if you want, we can try again. But that’s in the far distant future, James Potter.”

“Anything you want, honey. That’s the future I’ve been dreaming of.” With you. Your lips quirk into a smile as they brush against his cheek.

Slowly opening the door to both watch your son wake up from his nap, your hand pulls James into the room behind you. Quietly, he sits on the edge of Christopher’s bed, and when his son looks up at him, you both notice the little boy beaming like the sun.

—-

“Everything you love is very likely to be lost, but in the end, love will return in a different way.” -Franz Kafka

taglist: @jsjcue

love me some tunes! i listened to this while writing:

night shift by lucy dacus & about you by the 1975

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#marauders era #james potter x reader #marauders x reader #james potter x reader angst

941 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 8 months

Text

The Pearl and the Sapphire (6)

[ modern! • Aemond x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, fingering, smut, angst, sexual tension, obsession ]

[description: As a representative of a large family-owned gemstone business, Aemond is attending a major jewellery event where jewellery makers from all over the world are exhibiting. One of them is the Baratheon family. Aemond is tasked with focusing on attracting new customers, but his attention is diverted by the youngest daughter of the eminent maker Borros Baratheon. Slow burn, bitchy, possessive and obsessive Aemond, lots of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request + my sweet @valeskafics)]

A story which is an alternative universe of The Impossbile Choice taking place in modern times. The characters are all the same as in the main series, however, for obvious reasons they will behave differently and experience things differently from medieval times. You can read this without having to delve into the main series.

Series moodboard: Aemond & Miss Baratheon

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

She didn't know how it was possible that the presence of the person who was once your closest in the world could become so frightening and stressful after a few months. She wondered about this as she walked with Cregan through the hotel corridor to her room so they could talk in solitude.

She knew Cregan was a good man and would never hurt her, but still her whole body trembled as she put the card to her door and opened it.

She was afraid of how he would react to her not having the strength to give him a second chance.

She was afraid of how he would react to the fact that she had slept with someone else.

Even though they were no longer together, that surely he had slept with other women, the realisation of what she had done the day before overwhelmed her in his presence. She couldn't get the expression on Aemond Targaryen's face out of her head when he saw Cregan and realised who he was, the helpless, tense look he gave her.

Cregan closed the door behind him and smiled broadly at her, placing his hands at his sides. He looked at her apologetically, as if he knew he had messed up and deserved to be reprimanded.

"Are you angry with me?" He asked her softly, looking at her from under his raised eyebrows. She swallowed quietly, wrapping her arms around herself involuntarily, trying not to show her nervousness.

"What do you mean? What would I be angry about?" She asked, not fully understanding what he was actually trying to say. Cregan sighed quietly.

"For my messages yesterday. For being the indecisive bastard who broke your heart." He said finally. She lowered her gaze and swallowed quietly, feeling the wound in her heart reopen.

She felt like she was sitting in the room with him on the couch again when he told her it would be better if they broke up with each other.

What was she supposed to say?

"I haven't been angry with you for many months, but I can't be friends with you. You demand too much of me, it's been too little time for me to be able to put it all back together again." She said helplessly, wanting to explain to him as best as she could how she felt, her heart pounding like mad.

"I still love you." He whispered, pressing his lips together, and she drew in the air loudly, her whole body trembling. "I know I screwed it up. I know, but it's the truth."

She shook her head, not knowing what to say, the realisation in his eyes that they most likely they didn't want the same thing.

"I slept with someone." She said quietly, feeling as if she had just revealed her disgusting, shameful secret, as if that made her dirty, even though she had always been his bright ray of joy and innocence.

Why did she feel this way if she had done nothing wrong?

Why did she feel this way if she was so comfortable with him, when it was so safe in his embrace.

She realised that if his assistant hadn't started banging on his door then, and if he had offered her to stay with him, she wouldn't have left his room until morning.

She saw that something like pain flashed across his face. He lowered his head and swallowed quietly, as if trying to come to terms with what he had heard.

"I too have slept with other women in the meantime and I have no right to make excuses for you. Though I'll admit I'm surprised, I didn't know you from that side." He said thoughtfully, more to himself than to her, stroking his chin.

She felt her eyebrows arch in pain at his words, at his gentle suggestion that perhaps she had once again proved a disappointment to him. That she did not wait for him politely with a broken heart, but spread her thighs before another men.

She lowered her gaze, trying to contain the heat she felt under her eyelids.

"You don't know much about me." She said involuntarily, and he threw her a surprised look.

"That's not true. You know it's not true." He muttered, wanting to come closer to her, but she stepped back and shook her head.

"It won't work. I won't be able to trust you again." She whispered, shrugging her shoulders helplessly, feeling a tightness in her throat, wanting to run away, to leave the room and hole up somewhere where she could be alone. Cregan blinked at her words.

"I love you. I've always loved you." He said, but her mind told her it wasn't true.

"You abandoned me because I was inadequate and I accepted that as best I could." She whispered with difficulty and he pressed his lips together.

"You simply let me go. You didn't fight for me." He said in a breaking voice, and she involuntarily laughed through her tears, raising her hands in a gesture of despair.

"What was I supposed to fight for? Was I supposed to beg you on my knees? Please don't leave me, I love you? To humiliate myself so that you would feel better. I cried because of you for MONTHS, every day! And now you come back and say you've changed your mind?" She asked on the verge of laughing and sobbing, feeling that it was too much for her, that she couldn't take it anymore.

"Do you love me?" He asked dryly. She blinked and swallowed quietly.

Silence.

"So you never really loved me." He said, and she pressed her lips together and sobbed, shutting herself in, looking at him as if he had hit her, not believing how he could say such a thing.

"I loved you, but you killed that love. You cut her throat and she bled." She mumbled, but he shook his head. He grunted and ran his hand through his hair, tears in his eyes.

"Have a pleasant stay. Give my regards to your new colleague." He said as he walked away, opening the door and closing it behind him. She burst out crying loudly as soon as he left, sliding to her knees, burying her face in her hands.

How could he say something like that?

To try to blame it on her, to spin it in such a way that she was the one who didn't fight for him, she was the one who never loved him.

She lay down on the floor and stayed like that for a while, trying to calm herself down. She thought, looking ahead with a blank stare, that he would probably leave her alone now. She shuddered when Royce knocked on her door saying they had to go to their stand now and she grunted quietly saying she would be right there.

As soon as she had a moment to spare she told her brother everything, not being able to hold in what Cregan had told her. Royce was so furious that he disappeared into the back room for a while saying he had to smoke a cigarette. He returned a moment later, looking at her, biting his lower lip, thinking strenuously.

"I'd be happy to whack his face off." He said, standing with his hands placed at his sides, and she sighed heavily.

"Come on. At least we've explained everything to each other. I think he said all that because it hurt him that I didn't wait for him with open arms." She said dryly, after two days of constant crying she felt like there were simply no more tears left in her body that she could get out.

Royce sighed heavily at her words, put his arms around her waist and hugged her close, a soft kiss landing on her hair, his pleasant masculine perfume reaching her nose.

"Let him fuck off. At least you know you're not losing anything. This boy doesn't need a relationship, he just needs attention." He muttered. She nodded and went back to work. They said nothing to their father because they knew his fury wouldn't result in anything good.

After working all day, she returned to her room tired and discouraged. She lay down on her bed and displayed again the last message she had received from Targaryen the day before. She went back to it several times unable to believe he had written it.

I adore you.

He was touched by how he chose his words. He didn't write 'you're pretty' he didn't write 'you're hot', 'you're sexy', he didn't write 'you're cute'.

He wrote "I adore you".

There was something warm and tender in that expression, just like in his touch, in his kisses, in his hands when he was deep inside her.

His expression that for some reason he had a weakness for her. She had to admit to herself with surprise that he evoked similar feelings in her. Even though his everyday demeanour was aloof, cold and sometimes downright creepy, when it came to intimacy she felt safe with him, as if she had known him for years.

She wondered how his day was going.

She knew he must have said something to Alys, she also saw that he had argued with his grandfather and was all tense when she spoke to him outside the hotel. She felt remorse for leaving him like that just when he opened up. She pressed her lips together and with a pounding heart started to write a message.

She smiled involuntarily when she saw that he displayed it almost instantly, and after a moment his answer appeared. She pressed her lips together seeing his question, she thought he wanted to continue their conversation.

Seeing his last answer she felt a tightening in her stomach and regret. She got an idea from which she felt embarrassed, but then thought she didn't care anymore.

She needed someone to confide in, to tell someone about how she felt and at the same time was ready to offer him the same so that he could let go of what was weighing on him.

Sometimes it was better to confide in a stranger than someone close.

She pressed her lips together, wondering if he would refuse, if he would say they shouldn't and make her unable to look him in the face out of shame for the rest of their stay.

She couldn't believe the simple squeal of delight that came out of her mouth, some strange joy spilling over her heart, as if her best friend was about to come over to her place to gossip and watch silly comedy shows.

Knowing he was due to come she decided to tidy up her room a bit, throwing away the empty food wrappers and disposable cups strewn everywhere. She buried the scattered clothes in her suitcase and began to wonder if she should change.

She decided that she wouldn't.

She jumped up when she heard the sound of a notification and ran to her phone seeing that she had received a new message from him.

She giggled under her breath as she read his message and wrote him back quickly after looking at all the products in the picture.

He displayed her message and did not write back again. She waited for him impatiently excited and happy, although she didn't know for what reason. She felt it was their secret, a secret relationship between two complete strangers. She shuddered when, five minutes before time, she heard a quiet knock on the door.

She liked the fact that he was never late.

She got up lightly from her bed and opened the door, greeting him with a wide, happy smile. He lifted up a plastic bag full of cans. She laughed and said he was meeting the conditions and could come in. She closed the door behind him and took the bag from him, placing it on a desk standing against the wall.

Her room, unlike his, was a regular hotel room with a bathroom and a space with a bed, wardrobe, desk and a few chairs. He hung his leather jacket on a hanger and pulled off his shoes, staying in just a black tight T-shirt, black trousers and socks.

Meanwhile, while she put some of the beers in the small fridge he began to look around, seeing the gowns she had sewn hanging on the hangers covered with a special foil. He lifted it slightly to see the fabric up close and looked at the hand sewn details. She approached him, opening one beer for him, handing him a can.

"Just don't spill it, these gowns are worth more than you might think." She said amused, and he threw her a puzzled look.

"Why do you say that? They're works of art. They should be in a museum." He said it so seriously that she blinked and fell silent, embarrassed, lowering her gaze. She thought those were very kind words.

"Thank you." She said softly, and he hummed under his breath, lowering the foil back down.

"How long does it take you to sew and decorate one such dress?" He asked taking a sip of beer, looking at her intently. She scratched her head at his question.

"It depends. The one I wore during the show I sewed for two months working on it every day." She said calmly and swallowed quietly at the memory of what he had told her the day before.

Already during the show I was wondering how to get you into my bed.

She glanced at him and saw that he was looking at her intensely as if he knew what she was thinking about. A lecherous grin appeared on his face and she blushed as she lowered her head, feeling that she was burning under his gaze. She felt embarrassed as the space between her thighs pulsed, his scent filling her lungs again.

"How did your conversation go?" He asked finally, clearly wanting to take pity on her.

She opened her can with a loud pssst and sighed heavily, moving towards her bed, sitting down with her legs crossed. Encouraged by the gesture of her hand, he walked over to her bed and sat on the other side of it, facing her, leaning his head against the backrest.

She sighed quietly.

"I told him that… that I slept with someone." She said with difficulty, unable to look at him, fiddling with the can in her hands. "Of course I didn't tell him it was you. He said that obviously he had no right to be angry because we weren't together, but that he didn't know me from that side, as if I had disappointed him again. I don't know why even though he had never harboured any demands on me I often felt that I didn't live up to his expectations."

She said uncertainly, taking a sip from her can. She glanced at him and saw that he was looking at her intently, involuntarily turning his beer in his hands. He lowered his gaze as if considering whether he could say what was pressing against his lips.

"Did he force you to do something?" He asked finally, and she felt a tightening in her heart as she began to think about it.

He never forced her to do anything, he always understood her barriers, however, she suddenly realised the way he phrased sentences. She remembered one situation after which she had felt bad for a very long time, and Cregan had to reassure her for days that he was definitely not angry with her and that he understood.

She wasn't sure if she should talk about such things and felt embarrassed, so she didn't answer anything for a long time. She saw that his hand movements had stopped and his body tensed.

"You can tell me if he hurt you." He said quietly and she glanced at him frightened and shook her head quickly.

"No. No, it's not about that, I… uh…" She pressed her lips together and stroked the back of her neck in a gesture of discomfort, feeling her hands tremble. "…I'm not sure you want to hear about it."

"I want to."

She looked at him surprised at how coolly and confidently he said it. He was looking at her so intensely that she felt uncomfortable, something unsettling in his gaze. She swallowed loudly.

"He has always been understanding and affectionate to me in every aspect of my life. Also when it comes to intimacy, but… once when… um, he said that we could try something different… that I could try to please him, it-it scared me, because…" She swallowed hard, clenching her fingers tightly on the can, that memory suddenly painfully clear to her.

"…because I don't know, I felt there was something humiliating about when a men makes you suddenly kneel down in front of him, I didn't want to do it, I didn't feel ready… I… and he said that he also satisfies me like that to make me feel good, only I never asked him to do it. I wouldn't make him do it if he told me he was uncomfortable with it." She choked out shaking her head, feeling a tightening in her stomach and throat, feeling ashamed.

"I-I felt so ungrateful, like…like I was just taking and he was always giving, like as if I was denying him something he had earned…" She mumbled, and his ice-cold tone interrupted her in mid-sentence.

"Did you do it?"

She looked at him, horrified, his face pale, his jaw clenched, every muscle in his body tense, his fingers clenched on the tin he held so tightly that it bent.

"…no." She said quietly, in shame. She saw him swallow loudly, his gaze softening.

"Good." He said, taking a deep gulp of beer, letting out the air loudly as if he'd been holding it for a few seconds, staring blankly ahead. "Fucking piece of shit."

She lowered her gaze, embarrassed by her confession and how he reacted to it. The fact that he was angry, the fact that he somehow cared. For some reason she felt relieved. She swallowed quietly, looking at him uncertainly.

"What about Alys?" She asked, twisting in her seat, and he froze in mid-motion, just lifting the can to his lips again. He smiled, but it was a disturbing smile to say the least, one that didn't reach his eyes, cold, cruel, empty.

"Fucking whore has been informing on me to the press for years." He muttered, taking a deep sip of beer, licking his lips with his tongue. "She tried to record my confession on her phone that I slept with you. To give your name."

He said coolly and calmly, and she felt her lower lip part in disbelief, her heart starting to pound like crazy, pain spilling over her chest.

She was unable to get the words out.

She remembered that article she had read and wondered if it was from his assistant that this journalist got all the information she had written about.

She thought it was inhuman, cruel, horrible.

"Of course I haven't said anything to her, my lawyers are already dealing with her. I won't let any tabloid write about you." He said, shaking some fuzz off her duvet, looking at his hand thoughtfully. "She's been recording me for years. How we talk about business and my family. How we fuck. She's hedged her bets in case we break up."

She looked at him feeling her body simply freeze, what he was saying was beyond her understanding. She shook her head not knowing how to put her thoughts into words, what to say.

"God. This is horrible. How can you live with the idea of doing something like that to another human being, waking up next to them and falling asleep knowing you're hurting them?" She asked in a trembling voice looking at him with her eyes wide open, not understanding completely how she had been able to pretend for so many years. "How can you not feel remorse after something like that?"

She felt a cold shiver run down the back of her neck when she heard him chuckle low, taking a deep sip of beer again. He wasn't looking at her.

"You know what's most amusing? My grandfather knew about it from the very beginning."

She shook her head, feeling as if her heart had stopped beating for a moment. She smiled as if her body was trying to take it as a joke.

"…what?"

"He said he warned me, and I drove her everywhere on company money. He thought I might need a cold shower like that. My grandfather always had interesting reasons for educating us, you know?" He said, raising his eyebrows in amusement, looking at her in a way that made her press her lips together.

She felt that he had fallen into something, some void of hopelessness, nothingness, that he was not the same person she had met yesterday. He was defending himself from what had happened by closing himself in even deeper.

Her trembling hands traveled involuntarily up and down her can, her body shivering. She didn't know what was happening to her, she couldn't take her eyes off him.

"You didn't deserve this."

His smile disappeared from his face at her words. He glanced at her, his gaze blank, almost frustrated.

"You're quick to pass judgement for someone who's known me one day."

She felt pain at his words, felt that he had pushed her away, that he had let her know that she was approaching a boundary he didn't want her to cross. She set her beer down on the nightstand and moved closer to him. He flinched and tensed all over, not knowing what she was going to do. She sat close to him but didn't touch him, looking straight at his face.

"I've never felt most beautiful in his eyes. Craved for. I had the feeling that the reason he was with me was because he was comfortable that way. He used to say that everything seemed so easy with me, but now I'm not sure if that was a compliment. I'm not sure if I loved him or the thought that I could be important to someone, that someone had chosen me and not one of my older sisters, more mature and feminine than me. I felt wonderful at the thought that seeing them all he had chosen me, as if I were the prettiest apple in the market. Sometimes, in the months after we parted, I thought that for all that, God was punishing me for my vanity." She whispered, smiling with difficulty, holding back tears that were again rising at the corners of her eyes.

She had never said this to anyone.

Not even to Royce.

He looked her straight in the eye, his brow furrowed as if in worry, and they did not speak to each other for a long moment. She saw him swallow with difficulty, as if he was gathering himself to get out of himself what was cramming down his throat.

"You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. I craved you from the first moment I saw you."

She felt her whole body convulse at his words, her lips parted, a tear falling from her eye, her gaze all misty.

His beautiful words spoken so softly and calmly caused her pain.

She didn't know when her mouth found his, when his hand set his beer down on the floor while his free hand grabbed her neck and pulled her closer, their lips almost devouring each other, forming a mixture of teeth, tongues and soft, moist fleshy texture.

There was something kinky and perverse about these kisses, a shameless desire and thirst for physical closeness, fulfilment.

She didn't shy away when his hands undid the braces from her dungarees, pulling them off her with difficulty, leaving her in a white turtleneck and panties.

He grabbed her hip and forced her to sit on top of him with her arms around him, and she did so embarrassingly willingly, looking down at him with dreamy eyes, her soft lips returned to his, a quiet sigh escaping from his throat.

She stroked his face and hair with her hands, her fingers tender and gentle, wanting to give him the feeling that she really desired him, that he really aroused her affection, that she would not hurt him.

She let his hands squeeze her buttocks, pushing her closer, letting her feel what was happening inside his trousers, their lips sucking and licking with a lingering, wet click.

He looked at her with a hazy gaze, breathing unevenly as her small hands slid down to the button of his trousers, undoing it, his trembling hands stroking her thighs.

"Do you want this?" She asked quietly before grabbing his boxers, wanting to let him wonder if he really wished for it. He licked his lips at her question.

"I've wanted it from the moment I crossed the threshold of your room."

She kissed him again, a loud, satisfied murmur escaping his lips. His hands gripped her white turtleneck, throwing her only one questioning glance before he lifted it up, pulling it over her shoulders. He swallowed loudly when he realised she wasn't wearing a bra underneath, looking at her breasts for a moment.

She sighed loudly as he hugged his face to the space between her breasts placing wet, sticky kisses on her skin, she kissed his hair, sliding his boxers down a little, wanting to get to what was underneath them.

He helped her by twisting around, grabbing the material with her, reaching quickly into his pocket for a condom. She stopped his hand, looking at him uncertainly, breathing quietly.

"Can I feel you? Just for a moment. I'm clean." She said and saw that he threw her a shocked look.

He swallowed with difficulty and after a moment he nodded, unable to get a word out. She lifted herself quickly, his hands helping her slide the material of her panties off her legs.

She grasped his face in her hands and kissed him, lowering herself onto him, his hand holding his member so that she could reach it. They both moaned embarrassingly loudly as his tip slid into her sticky, hot, fleshy structure.

"− fuck − fuck −" He gasped, watching in disbelief as his cock sank slowly into her, her walls clamping down on him greedily.

"Shh…" She whispered tenderly, kissing his forehead, sinking against him fully, his hands roaming all over her body unable to decide where he wanted to touch her most. She sighed feeling how wonderfully he filled her, how he pulsed inside her in desire.

She rested one hand on his shoulder, rising slowly and falling back against him with a loud, sticky click of her moisture, her lips parted in an accelerated breath, both of them beginning to pant.

"− oh God −" She sighed, horrified at how pleasurable this was, how wonderful it was to feel him so much, so intimately.

He pressed his lips to her soft breast and began to suck it, licking her nipple, embarrassed by how loudly he was breathing, how much pleasure it gave him, her insides hot and wet just for him. She mewled feeling it, pressing his face closer to her flesh.

"− just a moment longer −" She mumbled involuntarily speeding up, rubbing herself with his member where she felt the most pleasure, feeling waves of heat each time she sank back against him, his fingers tightening on her hips forcing her to let him deeper inside her, his tip hitting her back wall again and again making her let out helpless, quiet moans.

He surprised her when he suddenly took her cheeks in his hand and kissed her greedily, his tongue invading between her lips just as brutally as his cock began to move inside her. She knew they shouldn't be doing this, that it was foolish, but they both knew, their foreheads touching, looking at each other, that they wouldn't be able to stop.

"− I'll take it out before I come, okay? − feels so fucking good −" He breathed out between the entwining of their tongues and lips, and she mewled at his words, feeling that her fulfilment was approaching, that she would come from the mere movement of his member at the angle he was moving inside her now.

"− yes − please − you will fuck me all night, won't you? − please, say that you will −" She sobbed, surprised and ashamed at her own shameless words.

He groaned low, speeding up, their hands roaming over their bodies and faces, his hand clenched tightly in her hair as his hips impaled her on his manhood with a sticky splat of flesh against flesh.

"− I will − you know I fuckin will −" He growled low and she came at his words, surprising him and herself, she pressed her forehead against his panting and sobbing loudly, her body quivering in fulfillment, his lips brushing hers wanting to reassure her, to soothe her.

"− so good − oh, fuck −" He exhaled and slid out of her quickly, squeezing himself a few times with his hand, his translucent, slightly whitish semen spilling straight onto her naked stomach. He rested his forehead between her breasts panting and groaning helplessly, she hugged him back kissing his hair.

"− I'm sorry −" He whispered quietly and she kissed his head again at his words, stroking his neck with her hand.

"− it's okay now − it's all right −"

He sighed at her words as if in relief, she felt his body relax, his arms hugging her waist loosely, his hands trailing down her spine. He swallowed loudly and kissed her sternum before asking her question.

"− do you want me to leave? −"

She smiled under her breath, embracing him tenderly, stroking his hair with a slow motion, her cheek nestled against the top of his head.

"No."

_____

Taglist 1

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @tempt-ress @ahristata @menaosama @queenofshinigamis @dark-night-sky-99 @kate-to-the-ki @travelingmypassion @summerposie @thetrueblackheart

234 notes · View notes

lynxgriffin · 7 months

Note

"I think what Kris may have lost with Dess's disappearance is less innocence, and more self-confidence. I think their primary problem (and why they sought out being possessed in the first place) is that they feel indecisive and lack courage. They withdraw from people and refuse to participate in regular life less out of a lack of kindness, and more out of the mindset of "Why bother? I'll just screw it up anyway." (Which is probably part of why they feel kinship with Susie…they feel like they're on the same wavelength there.)

And Ralsei aggravates that position for them because, aside from his kindness and optimism, he is very insistent that specifically Kris should be the decision-maker. He pretty much tries to always make Kris feel good about their decisions, even the ones that he clearly doesn't like. If Kris's primary problem is they lacking the courage to make their own choices, Ralsei seems laser-focused on convincing Kris otherwise. Which, I feel makes Ralsei being a manifestation of Kris's soul all the more interesting…that for all Kris believes that they aren't capable of that courage, there is a part of them that does believe they're capable, and that's the part that has taken on a life of its own. Just! I think that could end up being pretty powerful!

Sorry, I know this is kind of a tangent from your original tangent, but it is a thing I enjoy thinking about, so thanks for the opportunity! "

…

I'm glad that people and in particular you, Lynx, like this topic. So I'm here again to share my thoughts :D

I want to talk about Kris's injuries, and that line "Why bother? I'll just screw it up anyway."

It's like a learned helplessness injury, if I'm not mistaken. When many bad events happen in a row in a person’s life, and no matter how hard they try, they cannot influence them. Kris faced enough problems that they began to consider themselves completely helpless and unable to influence the world on their own. Dess's disappearance, Asgore's dismissal from the police, parents' divorce, brother's departure to college. Having finally lost faith in their own strength, they decided to give control of their body to someone else. This sounds very logical.

Ralsei, in turn, seems to be really focused on restoring Kris's faith in herself, and the belief that something can still be done even without the player's participation. Progress in this direction is noticeable already at the end of the first chapter, when Kris, seemingly lost in everything, without the player’s command, independently, being wounded, protect Susie from the King’s attack. Susie is also an important figure here. Unlike Kris, on the contrary, she is extremely strong-willed and self-confident. She will break through the wall, demolish everything in her path, but achieve her goals. She even violated the mechanics of the battle just out of spite, took it and learned how to act, and even gave this option to her partner. There's a bit of Undyne from UT about her. DETERMINATION :D Susie for Kris is the same image of the ideal as Asriel. Only Asriel was a model of friendliness and success, Susie was a model of confidence and determination to act, something that Kris now lacks. That's why they probably like her.

As a result, we see that Kris is now positively influenced by two characters. Ralsei is focused on supporting and regaining self-confidence, while Susie says less, but with all her appearance shows that believing in yourself and your strengths is cool. And not only will Kris become more independent as the chapters progress, but Ralsei, with Kris’s condition improving, will be able to focus more on personal problems and the questions “who am I?” It's very interesting where this will all lead in the end.

Now something else occurred to me. Throughout the game we are told that the choice does not affect anything. What if this appeal is not to us, but Kris’s appeal to themselves?? Their entire childhood was not influenced by anything, they could not choose who they would be born with and suffer from it, they could not choose what would happen to Dess, they could not choose whether their parents would be together or not. And will my brother go to college? All their lives their choices didn't matter. And this is exactly what we will hear before the first chapter.

The player’s choice, in turn, has weight, because the player can go for murder (they don’t survive after freezing the entire body, I verified). Kris, on the other hand, doesn’t try very hard to resist the player, because they don’t believe that they can. We don’t know for sure, but I assume that extracting a soul from a body is possible not only in the light world. Then, if the Kris believed in themselves enough, they would try to interrupt the battle with Berldy, force Noelle to ignore the creepy voice (which continues to sound even if Kris is defeated), and give everyone time to get out of sight.

But I don't blame Kris, they need some more time to gain the determination to act and interfere with the player's actions.

Now at the time of two chapters we have the following diagram: Kris is convinced that their decisions don't matter. The player's decisions matter and can significantly impact the world.

The further we move, the more the influence of Susie and Ralsei will affect the will of Kris. And if they don’t like our decisions, we will be thrown out of the body more and more often, and perhaps they will learn to choose options for us by moving our hearts against our will. If Kris see that we are doing our best and really want to help, they will give us more freedom of action. Now we don't just control Kris, but they decide when to give us the right to control them. Now we obey.

Another interesting thing is that during the game you can sometimes come across dialogue options that would suit the character of Kris. For example, posing for the camera, we can choose a rude gesture, I think this is what they would choose. Or when Susie asks whose side Noelle is on, we can jokingly answer that she is our enemy.

If future chapters are released as an installation package along with the first two chapters, then it is possible that part of the code of the first two chapters will be supplemented and all information about our elections will be saved and used in the future, even if we did not take cruel paths. For example, like in UT when Toriel remembers our flirting at the end of the pacifist, Kris if they ever talk to us, they can remember how we made them hug Ralsei. We can choose what we want throughout the game, or we can choose what we think Kris would choose, and our decisions will influence dialogues or events in the future. We have already seen how the decisions from the first chapter influenced the second; in the battle with the capture of the Rouxls houses, Kaard uses exactly the same structure that we assembled in the first chapter. Also, for some reason, the game stores information about which vessel we collected at the very beginning.

Ultimately, we can either find common ground with Kris or make them hate us. If hatred leads to a battle, then against all three at once, Susie will be just happy to thrash someone bad, and Ralsei will never leave Kris and help them. But my intuition tells me that this will not be a battle, but something else, I don’t know why, the battle would be too obvious or something.

If you’ve read this, thank you) I love to think, and it’s especially nice to do this when there are people with similar interests.

Thank you again for sharing your thoughts!!

My thoughts on Kris's feelings towards their actions (again, may be art coming for this soon!) is that they feel a degree of responsibility for the bad things that have happened in their life, stemming from the incident with Dess. It could be like a learned helplessness, but I also see it as a "I cannot be trusted to make the right choices" kind of conditioning. Being the only human in a monster town, I can see them even pinning the blame on their humanity for their mistakes, since well…it's clearly the thing that's always made their life harder, anyway.

They do need their friendships to help set them on a path to self-acceptance and self-reliance, and the Dark World is facilitating that, which is why I think they are more and more focused on going back there!

In regards to the whole "your choices don't matter" theme, which people seem convinced applies to both the player and character…I think it's actually a lot more subtle than that. After all, the theme of Undertale is not "kill or be killed," even though an authoritative character tells you that at the start of the game. I actually think that the second voice at the end of the goner maker sequence saying "no one can choose who they are in this world" IS Kris speaking, because that's the mindset that they're currently in, and it's one they need to learn how to grow past by the end of the game. All of the main characters feel, in some way, that they are trapped by their own identities. Breaking free of these roles they feel they have no choice in is, I think, a narrative thoroughline we'll get through the whole game.

And I have a whole long twitter thread about this, but yeah, I do think that it's inevitable that we'll be cut off from controlling Kris at the end, because that feels like the natural conclusion to Kris's character arc. Kris starts out feeling like they can make no good choices, so someone needs to hold their hand. So by the end, it feels appropriate that they come to realize that they can act on their own, and that they don't need anyone holding their hand…not even the player controlling them. Whether that parting is on good terms or bad ones depends on how the player treats them and their friends…Ralsei does say that how we treat others can make all the difference!

I know this is just rambling on top of your rambling, but I appreciated reading yours, so I hope this rambling is appreciated, too!

#ask lynx stuff #I really should sit down and just write up a long long post #on what I believe Deltarune's themes are #and how that comes out in the characters #because that's just fascinating to me

66 notes · View notes

thesharktanksdriver · 1 year

Text

Voices (Platonic)

From as early as you could remember you never felt truly alone in this world

Even after being left with no parents

Just only as yourself against this great big world you

A young kid without a cent to your name nor a home to go to

Just the open land and the small towns you’d end up staying at for momentary rest

Despite all the odds set against you

Despite the fact your should’ve been dead within the month you were left to die

You persevered

You survived

With only the help of yourself and the voices in your head that would advise you of what to do

As odd as that sounds the voices had been the closest thing you’d had to Friends and a family

The chorus of them telling you how to survive

That you need to ration food, that not clear water was to be avoided when you needed a drink, scavenge for food

There were many of them in the depths of your mind

All of which sounded distinct yet melded together into a symphony

But out of the sea of them one always stuck out from the rest

The others would quiet when he spoke, a deep yet relaxed voice that would echo

He’d speak only a few times when the others were indecisive, but when he did there was a certain air to it

He was the leader of them

His opinion was final to them as was your own on the subject you needed help on

Though his options could be…less law abiding than they probably should be it was for your sake

So your follow his suggestions to get by

You travel from place to place

Going to the west coast in the winter

Traveling everywhere else when summer and spring rolled around

It wasn’t easy but that was your life

Living off the land and mother natures resources

You’d push though the hours from sunrise to sunset

Falling asleep as they sing you lullabies within the confines of your mind

Cooing at how adorable you looked as you curled up under some scraps of cloth

Looking up towards the stars as the leader of them told you myths of their creation

How the constellations that had guided your way had stories tied to them

Like Orion forget hunting Ursa Major in the night sky

Life is strenuous but it is worth it to survive

You end up in yet another town on your travels after grabbing some apples from an orchard

They leave a sweet coating of juice in your mouth as you duck into an alleyway for shade

The voices (whom at this point told to you to call them “chat”) talking within your mind

Spouting out small ideas of what to do next as you take a swig of water

You’d found a flask a couple weeks back from an old drunkard

He was passed out so you took it as your own

Washed it out and replacing it with water on the suggestion of chat

Apparently the amber liquid stored in it wasn’t good for you

“So where to next?”

“ I say we go to cali” “nah I say Canada” “oh, oh! What about Kansas” “New York?” “Eh, unless you want them to be stabbed the minute they arrive” “hey New York isn’t that bad, it’s Chicago you have to worry about” “average New Yorker L” “oh screw off-“

“Heading to San Diego should be a focus for us. It’s getting colder and it’ll take awhile to get there”

The others quiet down hearing the voice whom called himself “Techno” speak

Then erupting in murmured agreements making you nod

You get up from sitting on a nearby box when you suddenly hear something

Shouting along with the scream of a woman

Despite the protests of chat you stalk further into the alley

Picking up a stray beer bottle as you peak out from behind a corner

There’s a man with his back facing you, in ragged clothes as he holds a woman with what seems to be a knife pointed at her

Across from him is a man, presumably her husband with long golden locks that curled at the ends

He’s glaring at the mugger, before his eyes fall on you

Your eyes are trained on the man holding the woman hostage

The broken bottle in your hand feeling lighter as you feel a feeling wash over you

Blood

You wanted- no NEEDED blood

Blood for the blood god is changed in your head as you see red

Everything is a blur

One moment your gripping the broken bottle about to help the lady and the next your standing over the injured form of the mugger

Blood splattered on your face and hands as the lady you saved and her husband kneel down and look at your worriedly

Curious, no one except the voices had ever expressed care for you

Others would look at you in disdain and anger for just existing

Yet these obviously well off couple are wiping the blood off your face

“Dear lord are you ok?! Funny! Should we get them to a doctor?”

“Ill go get one and try to find their parents-“

“I don’t have those, also I don’t really have the money for a doctor. Thanks for the offer though”

They both go silent at that, staring at you with confusion that morphs into horror

“So your saying your an orph-“

“Nononono, I am NOT and orphan.” You pause for a moment thinking of how to phrase is before responding back with “I’m just a child without any adult figures in their life left to fend on their own. I’m not a blood sucking orphan, there’s a difference” Via the suggestion of one of the voices

Honestly for them to even suggest that makes the voices get all rowdy in your head

Calling the two “plebs” and mumbling “common L”

You swear if you weren’t used to this you’d have a migraine by now

Both look at you even more worried

Glancing back to one another before the woman offers you a hand

Your hesitant to take it but decided to do so when they offer to take you in

An opportunity you knew you couldn’t pass up

The couple you now formally knew as scarlet and Funny Valentine take you in as their own after this encounter

It’s weird for you at first

For all your life you had to fight for everything

Food, water and clothes were luxuries you barely came across

At night you’d almost freeze and in the days you’d be baked alive by the sun

So now having all resources without so much as a word is confusing

It’s certainly nice…but still something you need to get used to

Both Scarlet and Finny are understanding though

They seem to know that this a process for you

And are understanding when you don’t initially trust them or seem confused when they tell you to have a brush your hair in the morning

You can’t eat a lot at first, your body not being able to handle it

It’s still hard getting used to having a full stomach rather than empty on the point of collapse

Funny is especially empathetic though

Handing you the foods in which you desire as you take small nibbles

Slowly and slowly filling yourself up and upping the amounts you eat as time progresses

Chat helps ease you into this as well, telling you to take things slowly

Telling you when to up the proportions slightly as your meals get bigger

In this time you find yourself often talking to the man whom had taken you in

His conversations with you are warm-hearted

Often tinged in a certain sweetness as he sits beside you on the countertop

Munching down on an apple as you talked of the stories told to you

Odysseus and his journey home

The fate of Jason and the karma of it

Or the tragedy of Orpheus and Eurydice

To your surprise he finds himself interested as you regale these tales

No one but chat had ever really listened to you

So you enjoy these small moments with him as he tells his own

Particularly of his father and philosophy of the napkin analogy that he uses on a day to day basis

You grow into a routine and the normality of your new home

Fresh meals, hot baths and comfortable clothes

Being able to have the privilege to be able to say you have a loving set of parents

One’s who helped you with your education and let you run free

A year or two later you began gardening after seeing the large estate seeming rather empty

Just an empty lot of greenery, not even used for flowers

Scarlet and Funny let you begin your garden that slowly grows in size

You grow many vegetables and Berries but more specifically potato’s

Techno had extensive knowledge due to something he called the “potato war”

So your in particularly good hands when you begin to grow the crop

It is during that time that you begin to see a figure

It starts off as small glances at first

In the corner of your eyes as a translucent figure momentarily catches it

But then you see it…well rather him more consistently

Until finally one night you fully interact with the figure

It’s another late night that you find yourself laying awake in bed

It is dark yet your not afraid

You were used to pitch darkness by now, your eyes adjusted to the lack of light letting you get up and navigate out your room

The long hallways creaking quietly beneath the weight of your footsteps

Wool socks cushioning the sound ever so slightly as you sneak through the olds halls

By now you know the house by heart

Knowing where all the loose floorboards are and how the last step of the stairs bended too much into the hardwood ground so you had to be slightly careful

You end up in the kitchen like usual

Picking up a small snack of an orange

Turning around to see the figure

Long pink hair, a crown placed upon his head, red cape lined with soft fur and a mask of a pig

Tusks poking out giving him a more intimidating look

Your hand grabs a nearby knife holding it out to him defensively

“Easy kiddo, it’s just me”

Your eyes widen at that familiar voice as Chat begins yelling in your mind

“Holy shit!” “Plot twist of the century” “look at him! Our boy!” “Damn he be looking stylish” “the drip fr” “the blood god and the blood messiah”

“Blood messiah?”

“Yeah…so here’s the deal kid”

He tells you about how he is what’s called the “blood god” and that your his “blood messiah” or aka his chosen human to carry his power/his apprentice of sorts

It makes sense to you now why he taught you so much growing up

“What’s with chat though?”

“Eh, their just a package deal with me unfortunately. Like an extra freebie in a deal”

“Bruh did we just be called an extra” “L” “the disrespect”

“Shut up guys, we can still hear you all”

As his blood messiah you are gifted his strength along with his guidance

But with that comes the price of those perks

To use his power you needed blood of some sort, and with that came a bloodlust that will occasionally overwhelm you

A small price to pay for his power

“So when that mugger…”

“Yeah that was a taste of it. Not the best thing to deal with, but I’m gonna teach you to deal with it”

“So uh…what now?”

“Focus on you, What you want in the moment. Some big stuff is happening, war and death brewing as we speak. So you have to make use of the time you have now to enjoy life, be a kid”

You nod, watching as he smiles and ruffles your hair

“There’s a lot you need to learn but for now we’ll take it slow.”

“Alright”

“Chin up kid, don’t let your crown fall”

After saying this he flicks your forehead and disappears

His laughter filling your mind as your left staring in the spot he once stood

Moonlight casting a dim glow in the kitchen

A week after this occurred you end up asking at dinner if you could have horseback lessons

It is out of nowhere and it leaves both your parents stunned for a moment before both eagerly with excitement assure you that your more than welcome to do so

You’d never really asked for much whilst in their care

Clothes and toys never on your list of wants

Hell, it took a whole interrogation for them to try and figure out that you like books

Most specifically (and somewhat oddly) the art of war

So having you just openly ask for something is a big thing for your parents

A day later Funny and Scarlet are taking you out to a ranch with several horses lined up in their stables

You make a B-line towards the end of the stables to find a lone horse

An Andalusian, with a mainly grey coat that has speckles of black and a light coloured mane

A beautiful stallion that seems to call out to you

“You sure you want her?, she’s not the most cooperative”

“Even better. She has stubbornness, I like that”

The man gives you an odd look but shrugs as you enter her stall

She’s even more beautiful up close

And her personality is more apparent when the horse gives a loud gust of a sigh out her nose

You have a feeling she’s the perfect choice

The next coming months you slowly learn the basics of horseback along with getting to know the mare who was named “cure”

At first the horse was resistant to the idea of letting you be her rider

And there were many scuffles that had left your bruised and bloodied

None of which phased you and just left you with a smile as you whipped away the blood

But with the course of time she began to warm up to you

Because you hadn’t saw her as below you

You were her equal

For as rider and steed there had to be mutual respect of each other

It is gradual but you get better

Get more comfortable with Cure running to her hearts content

Techno and the voices once again help with some tips

The blood god talking of his own steed named Carl who resided within his realm

Her saddle was exclusively for you and neither of you would have it any other way

Riding her and feeling the wind scrap across your face was a feeling you now didn’t know how to live without

Watching you speed past the other horses as she jumps over a fence and just keeps going

It turns out to be something that Funny and Scarlet end up watching as you blindly smile

It is perhaps one of the happiest they’d seen you

Just running free as you were so many years ago

You are happy and content

But that can’t last forever

Especially as your father brews something

It comes to you like a slap to the face when he reveals he’s gonna run for president

The voices, but especially Techno rousing in anger as he talks of his plans to run the country

You couldn’t help excuse yourself as the yelling in your head caused a small migraine

For all your life till this point Techno had taught you of how power pollutes

That anarchy was better than government because of the factor that no one person was in power

It couldn’t fall into a dictatorship is no one was in charge

That these appointed leaders thought themselves to be god and looked down on their subjects

Until they are brought down from their pedestal via a guillotine

It leaves you conflicted because this was your father

The one who had taken you in when no one else would

Feed, clothed and made sure you had a roof over your head

The man who proudly proclaimed that you were his child despite no blood being shared between the two of you

A man who smiled proudly when you rode atop Cure and worried himself to death when the horse stubbornly bucked you off her back

Your left conflicted

It only gets worse as his campaign is seeming to prove successful with the people

Whilst your left to try and act happy for him despite the yelling in your mind

It is a difficult time for you, more difficult than your early years on the streets

Cause at least then there wasn’t the emotional turmoil you felt ripping apart your insides

There wasn’t the divide between your morals of hating government and loving your dad

You hope he somehow doesn’t win but no god answers your prayer

At his inauguration your left standing near him and Scarlet

An empty reserved smile plastered on your face as you hold back tears

The voice shave stopped screaming

They are remorseful as is Techno who try to comfort you when seeing you break down internally

Your heart fighting against your mind

Being left in a stalemate, a limbo of confusion

You try to spend more time with mom after that, using the excuse of not wanting to bother your dad

It works but there’s a noticeable sadness you see in his eyes when you excuse yourself from his presence

Scarlet is more than happy to spend time with you though

She takes you shopping with her

Buying you the latest blouses of your desire along with jewelry that catches your eye

Apparently due to Techno you have some weird fascination with gold, something he says has transferred to you

With spending time out with her though you begin to notice how her eyes linger

You know for a fact she loves your dad

But you see her looking intently at women

A stare that not of just of the friendly type

No, it’s deep and intense

Tinted with a undertone of something else that you don’t wish to think of

Her seeming attraction is none of your business though

So you ignore it and spend time with her at cafe’s as squads of guards flock to your sides

Not knowing you were likely the most dangerous person in the room

You find it annoying to now constantly have people flanking you whoever you went

The guards themselves are fine but you wanted to be alone when planting potatoes

Or riding Cure

Well…at least your potato business has been booming as of late due to your dad

But that leaves a bit of a bitter taste in your mouth that people are NOW interested in your delicious crops

Damn trend hoppers

In the house during the late nights you find yourself now more restless than usual

That feeling of bloodlust that was managers now getting worse and worse as time progressed

Sometimes it was bad enough you found yourself on occasionally blacking out and finding yourself standing in the kitchen or by your dads office

It leaves you terrified

So terrified that your mom seemingly caught on and your dad one day asked if you were alright

You say that you are but you really aren’t

He can see through the lie as clear as day

He’s left somewhat hurt, offering you help that you vehemently deny

The bags beneath your eyes only seem to get worse as the days progress

Yet another restless night your left awake

The gnawing hunger for blood feeling as if it were pulsating within your veins

Just the thought of crimson makes it worse

The feeling of the hunger not going away

“Kid just focus on me. Gets some fresh air, alright?”

Techno’s translucent form appears once more

He’d been doing that more often but never in front of anyone else

Apparently there were people called “stand users” who could possibly hear and see him

He didn’t want to risk that

“O-ok”

You stumble out your room

Hand scraping against the wallpaper as your walk past several familiar doors

There’s darkness expert for a sliver of light coming out from the door of your dads office

…strange he’s usually not awake at 4 am even though he’s been staying up later than usual

You end up highjacking your original goal and heading for his door

Being careful not to hit any loose floorboards as you listen to him speaking…to himself?

You can hear his speaking aloud and his voice also responding back

It leaves you confused along with Techno and the voices who all chime in with the thought of him being crazy or cracking under the pressure

But you know your dad well enough to know it isn’t either

You decide to bend down and stare through the keyhole

“Do you think this could really work?”

“It has to, plus it’s more convenient as a cover story. People interfering can be eliminated and be written off as weather conditions or incompetence.”

“There will be people watching though”

“It’ll get the countries spirits up. Things will only get better when we get the corpse parts, it’s only uphill from here”

There in the office is two versions of your father conversing with one another

Oblivious to your spying as your left shocked at whatever the fuck This revelation was

“Stand user, and it doesn’t sound like he has something good planned if I’m honest”

Techno’s words seem to reverberated in your mind

As your left jaw agape just staring

No, your father was a kind man

He would never-

“Sacrifices will likely need to be made. I’m willing to make them though for the greater good of my country, for my family”

You feel sick, stomach swirling as you walk back

And then you step on a creaky board

You hear both of them still whatever conversation that we’re having

Your left momentarily frozen as the door opens

Whatever hostility in his eyes fades, they soften at the sight of you

“Dear are you ok? What are you doing up so late? You need sleep, those bags under your eyes are worrying me and your mom”

Time to bullshit your way out of this

“I…I had a nightmare. I went to get my mind off it and saw you were awake so..”

He gives a soft smile, ushering you in

You do so with some hesitance as he guides you to the plush seat his clone? Was sitting on earlier

“What was it about?”

You pause to think of an answers after a moment

“You”

His eyes widen ever so slightly before he presses and asks “what exactly about me?”

“I…had a dream that you changed. That when you became president you weren’t the same person, that you became…” you Try to find the right word “corrupted”

His eyes become gentle once more as he ushers you into a hug

It is warm and you wish to revel in it more

His hand weaving it’s way into rubbing a comforting motion of circles into your scalp

“You have nothing to fear. Nothing like that would ever happen, because I do, I do for you and our people”

Perhaps that is what scares you the most in this situation

The lengths he would go in doing what he believed was right even if he couldn’t see the harm he was truly doing

It was a pipeline

A downward spiral he would not see

It sets in motion what you know that you need to do

You enjoy in the last time you’d likely feel the warmth of his hug

For in the morning you’d be gone before they even knew it

You had to stop whatever he had planned

#platonic #jjba x reader #steel ball run x reader #funny valentine x reader #scarlet Valentine x reader

76 notes · View notes

sublimedefendorartisan · 13 days

Text

Comicverse cast-

*mid 2000s

Ambrosius:

-Ambrosius and Ballister get along really well and check up on each other after each take

-Ambrosius uses a posh accent for the series but he actually has more of a California accent as he grew up there for a majority of his life

-He likes playing characters that are nothing like his personality ,he's a chill laid back person and a bit mischievous on set

-Ambrosius is actually older than Ballister by two years (they're 32 and 30 during filming)

-He absolutely adores his interactions with Nimona ,she's like a younger sister to him or his energetic child.

-Has an eight year old son he adopted

[interview]

Interviewer: How does it feel playing your character ?

Ambrosius:Well he's a very posh and prideful person and I can see how it hurts the people around him but also damages himself in the process.That for me really made me think about myself and my awareness with others in a way I never thought of before.I love how confident he can be though and have moments where his vulnerable parts shine through.

Interviewer: I've heard you actually get the hardest stunts out of all the cast members.

Ambrosius: Are you kidding me?! I get beat up by Thomas(Ballister),thrown out a window,beaten up by Thomas again,trapped under rubble,mangled by a dragon;tossed to the side by that dragon and covered in fake blood! *Sighs playfully*

Interviewer:Sounds like you've got your work cut out for you.

Ambrosius:Oh there's this whole thing!

Interviewer:*laughs*What's it like on set with cast members?

Ambrosius: They're a lovely group of people,and so comedic as well!

Interviewer: Could you expand on that please ?

Ambrosius: Everyone is always pumping each other up and keeping up spirits.Thomas(Ballister) actually came up to me on set one day and poured a bucket of water on me after filming the dragon scene in he final episode. I was standing on set looking at myself after being tossed around in a heavy sweaty costume after being tossed around connected to metal wires .

Interviewer: *laughs* the effects are as real as they come for you aren't they.

Ambrosius : I don't like to complaine but that sh*t made me dizzy and nauseaus as.I was literally just standing there trying to screw my conscious back in my brain when Thomas(Ballister) *hands gestures a person sneaking up on another person * creeped up from behind and poured water all over me!

Interviewer: Really? You've got an enthusiastic cast mate there! *laughing*

Ambrosius :I was like; 'Thomas!' ,'I was just going to take a shower you ass!'.I was annoyed but it's all just harmless fun and he apologized afterwards.

Interviewer: Did you get him back?Ambrosius: Oh a hundred percent me and Valerie(Nimona) took left over slime from the dragon scene and put inside his costume on the final day of filming.He laughed it off though

Interviewer:Do you have a favourite cast mate?This is an optional question so you don't have to answer .

Ambrosius: It's alright ,I'd say I don't have a particular favourite but there were days where I'd just go 'alright this one is my number one today '. I love them both equally though.

Interviewer:Is there anything else you'd like to say?

Ambrosius:*looks directly at the camera* go watch Nimona *smiles and gives two thumbs up*

I know I said I was gonna do the Movie version first for the actor au but I wasn't happy with what I did with Ballister for it yet (apologies for my indecisiveness and delay again)

#nimona #nimona actor au #ambrosius goldenloin

8 notes · View notes

theladycarpathia · 1 year

Text

Empty Places Chapter 5 - Manifestation

Back to Chapter 4

“Steve?” Robin shouts and Billy echoes her call, their voices bouncing off the walls. Panic is starting to trickle in, the worry that Steve might not escape these walls. “Steve, stop fucking around! Steve!”

“Fuck!” Billy screams finally, and kicks at the wall. He’s exhausted and heart-sore and they were so, so fucking close. Steve isn’t answering, and that probably means that wherever he is, he can’t.

“Where is he?” Robin asks, looking on the verge of tears. Her hair is mussed and her eyes are bloodshot. None of them have slept or even really eaten for hours. “He was right behind me.”

“Something took him,” Billy mutters, pacing back and forth. Indecision and desperation to find Steve is clouding his mind. He doesn’t know what to do, save for tearing down every inch of this useless, crumbling foundation until he brings Steve back. Screw supernatural forces, he’s never once been without Steve and he’s not about to start now.

“But what? Henry or the other thing?” Robin asks, twisting her head back and forth down the dark hallway, as though she expects Steve to appear. But it's just dark there and it occurs to Billy that they should be keeping an eye on it, just in case whatever took Steve feels like a second and third course.

“Does it matter?” Billy asks in frustration. When he feels like this he wants to scream obscenities, rip down walls, and draw blood, but he can’t do that. Not with the ghost of Neil so fresh in his mind. He doesn’t want to become that. “It’s not like either one is a good option!”

“I’m just trying to figure it out!” Robin shouts, and that’s startling in itself. Robin doesn’t shout. She gets squeaky, she babbles, and her voice occasionally rises to a pitch only dogs can hear but she doesn’t shout. Unlike Billy, she lacks the tightly wound springs necessary for such an act…or she had, until today. “If we work out what took him and why, maybe we can get him back!”

“The ‘why’ doesn’t matter…” Billy starts to say and then stops. Maybe the why does matter. God, they’ve been such idiots.

“Hang on…” Billy says slowly. Something has clicked in his brain, the memory of the dank breath of not-Neil wafting across his face. He’s tried so hard to not think about it, because so much of it was about him. The weak parts of Billy that he doesn’t want his friends to see.

But there was something else that the thing had said. What was it?

“Repression out of the wazoo…” Billy says finally, the words slamming into him. He remembered them because they’d sound so odd coming out of Neil’s mouth. Robin stops pacing long enough to give him a confused look.

“That thing…” Billy explains hurriedly. Jesus, if he’s right, then the monster did take Steve for a good reason. “When it was wearing my dad’s face. It said you guys had your own problems, and then it said Steve had repression out of the wazoo. Those exact words.”

“And that’s important?” Robin asks skeptically, confusion written all over her pale face. Billy shrugs. They don’t have a lot else to work with. Just decades of death, violence and pain.

Or maybe that is something.

The thing had said that Robin didn’t have enough to push down. Robin is an open book, always blissfully, freely herself. She’s gay and, unlike Billy, at ease with it. She wears her quirky clothes, and adores her niche brand of cinema, indie music and queer fiction. She says every word that passes through her mind and loves and hates indiscriminately. She doesn’t push any of it down.

Billy, on the other hand, spent years hiding who he is. He puts on masks as easy as breathing and some days it feels like he’s a Russian nesting doll, a mask hidden under another mask. He hides his identity from Neil and tries to pretend to himself that it doesn’t bother him. He lets boys put their hands down his jeans, steals his mother’s lipsticks, and sticks rainbow stickers over his laptop. He hides, but apparently not enough to be of true interest to the spirits residing in this house.

“I think it feeds off repression,” Billy says, and it’s like puzzle pieces slotting into place. He thinks back to every death he’s ever heard of happening here and thinks that maybe he’s not wrong. Robin’s face still doesn’t untwist and he hurries to explain it to her. “No, listen. It didn’t come after you. Just me and Steve. I get why me, but it seemed really interested in Steve. It said Steve had it as bad as I do.”

“Oh?” Robin says, and doesn’t catch Billy’s eye. Something sinks in Billy’s chest.

“But it’s Steve,” Billy says, in disbelief. “What the fuck does he have to repress?”

“Maybe more than we think,” Robin says quietly. “He doesn’t have to tell us everything, you know.”

Something sharp pierces itself right through Billy’s heart. Whatever it is, Robin knows. She knows, and they both kept it from Billy.

It’s fine. He knows that she and Steve have a slightly different relationship. It’s his own fault, back from the days when Neil was being an absolute shit and he distanced himself from them. Somehow, without him, Robin and Steve had grown together in another way and it shouldn’t hurt so much as it does.

“Right. Fine,” Billy says, stung. He turns his back on her and turns his own torch down the dark, empty hallway. “Let’s go. We need to find Steve.”

“Billy,” Robin pleads and he can hear her hurried footsteps chasing him down the corridor. “It’s not my place to tell!” Billy snorts.

“I said, it’s fine,” he snaps. Which of course means he’s as bad as he can be, trapped in this house, with his best friend missing and keeping secrets from him. There’s always a chance for jealousy with the three of them. Three best friends still leaves an opportunity for someone to be a third wheel.

He just didn’t think that it would mean they’d keep shit from each other.

“Billy, please…” Robin pushes, sounding genuinely upset. “Billy, I don’t mean to…Jesus Christ!” Billy slams to a halt, mere inches before he plows right through the little ghost girl that’s appeared in front of them. He swallows heavily, willing moisture back into his mouth.

“Shit, kid, give us some warning,” he says shakily. He’s never going to get used to how Alice isn’t there one minute and is the next.

Alice merely tilts her head curiously at him. Billy exhales and takes a small step back, choosing to let Robin deal with the dead kid. She may be benevolent but Billy’s pretty done with supernatural things.

“Can you help us?” Robin asks, crouching down to look the little girl in the eyes. “Our friend is gone and we need to find him before we leave.”

“She doesn’t talk, Ro,” Billy says, because he’s not going to count on a ghost to help them get out. For all they know, she could be leading them down to be monster-chow. Steve vanished right after they went down into the tunnels that she directed them to, after all.

“She does!” Robin protests, looking annoyed. “She spoke to me before. I just don’t think she has the energy for it.”

“Ghosts don’t have batteries,” Billy says wearily and checks over his shoulder. Something slinking up behind them in the dark would really be horror movie material. But everything is black and still, no spiders on the walls, no ravenous teeth glinting off the torchlight.

“I don’t think it’s that,” Robin says, sounding thoughtful. “I think she’s being pushed down by the other spirits in here.” To Billy’s immense surprise, Alice nods and Robin beams.

“When did you become the ghost whisperer?” Billy asks curiously. But Robin has turned her attention fully onto Alice, bouncing a little on her heels.

“Do you know where our friend has gone?” she asks eagerly. “Is he still down here?”

A beat. Billy holds his breath. He’s pissed but he wants Steve back. More than anything.

Alice nods and points down the corridor. Robin looks past her ghostly figure, looking apprehensively into the space not lit by their torches.

“What’s down there?” Robin asks and then looks up at Billy. “You were down here before. Did you see this bit?”

“I wasn’t in this section,” Billy says, frowning. The basement appears to be much larger than the house above and he wonders if that’s by design or by some strange dimension twisting logic. He doubts very much that it was down to Andrew Newton. But he certainly didn’t encounter this particular tunnel earlier, and he doesn’t even know for sure if it connects to the original basement. “I don’t know where this leads.” Robin pulls herself up and takes a deep breath.

“I think we’re going to have to find out,” she says.

XXX

Steve wakes up and immediately regrets it.

“Fuck,” he groans and tries to lift his head. Whatever he’s got his face on is cold and slightly damp and smells like the back alley behind Family Video.

He manages to roll over, his head thumping with every movement. Finally, he’s able to lie flat on his back and just breathe. The air here is slightly musty and faintly stale. There’s an odd metallic tang to it, something familiar that Steve just can’t place.

He was in the basement. He climbed down the ladder with Billy and Robin. They were going to get out. But then someone had called his name from the blackness behind them. Something determined to not let him go and he hadn’t been strong enough to fight it.

He lifts his hand and gently probes at his forehead. While doing so reveals a large tender lump, his hand doesn’t come away covered with blood so he feels a little bit better about that.

Eventually his vision stops swaying and he’s able to focus on a familiar rug, fraying at the edges. He’s in the dining room of Creel House.

“What the fuck?” Steve asks blearily. How the hell did he get back up here? He was in the basement and now he’s staring at the old wood paneling that surrounds the room. He’s lying on the same patch of rug he tripped over earlier, just under the portrait of the Creels.

He peels himself off the floor, stopping to lean against the table when his head spins. He breathes in deep through his nose, ignoring the rank smell that he inhales when he does so. Fuck, did something die up here while they were running for their lives? It hadn’t smelled like that earlier.

“Billy?” he tries, his voice coming out as a dry croak. He coughs and tries again. “Billy? Ro?”

No answer.

Steve curls his fingers around the edge of the wood. This isn’t good. It feels like another trap somehow. He gets the vague feeling that trying to get back to the kitchen and the trapdoor again won’t end well for him.

“Alice?” Steve tries, hoping that their little guide can at least hear him, even if his friends can’t. But there’s no sudden ghost appearing in front of him, just the silence of an empty house.

Shit. He casts an anxious look back over his shoulder at the portrait, like he half expects the eyes of Henry Creel to be watching him. He’s going to have to do something. He can’t stay here.

That’s when he notices the other portraits.

Previously, the only portrait in the room was the sole one of the Creels - obnoxious and terrifying, taking up a large space directly over the dining table. But now every available section of space on the walls has been filled. A variety of frames of age, design and size scattered across every wall.

The one to the right of the Creels’ portrait is of a beautiful blonde woman. Her hair is curled around her heart-shaped face, her huge blue eyes sweet and sad. She’s wearing an old fashioned dress of a pale pink color, the collar neat and prim around her long neck.

The portrait to the left is of a middle-aged man with thinning red hair. He has brown eyes and a birthmark over his eyebrow. He’s wearing a brown velour suit that looks like something Steve’s dad had back in the seventies. When Steve looks around the room, every other portrait is the same. Some pictures are photographs, some black and white, some in color. Other frames hold actual paintings, like the one of the Creels. Most of them contain only one person but every so often it holds a couple. One closer to the door has a stern looking man with a burn across the hand that he drapes around his wife’s shoulder. Another has two similar looking women with matching dark skin and full mouths, possibly sisters.

Frowning Steve turns his head back to the portrait of the blonde woman and notices the faint inscription at the bottom of her frame.

Peggy Schaffer, 1948.

Steve’s legs hit the table as he takes a hurried step back. To anyone else that name might mean nothing. But Steve has spent weeks researching Creel House, stared at every newspaper and every name of whoever had once lived here. And in late 1947, the Schaffer family moved in with their teenage daughter, Margaret. She was known as Peggy and she later slit her wrists in the bathtub. She left the water running and the bath had overflowed with red water all the way down the hall.

Open-mouthed, Steve stares around the room. There are so many. The house has existed since the late eighteen hundreds but clearly not every case has been documented. As he wanders around, taking in every name, for every one he recognises there are least two that he doesn’t. He knows the Newtons, Elizabeth, Peggy and Richard. But he’s never heard of Chandra and Meera, Payton and Harry, Luisa and Andrew.

It’s like a strange sort of graveyard, portraits labeled with names and dates of death. Because that’s what this is - the blood that spilled over and over in Creel House. Andrew Newton in 1888. Elizabeth Strand in 1919. Peggy Schafer in 1948. Sebastian Hayes in 1975. Alice Creel in 1986. Isobel Reyes in 1997. Over and over, every person who ever stepped into this house.

Okay, fuck this. He’s getting out.

He bolts from the dining room, intent on reaching the door this time. He doesn’t care what might get in his way.. He’s going and when he’s out, he can open up the cellar door to the basement to find Billy and Robin. He’s pretty sure that they’re still down there, maybe wandering in the same labyrinth that caught him before. They don’t have much in the van that could help but there are tool sheds out back that must have something in that he can use.

But he slams to a halt in the hall. He can hear voices carrying clearly from the living room.

It’s another trick. An illusion. He’d know Billy and Robin’s voices anywhere and these ones definitely aren’t the sounds of his friends. But he goes to look anyway, gripping tightly to the doorframe as he peers around.

It’s Christmas. Before the room had been derelict and dusty and now it’s gleaming with twinkly lights, a massive fir tree taking pride of place in the corner. The mantlepiece bears four stockings, all trimmed with faux fur, and the people that sprawl across the floor passing presents back and forth are the same ones that left and never looked back.

Steve reels. Okay, he definitely hit his head. He had to have done and now he’s suffering from some weird concussion induced trauma that’s giving him hallucinations. Because he knows these people. Their photos are still stuck to every wall.

A pretty Korean woman, with her long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, digs under the tree for another present. Her husband - a tall man with curling brown hair and wire glasses - sits on the couch, watching his son run a toy train across the floor. It’s the kind of disgusting family scene that Steve never really had. The matching family slippers. The dog chewing on a toy bone on the rug. The hand painted ornaments on the tree.

“Open this one next,” Mrs Packard says, handing the gift to her daughter as though she can’t see Steve lingering in the doorway. Maybe she can’t, and this really is just Steve’s twisted hallucination.

Their daughter tears into the wrapping paper and judging by the names stitched onto the stockings, her name is Emma.

Emma rips through the wrapping paper the way that kids do, until it’s shredded in pieces on the carpet. But when she tugs open the box, the inside squirms and ripples like a pulsing heartbeat. For a minute, Steve doesn’t quite understand what he’s seeing. But then something small and shiny crawls out onto Emma’s hand.

“Fuck!” Steve shouts, because no one else seems to notice. Mrs Packard is still looking for presents under the three, the little boy runs his train back and forth across the rug. Emma just stares as the mass judders and spills over the cardboard box and her tiny fingers.

Emma turns to face him and to Steve’s shock, her eyes are as black as the shiny shells of the cockroaches. One skitters up her neck and vanishes into her dark hair.

“You’re all going to die in here,” she says simply, and Steve runs.

He’s dreaming. He has to be. He must still be lying in the fucking basement with a concussion and that asshole playing tricks with his head again. None of this can be real.

When he finds Neil Hargrove in the kitchen is the moment he knows for certain that it’s all in his head.

It’s still the Creel Kitchen, strange and caked in dust, sunlight rippling off the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, but Neil and his new family sit around the table, passing over plates of bacon like nothing is wrong. Susan Mayfield sweeps a dead spider off the table top and then sticks her knife in the butter. Steve feels bile rise in his throat as he sees the curled dead legs clinging to the butter on her knife before she smooths it across her toast.

Little Max, Billy’s stepsister, reaches for the ketchup bottle. Steve’s only ever seen a picture of her, all wild red hair and fierce blue eyes. She’s wearing shorts and a striped t-shirt, neat red plaits down her shoulders. She shakes out the bottle and clots of blood ooze down onto the plate instead. Like her mother she doesn’t notice, smearing a piece of bacon into the blood before placing it in her mouth.

Neil sips from his coffee cup before he even addresses Steve. It says a lot that Steve doesn’t feel any fear looking at this man. Billy might, but all Steve has is hate.

“You can’t fix him,” Neil says abruptly, and Steve curls his fingers into a fist. He’s always hated Neil, even before he knew what that asshole was doing to Billy.

“I’m not trying to fix him,” he snarls. As far as he’s concerned, Billy doesn't need fixing. He’s not something that can be fixed, no matter what Neil says.

“He’s not going to fix you either,” Neil says mildly and this time Steve seriously considers stabbing him with one of the knives on the table. This probably isn’t the Neil that Billy saw but this is the one that Steve remembers. The passive aggression, the snide comments, the badly veiled disdain. The man kept his temper in front of guests but only just. Even Steve’s father never spoke to his wife the way Neil spoke to Abigail.

“I’m not asking him to,” Steve says, because that’s not how this works. He has no illusions about it, that being with Billy isn’t going to fix all of their problems. It won’t mend Billy’s trauma, won’t vanish Steve’s insecurities. Relationships don’t work that way, and they shouldn’t.

Neil wrinkles up his nose. For a moment, his hand with the cup in tilts and Steve gets a glimpse of the strange black liquid within. It’s not coffee.

“It doesn't matter anyway,” Neil says, sounding bored. Susan takes a bite of toast, ignorant of the dead arachnid that is mulched into the butter. “You’re all going to die here.”

“You keep saying that!” Steve spits in frustration and Neil smiles.

“But it’s true,” he points out. “You’re never going to get out of this house. You walked willingly into this web, like all of those before you. We’re not going to let you go. You can thrash and fight to escape all you like. But you put your foot down onto the silk and woke us up and now you can’t get out. And you know why, don’t you?”

Steve swallows and it feels like knives all the way down, his mouth is so dry. With a sinking feeling, Steve suspects that it has been true ever since they walked through the front door. The spiders, the door, the tunnel…it all fits.

Which means that it’s all Steve’s fault.

Neil crows in delight and claps his hands, a slow, sarcastic applause. Steve looks down at the stained floor and feels a bitter sting come to his eyes. Fuck. It’s been him all along. He’s the reason that they didn’t get out when they tried the first time.

“Stupid boy,” Neil says, disdainfully. “You’re too far gone. You’re not going to escape. We’re hungry and love makes you weak.”

“It’s not making me weak,” Steve insists, because while loving Billy has made him a lot of things, it’s never once made him weak. “I’m not sure if you’re Neil or that fucker that was in my head earlier but it doesn’t make you weak. And you wouldn’t know because I don’t think you’re capable of it.” Neil, or Henry, or whatever else lives in this house…they’re all the same breed of monster in the end. The kind that Billy fears he’ll be and the kind that Steve knows Billy could never be. Incapable of love.

Neil’s mouth splits open and there are too many teeth crammed in behind his lips. There’s something familiar about the cold, dead look behind his eyes and that’s when Steve knows for sure. This is the creature that’s already been inside his head. This is the spider advancing on the fly bound in the web.

“Love isn’t power,” Neil continues, the cup slipping from his fingers. The black liquid inside seeps across the table and whatever it is, Steve doesn’t think that it’s safe to touch.

The fork suddenly clatters out of Max’s hand and she turns her head to look at Steve. Neil’s face has taken on an expression of fury, like the scheduled program is not going as he would like. Steve isn’t quite sure what’s going on until he gets a good look at Max’s face.

“Run,” Max says, and Steve doesn’t hang around.

It’s only when he’s racing back down the hallway that he realizes that he doesn’t know where to go. He can only go around and around in this house of horrors. And if it’s a dream then he’s really fucked. He doesn’t know how to get out of a dream.

But whatever happened back there wasn’t meant to happen and he remembers Alice trying in vain to keep him on track back in the tunnel.

The living room is empty again, the Packard’s one and only Christmas in this place wiped clean. Steve goes for the stairs, even though he’s not sure what nightmare waits for him up there.

He stumbles into Robin’s bedroom.

“Oh fuck,” Steve mutters, as he stares down at the three of them from four years ago. Robin in a pilfered sweatshirt, fast asleep on the bed, Cheeto dust still clinging to her fingers. Down on the floor, lying side by side on the spare mattress, is Billy and Steve. The TV flickers on whatever DVD they’d left in, now no longer being watched by any of the occupants in the room.

Mesmerised, Steve steps forward. Billy looks so young here, the faintest hint of a fuller face, before Billy had grown up. His hair is already starting to get longer, the curls clinging to the back of his neck. He’s half asleep, lashes fluttering against the curve of his cheek.

Steve had felt so raw that night. So unbalanced. They’d been friends for eight years at that point and he’s still not sure what it was about this night that made him start to look at Billy differently.

Steve turns to look at the younger version of himself and he can already see it on his face. He knows that it’s going to be a long, hard fall from here but he can’t stop watching fourteen year old Steve stare in awe as Billy breathes.

“I’m going to find a way back to you,” Steve promises his sleeping friends. Because he got them into this mess in the first place. They would have been able to walk out of the front door without Steve and his stupid head. He’s kept it all hidden for too long and he never should have let it get this far. He was afraid of losing Billy and it kept him from even trying.

He should have. He should have rolled over and kissed Billy that first night at Robin’s. He should have kissed him under the mistletoe at Nancy's party two years ago. He should have stopped today after he faced down the fake one and told him that Steve is too far gone on him.

Because that’s the thing. There’s no coming back now. He knows in his heart that he’s going to love Billy for the rest of his life. The fall has been too deep, too absolute. Every laugh, every time Billy fell asleep on his couch, every time he fought with Robin over his lipgloss. His sudden stormy moods, his unwavering loyalty, his incredible spirit. Steve is totally and incredibly in love. Being friends just isn’t enough and he knows it.

“You should remember that for later,” comes a voice and Steve looks up to see the gleam of Robin’s eyes in the dark. Even though she didn’t wake up that night, something has made her sit up now with that grave expression, a puppet pulled by someone else’s strings like Max down in the kitchen. “Don’t let go of it.”

“I won’t,” Steve promises, taking one last glance at this chunk of his past. He knows where he has to go next.

The room across the hall is also occupied but Steve steps in anyway.

“I suppose you meant it earlier when you said it was all fake?” Steve asks, waiting in the doorway. Henry looks up from his drawings. Steve can see from here that they’re the same horrid pictures that Robin found, smears of black ink and red pen across the page. The boy himself isn’t much better than the painting. There’s something strange about the pallor to his cheeks, the discontented twist of his mouth.

“It is,” Henry says flatly. And Steve is inclined to agree, the lie of a portrait of the happy family and the son who wished for nothing more than their deaths. It would have been better for all of the Creels if Henry had been drowned in a bucket after birth. He may not have murdered them but it was still his hand behind their deaths in the end. “You should know that better than anyone.”

“Maybe,” Steve agrees. Maybe that was another part that Henry was picking up on, the one similarity between themselves.

Alice sits on the floor, her legs tucked beneath her pale blue dress. She pays Steve no mind, drawing something in a bright pink crayon. So far, Steve has only seen the painting and the ghost versions of her. This one is painfully real, from the runs in her tights to the flush in her cheeks.

“You killed your sister,” Steve says, repulsed. They’d known it before but they never stopped to consider just how evil of an act that it was. It’s all too easy to see - Henry pulling his sister from her bed, smothering her screams for help, dragging her down into this dark space and slicing her open. A sacrifice, a bargain, an offering.

“It was the price to pay,” Henry says smoothly and the coldness of it all strikes Steve down to his core. “It wanted proof of my loyalty…and that I could follow through on my desires. A trait that you seem to lack.”

Steve grinds his teeth. This creature has chased him all around the house, wearing different faces, and he’s had enough of it. The only thing stopping him from punching Henry Creel right in his smug face is the thought that this is just another illusion.

“Well, I’m glad that you have some restraint,” Henry drawls, his eyes glittering. He looks half mad, this small boy with the intense eyes. Steve’s not really one for believing that whole ‘windows to the soul’ gibberish but he thinks that these eyes are definitely showing something. Like the glint of a predator’s eyes in the dark.

“Did you just read my fucking mind?” Steve spits, a little horrified. He should have guessed and the slow, pleased smile spreading across Henry’s face is enough to prove it.

“Did you think I just killed my sister for nothing?” Henry asks. Alice continues coloring and Steve is pretty sure that this one is just an illusion. Just another ploy by Henry, like the Packards, like the Mayfields.

“No, I got a little something out of it,” Henry continues, as though Steve’s presence barely matters at all. “I told you before. Power is what matters. Not love.”

Love had meant nothing to Henry. Maybe he’d never cared for his sister. Maybe he had and slitting her open in front of the demon was the sacrifice he’d had to make. But Henry has been doing the dirty work for the demon ever since 1989. Playing with people’s heads, learning their fears and desires, and driving them right into an open maw.

If there was indeed a spirit that existed in Hawkins before Andrew Newton ever thought to build a grand manor here, then the demon was trapped by the concrete walls, the slabs of modern steel, all of the brick and mortar. Andrew constructed a trap without ever knowing what he had done. But it didn’t matter. The demon didn’t need to leave anymore, not now that food was being delivered right to it.

Some probably took time. Peggy killed herself a mere seven months after she arrived at the house. If the demon was limited to where it could go in the house, then its influence took longer to get inside Peggy’s head. It was the same for the Strands. It took a long year before Winston snapped and murdered his wife. But after the remaining Creels left the house, the time frame for every occupant got shorter and shorter. Isobel Reyes in 1997 lasted three months. Terry Hatcher survived eight weeks before he threw himself onto the iron railings below. The Packards lived here for five months before they fled. That's a long time to survive with a demon living beneath your feet, with a monster trying to tug on your strings, waiting until you’re ripe. Henry is the anglerfish, the siren luring men into rocks with their songs, the woman in white waiting by the side of the road.

The entity in this house has made Henry the perfect tool. He can pick out every dark thought in someone’s head and then use it to manifest their fears, their desires. It would either propel them to act on their repressed thoughts or eventually drive them mad.

A deeply disturbed boy, obsessed with the murders and spiders, must have been ripe pickings for a demon. They’d lived here for a few months before the disappearances. Did the demon whisper to Henry every night? Trickle sweet nothings in his ear, like poisoned honey, promising him blood and power if he would just drag his sister down to the basement and spill her guts before a demon?

“You’re not wrong,” comes a bemused voice and Steve jerks his head up to the large bay window. Before it had been empty, sunlight spilling in across the faded wood.

The man in front of him doesn’t look much older than Steve. He’s maybe a decade older, long and lean with sharp wrists and high cheekbones. There’s something about his blonde hair, the glint in his eyes as he stares at Steve that’s also familiar. It isn’t until the man tilts his aristocratic chin that it all clicks.

“Henry Creel,” Steve says, stunned, and the man gives him a flash of teeth. Steve turns his head back to the young Henry on the floor. The boy is still dragging thick black lines across the page. There’s something familiar about it and Steve recoils. It’s following him, that same black ooze.

“Well done,” Henry says, and it drips with condescension. There’s still something of the dour little boy in the man standing in front of Steve, but he can’t quite believe that this is Henry Creel all grown up. Henry should be older, a man in his fifties at least. But this man is youthful, with fresh skin and shiny hair, and it sits all wrong in Steve’s belly. It could be another part of his dream but somehow, he doesn’t think that it is.

“How are you…?” Steve begins to ask and then stops. “You never left this house, did you?” The horrible truth is that he already knows, and has started to suspect since Robin came down with that metal box in her hands. Two little children vanished from their beds one night in 1986. They were never seen again until 2022 when three amateur ghost hunters wandered into the Creel mansion. Alice looks exactly the same as she did when she lived here and that’s because she never left.

Henry didn’t either but for completely different reasons.

“So no portrait in the attic then?” Steve asks, and Henry smirks.

“I told you that there were benefits to this arrangement,” he says calmly, wandering a little closer to Steve. He looks like any man you’d meet in the street, with tailored trousers and a crisp white shirt. His polished black shoes click across the concrete and Steve shuts his eyes. He’s not sure what’s worse.

“That’s fucked up,” Steve hisses. Steve would never…could never. Not for whatever twisted immortality that Henry has.

“And instead of being devoured by it, you were the only one to make friends with it,” Steve says and opens his eyes. Henry watches him with interest. There's satisfaction there, and a little bit of hunger. There shouldn’t be such an expression of bloodlust on any human.

“Close,” Henry admits. “I was always different. That’s why we moved here. They thought that a nice little town like this could fix me.”

“Can it fix psychopath,” Steve bites out, unable to help voicing the thought that skitters across his brain. Because there’s something very not right with Henry, something that was rotten long before he walked across the demon’s path.

But Henry chuckles. He looks amused by Steve’s venom, and that doesn’t mean anything good for Steve.

“You failed a little,” Steve probes. “Your parents got out.” But there’s a look of grim satisfaction on Henry’s face.

“Not far enough,” he chides. “And not for long. They both died not long after. Quite honestly, I think that they knew what had happened. It wasn’t something that they could really live with.”

No, they couldn’t have. They’d have known what their son was capable of and they’d never have been able to shake their suspicions. It had swallowed Virginia whole and Victor not long after. The guilt. The regret. The grief.

“What about my friends?” Steve asks, because he has to know. Billy was visited by either Henry or the demon…and if Steve had to make a guess, he’d presume the demon. Billy had wandered right into its hunting ground, and he could guess at what thoughts could be skimmed from Billy’s head. The kind of thoughts that would have made it so easy for it to wear Neil’s face.

“They’re around,” Henry says, looking at his fingernails. This is all routine for him, luring people down to be used as food. He’s more demon than human himself now, never aging, able to pick out people’s deepest desires from their hearts. “We really only needed you. If they’re smart, they’ll leave.”

Steve swallows, suddenly very aware of the lump in his throat. They wouldn’t leave. He hopes to God they have but he knows them. They’ve been a package deal all their lives. They wouldn’t leave him behind.

“Why all this?” Steve asks, gesturing to the room, the children, the dream. “I know it’s not real.”

Henry gives an easy shrug and then waves his hand. The children vanish, young Henry and Alice fading away like smoke.

“Why not?” Henry says, like it’s all a game. That this has just been fun for him, seeing how far he can push Steve. “Besides, I don’t think you want what’s real.”

“So how does it work?” Steve asks, trying to ignore the goose-flesh on his arms. The temperature in the room has dropped, a strange dank air moving through the room as though someone left a window to hell open. He’s on borrowed time now. “I run around this stupid dream version of your house until you eat me?”

“I’m not the one eating you,” Henry says dryly. The bedroom door slams behind Steve and he flinches, before grabbing furiously at the handle. It rattles uselessly, even though he knows there’s no escaping anyway. This is Henry’s domain. Steve has no power here.

“No, you don’t,” Henry says coldly and when Steve turns around Henry is right there, a hand shooting out as fast as lightning to push Steve back into the door. It’s a dream, but he can still feel the press of the handle into his spine, the sharp sting of Henry’s nails against his throat.

A hand curls suddenly into his hair and Steve tries to jerk back but can’t. Henry’s fingers are cold and stiff, a familiar feeling from when he’d worn Billy’s face earlier and caressed Steve’s face like a lover. The fact that this time he knows that it’s not Billy, something not quite human, doesn’t help. His blood still pounds with fear as Henry leans over him.

“It’s been a good while since I was able to use these powers,” Henry confides, still gently stroking Steve’s hair like he doesn’t have his other hand gripped around Steve’s throat. “This was what I wanted after all, what I was promised. Before I was ordinary, human, weak.”

“Get out,” Steve gasps, having to fight for each word against the pressure of Henry’s weight. Henry just smiles, his face horribly close to Steve’s and that’s when Steve realizes that he can’t move. Steve automatically squirms but Henry just laughs and it’s by far the worst sound that Steve has ever heard.

“Would this be easier for you if I looked like Billy again?” Henry asks and Steve shudders.

Henry grins, mouth stretched wide and curls his fingers deeper into Steve’s head. They feel longer, bonier, than any normal digit should, each one like an ice pick against Steve’s scalp.

“I hope you don’t mind me having another little look,” Henry croons, before Steve tips his head back and screams.

Onto Chapter 6

16 notes · View notes

sun-undone · 11 months

Note

You definitely reminded me of some key points in season 3 that I definitely didn’t consider.

The château being burned down by topper seal the deal of him becoming an enemy. It would be EXTREMELY hard to see topper having a redemption story after that with some corny BS line like “ hey John b no hard feelings with the château, right?”💀💀💀

But just a warning 👀 if you hear Sarah’s voice starting off a epsiode with a reflective monologue of confusion and indecisiveness, then You know what’s coming 😂 let’s see if the pates intentionally screw us over with her character growth.

I agree with Jarah B being the stable couple as the other couples are still fresh and have some more exploring to do with their dynamic. I would love to see a bond created between JJ and Mike maybe closer to the end of season 4 to show Mike he can be the guy for kie and mike should give him a chance just like he was given one before he got accepted into the kooks.. we’ll seeeeee

NOWWWW

MR COUNTRY CLUB HIMSELF

Mark my words if Rafe does not become a Pogue by the end of season 4 he will die sacrificing his life for them with his final words laying in Sarah’s arms saying

“ I finally did something right”

( if I am completely wrong just forget I ever existed 🤣🤣)

LETS BE HONEST Ward created a monster with rafe. But rafe mistakes EAT HIM UP ALIVE which is why he is heavy on drugs. I still remember him crying because Barry didn’t have any coke for him one day and he freaked out. Rafe is a lunatic but not a serial killer. Which is why he went back to save Ward after putting a hit man on him. Rafe wants real acceptance! His problem is he always tries to fix his mistakes last minute.

Rafe isn’t a kook because of the luxury lifestyle. He’s a kook because of power and validation. Unlike topper who is a silver spoon fed kid with no siblings. Just a spoiled single child.

If the JJ and rafe fight happens. I think it’s early in the season. I don’t think they’ll make it a big ordeal. I feel like the Pogue gang will have bigger fish to fry by the end of the season if they’re on a new treasure hunt.

OK, please rip my response to shreds with your thoughts, I’m all ears.

Look at what this stupid little boat show has done to us 🥲

oooooh okay this is such an interesting topic, Rafe is such an interesting character to begin with, so i think his storyline in s4 is the one i'm most curious about. especially since we got nothing from him in the s3 finale for whatever dumb reason.

this is a very complex conversation to have, but to start, i don't think i want a redemption for Rafe! and i think they kind of closed the door on him sacrificing himself for the pogues or Sarah in particular by having Ward do it in season 3. i truly don't know how far they're gonna go with him seeking revenge on the pogues for Ward's death, or what they plan on doing with his character after this season, but whatever it is, i just don't see him turning a new leaf by the end of it. the ending for Rafe i'd most like to see is him going to jail and losing all of his assets and possessions, including Tannyhill, so Pope can snatch it up and make it a museum that tells the true story of Denmark Tanny. but i'm getting ahead of myself, let's talk about the really juicy stuff

do Rafe's actions eat him up anymore? i definitely agree that in the first 2 seasons, he was an absolute wreck trying to hold himself together with coke and by desperately seeking Ward's validation to keep himself occupied. but what about in season 3? he has that scene with Kie in episode 2 where he tries to paint himself as the victim for killing Peterkin, and i think that his denial truly runs that deep at this point. through spinning the story in his own mind, he's convinced himself that he did the right thing so he doesn't have to feel all the complicated emotions that we saw him feeling at the end of season 1 and even into season 2 in the aftermath of the murder. but in terms of Sarah, he does actually get emotional when he explains that he knows it was wrong, which is incredibly interesting to me. he clearly hasn't done the same mental gymnastics in trying to defend himself for that, so i could definitely see him genuinely feeling remorseful, which opens up that same incredibly complex dynamic that he and Sarah have had for a while now. there's a part of him that will always resent her for being Ward's favorite for so long, but now we can see that there is real guilt about trying to kill her. i think that scene really captures the pure instability of Rafe's mental state that still exists in some capacity, mainly in terms of Sarah, which we unfortunately don't see a ton of moving forward in the season since he barely has any scenes with the pogues. in general, he actually seems pretty confident and secure, maybe the best we've ever seen him, in terms of his mental and emotional state. so is the guilt really bothering him that much? the coke doesn't seem to be a coping mechanism for him like it had been before, like he was constantly using for the majority of season 2. but we just didn't see him struggling with his past actions in season 3, it was much more about his present and especially his future.

but for season 4, i'm definitely expecting a return to the more unstable side of Rafe as he plots revenge. who will he target in particular? who does he think is most responsible? will he choose to leave the other pogues out of the crossfire? if he gets the chance to kill Sarah again, would he take it? if he really was remorseful at the beginning of season 3, has that been overtaken by rage by the beginning of season 4? the year and a half time jump makes this much trickier cause maybe he's been trying to keep his mind off of it and do his own thing and resist the urge to get revenge but when he hears about the pogues getting recognition for their findings, it sends him off the deep end again? or has he been stewing the entire time? has the time given his rage the chance to simmer down a bit or has it only boiled over into something worse? now that he has the blessing of his father, which is the only thing he's ever really wanted, what are his motivations? how will he shift his way of thinking now that there's no more Ward to aspire to or to spite, and how will his mental state fare now that he believes that the pogues have taken away any opportunity he might've had to mend his relationship with his father?

there's truly so many things to consider and countless different avenues that his path could take, and i really do not know what is most likely at this point!! Drew hasn't even gotten to set yet so there's absolutely no bts to speculate about either. personally, i love Rafe as a character and i don't wanna see him killed off, and like i said before, although he expresses remorse in 3x02, i'm not sure if it's gonna be enough moving forward. i've always been interested in his character and have never shied away from the fact that Ward absolutely aided in fucking him up for life, BUT i just don't know if Rafe himself thinks he needs redeeming. and i especially don't know if he'll be thinking in that way in the aftermath of Ward's death.

but really, who knows???? i'm voting squarely against a redemption or any kind of sacrifice, but god, i am so so so intrigued to see where the pates take him.

this was really fun to think about and i could probably ramble on for way way way longer, but this is long enough already!!! thanks for sparking up the discussion! ☺️

#if anyone else has any thoughts feel free to keep the conversation going!#there really is so much to talk about and consider when it comes to rafe's character #sorry if this is all over the place i tried my best to make it as cohesive and understandable as possible #obx

4 notes · View notes

alyjojo · 2 years

Text

The Person On Your Mind in October 😈 2022 - Taurus

Whole of their energy towards Taurus: 2 Cups

Probably a romantic relationship, or was. You don’t know what to think about this person. Their messages come up as both honest and plays mind games, which Taurus does not play with that bs. They seem to be waiting for you to communicate with them and provide clarity to a situation, you feel like they’re full of shit and don’t know what to believe. It’s true & you’ve got every reason to be indecisive, which shows up on your side.

Feelings: 8 Cups

You’ve left something behind, probably this person, because you got fed up with The Moon, confusion, fears, worries, anxiety, hidden sneaky matters and everything you can’t clearly see. 7 Swords rev follows showing what you expect, transparency and complete honesty, and 6 Pentacles after that show you’ve given that, but are you getting it? They’re well aware of that fact and it looks like you’ve moved away from all of this and they’re still trying to talk about it. A side story - someone that loves you very much has seen you leave behind a father or a job, probably due to circumstances outside of your control, and you’ve been very open with them about it.

Intentions: Ace of Swords

This person intends to clear through the bs and discuss how things have changed between you, or address things you’ve said to them. Some of these may be outside of either of your control, you could also feel you’ve “outgrown” a person, or they with you. You could have found out truths you didn’t know and they exhausted you, you threw in the towel and said good riddance…they’re chasing you down. If a job, this person just wants to talk about the situation and get clear, maybe so they can help you.

Actions: Justice

This person is making the decision to come back around to talk with you, clear the air, set things straight. Or you’ve made the decision to cut ties altogether and you’re healing, could go either way…maybe both. Justice is a final decision more than an action, one of you feels completely justified in their side of things and may have healed from a situation that the other person is left confused about. If you’ve lost a job, your person loves you and is very supportive, but you’re more in a mourning phase and could be separating yourself until you get your mojo back, something took the wind out of your sails. If someone has messed with your head, they may be telling the truth or not, but it doesn’t seem like you really care what they say, because you can’t tell if they are or not, and that’s all that matters to you.

Messages:

Their side:

- Honest!

- Mind Games 🤯

Your side:

- Indecisive

- I just want to be alone.

Possible signs:

Cancer, Libra, Pisces & Taurus

If you’re dealing with:

Knight of Pentacles shows you being very cautious, practical-minded and work focused with those around you. Some of these people may be coworkers or those you interact with daily in some way. Your attitude towards them is loyal & honorable, but slow to act.

Aries - literally moving somewhere less expensive or moving on to someone else because they can’t stand to be alone

Taurus - very clear headed and balanced with the decision they’re making, no confusion 💯

Gemini - patiently waiting for some situation to come to fruition, perfectly balanced and calm

Cancer - expectant of something because they’re greedy or out for themselves financially

Leo - could be taking swift action on a medical issue, or rushing in to talk after they feel like they’ve healed (or need to) from something

Virgo - sneaky & deceptive with money

Libra - completely transparent with you about their happiness & stability, this is a solid relationship, most likely a family member

Scorpio - stepping up their game, being more authoritative & disciplined due to things outside their control that are screwing with them. The Wheel spins rev, could be a karmic cycle

Sagittarius - sudden shocking changes in their life are causing them to be defensive, or you are

Capricorn - “play stupid games, win stupid prizes” is what I heard with this one

Aquarius - guarded & closed off to you because they’re confident, ambitious and sure of themselves in whatever they’re doing

Pisces - feels abandoned by you, but won’t tell you, could have financial problems they aren’t talking about or don’t know how

#taurus tarot reading #person on your mind #october 2022 #Taurus #tarot

1 note · View note

drvnkd4zed · 2 years

Text

enhypen meeting your parents for the first time

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Jungwon

You've been thinking of a way to introduce Jungwon to your parents for a long time, the time has finally come when he planned to go visit them directly to their house. Once they open the door and see Jungwon, they recognized him right away. Jungwon shyly enters their house and take a seat next to you, he's not leaving you for any reason, he's following you everywhere. He's very nervous as he wants to show your parents how can he be a good boyfriend, so he starts talking about how much he likes you and cares about you, making your parents' hearts melt <3

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Heeseung

Hee's the funny guy, so he's probably trying to make your parents laugh with jokes and funny faces. He'll be scared and anxious as he wants your parents' approval, he's telling your parents how he rolls up your blankets before you go to sleep just as you were his baby, how he sings for you when you feel upset and nervous. He's convincing them that they can make sure you'll be safe with him.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Jay

I think Jay's going to be moooore difficult. At the first glance, he looks cold and intimidating, but ofc you all know how sweet and soft he is. He's dressing very elegant and chic so that your parents will think that he's very professional and determined. You will show all the clothes he bought you, all the earrings, the necklaces, and he will state from time to time that he would do everything for you.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Jake

Jake will definitely be the most nervous among all the members. Your parents MUST like him or he'll be hurt forever. He's dressing up with elegant clothes just like Jay - as he wants to look very smart - and he's asking you what your parents like and dislike so he'll know what to say. While you two are heading to the house, he's asking you lots of questions out of frenzy. "What if they won't like me? I won't never break up with you! Will we have to date secretly? I can't lie... and then I'll have to find someone else to date because you will be mad at me so just let's break up and I'll stay single for the rest of my life".

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Sunghoon

Sunghoon will prepare what to say before the actual meeting with your parents. You will hear him from the other room talking to himself saying stuff like:"Hello, I'm Sungho- No, Hi! I'm sun- no this is bad, Good Morning I'm- screw that, Y/n's introducing me". You think he's very cute, you know he's very nervous but he doesn't want you to mock him about it. Once he gets out of the bathroom you'll see him with a new hairstyle, new clothes and a new perfume. "What happened to you??? " you ask him. "I think this is more appropriate" he would answer.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Sunoo

I think he's going to be veeeery confident and determined, he knows he loves you and your parents will come after that. Of course he's putting effort to show a good appearance, but he knows he can win everyone's heart. He's probably becoming your mom's best friend, she's going to love him.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Niki

I'm very indecisive about Niki, I think he's going to be either extremely nervous or extremely confident and calm. Just like Sunoo, he cares about your heart more than your parents', so he will do as much as possible so that your parents will like him, but he won't beg too much. Your parents are probably going to like him for his pure and innocent looks, he's so young and cute that you just can't resist him.

requests are open!

hope you liked this chapter ✨

#kpop #enhypen #enhypen reactions #heeseung #jake #jay #jungwon #kpop requests #niki #sunghoon #sunoo #enhypen imagines #kpop smut #kpop imagines

478 notes · View notes

ironmanfridgemagnet · 2 years

Text

Sitting On The Shelf - Marcus White x Reader

Part 9 - All Nighter

SOTS Masterlist

"Attention, shoppers, the store has been closed for 20 minutes. Many of us would like to leave. So, if you're still in the store, you're being a dick. Don't be a dick." Garret emphasised, looking directly at the man stood opposite Jonah. He'd been staring at the trash cans for over an hour now, still trying to pick one - was it really that hard?

"If I don't get home and study for my midterm, I'm totally screwed." Amy groaned from the next to you; she'd been working so hard for this exam, and you didn't want it to be thrown away because of one indecisive customer. "Oh, hey, you look so cute."

"Thank you!" You, Garret and Cheyenne replied in union, each looking at the other confused. However, upon seeing Cheyenne's outfit, you realised who Amy had been directing her words at.

"Awe, Chey, you look so good!" You gushed, grabbing her by her forearms and squeezing them gently.

"It's my senior dance recital tonight." Cheyenne announced, gesturing down to her outfit and spinning slowly where she stood.

"What? Why didn't you tell us?" Amy cried, almost offended that Cheyenne hadn't told anyone at work about her recital - you'd have loved to go.

"Well, I can't perform because of, you know, this." Cheyenne rubbed her growing belly gently, hoping to keep the baby at bay as she blamed it for not being able to dance at her recital. "But I'm gonna go and cheer on the other girls."

"Yeah, if this bozo ever leaves the store." You complained, throwing your head back in exasperation; today had been long enough and this dude staring at the trash cans wasn't helping. It wasn't like you had any plans once you got out of here, you just wanted to go home like everyone else.

"It's all right. I got it." Garret said before turning on some loud, obnoxious music, blasting it over the store speakers. Unfortunately, the bin man seemed unphased.

Suddenly, Mateo appeared behind Jonah, a mop in one hand and a bucket in the other. Swiping the mop under the mans feet, he slowly pushed him closer and closer towards the door. For a brief moment, he stooped at the discount movie bin, with baited breath, you hoped that he would just leave the store. With a final push from Mateo, the man was officially outside the store.

"Have a heavenly night." Mateo spat, turning and walking back into the store. Walking over towards the customer service counter, he was met with cheers and applause, everyone thankful that someone was finally able to get the man out of the store, so that you could go home.

"Yeah! Oh, great job, Mateo. Great job." Garret complimented, everyone still clapping for Mateo.

"Hey, we're all staying late to do more work. I'm so sorry. I just found out about it. I feel terrible about this. Whoo-hoo!" Glenn clapped and cheered, hoping his happy demeanour would lesson the blow of the bad news. Of course corporate were going to keep you behind on a Friday evening. Hopefully this evening would be over sooner rather than later.

Pushing yourself off of the customer service counter, you followed after Glenn, hoping to get this done with quickly.

"Ooh, corporate messed up. Those are the same signs we just took down." Garret said, watching as you and Glenn pulled out signs from the package you had just received.

"I don't think so." Glenn said, pulling out a letter hidden deep within the package to try and confirm Garret was wrong. "Nope, they say the old signs were this pale, outdated colour called "Glossy Dolphin." The new ones are a bold, exciting colour called "Glossy Dolphin B.""

Ugh. If you'd known that these signs were pretty much the same, you'd have left the store when trash man had. Letting out a deep sigh, you picked up a grocery sign, allowing Amy to grab the other end and help you carry it.

————————————————————————

"This is kind of fun, right? Being up high like this? Reminds me of my indoor rock-climbing days." Jonah reminisced, looking off longingly across the isles from his place at the top of the ladder.

"I just need to get home to study for my midterm." Amy spat back, fastening the sign to the wires that hung down from the ceiling.

"We can go any minute Ames," You shouted across to her from Jonah's others side, fastening your own sign to the wires that hung just out of your reach. "I just need to fasten this last bit."

"Midterm. That takes me back." Jonah continued to reminisce his college days, having already finished hanging up his sign, but not coming to give either of you guys some help. "Cramming for tests or trying to. Half the time, I'd just end up getting drunk in someone's dorm room and spend the whole night having 'deep' conversations."

Rolling your eyes at Jonah, you climbed down your ladder, walking up the isle and down to Amy's, holding on to the bottom of her ladder absentmindedly.

"That's so fun. Did I ever tell you the story about that one time when I went to college as a grown-up and I had to go work and I had all these responsibilities? It's a laugh riot." Amy climbed down from her ladder, the two of you leaving Jonah to his thoughts to find more signs to hang.

————————————————————————

Having left Amy to go and grab some stuff you needed back home, you made your own way back to the front of the store, hoping to find Glenn and some more signs.

"Ooh, cool move, cowboy." You heard Garret say as you approached the group surrounding Glenn, finding them stood in awe as he flipped a drill around his hand.

"What, this? I was born with a drill in my hand. My family used to own a hardware store Sturgis and Sons?: You noticed Cheyenne looked down anxiously as Glenn's words, gently rubbing her tummy and hoping her baby wouldn't come out with a drill in its hand. Though you knew Glenn didn't mean it literally, the way it flew over Cheyenne's head made you laugh to yourself.

"Yeah, for 59 years, the name "Sturgis" was synonymous with tools. Well, until Cloud 9 moved in up the street, and then a month later, we lost everything. Hey, has anyone seen the laser level?" Glenn asked, looking around to try and find whatever he was looking for.

"Doesn't it make you a little angry to be working for them?" Jonah asked, arms folded tightly across his chest. Though you'd never have brought it up, you couldn't help but agree - knowing that Glenn's family had been run out of business by cloud 9 hit a sour spot.

"Oh, I don't waste my time with anger." Glenn proudly stated, slamming his hammer down and hitting his thumb hard. "Oh. Look at that. I hit my finger."

"That looked pretty serious." You commented, looking intently at Glenn's thumb, trying to check that it wasn't broken or bleeding.

"Did the lights go out?" Cheyenne asked, everyone's attention turning to the ceiling of the dimly lit store.

"Glenn, what's up with the lights? I'm kind of in a rush." Amy asked, appearing from behind the group of you, startling you as she spoke.

"Actually, the lights are controlled by corporate." Glenn explained, holding his thumb tightly in his other hand. "Every night at a certain time, the lights dim, and the doors automatically lock."

"All the doors lock?" Amy asked, her face paling at the thought of being trapped in here all night. At Glenn's confirmation, she ran towards the doors, jumping and waving in front of them in hopes they'd open. "Come on, come on, come on, come on. Oh, no, no, no, no. Are you kidding me? No!"

Tonight was going to be a long night.

Pulling out your phone, you opened up Marcus's contact, typing out an apology.

y/n ;) | Hey Marcus! Can you take a rain check on catching up? Corporate have got us locked up in here :'(

Marcus :p | Of course I can :) Have a good night trapped in there lol. be safe.

A small smile formed on your face at his words - he'd barely been back home and you were already ruining things, yet he remained so sweet about it. Marcus was turning out to be a very good friend.

————————————————————————

"Okay, the bad news is we're locked in. Dina and I will go to my office and look for the lock override code. In the meantime, you guys keep putting up signs. You can make a game out of it. You can call the game "Signage Fever."" Glenn suggested, running away to the back of the store, Dina in tow, hoping to not have to deal with any backlash.

"I am not playing that game." Garret scoffed, pushing away from the group in front of the store doors, hoping to find somewhere he could be alone and relax.

"Guys." Jonah, spoke up, his lips curling up into a sly smile.

"No." You and Amy snapped back, shutting down Jonah's words before he could get them out. You knew whatever was going to come out of his mouth could only make the situation worse.

"You don't even know what I was gonna say." Jonah defended, his hands coming up to the sides of his face.

"I know that every time you start a sentence with, "Guys," you end it with, "Let's make the best of this," or, "Let's have fun. " You never say, "Guys, this really sucks."" Amy confidently concluded, her hands coming to rest on her hips as she raised a judgemental eyebrow at Jonah.

"Guys, we have the entire store to ourselves. We could do whatever we want. If we decide that this is gonna be fun, then this is gonna be fun. So, if you're with me, I will see all of you in the fun zone." Pointing fingers guns at everyone, Jonah retreated into the depths of the store, hoping he'd find something fun to do within the store.

""Fun zone"?" Amy asked incredulously, rolling her eyes at Jonah antics and looking back outside to the parking lot.

"Sometimes I just really want to slap him." Mateo let out a deep huff, rolling his eyes as he left the front of the store. As much as you loved Jonah, it was hard not to agree; his cocky - better than- attitude could sometimes really annoy you.

————————————————————————

Having set up camp in patio after leaving the front doors, others had began to join you. Eventually, a group of you formed, all making small talk as you tried to stay awake.

"Part of me's glad I missed the recital." Cheyenne confessed. "I've been looking forward to my senior dance since sixth grade, and it would've sucked to just sit there and watch."

"I'm not saying that I regret this baby. I just wish that I'd had it later or sooner, like a lot of my friends. You know what I mean?" Cheyenne looked around the group for consolidation, instead met with several confused, yet nodding, faces.

"Uh, I do, yes, and I think each and every one of us has regrets. I'll go next. I regret doing Semester at Sea instead of just picking one country and really absorbing the culture." Jonah admitted, once again finding a away to show off his college education - even though it was only brief. "Who else?"

"I regret not standing up for myself more; especially to my mom. I wish I'd realised it was okay to think she was an ass even though she was my mom." Clearing your throat, you sunk back into your chair, allowing Amy to shuffle her chair closer to your own and wrap an arm around your shoulders.

"Well, my only regrets are the times I over thought things and didn't go for what I wanted." Dina revealed, looking suggestively over at Jonah, who seemed to shrink into his chair under her gaze. "I mean, why fight nature? We're all just animals, right?"

"I regret not rescuing my twin brother from that wave." Mateo admitted, staring into the floor, though he seemed far away in his own thoughts.

"So there you have it, guys. We are learning lots about each other. What about you, Ames? What are you, what's your biggest regret?" Jonah asked, leaning forward in his seat as he addressed the woman who was still holding her arm around you.

"I guess I regret not going to college when I was younger so that I could have lots of stories to annoy my co-workers with." Amy snarked, the group of you laughing as she poked fun at Jonah.

"Hey, well, at least it's quiet. We don't have to listen to that stupid music they make us play." Garret whined, thankful that on top of all the bad events of today, we didn't have to listen to the questionable music the store played.

"I actually kind of like the music. It makes me feel like I'm on hold all day." Glenn said from where he stood at the bench, still fiddling about with the signs that hadn't yet been hung.

"Glenn, you like everything about this store." You groaned, once hopeful that he was finally going to admit to not liking something here.

"That's weird, man." Garret confirmed, shaking his head at the older man across from him.

"Well I don't like everything about this store. Truth be told, the backsplash in the employee's bathroom, it's like B-minus at best." Glenn admitted, though he seemed unsure of himself at giving it anything below an A.

"That's the only thing that bugs you about this company?" Garret probed, determined to get an answer out of Glenn that was negative; even if only a little.

"Well, I guess the aisles are a bit too close together and sometimes the folks in charge don't treat me like I'm a human being with feelings." Glenn sheepishly revealed, looking anxiously between the floor and the group in front of him.

"Yeah, that's a bummer." Cheyenne added, pulling a confused face at how that was Glenn's only criticism of the store.

"Sturgis and Sons was a community. Customers would be like, "Hi, Glenn. Do you have a screw in such-and-such a size?" And I'd say, "I think so. Maybe ask my dad." It was paradise." Glenn sighed, looking longing in the distance as he thought of better times. As Mateo tried to interrupt with another of his regrets, Glenn quickly cut him off. "And then this chain moves in. I mean, where do they get off? Keep us late in locked in the dark, you know, all in service of the bottom line."

"Yeah. Go." Garret cheered, a wide grin curling onto his face as he realised what was about to happen.

"I hate this tie. I hate this shirt!" Glenn shouted, ripping the tie and shirt from his body in a fit of rage.

"Isn't that his shirt?" You whispered to Amy, only getting an attempt at hiding her laughter in response. What had you guys unleashed?

"Oh, you're going a little too far now." Garret criticised, now worried at what he had done to Glenn - in all the years he had worked here, he'd never seen Glenn even a fraction this angry.

"And I hate Regional Manager Dicky Larson, but you know what I hate most of all? I hate Cloud 9." Glenn announced, the realisation of his words rippling across his face.

"I hate Cloud 9." Glenn whispered to himself before yelling it loud yet again, running away from the group to cause chaos within the store.

"What just happened?" Amy choked out, in shock at what she had just witnessed.

"I think we broke Glenn." Garret muttered, everyone shocked by the new version of Glenn that had just been unleashed at the slightest of provoking.

"It's a party, mother-fathers, sponsored by Sturgis and Sons." Glenn shouted, peeking his head out of the end of the alcohol isle, several bottles help in his hands, red sharpie scrawled across them.

This night just got a lot more interesting.

————————————————————————

"Okay. Never have I ever stocked ice cream." Cheyenne offered, everyone taking a sip of their drink. You took a large gulp, consuming more alcohol then you already had, hoping it would put you to sleep, or allow you to enjoy your time here tonight.

"Okay, but You know, like that, but, like, a little more edgy. You know, like, not this, but, "Never have I ever eaten human flesh."" Jonah offered, Mateo taking a sip after a brief pause. "Oh, no, no, no. You drink if you have done it."

"Mm-hmm. I understand." Mateo nodded, staying confident despite his admission.

"I have another one. Never have I ever hooked up in the store. "Everyone around you took a sip of their drink. Well, all except Dina. "Really?"

"You remember last week when Jerusha came by to talk about the mortgage?" Glenn giggled to himself, his cheeks becoming flushed as he spilled his and Jerusha's dark secret. "In my office."

A chorus of gasps filled the patio section, everyone shocked Glenn had even entertained the idea, let alone done it and admitted to it.

"Wait, wait. There's more. We had sex." Glenn clarified, though everyone had already known what he had meant.

"Bo and I, seven months ago." Cheyenne admitted, rubbing her stomach gently as she spoke. While you didn't quite want to hear the details of her and Bo's sex life, it was almost sweet to know it was in the store. Almost. Though you were sure Glenn would be thrilled by the idea of a 'cloud 9' baby.

"Oh, my God, the Photo Lab is a great spot." Mateo groaned, excited to be talking about the best hook up spot in the store. It was well known amongst staff it was the best place to hook up - it had a lock, was dark and romantic, and the fact you could be caught really built the tension.

At a round of approval, Jonah asked. "What? Really?"

"Yeah, it's dark. It's private. Sometimes you get to see people's naked photos." Mateo laughed to himself, dwelling on just how many of those photos he'd found in there. Unfortunately, you'd been privy to some of his discoveries, and seen far more of some of your co-workers than you'd ever wanted to.

"When I first started here, we just called the lab the "bang room" because, you know the banging." Amy laughed at the title, the alcohol beginning to get to her a little. "I banged in there."

"Okay." You and Garret cheered Amy on, proud of her for admitting something to the group, and showing that she was more than the strict floor manager many knew her to be.

"So the Photo Lab, huh? Cool. Cool, cool." Dina noted, a light blush seeming to cover her cheeks. Hmm, how strange.

————————————————————————

After rounds upon rounds of shots and drinking games, the night had become hazy, Garrets music blasted over the store speakers, drowning your own thoughts from you mind. Zoning back into the scene before you, you held onto Mateo's shoulder as you stepped into the dress he had put together for you, remembering vaguely that you had agreed to be in his fashion show.

Shuffling the dress over your clothes, you let Mateo straighten you up, he placed a large, floppy straw head on your head, completing the look. Taking your hand he pulled you to the makeshift runway, waiting for your que.

"Here we've got newcomers Mateo and Y/n sizzling in a fashion-forward take on Cloud 9 nightwear. Work it, Girls!" Amy cheered as you strutted down the runway, Jonah filming the whole show as you walked. Posing at the end of the runway, your turned and walked back up, crashing down onto a bean bag next to Garret as you slipped off the heels Mateo had had you wear.

"And now we have Glenn, rocking the "Don't Let Him Near Your Children Collection." Oh, shake what the good Lord gave you, Glenn." Glenn danced around in his bear onesie, walking up and back down the runway in his cute outfit.

" And here's Myrtle, carrying a bicycle tire. She doesn't seem to know what we're doing here, but she is owning it. Thank you, Myrtle." Amy shouted down the microphone, cheering as Myrtle flaunted her bicycle tire on the runway.

"All right everybody," Amy shouted down the microphone, coming out from behind the counter. "Now, its time for Cheyenne's dance recital."

Sitting up in your beanbag so you could see better, you sat and waited patiently for Cheyenne’s dance to begin, Jonah and Amy crashing down onto beanbags either side of you. You let out a gasp of air as the music started playing, the first few notes of Cyndi Lauper's "True Colours" tugging at your heart strings.

"Oh, I love this song." You whined, clutching your chest. Snatching the camcorder from Jonah's hands, you turned it on, setting it to record and placing it in your lap as you watched Cheyenne in awe. You wanted to record this, for both you and her, knowing it would be a sweet moment to look back on, and so you'd remember at least one thing about tonight.

"This kinda tight." Garret whispered, causing you to look at him. Looking slightly to the right of him, you watched as Jonah got up from his seat, a notification pulling him away from the performance.

Not dwelling on it - not being able to anyway, due to the alcohol clouding your brain - you turned back to Cheyenne's performance, sighing in admiration. You wish you had to ability to dance like that - to twirl and twist your body in such a beautiful and elegant way - and to perform in front of a crowd with such confidence? it was all something you could only dream of.

"I'm so proud of her." Amy whispered as the song came to a close, you and Garret immediately agreeing, both still in awe of the incredible performance. However, no sooner after you had spoken, the music changed to the signature beat of "Anaconda" by Nicki Minaj.

"Ooh, I did not see that coming." Garret muttered, unable to take his eyes off of the sudden change in tone of the performance in front of you all. “But I should have.”

Not expecting such a change, you let out a loud laugh, clapping your hands in excitement. God, you wished you had been able to see everyone else's reaction at the actual recital, because this was incredible.

As Cheyenne's dance came to a close, you clapped as loud and as fast as you could, hoping to let her know that you thought it was amazing. Though your eyes couldn't help but wonder to the still-empty seat of Jonah, wondering where on earth he could be now.

Ready to walk away from the group as others were already doing, you placed the camera and your phone down gently in your chair, wanting to keep it safe so you could take it home with you in the morning. Telling Garret you'd be back in a moment, you set off on your quest for the brunette.

————————————————————————

After searching through various isles, you headed to look for him in the breakroom, and then the bathrooms, though when passing the photo lab, you heard a brief commotion come from within. Deciding it would be in your best interest to listen into the conversation, you heard Dina's unusually disheartened voice come from the other side of the door.

"But I do understand." Dina huffed, sounding upset at whatever conversation had just happened on the other side of the door.

"Oh, great. I mean, you know, great." There he was.

"Okay, um I'll see you out there." Jonah announced, pushing open the door of the photo lab, and in turn pushing you. Stumbling over your own feet, Jonah caught you, pulling you up straight as he asked why you were stood outside the photo lab.

"I was looking for you J. I was worried you'd gone and ran out on us." Flashing Jonah a sweet smile, you hoped he'd excuse your snooping on his private conversation. However, before he could respond, the handle of the photo lab jiggled, Jonah pulling you into the shadows as Dina emerged from behind the door, her shoulders sunken in defeat.

Opening your mouth to ask if they'd been 'banging in the bang room,' Jonah quickly slapped his hand over it, using his other hand to place a single finger over his lips, telling you to keep quiet.

Once Dina was far enough away from the two of you, Jonah moved his hand away, you staring silently at him.

"Always that kinky Simms?" You muttered breathlessly, your heart pounding in your chest. If it weren't for the alcohol, you'd never have made a comment such as that - though you'd expect it out of someone like Garret. Maybe you were spending too much time with him.

Jonah raised his eyebrows at you, wondering where your newfound confidence had come from: while you'd always been outgoing, he'd never heard you come out with something so straight forward before, your humour was usually vague and hidden beneath layers of sarcasm.

Suddenly the both of you became very aware of how little space there was between the two of you, Jonah's chest pressed firmly into your own as you had hidden in a gap between the door and a stack of boxes. Your hands rested gently on his chest and one of his hands rested comfortably on your waist, neither moving and neither sure if they wanted to stay.

"Are you gonna..." You started speaking, looking between the two of you, Jonah's hand still firmly on your waist.

However, unlike the first time you'd ended up this close, the spiel of apologies never came, instead Jonah took in a sharp breath; you could feel his heart beating, so much so that it was nearly out of his chest.

"Jonah?" You asked, rapidly beginning to sober up as you became nervous that you'd gone too far with your teasing comment only moments ago. The moments of shared silence after you spoke had you becoming more sober each second, worried that in your intoxicated confidence you'd said too much.

"Oh, fuck it." Jonah muttered, the words only being shared between the two of you. Without having the chance to ask if he was okay, if you'd said too much, or not enough, you were silenced.

Jonah lips crashed onto your own, sucking the air out of your lungs, leaving you entirely breathless. Well, you hadn't expected that. As he began to pull away from your lack of response, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him back down and into you. Though you weren't sure how you felt about kissing Jonah, the pressure of his lips on yours drove any concern or doubt away from your mind. His lips were surprisingly soft and he tasted like strawberries and sambuca: you imagined you tasted similar - like of the sambuca you'd consumed and the peach and mango lip-gloss you wore religiously.

Jonah's free hand moved up to caress your cheek, his other hand snaking around to rest on your lower back, pulling you even more into him. Moving one hand up to his hair, you kept the other on his shirt, keeping him close to you. You never imagined Jonah to be such a smooth kisser - you imagined him to be awkward and unsure, not knowing where to put his hands or how to actually kiss. However, he was the complete opposite from that: confident and smooth, pulling you into him so he could drink up as much of you as possible.

Finally breaking away from each other, your chests heaved, feeling the others fall and rise due to the close proximity in which you had remained. Staring up at Jonah you admired his pink, swollen lips, how a deep flush had covered his face and his hair was fluffed up and tousled. The boy in front of you now was more like the Jonah you knew, his head hanging low, slightly scared and slightly embarrassed as to what would happen when he finally looked up. Would you hate him? Would you be disgusted? Would you just act as though it had never happened?

Placing two fingers under his chin, you lifted his face so that he would look at you. Leaning in, you placed a light and delicate kiss on the corner of his mouth; pulling back you were met with a loving smile. Jonah grabbed your hand in his, pulling you out of the shadows behind the photo lab, and in the direction of patio, hoping that the both of you would get some rest before the morning came.

Kissing Jonah had felt good; it was warm and inviting and something that you hadn't had the pleasure of feeling in a while. So why now did it feel so wrong? Only moments after leaving the shadowed corridor down to the photo lab you'd felt the sharp pang of guilt, like it wasn't meant to be Jonah who you'd shared such a moment with.

————————————————————————

"Hey, what you doing up there? Looks like you might get hurt." Jonah shouted up to Amy who, you'd noticed on your way back to patio, was walking on a moving checkout.

"Yeah Ames, that doesn't look all that safe." You added, knowing that if the words came from you , she'd be less likely to chastise them.

"You don't get to tell me what to do." Amy asserted, waving her pointer finger between you and Jonah.

"I- We - weren't telling you what to do." Suddenly nervous as Amy glared down at the pair of you from her position on top of the checkout, Jonah stumbled over his words.

"You are not my boss. I am your boss, college boy." Amy snapped, continuing to try and dance along the checkout as she spoke, her steps becoming less balanced as she went on.

"I think he just thought maybe it's a little dangerous being..." You tried to explain, hoping your defence for Jonah would lessen the harsh tone of Amy's words; she was always an honest drunk, though in her intoxicated state, her thoughts tended to not translate very well into words.

"By the way, I got into college too. A good one when I was 18." Amy boasted, scoffing at the surprised look that had formed on Jonah's face." I just got pregnant. And then I got married, and then Adam had dreams, and somebody had to pay the bills, so here I am, spinning around on this endless-"

Amy's spiel was cut abruptly short as she turned to the side of the checkout, leaning over the display and puking the contents of her stomach out over it.

"For what it's worth, that was shaping up to be a really nice metaphor." Jonah commented, though it wasn't the best time. You let go of his hand, moving closer towards the checkout to help Amy down.

Placing one arm around her waist, you gave her a concerned look, though you didn't dwell on it, instead choosing to guide her over to the bathrooms, Jonah following behind you.

————————————————————————

"Come on. It's good for you." Jonah bribed, waving a white, plastic cup of water in Amy's face.

"Glenn is right. This backsplash is unremarkable." He sighed, settling down on the floor next to you and resting his head lightly on top of your own.

"I don't regret getting married." Amy rushed out, both you and Jonah snapping your heads up to look at her.

"I never said that you regretted getting..." Jonah defended, his face flushing at the accusation - he'd never comment on something like that, it just wasn't his place.

"Yeah, but you were thinking it." Amy accused, a silence falling over the bathroom.

"I think you should. Adam's an ass." You let out a low laugh, Amy dipping her fingers into her cup and splashing the water in your face.

"Yeah, I wonder sometimes what it would've been like if I had made other choices, but you want to know what I really regret?" Amy rhetorically asked, looking longingly between you and Jonah; the two of you looked comfortable despite being on the cold bathroom floor, and seemed sober enough to remember anything she'd say.

"That last shot of Sambuca?" Jonah teased, though even the mention of the drink had your stomach churning after you'd consumed so much in the past few hours. Grabbing the bin that had sat at Amy's side, you threw it down next to you, hunching over it as you heaved your stomach dry.

"Forget it. You guys are the last people I should be telling this to." Amy huffed, getting onto her knees and shuffling closer to you to hold your hair out of your eyes and mouth, not wanting the sick to get everywhere.

"...this is a weird night." Jonah concluded, rubbing soothing circles on your back as you continued to spit and splutter over the trash can.

————————————————————————

"Ooh. Oh, it is good to be outside. I'm gonna go home and play some video games." Garret stretched his arms high above his head, waving goodbye to you all before heading for his car.

"I can't believe I have to take a midterm on zero sleep and totally hung over." Amy whined, letting out a deep breath as she walked away from the store.

"College." She groaned looking over at Jonah, finally empathizing with the experience he had mentioned hours earlier.

"Good luck Ames." You smiled brightly at her, pulling her into a tight hug, she whispered in your ear that she'd need it. Pulling away, she waved goodbye to the two of you, headed towards her car to leave and hopefully make her midterm on time.

"So..." Jonah began, tucking his hands awkwardly into his pockets, looking anywhere but at you. His demeanour now was much different from the man that had taken your breath away, his usual shy and blushing self returning.

"We should probably talk about last night." You stated, breaking the tension that had tried to settle over the two of you with the words you had both dreaded speaking. Silent agreement came from Jonah, neither of you sure of where to go from here, but both knowing things wouldn't be the same either.

"You could come over to my place? We can talk over breakfast?" Jonah offered, the blush still covering his face as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"As long as we can take a nap first," You rebuttald, a yawn escaping you at the mention of sleep. "I'm exhausted."

"Yeah, of course we can, peach." Jonah wrapped his arm around your shoulders, guiding you out of the cloud 9 parking lot and beginning the short walk back to his apartment complex.

"Peach, huh?" You asked, knowing exactly why the nickname had formed.

Jonah cheeks flushed a deeper red as you spoke, his mind wondering back to the intense moment you had shared just hours ago. Looking at Jonah as he grew slightly embarrassed made you let out a giggle, amused that such a small comment had turned him into a blushing mess yet again. It was almost too easy to do that to Jonah.

As you continued to walk intertwined down the sidewalk, you felt that same pang of guilt as before, twisting your stomach and making you feel as though this was all too wrong. Blaming the alcohol, you ignored it, instead relishing in the moment with Jonah and thinking of the breakfast that would hopefully cure the hangover which was still making your stomach churn.

————————————————————————

☆*: .｡. Tag List .｡.:*☆ @write-from-the-heart @despicablylara @whatafreakingloser @flowercrowns-goodvibes @millieb-3199 @lolawassad @catarina-trouxa @rainbow-moon @thepurplebutterflythings

————————————————————————

Hey guys!! I hope you enjoyed this part bc I had so much fun writing it lol.

I can’t wait for the next few parts because ✨spice✨ and plot development 😫

I hope you enjoyed, please leave feedback or ways I can improve my writing for me, and for you.

As always, have a Lovely week!! <33

#sitting on the shelf marcus white x reader #superstore #superstore x reader #superstore imagine #marcus superstore #superstore marcus x reader #Cloud 9 #marcus white #marcus white x reader #marcus white imagine #Jonah Simms x reader

63 notes · View notes

sunder-soul · 3 years

Text

Mimicry

☾∘•⋅∙ Part 4 •⋅∙∘☽

☆ Part 1 ☆ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ★ Part 4 ★ Part 5 ☆ Part 6 ☆ Part 7 ☆ Part 8 ☆ Part 9 ☆ Part 10 ☆ Part 11 ☆ Part 12 ☆ Part 13 ☆ Part 14 ☆ FINAL ☆

Summary: “You’re going to destroy me,” he breathes, and his hand is at your throat, feather-light unlike the iron grip of his long fingers around your wrist. “You’re going to like it,” you whisper back, right against his lips. Wordcount: 2.8k Content warning: brief mentions of blood.

TAGS: @the-almond-dinger @bornbeautiful123 @mariealaina @runawayolives @truly-insatiable @marinettepotterandplagg @sweetgoodangel 💕💕💕

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

You push the door to the Potions backroom open and slowly peer inside – but thankfully it’s empty. With a very relieved exhale, you step through the door and look around.

It’s as if the explosion never happened. The shelves on the back wall are mended, the cauldrons returned, and the two tables where you and Riddle have been working are back where they should be – though yours is now empty and clean, and the other…

Your eyes linger on Riddle’s work station, the slowly curling steam above his cauldron, his notebook still open on the table, ingredients prepared in tidy piles and tools arranged neatly. It’s like he’s just stepped out of the room seconds prior.

You’ve not seen Riddle in two days, but you’ll be unable to avoid him in class tomorrow.

You sigh again and step towards your empty station, ready to begin again.

You work for hours. The goal is different this time – you know what you need to do but there’s a new pressure, everything needs to happen twice as quickly. It’s whilst you’re trying to come up with a way to rapidly increase the salinity without turning the whole thing rancid that your attention drifts back to Riddle’s cauldron. Surely he’s struggling with the same problem.

A very stupid idea occurs to you.

Indecision wrenches you back and forth for a moment, but precaution wins out as you return your eyes to your own potion. It’s a very stupid idea, after all, and it could seriously, seriously backfire.

But…

You hesitate as you pass his table again on your way out, chewing your lip and staring at his book of notes.

“Screw it,” you mutter, stepping around his table and peering down at his notebook.

It quickly becomes clear that Riddle is trying to figure out a way to simulate a week-long simmer in less than two days, and a frown creases your brow as you scan down his list of ideas – they’re good ideas (if a little overly elaborate) but they all use so many different ingredients that he’s clearly struggling to balance the cascading effects.

You pull out a quill and hesitate once more, before gritting your teeth and placing the nib on the page.

‘Try a rapid overboil and then adding honey like you’re salvaging it – will simulate long simmer without changing ingredient ratios. Don’t worry if it splits, just keep mixing clockwise until it settles again.’

You exhale sharply and stand, staring at the little passage of your handwriting on his page, flagrantly conspicuous among the lines and lines of Riddle’s beautiful script.

There’s no going back now.

You shove the quill back into your pocket and hurry out the door, wondering exactly how bad a mistake you’ve just made.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The notebook falls to the desk in front of you with a loud clap, already open on the page with your note. “I knew you weren’t particularly fond of me,” Riddle says icily, “but I was unaware that you also thought me a simpleton.”

“I’m not trying to sabotage you,” you mutter, dolefully pushing his book back to his side of the desk. “It’s a genuine suggestion.”

“Exactly how stupid do you think I am?” he snaps as he sits down beside you. “And what happened to keeping our eyes on our own cauldrons?”

“Whatever,” you mumble as you return to copying down the instructions on the blackboard.

Riddle’s eyes linger on your face as you write, and there’s a brief moment of silence before he speaks again. “Something’s happened,” he says, very matter-of-factly.

You grit your teeth, trying not to seem too embarrassed.

“Did you go to the Hospital Wing?”

You look up at him. Riddle is fully facing you in his seat, one forearm resting on the desk and his posture tense and attentive just like the expression on his face, his dark eyes fixed on yours. You think (not for the first time) about the fact that he really did spend three days waiting for you to wake up after the accident. You think about the horrible way you’d treated him afterwards.

The embarrassment courses stronger.

“Yes,” you say quietly, looking back at your notes.

“And?”

“I’m fine,” you say with a frown, “but I might get the odd bleeding nose every now and then.”

“Hickory said you’re fine?” he asks suspiciously. “Or you say you’re fine?”

“Hickory,” you smile, glancing at him, “but thanks for the trust in my judgement.”

“You have terrible judgement,” he says in a clipped tone, turning to his desk.

Your smirk fades as your gaze lingers on him, watching him set up his quill and ink. You’re very suddenly wondering why exactly, if not for the elaborate nefarious plot you’d suspected of him, he had stayed with you, and a hot flash of nerves strikes you when you realise that you can just ask. “Riddle,” you say impulsively before you can second-guess yourself.

“What?” he asks rather snappishly, not looking up.

“Why did you…” but your throat closes up like your body is vetoing the question.

His eyes meet yours. “Why did I what?” he asks, significantly more delicately.

You furiously wrestle with your nerves. “Don’t worry,” you mutter, feeling very defeated as you look away.

He doesn’t push it, and the lecture passes in slightly tense silence – but it’s a marked improvement to the unrestrained hostility from a few days before. When the bell rings Riddle stands at once, but he seems to hesitate with his bag on his shoulder before leaving.

You glance up at him, and your stomach twists; Riddle’s eyes are already on yours, a strangely conflicted look on his face. “…Yes?” you ask.

“You didn’t make a mistake, did you.” He doesn’t even bother making it sound like a question.

You blink, feeling nervous again. “No.”

“Someone tampered with it,” Riddle continues carefully.

“Yeah.”

“Do you…” he begins slowly, a small frown appearing on his brow, “…still have a suspect?”

Your nerves course stronger. “No,” you whisper.

Riddle nods silently, eyes not leaving yours.

“But I’m confident it was Smoke Serpent Venom,” you add quickly.

He nods again. “I know,” he says quietly, looking away. “So am I.”

And with that, he leaves. You blink after him, letting go of a strangely shaky breath and wondering exactly why your heart is beating so fast.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

You need powdered Swamp Spriggan bark.

You snap your notebook shut and tear from the room, determined to get all the way to Slughorn’s private storeroom on the sixth-floor and all the way back to your potion as quickly as possible, and you’re tearing up the secret shortcut stairs when you suddenly hear a door slam a few flights above.

“What did you do, Avery?” you hear someone say very coldly.

You freeze. You recognise the voice at once.

“I’m sorry,” Avery gasps, sobbing, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise that it would explode, I thought it would just mess up her –”

“And why exactly did you feel the need to take matters into your own incompetent hands in the first place?” Riddle hisses over Avery’s blithering.

“I – I thought you’d want me to! You – you were always talking about her and – and the competition and – and –”

“And what?” interrupts Riddle sharply.

“You – you seemed to think that you might… not win,” Avery stammers, sounding indescribably nervous, “I thought that if I – if I ruined her potion, that you’d be happy, we all thought that –”

“You had no right to interfere,” Riddle snarls, and you hear Avery literally whimper in fear. “Your meddling nearly ruined everything.”

“I didn’t know it would explode,” Avery moans desperately, “I’m sorry –”

“You nearly killed her, Avery,” Riddle breathes.

“I didn’t mean to, I swear –”

There’s a crack like a whip and Avery cries out in terror. “Get out,” Riddle whispers.

You hear Avery scrambling in his haste to obey, the door wrenched open and slammed shut, footsteps running down the corridor outside and fading into the distance. You look up, wondering if Riddle might see you – but you’re concealed by the staircases above you.

Riddle lets out a long exhale and there’s a thump like he’s fallen against the wall. You will yourself not to move an inch, and an indefinite moment passes as you hold your breath. Finally you hear the door open again and Riddle’s calm footsteps echo as he leaves, but you stay rooted in place until there’s absolute silence.

Darcey was right, then, it had been one of Riddle’s creepy little acolytes. And you can’t deny that it feels kind of good to know that the person responsible for messing both you and your potion up is facing some sort of consequence.

But…

Avery had sounded terrified out of his mind in the face of Riddle’s anger.

You think about Riddle’s cold, all-consuming fury when he’d demanded you give him your silver knife, the stomach-turning ease with which he’d melted into a smile for Slughorn, the blank absence of emotion covering God knows what when you’d accused him of having anger issues…

The realisation settles nauseatingly deep in your bones; that Riddle, whilst not responsible for your potion’s sabotage, still has an ugliness to him that very few people see.

That somehow, you’ve ended up being one of them.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

When you return to the Potions backroom the next day, something is waiting for you on your desk. A fresh sprig of Queen’s Toothwort is lying dead centre right in front of your cauldron, and next to it is a small, cleanly-cut square of parchment with a note written in an unmistakeable, slanted script;

‘If you’re trying to emulate the effect of the light of a full moon on your Púca blood, I recommend adding this alongside purified water and sea salt, and keeping the temperature as low as you can for at least an hour.’

You have no idea how he managed to get his hands on fresh Queen’s Toothwort at this time of the year, but it’s very hard to ignore the strange feeling swelling in your chest as you lift the sprig of white, bulbous flowers and pick up the note, rereading it in mild disbelief.

If a smile breaks on your lips, you force it off very, very quickly.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

He’s there when you pop by before classes begin the next day, glancing up at you when you push open the door.

“Morning,” you say hastily, looking away and hurrying to your station.

There’s an almost imperceptible pause before he replies. “Good morning,” Riddle says quietly, returning to his work.

Neither of you acknowledge his note – though his tip has worked perfectly. You add the Púca blood and watch your potion turn silvery-black, exactly as if you’d really left it beneath the full moon all night – very lucky considering there isn’t another for weeks.

You’re just about to leave twenty minutes later when you hesitate. “Riddle,” you say slowly, turning to him with your hand on the door.

He looks up at you.

“Have you…”

But you find yourself once again wrestling with inexplicable nerves as Riddle watches you silently.

“Have you had breakfast?” you force out, leaning back against the door like the sheer exertion of getting the question past your stupid nerves has exacted a physical toll on you.

There’s an agonising beat of silence.

“Breakfast,” Riddle repeats, like he’s never heard of the concept before.

You nod, already deeply regretting asking.

He slowly looks down at his bubbling cauldron, at his brass scales measuring what looks like bloody chunks of liver cut into perfect one centimetre cubes, and an entire mortar full of a ground, sky-blue powder you can’t identify at a distance. He’s clearly right in the middle of things, and you feel your cheeks grow warm.

“Never mind,” you mutter, shoving the door open.

“No, wait,” he says quickly, and you freeze like someone’s hit you with a Full Body-Bind curse. “I can’t,” Riddle continues formally as you look over your shoulder at him, “I’ve just started a reduction and I can’t leave it until it’s done.”

“Right,” you say blandly, staring at the blood dripping off the liver on his scales.

“Otherwise... I would…” he trails off, frowning as he gestures a hand at you.

You nod, completely unable to comprehend the emotion in your chest. It could just as easily be utter horror as it could be pure elation. “Right,” you say again, feeling very stupid, “well – don’t add all of that at once or you’ll turn the whole thing to acid,” you say, glancing pointedly at the liver again before wheeling around and escaping.

As you march across the empty classroom, you can’t help but think again that it really was much, much easier when you just hated him.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

‘This is an insanely over-complicated way to balance ambivalence – just add a couple drops of saline and leave out in the morning golden hour. Bonus that you’ll be forced to go outside for once.’

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

‘Am I to understand that you’re trying to induce a heatless rolling boil? The reaction between lilac glesonite and any acid will cause such a boil without changing the overall weight.’

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

‘If you want to shave a full day off this steep, use this when you next mix. Crystal spoons speed up tranquillity like crazy.’

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

‘This is a remarkably clumsy method of reducing impurities. I have some ideas – I’ll be in next tomorrow at seven.’

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

‘Add this. Trust me. And yes I see the irony in me saying that.’

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Shit,” you mutter, feeling blood tickle in your nose and drip quick and hot down your face, turning away so that it doesn’t fall into your potion.

“Again?” Riddle asks, arching a brow at you from across the room.

“Yeah, well,” you drawl, blindly digging around in your pocket for one of the phials of Clotting Philtre that Hickory has given you, your head tipped back and your other hand desperately pinching your streaming nose. “I can’t do much about it, can I? Merlin, where on earth did I put –”

“Here,” Riddle says quietly and your stomach drops because his voice is suddenly very, very close, and sure enough a second later his fingers are gently pulling your wrist down and he has his wand pointed straight at your face. “Thromvelox.”

The blood stops at once, and with another careless flick of his wand you feel what remained on your skin vanish. “Did you make that up?” you ask quickly, looking up at him. You don’t recognise the spell and Hickory has tried about a thousand on you with little success.

“Yes,” he says smoothly, stowing his wand.

“Huh,” you say, undeniably impressed.

“You’re welcome,” Riddle says a little dryly.

“I was getting there,” you roll your eyes, “thank you.”

He smirks lightly, and it’s right then that you realise Riddle has not yet stepped away. You blink, heart suddenly thudding harder at the thought like you’ve reminded it to be nervous. “So the deadline’s in three days,” you say quietly, just to break the silence.

Riddle nods. He still hasn’t moved away.

“And then we’re free of this,” you continue a little awkwardly, gesturing at your cauldrons.

“Free of it?” he says delicately. “I rather thought you were enjoying the challenge.”

“The challenge, yes,” you say with an ever-so-slightly too gaudy grin, “I was referring to the company.”

Riddle immediately looks away, expression suddenly blank. “I see,” he says colourlessly as he finally takes a step back.

“Because I’m so annoying,” you add hastily, heart dropping hard and fast. “I meant, you’ll be free of me.”

He hesitates, glancing back at you looking strangely reserved.

“Yesterday someone told me that I have a ‘chronic inability to restrain from giving my opinion,’ after all,” you say with heavy air-quotes.

Riddle’s lips slowly curl into a small smile. “And who told you that?” he asks a little wryly.

“Tom.”

The smile vanishes and the look in its place makes you think of that day in Potions class, that chilling fury, the blank void of emotion, Avery’s terror in the stairway, Riddle’s voice so horribly cold over Avery’s desperate wails.

You’ve taken a reflexive step back before you can even think to stop yourself.

Riddle’s eyes visibly narrow as he stares at you, and a silence so suffocating that you can barely breathe falls across the backroom, and what feels like an eternity passes before –

“Common name, Tom,” Riddle says so softly that you nearly shiver. “You’ll have to forgive me for disliking hearing it in reference to another.”

You don’t react, staring at him and knowing that he’d seen the fear in your own eyes, the instinctive retreat away from him. That you know something.

He suddenly turns and the spell is broken, your heart fluttering nervously in your chest and a breath leaving you desperately, making you aware that you’d been holding it.

He leaves mere minutes later.

He doesn’t say goodbye.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

☆ Part 1 ☆ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ★ Part 4 ★ Part 5 ☆ Part 6 ☆ Part 7 ☆ Part 8 ☆ Part 9 ☆ Part 10 ☆ Part 11 ☆ Part 12 ☆ Part 13 ☆ Part 14 ☆ FINAL ☆

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle fic #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle fanfic #harry potter #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle imagines #FIL #enemies to lovers #mimicry #minific #prompt #jealous tom #worried tom

571 notes · View notes

mysticalrambling · 3 years

Text

Adorable Addition(Part 1)

Chris Evans Fan Fiction (Fan Fiction Masterlist)

(Part 2)

Warnings: None. Fluff all the way.

Summary: dad!Chris Evans x reader. Chris and you decide to adopt a dog when you see your son with Scott's dog. It is a cute family day and you all enjoy it to the fullest.

._._._._._.

Putting Oliver down for a nap proved to be a difficult task for Chris as the little boy refused to leave his side. It made sense as he hadn't seen Chris for the past three weeks. He went to Colorado for a shooting of his upcoming movie. When he finally managed to put the hyperactive boy to sleep, he sighed in exhaustion.

"Chris, I don't think our family is ready for a dog just yet." You paced across the room as your husband plopped on the bed, looking amused and tired. Of course, he would find this situation funny. Your indecisiveness was his new form of entertainment from the moment he met you.

"Babe, you are the one who suggested it."

"I know that." You sighed in to your hands as you slumped beside him, the sheets ruffling slightly on the contact.

"It's going to be okay, (Y/N). We did a trial run with Scott's dog and Ollie was so good with him. I have never seen a two year old taking such good care of a pet."

The mention of your son brought a smile to your face. He was the best thing that could ever happen to you, besides Chris, of course. From the moment you found out that you were pregnant with Ollie, you were scared. Chris and you were just settling down in to your normal life after your honeymoon month. But, safe to say, he was ecstatic. He twirled you around with tears pooling in his blues. The baby responded to him so well whenever he used to gently talk to it in the womb. Oliver was a daddy's boy from the very start.

"Let's just watch some movies on Netflix till our little prince wakes up from his beauty nap." You were not in a mood for a movie tho so you put on your favorite show, Defending Jacob, despite your husband’s protests. Chris in a suit was something you could not get over and at the end of the day, he was all yours. Time whizzed by with Chris telling you back stage stories and his feelings regarding each scene. Not going to lie, you were quite enjoying this alone time with the love of your life.

The crying on the baby monitor broke you both out of your bubble. Chris went to make his bottle while you went to console your little munchkin. Sitting in the rocking chair with your son, you gently sang a lullaby as he clinged to you like a koala. After he was finished with his bottle, he extended his hands to Chris who leaned on the door.

"I will get him ready and you can pack his bag." You went to pack his bag and kept his stuffed Captain America in the front pocket. Ollie has had that toy from the past year and he does not go anywhere without it.

"We are all ready. Let me just get my cap and sunglasses."

"Why do you always have to hide this beautiful face?"

"It's because everyone finds it beautiful as well." He cackled when you screwed your face at his lame comment. Strapping Oliver in to his stroller, Chris pushed it out of the house. As soon as the stroller was out of the house, you covered it fully with the shade. Your son was busy with a pacifier in his mouth and a teddy bear in his chubby hands. The pet shop was just two streets down so you both had decided to take a stroll.

"Have you decided on the breed?” questioning your husband, you adjusted the bag on your shoulder. He just shook his head and wrapped one of his hands around your shoulder while the other one continued pushing the stroller. You both were aware of the paparazzi sneaking behind you and you just sighed.

Sometimes, it was really difficult for you to have a family moment without it being publicised to the whole world. Sure, Chris was a celebrity and people wanted to know what he was up to but you wanted some alone time with your husband as well. You also knew the hate that you and your son were subjected to online. Chris always steered you away from negative publicity but sometimes you can’t help but think it is true. You did not deserve him.

“I am sorry, love.” The hand that rested on your shoulder trailed down your back and slowly drew soothing patterns. He always knew what was going on in your head and always made sure to rid you of all your insecurities. “Don’t mind them.”

“Dadda!!” Chris quickly pulled the shade up and you came face to face with your son’s scrunched up face. “Pick me up.”

“Baby, we are almost there.” He tried soothing the toddler with another stuffed toy because he didn’t want the paparazzi to get his pictures. However, your son was having none of it as he let out a piercing wail and threw his pacifier out of the stroller. You were going to scold him but Chris stopped you and went to pick him up.

Kissing him on his forehead, Oliver placed his head on his father’s shoulder and gently sucked on his thumb. You started asking your son about the type of dog that he wanted. He explained it all with big hand gestures and a twinkle in his blue eyes that warmed your insides. Soon, you reached the shop and went straight towards the dog section.

“Go and pick out your favorite one, buddy. We will take it home today.” You went with Oliver when the workers at the pet shop wanted Chris’s autographs and pictures.

The little boy roamed around the whole section with a thumb in his mouth and the Captain America teddy bear in the other one. He slowly came to a halt in front of a small cage. Inside it was a golden retriever pup with a red collar around his fuzzy neck. He slowly stepped forward and before you could stoop him, Ollie reached out his hand to pet him. The small creature gently nuzzled in his hands and your boy let out a squeal.

“This is a four month old golden retriever. He is fully vaccinated and very well tamed. Your son chose well” The teenage worker walked in with Chris and gave you the necessary information regarding the small pup.

“Does he have a name?” Chris enquired as he gently patted the pup on the head as well.

“Dodger.”

“That’s a good name. Do you want him buddy?” Oliver nodded his head so furiously that Chris was worried he might hurt his neck. Chuckling, he got up to sign all the agreements and buy the necessary things.

You guys took Dodger home and the whole way, Oliver stayed by his side and silently stared at him in wonder. One time, he was about to trip on a rock and Chris saved him from falling down. But that did nothing to stray him from his fascination. You were sure tomorrows headline will have your family’s picture in the front with the headlines,’An Adorable Addition to the Evan’s Family’.

The moment you all reached home, Oliver took a hesitant Dodger towards his room and show him all of the toys. You gently side hugged your husband and whispered to him,”I am grateful for this addition in our family.”

“Me too. Now, let’s go to our son before he scares Dodger from all his excitement.” Following Chris to the upstairs room, you wondered how lucky you were to have a family like this and you silently prayed for all of this to remain the same. Gently placing a hand on your stomach, you just knew that your family was ready for another addition as well. You were going to surprise your husband tonight.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!! Here is the link to Part 2.

._._._._._.

A/N: This is just some family dribble that I wrote related to Chris Evans. I just love the idea of dad Chris. Send me some ideas related to Chris as a family man and I will be happy to write about it.

Like, comment and reblog.

Taglist: @maximeevansblog, @justile

._._._._._.

254 notes · View notes

nyxicnymph · 2 years

Note

douxie,,, x reader,,, for valentines,,, pls?

Thank you for requesting, Lovesong! I'm so sorry it took me so long to finish this, life really made me slow.

Pairing: Hisirdoux Casperan/Reader Rating: General audiences/Teen+ Warnings: None, pure fluff. Summary: Douxie knows you're terrible with dates after your little stunt in Limbo, so he invites you to his bookstore for a surprise.

You woke up, rather groggy despite the bright light and clock reading 11:00 AM. Ever since you accidentally fell into Limbo, your sense of time has been permanently. Well. Screwed up.

You rolled out of bed with a grumble, and gently walked into your kitchen. You pulled your phone off of the charger there, and lit up at a text from Douxie. You fumbled a bit to get to the actual message.

'Hey, love, whenever you get around to it, why don't you stop by the shop today? I'm at the bookstore. Hope to see you!'

You set your phone down, and quickly made yourself some breakfast and coffee. Then you ran back to your room and looked through your closet.

You paused indecisively. You weren't much good at the modern fashion trends, and Claire and Aja had picked out most of your closet. So you weren't terribly sure what to wear.

Heck, most days you didn't even leave your house unless you were accompanied by one of Douxie's friends, but that was mostly to keep you and others from having miscommunication issues.

You decided to think about what the other citizens of Arcadia wore, and settled on a simple shirt and skirt combo over leggings. Then you put on a pair of sneakers. They felt weirder on your feet than usual, but you discarded that.

You left your house, only to realize it was very, very cold. SO you went back inside and grabbed a jacket. And your keys.

Finally, you started walking down the street, carefully following the directions given by the phone in your hand. Everyone had made sure you could use the GPS system first thing, so you rarely got lost.

You made it to the bookstore at last. You tried to look inside, but the windows were covered with so many books, objects, and various paraphernalia, that it was hard to see anything.

You walked inside, but couldn't see Douxie anywhere.

"Hello? I made it! Are you here? Did you leave?" You called, the words starting to fall out of your mouth of their own accord.

"Ah, hey, I'm upstairs! Just- Ack!- Hold tight!" Douxie's voiced wafted down, accompanied by a few thumping sounds. "I'm fine!"

You raised an eyebrow at the dubious proclamation, but didn't say anything. You instead walked over to the customer service counter, and waited.

Then, Douxie practically sprinted down the stairs and behind the counter. "Hi."

You raised your eyebrow again. "Hello?"

Douxie looked away with a flush in his cheeks. "I'm hoping you didn't check the date?"

"Oh, no, I didn't. Should I?" You asked, reaching for the phone.

Douxie grabbed your hand to stop you, then quickly pulled away. "Ah! Haha, that's... that's not necessary. Would you... Like to come upstairs with me?"

"Sure."

"Excellent!" He came out from behind the counter, then bowed to her. "My lady, I- Are you wearing shoes without socks?!"

"What?" You looked down at your feet. "Oh. That's why they didn't feel right."

Douxie looked at your shoes with dismay on his face for a few seconds before straightening up and gesturing to the stairs. "After you, my lady."

You nodded and headed up the stairs, Douxie not far behind. As you reached the top step, you stopped and let him catch up. He smiled at you as he did, and you felt your heart skip a beat. Just as kind and soft as he was those centuries ago.

He took your hand again and led you down the hall to a small room. He stopped in front of the door and turned to you.

"After you once more."

You rested your hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath, and then turned the knob.

A gasp rose in your throat as you took in the heart shaped formation of candles, complete with roses and plates of desserts. Douxie coughed from behind you. You turned towards him to witness his blazing face.

"Well, today is St. Valentine's day, and I was hoping to surprise you. And to tell you about my feelings. You don't have to reciprocate of course but-"

He fell silent as you wrapped your arms around him. "But I do. I love you, too, Hisirdoux."

He laughed in relief. "Oh, thank God."

"I just have one question," you stated as you pulled away.

"Anything, beloved."

"Why," you started, gesturing to the candles, "Did you create a fire hazard in a bookstore?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Douxie grumbled before waving his hand to extinguish the flames and pressing a kiss to your ear.

~fin~

#nyx writes stuff #valentines day #nyx's toa obsession #douxie #hisirdoux casperan #toa hisirdoux #toa wizards #wizards toa

25 notes · View notes

onewithnomightypowers · 3 years

Text

Old Habits

pairing: Tom Holland x fem!reader

summary: Old habits come back when you meet an ex lover after a long time. Conversations feel like you never stopped talking to them. Sometimes you have to see them one last time to say goodbye like you mean it but most of the time it doesn’t go as planned.

warning: drinking

words: 2.1k

a/n: could be read as part 2 of last kiss but is a stand alone. got a bit poetic at the end. hope you guys like it. and as always, love reading your opinions/reactions. also asks are open. (gif not mine)

masterlist

'@tomholland2013 posted a story'

She picked up her phone to open Instagram. Yes, Y/N still had notifications on for his account even after they were broken up for months. Classic Tom.

He posted two of the same picture on his story. No one understood how that would happen almost every time, not even the people working at Instagram to whom they contacted about the glitch.

Tom had his hair slicked back, standing in a white t-shirt next to Harry, his brother, giving a million-dollar smile. They were holding a clapperboard together. There was text on the picture too, 'day 1 let's go!!' She smiled to herself. Just because they weren't together doesn't mean that she wasn't allowed to feel happy for his achievements. Even though she wishes to know all these big things from Tom himself she is, unfortunately, left here, watching a small part of his life flash in front of her for less than thirty seconds.

"Are you listening?" Hope, Y/N's date said.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. You were saying?" Y/N placed the phone back where it was resting, next to the cold wine bottle.

"You seem distant," they said.

When she 'met' Hope (she only really met them 30 minutes ago), Y/N wasn't looking for love, just sex, and that is what online dating specializes in. She hoped Hope knew what they were signing up for, sexual intimacy and nothing else.

"It doesn't matter does, does it? We both know what we are here for. Why not just cut the chase," Y/N replied.

It was early in the morning, the sun had yet to shine in its full glory. Y/N could only think of the first time she stayed over at Tom's old apartment but then she turned her head only to find Hope's naked body next to her. Her heartbeat accelerated with the realization that he was not hers anymore. Being in a foreign environment didn't help her growing anxiety, twisting and turning her intestines.

It's been four months, her feelings for Tom refuse to quit on her because she knows she could never quit on them, on him, even if he has. He probably has already found someone else in Canada, she thought. She didn't want him anymore but she still needed him, one last time just to teach her stupid heart how to say goodbye.

Y/N wore her clothes and picked up her shoes, going on a trail to find Hope's door to get out before they wake up. Climbing down the stairs, she took out her phone from the back pocket of her jeans.

'5 new messages from Sam' 7 hours ago

Sam: hey

Sam: ik it's late

Sam: I am going for a run tmr morning @6

Sam: do you wanna come?

Sam: will go to the new coffee house near my house after that

Y/N texted him back

Y/N: I'll meet you at the coffee place

Sam: come fast. already here

Sam and Y/N were standing in the queue to place their orders. “You look especially shitty today,” Sam said, running his right hand through his sweaty hair.

“I haven’t been home yet,” Y/N reasoned her appearance.

His mouth formed an ‘o’ shape. The person in front of them left the queue, they moved towards the counter. “One hazelnut latte, double shot with skimmed milk,” Y/N gave her order.

“And you?” the cashier’s question directed to Sam.

“I’ll have a matcha latte with oat milk”

Sam turned to Y/N, “Harrison got me on matcha, and now I can’t go back to coffee”

They paid their dues and moved over to the barista counter to collect their order.

“So, what were you doing last night?” Sam inquired.

“I was on a date, it isn't a big deal though. Just had some needs to take care of”

“Oh, was it any good?”

“It was fine. I was distracted the whole time. Saw Tom’s story about halfway into the bottle of merlot. Couldn’t stop thinking about him”

“Seems…sad. But you know Tom is coming back for the Christmas weekend, I think. He might attend Harrison’s Christmas eve party”

“One hazelnut latte and one matcha latte,” someone behind the counter screamed.

“That’s us,” Sam raised his voice.

Harrison had a bucket inside his house, under a sign that said 'drop your tracking devices here' with an arrow pointing to the bucket. Y/N dropped her phone on a pile of roughly fourteen others. Debating whether to see Tom's face was something she wanted or not made her late and not very fashionably.

The house was decorated with empty liquor bottles along with red and green streamers from one wall to another. Everyone was drunk in their best dress. There were no signs of Tom yet. Y/N took a deep breath, walking towards the kitchen to get herself some liquid courage to help her socialize.

The kitchen was rather scarcely populated. Empty glasses were lined up next to the sink. Are they clean or used? Bending down, Y/N opened the refrigerator to see if Harrison had any chilled wine. No luck. "Hey," a familiar voice was heard.

She looked up at the familiar stranger.

"Hey Tom," she smiled. The refrigerator light falling on Y/N made her blush visible.

She grabbed a half-cut lemon placed in the egg tray.

“How have you been?" Tom asked leaning back on the kitchen counter, observing her movements.

Y/N walked towards the sink to grab herself a crystal glass hoping for it to be clean. "Just busy with work these days"

"I heard you got a job at Condé Nast, is that true?" he took a sip from his beer.

"Well, you heard right. You are looking at their new senior brand manager for digital", she said proudly.

Tom hugged her from the side she was holding a knife to cut the lemon for her gin and tonic. "That's great darling! You always wanted to work there"

Darling. The butterflies in her stomach were fluttering like the first time she met Tom.

"I saw your story the other day. You started filming your script, right?" she dropped the lemon in the glass.

"Yup, it was a long time coming," he grabbed the knife she was using and washed it without even knowing. He was so used to Y/N never washing utensils after using them and, he would always have to clean up after her.

"Congrats on that babe!" The word 'babe' just slipped out of practice.

Y/N grabbed a Bombay Sapphire standing still on the marble slab. The blue of the bottle shinning even in the dim-lit room.

"I missed you," Y/N made eye contact, screwing the cap back on. A long, silent pause.

I miss you too, so very much

She cleared her throat, "so, how long are you staying?"

"Going back Monday morning"

She opened a can of tonic water.

"Are you seeing someone?" Tom asked.

"Wouldn't you wanna know" a smirk on her face grew. "I've been out on few dates, nothing serious. What about you?"

"Met this girl online, dated for a bit but, she wanted something I couldn't give to her"

Y/N scoffed, "did she have a foot fetish or something?"

"No, Y/N. She wanted love, not my feet" they both laughed.

"On that topic..." Tom calmed himself, "...I was listening to this song a few weeks ago and, there was this line, 'the smell of your hair reminds me of her feet' and it made me think of you"

"I reckon," she took a sip of her gin and tonic.

"No, seriously, I really related to that line. No matter how many people I hook up with, it will be hard to find the type of intimacy I shared with you. I still relate to it"

"I hate going on walks alone and having faceless dreams," Y/N blurted, lacking a proper reaction.

"You're still the face of all my fantasies," Tom confessed.

None of them knew what to say next. Anything they thought of saying now included walking over the blurry line of exes to lovers.

"You look pretty"

"Classic me, had a glow up after getting my heartbroken"

"You always looked this pretty. You are beautiful," Tom assured her. The 'heartbroken part did not sit well with him. He already felt guilty for taking a job across the pond which was a great opportunity for him to grow but was only possible by severing his ties with Y/N.

It had just started snowing on Boxing Day. Tom was alone in his cold home, boiling a pot of ramen noodles. He took out his phone and snapped a picture of the burning stove with the pot on top.

Tom: *attached photo*

Tom: I come back after months and my family leaves me alone with no food

Y/N: you should add a poached egg

Tom: Thanks. I shall.

Tom: I think I made too much ramen for me

Tom: do you wanna come over and share?

Her indecision was visible by the coming and going of the gray dots. Then finally, Tom could tame his anxiety by her simple reply.

Y/N: sure.

There was a loud knock on the door. Tom put two bowls of hot ramen on the dining table and went to open the door. Behind the door, Y/N was standing with her hands inside her brown checker coat. There was dust of snow sitting on her shoulders. Her braided hair was made by the most anxious hands in town.

The door opened and, Tom’s hands flew to take Y/N in his arms. They hugged like little kids hug their parents after being away from each other, for them, an eternity. It did feel like an eternity to them too but, they hadn’t forgotten each other’s touch.

“I parked my car at the church, couldn’t find any spot here ‘cause of the snow," she pulled out.

“The snow seems to be gaining momentum.”

Y/N hummed in agreement. She took off her coat and hung it in the Holland’s coat closet.

“Come on, the ramen is getting cold,” she followed tom into the kitchen.

They sat adjacent on the wooden table in comfortable silence. Tom used chopsticks and, Y/N used a fork. Only the occasional noodles falling in the broth were heard, along with the gushing of wind.

“It’s really spicy for me,” Tom said.

“Yeah, I can see your ears turning red.”

She still remembers

Y/N raised her hand to cover her mouth while yawning.

“Since you made the food, I’ll do the dishes,” she got up, grabbed their bowls, and walked over to the sink.

Wearing the gloves, she turned to Tom, “it was quite tasty”.

Tom gave her a smile.

She spread the soap on the dishes and turned the tap on. Tom pushed his chair back to get up.

“Have you made any friends at your new job,” he jumped and sat on the counter next to Y/N.

“Yeah, sort of. Kyara works there too so, I have just made her friends my friends,” she washed his chopsticks.

“That’s good. Have you talked to Emily after the wedding? She told me they are planning on adopting.”

“They invited me over for dinner when they got the approval from the agency. Kyara made this amazing Hyderabadi biryani, it was her mum’s recipe so, it was obviously better than the restaurant”

“God! You and your love for Indian food”

Y/N removed her gloves, “I should go. Thanks for the ramen, by the way”

“Are you sure you can go out in this weather?”

“Yeah I think," she started walking out of the kitchen.

Tom grabbed her hand. “Stay”, his voice was like cotton.

Y/N turned and made contact with his pleading eyes. She moved closer to him. “Please”, he said. They both were inching in to lock their desperate lips.

Y/N did not notice when she had fallen asleep talking to Tom. Their naked bodies were covered by the white comforter. Her eyes slowly opened to a boy with brown eyes and messy hair looking at her.

“I like it when you sleep. I love watching you sleep”

She chuckled. “That’s a bit creepy, don’t you think?” She had a sleepy voice.

“You look so serene, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I could stare at you for eons”

“But love, I'm only here till the snow settles,” she caressed his cheeks.

“Then the cold shall frost our limbs," he leaned in to kiss her.

tags: @elios-timotea

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #spiderman #marvel fanfiction #marvel #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #spider man #spiderman x you

122 notes · View notes