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updownlately · 6 months

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i want you to be (the only one for me)

| leah williamson x reader | angst | 10.3k | a/n: part II of this fic based on this ask! thank you guys for all your lovely messages on the first part! two months later and we finally got a part two 😅. huge huge s/o to @rockyren for beta reading this! hopefully you guys like this one as much as the first! happy reading! 🫶 (read part i here)

~~~

Two days.

Two days is all it took for Leah to realize how miserable she was.

If the blonde thought that you being distant earlier was painful, then she was sorely unready for how bad your actual absence would hurt.

There was something utterly unsettling in the way the car seemed so empty as she’d entered it, a lump in her throat forming as her drives to and from practice were now blanketed with silence, a stark contrast to the music-filled joyrides she would have with you.

From what used to be one hand casually on the steering wheel with the other firmly intertwined with yours was now both hands tightly gripping the steering, knuckles nearly white as they resisted the urge to reach out into the nothingness to her left, to the ghost of your presence, a taunting reminder of what she had and then lost.

Trips that were once accompanied by your shared laughter and obnoxious singing now consisted of pure quiet, the radio long since on mute. Jaw clenched as her eyes would, without fail, get misty each time she sat in the driver’s seat, the empty seat beside her remained a constant reminder of how you’d left.

The drastic change left her feeling hollow, chest wound up so tight as the space in the car felt like too much and too little- felt like it was wrong for the blonde to be here without you sitting in the passenger seat- in your seat.

She could almost imagine your presence, having become so accustomed to it over the past months.

Now, every time her hand mindlessly wandered over to blindly reach for yours, all she was met with was cool air and an aching heart, a shuddering breath escaping her as reality came crashing down.

And if the car rides hurt, god the way her chest constricted as she’d return to an empty apartment each evening was another story.

It was as if the hand around her heart was tightening with every passing second as she’d walk through the dark apartment, the weight on her shoulders heavier with each footfall of hers.

Only her kitbag to be placed by the door. Just a single pair of trainers on the shoe rack. No trailing body behind her own as she’d enter- the once lively four walls now barren, devoid of emotion.

With just her pair of footsteps echoing throughout, only dinner for one to be sorted, grief buried itself in her chest as she flicked on the tv, mindlessly scrolling, shaky breaths escaping as your half finished nature documentaries taunted her on the ‘continue watching’ list.

Sure, it felt wrong to be here, in your apartment, without you, but she didn’t think she could bear to return to her house, to return to a place where pieces of you didn’t exist- at least not as much as they did here.

There were snippets of you tucked everywhere in the apartment. In the coffee table that held an ever growing stack of sticky notes you’d never read.

In the records that were nestled away neatly under the tv, your favourites jutting out slightly, something you justified with the words ‘easy access’ and a smirk as the blonde would complain about them looking messy.

In the way Leah couldn’t find it in herself to close the blinds, memories of you standing by the large windows overlooking the city at all hours of the day playing painfully in her mind whenever she tried.

And yes, of course there were remnants of you scattered throughout because this was your apartment, but there were also chunks of you because it was your apartment- because you being you, you loved so hard, so unconditionally, so unabashedly, that it couldn’t help but seep into the walls, into the worn-out book covers and spines, into the cushion that permanently rested against the arm of the couch, your tendency to lay on the couch post practice practically a ritual now.

Love couldn’t help but bury itself in every little thing, each item precious and cared for deeply.

There were hints of you tucked into every inch inside these four walls and Leah couldn’t help but grasp at them in a futile attempt to hold on to your love- love she didn’t know if she’d ever get the chance to be bathed in again.

So with tiredness buried in her chest, Leah tried her best, collecting her grief quietly as she’d see your favourite mug on the drying rack. Another ounce of it bundled deep in her heart when she couldn’t bring herself to cook in the mornings, too many memories of breakfasts you’d cook as the blonde would be draped across your back lazily as you hummed a song only you’d know.

With a hole in her heart, she’d gotten up these past few mornings, choosing to head to a nearby cafe instead of entering the kitchen- the cold sheets that met her hand as she’d instinctively reached across the bed already ruining her a day that had barely started.

She didn’t want to talk about how she went out of her way to head to the bakery slightly farther from your house, purposely going past the store nearby that you both frequented often. How she avoided it like the plague since you had left because she didn’t think she could order there without a tear or two falling, silently crying as she ordered.

So while the ghost of you haunted her, as she lived in an home that was yours but a shell without your presence, she quietly begged the universe to convince you to come back, hoping, praying, waiting endlessly for a chance to mend things, because, if she was honest, nothing felt okay, nothing felt right ever since you had left- ever since you weren’t there to love the blonde anymore.

~~~

Before the blonde knew it, it had been a little over three days of your absence.

Three days of Leah quietly letting her heart constrict a bit more, the smile on her face becoming tenser, more forced.

Seventy two hours of the blonde looking at your contact in her phone, the number staring back at her tauntingly, daring her to dial it.

Four thousand three hundred and twenty minutes of contemplating whether she should send a text or a call. She didn’t want to pressure you, or worse, make you any more upset.

Sighing to herself before locking her phone for the millionth time today, she tossed it to the side, head falling ungracefully into her hands.

With every passing second you were gone, with each minute she spent alone, in an empty apartment that didn’t feel like home, the heart of it gone the second you had sped out of the parking lot days ago, it felt as if her world was slowly crashing down, her unable to do anything but watch in horror at the destruction occurring around her.

The most she had seen you since was the practice this morning, you appearing on the pitch mere seconds before it had started, an anomaly considering you’d often be in earlier than needed, wanting to do some of your own warm-ups before practice. It’s one of the things you and the blonde agreed on, her never needing much convincing to join you.

Today though, there you were, seconds before you had to be, once energetic, now quietly running through the drills as you hung your head low, coasting by, avoiding Leah’s piercing staring.

You ignored the way she shuffled closer to you, inconspicuously taking a step back each time she got nearer.

You did your best not to shiver as you felt her gaze on you multiple times throughout the two-hour long practice, a shaky breath escaping you as you realized the roles were reversed from the day in the club- except you both were hurting.

And as much as a piece of you craved to gather the other girl in your embrace and take the brokenness out of her dull orbs, you knew you couldn’t- not with the way she had grasped your heart and let it fall so many times before, the poor thing nearly shattered into pieces by now- bits you cradled so gently now as they cut you, doing your best to put them together, scars littering your hands.

Even if you wanted to comfort the midfielder, you couldn’t find it in yourself to, for your own sake, for your own sanity.

And, in your defence, while you had a very likely feeling that Leah wasn’t doing great, her dark eye bags anything to go by, you weren’t okay right now either.

You’d been crashing with Steph since you had left the game that day, and it hadn’t been pretty if you were honest.

Having spent the better part of the first twenty-four hours newly single cooped up in the spare bedroom, you’d been cocooned in one of the fluffiest blankets the defender could find, an old Arsenal hoodie of Leah’s that you kept in the trunk of you car fitted on your frame and matching your bloodshot eyes.

It was only the second night that you had even left the room, head aching from the never-ending tears, blotchy cheeks and swollen eyes, a dead giveaway of your heartbroken state.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Hell, it wasn’t supposed to end at all.

But you didn’t know how many more ‘maybes’ you could take.

How many more times you could handle taking a photo with the blonde only to be quietly asked not to post it anywhere.

How many times you could watch as she acted like she was single, only to join you in your bed when night fell and there was nobody but the two of you to witness it.

You’d been grateful that while Steph had been shocked to find out about your relationship with the English skipper, she hadn’t said a word to anyone else, taking somewhat of an older sister role, immediately protective of you.

It’s why no one questioned the distance between you and Leah, more than accustomed to how you both would only sometimes interact, blissfully unaware of the rift between the two of you, only the left-back in the loop.

So you hid behind Steph throughout the practice that morning, dodging each and every single attempt Leah made to talk to you, counting down the minutes until it would be over so you could escape.

Communicating with the others only as much as you needed to, you ran the drills, grateful that your position as a winger meant you didn’t see much of Leah.

It was only when it came to five-a-side did you interact with her, keeping it minimal as you quietly asked Lina to switch, you now attacking on the right instead of your usual left to lessen your contact with the blonde.

You held your breath as Jonas announced the teams for five-a-side, only letting it go when play had started and the two of you were on different teams.

And as you walked to the other side, trading spots, you couldn’t help but take a brief glance at the skipper, immediately turning your head to the side as you saw her face fall, the smallest hints of hurt flashing through her eyes, unrecognisable to everyone but you.

Pressing your arms tightly to your sides, hands clenched into fists as they fought to reach out, you did your best to focus on the movement of the ball.

Watching it be passed around in front of you, you begged your mind to figure out the lapses in the defence, only for your gaze to fall on the blonde and your mind to go wandering yet again.

It wasn’t fair that someone could look so beautiful even after sweating for nearly two hours.

Closing your eyes as the thought ran through your mind, you took a deep breath in before trying to refocus on the game, willing for your heart to get it together.

How was it fair that even broken up she still had this effect on you, playing with your heart strings ever so teasingly.

You knew loving her had been hard, but you’d never known breaking up with her would’ve been even harder.

Sighing as you got passed the ball, you did your best to stay professional, your broken heart hidden carefully away with the rest of your relationship- a secret heartbreak for a secret relationship, how cruelly fitting.

~~~

It’s later that same day that Leah’s patiently waiting at home for your return.

She had hoped that maybe you had changed your mind by now, or at least maybe have decided to swing by in order to grab a change of clothes, or do laundry, or maybe grab that book you had started a week ago.

Really, something- anything- that meant that she’d get to see you. Anything so that she could fix what she had broken.

You’d been miles away from the blonde at practice and Leah couldn’t remember the last time she felt so small.

Sure, she’d met with multiple sports personalities, royalty, execs of some of the biggest companies for partnerships but she couldn’t recall the last time she felt so out of place.

The absence of your mere presence beside her, brought the defender a sense of unrest she didn’t know existed. She’d gotten used to having your constant presence around her, a quiet love that manifested itself as relief, any tension almost immediately slipping away whenever you were near the blonde.

With it gone, all Leah could do was sit in agony, searching for a sense of comfort that she knew she wouldn’t find.

Hands balled into fists as she sat on the couch, an old UWCL game playing on the TV, her notebook long forgotten as was her attempt to distract herself by taking notes, the blonde let herself fall back into the couch, palms of her hand harshly pressing into her eyes.

Three days.

Three days had passed with you not here and Leah was an absolute wreck.

Leg bouncing anxiously, a half-eaten takeout haphazardly tossed into the fridge, hair a mess from the countless times she had ran her hand through it, the blonde was on edge, perking up at the tiniest sounds she heard, hoping that one of them would be you.

But as hours passed, afternoon turning to dusk, dusk to night, Leah sat on the couch, no sign of your return in the distance.

Fuck.

~~~

Five days.

That’s how long it took for Leah to come to terms with the fact that she was, in fact, in the wrong.

Five long, lonesome days is what it took for her to realize that there was a difference between private and secret.

To realize that maybe if she’d been confident enough to keep it private, you’d still be here, in your apartment, in her arms.

That maybe if she hadn’t been terrified of what people would say, or the focus that would be placed on you both, she wouldn’t be alone right now, heart in pieces, body exhausted, no thanks to herself.

If she was honest, these past few days had given her more than plenty of time to realize she didn’t want to lose you. You were the best parts of her. You loved the worst parts of her and still stayed.

Yet, here she was, about to push you away with her stubbornness- so stuck in protecting her identity, her career, her future, herself, she blissfully ignored that she’d been hurting you the whole time.

It’s why, even though it was nearly quarter past twelve the night before another training day, the blonde sat in the bed with her laptop in her hands as her eyebrows furrowed at the screen.

Sighing in an attempt to fend off the oncoming tears, she rubbed furiously at her eyes.

After having convinced herself it wasn’t a good idea to ring up your friends and the teammates you helped close in an attempt to find you, the midfielder had settled upon planning on how she could convince you to give her another chance.

It’s sometime between figuring out whether she should bring you your favourite to practise, wary of the other girl’s reactions, that the defender’s phone buzzes, jolting her out of focus.

Heart leaping at the thought that it might be you, the blonde scrambles to find her phone in the mess of sheets.

Paper’s flying as dug underneath to locate the source of the vibrations, she could feel her heart pounding, nearly rising to her throat as she pulled her phone from beneath the papers.

Lia.

The three letters was all it took for her heart to break again, shoulder’s dropping as her stomach sank.

Dejectedly hitting swiping to open the notification, she swallowed hard as she scanned the message, Lia asking whether they were still on for breakfast before practice tomorrow- somewhat of a ritual over the past few months, every few weeks before late morning training a recent tradition for the two to catch up.

Eyes flickering between the pages strewn across the bed and the tabs mockingly facing her on the laptop screen, the words nearly typed themselves as Leah watched.

‘Can’t. Got plans. Sorry.’

She had more important plans tomorrow….namely to get her shit together and get you back.

Not bothering to wait for a reply, mind already determined, she threw her phone away and let herself fall back into the head, praying that the gamble she was about to take would work.

She could only hope.

~~~

Five days.

Five days without a single text, a single phone call, a single voicemail.

Leah had five days and you had zero indication that maybe she ever even wanted you at all.

Sighing to yourself as you dropped the phone onto the couch beside you, you could feel Steph’s judgemental stare.

“You could just call her, y’know? Phones work both ways…”

Eyes shooting over from where you were looking out the window, you shrugged your shoulders in response, a cold shiver running through you, mind a mess.

“I could…but why…”

Swallowing to hold back the tears that you knew were coming, you shifted in your seat in an attempt to get rid of the anxiousness in your spine.

“I could, but she’s had the time to as well. She’s had five whole days for fuck’s sake. And what did I get in that time? A text? A call? Any indication that maybe she misses me? Misses our relationship? That it meant anything to her? None. Not a single one Steph.”

Closing your eyes as you felt your heart clench as the words that had been floating around in your mind finally rang through the quiet house, you clenched your hand in a fist.

Wiping away the one tear that had escaped with your other hand, you took a shuddering breath before continuing.

“I’ve spent the last two weeks wondering if I was ever good enough for her- if I ever meant anything to her. Two weeks telling myself that maybe she cared an ounce of what I do. That she actually wanted me in her life, in her future.”

“And you know what? You know what Steph? I don’t think she does. I don’t think so. Because maybe, maybe, if this all meant anything to her, something to her, I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you right now. Maybe she’d be with me. I’d be in my apartment, with her, wrapped up beside her. But I’m not. I’m not and she’s not the one beside me. She’s not, and I think that’s telling enough.”

Breathing heavily, your heart pounding as you felt it constrict, you did your best to swallow the lump in your throat and pick your book back up.

And as Steph stayed quiet, you silently wondered if you ever meant anything to the blonde, the question continuing to haunt you as quiet voices in your mind answered with resounding ‘no’s’.

~~~

The drive the next morning to practice is silent, but Leah’s mind isn’t.

Variations of apologies are floating through, the blonde testing the ones she likes out loud, wincing as they gradually sounded worse and worse.

I’m sorry that I didn’t treat you right.

I’m sorry that I hurt you so many times…give me one more chance?

I’m sorry for being a daft.

Inwardly sighing at how dumb the last one sounded, she shook her own head.

Maybe she’d just let the moment guide her, let her heart say the words. Surely it couldn’t go wrong, right?

You’d always been a sucker for romantic, heartfelt confessions, constantly swooning when the two of you would watch romance movies, you nudging the blonde and making little comments whenever the lead actor did anything chivalrous.

Taking a handful of deep breaths as she pulled into the parkade, the blonde parked swiftly as she noted the time.

Fifty-three minutes before practice…surely you were going to be here soon.

Armed with her kitbag, cleats, two coffees, and a small bouquet of sunflowers- your favourite- Leah trudged inside, face set in a determined glare, quietly glad that no one else was here yet.

~~~

At this point, Leah figured that if you even showed up at all, it’d be a miracle.

There was something humiliating about sitting in an empty locker room, bouquet of flowers in hand, two coffees, and only one person.

If Leah looked hard enough at the ground, she was sure she’d find the piece of her breaking heart there.

She’d been hopeful as she had entered the room, fifty-one minutes before anyone was due to show up, six minutes before you typically used to show up.

By the forty-fourth minute before practice, she wondered if you’d hit traffic on the way in, or maybe lost your trainer (you had an uncanny habit of losing just one- don’t ask Leah how, she didn’t know either, but she found it for you each time).

By the thirty-seventh, doubt started to creep in.

What if you were finally, truly done with her shit.

What if that last game had unknowingly been your last straw- her last chance.

What if you’d finally given up and moved teams because of the blonde.

Maybe you’d found someone else.

As each thought got more ridiculous than the previous, anxiety creeping up her neck, Leah could feel herself sink further into her own locker, her coffee long gone, yours nearly frozen.

At the twenty third minute, cutting it close to when the rest of the girls were about to come in, the skipper picked up the flowers and her own broken heart, placing the bundle gently at the bottom of your locker in a desperate plea that maybe you’d see she wanted you back. That she was willing to try.

Pouring out the last of your coffee in the sink as loud voices of fellow teammates neared, the blonde quietly tucked away the sinking feeling in her stomach, holding her breath as she strained her ears to find your voice.

If not before practice, then she’d catch you afterwards. She needed to.

Silently hoping you’d see the little note she’d tucked in the flowers, a failsafe she had ready (thank God), the blonde plastered a fake smile as the door to the locker room swung open, making her way to her own locker as she greeted everyone but the one person she wanted to see the most.

She didn’t know how long she had left, and most definitely didn’t want to test it out.

~~~

Cursing to yourself, you sprinted into the change room just minutes before practice started, nearly crashing into the door before you just barely managed to get it open.

God, you were late.

You’d come in separately this morning, foregoing riding with Steph to instead look at new apartments this morning.

Since the night you’d broken up with the other girl, you hadn’t yet visited your home once, not yet ready to face the harsh reality that no overconfident blonde defender would be deftly coming and going as she pleased.

Coupled with the fact that too many memories that you couldn’t bear to recall would haunt you if you ever returned, you’d decided late last night that going back to your old apartment was a definite no.

You were pretty sure that you wouldn’t be able to enter the apartment without wanting to instinctively remind Leah to rack her shoes properly as she entered behind you, the blonde often opting for kicking them off regardless of the innumerable times you told her off for it.

And you definitely couldn’t enter your own kitchen, memories of failed dinners as you’d to teach the blonde to cook, the two of you always eventually ending up somehow distracted, food overcooked or burnt as the blonde would try to stifle a laugh at your incredulous expression, before you’d burst out in laughter as well, reaching for the take out pamphlets.

The bedroom was most surely off limits too, countless, countless, nights of the two of you spent late into the morning talking about nothing and everything, sometimes just holding each other in silence as you bathed in the other’s presence.

Walking through the halls would be a whole ordeal of itself as well, pictures of the two scattered throughout, pictures that the others had never seen because Leah would beg you to take them down the few times you had people over.

It’s that final thought that had you clenching your jaw hard, your eyes narrowing as you made your way over to your locker.

Cautiously setting your kit bag on your seat, your head tilted to the side as you took in the easily recognizable yellow petals that sat at the bottom of your cubby.

Only one person knew that you were a sucker for sunflowers, one person who’d just recently broke your heart.

Holding your breath, you reached towards the bouquet, the card stock jutting out of it begging to be read.

‘i’m sorry for how many times i’ve hurt you. you probably don’t want to hear from me and that’s fair but i want you to know i’m sorry and i want to do whatever it is i need to to fix us. i still love you and i can’t think of a future where i’m happy and you’re not in it. i probably don’t deserve it, but could i please get one more chance? i promise i won’t let you down. - yours, lw’

Eyes tracing over the words, all you could think was why now? Why written out? Surely, she could’ve said the words aloud to you if she’d truly meant them, having more than enough time over the past week, and really the past couple months of your relationship. Why was it that even though they were expressed, did your relationship still feel like a dirty secret- a small card tucked in the flowers that could be from anyone, signed with initials rather than a name.

And how were you supposed to believe her this time having heard these words countless times before? How many promises were you going to watch her break? Each and every time, why was it you giving her another chance to break your heart again and again, letting her stomp all over what was already broken, brutally smashed and beaten by no one other than her.

Surely you deserved better- better than a couple of flowers shoved deep into the bottom of your locker, accompanied by a card that was nothing more than ink on some paper.

Shaking your head to pull yourself out of the spiral you were going down, you tossed the card back onto the bouquet, instead bringing your focus back to getting ready for the training that you were more than definitely late for now.

You were a strong believer of second chances- but for your own sanity, it’d be better if you stopped now, at the thirtieth or so that it was- one too many to have kept count.

~~~

It’s you running sprints at the end of practice, the understandable punishment you’d received for being late, the rest of the girls slowly filling out as Leah tried to find some excuse, any excuse really, that she could stay back and wait for you.

She’s grasping at nothing, sputtering an incomprehensible reason to Lia as the Swiss is pulling her by the arm, inside.

With the brunette only tightening her hold as she disagreed, Leah had no option but to dejectedly follow.

“Nope, no. Not today, you cancelled on me....you better have a good reason.”

It was just the blonde’s luck that Lia thought the defender was avoiding her, trying to stay back so she wouldn’t be questioned on missing breakfast.

Unbeknownst to her though, if to no one else, it was clear as day to Lia that something had occurred within the past few days between the two of you.

She wasn’t blind to the way her work wife suddenly seemed ever so slightly disconnected during training, mind seemingly eons away- a surprise considering the blonde prided herself on giving 110%, even during practice.

Combined with the way you’d stormed off a few days ago and the nil interactions the two of you had had as of late- something she didn’t think was just a mere coincidence- she figured that right now, you deserved your space, and Leah likely a telling off, if the fact that your sunshine mood was in the dumps and the blonde exuded waves of nervousness was anything of a sign.

Somehow managing to wrangle her English counterpart away from the field, Lia led the blonde away from the locker rooms, instead choosing a secluded hallway near the back ends of the stadium to confront her.

Turning around sharply once she deemed they’d walked far away enough, Lia fixed the other girl with a questioning stare, her best captain’s stare if she said so herself.

“So what’s really going on?”

Swallowing hard at the accusing question, Leah contemplated telling the truth for just a second.

It would make it easier…

“What do you mean?” Instead, feigning innocence- not wanting anyone involved in the mess she created, she tilted her head in faux confusion.

Confusion that the Swiss woman could see right through.

“Cut the bullshit. You and I both know there’s something going on…You can either waste both our time denying it until I eventually go and ask her…or you can tell me and we can at least get somewhere. And I know which one I’d pick…”

Leah could read the silent threat in the midfielder’s eyes. The slight eyebrow that was raised no doubt indicated that she wasn’t messing around, more than ready to go and confront you about everything. What she also knew was that if it was Lia talking to you, you wouldn’t hold back.

The choice was clear, really- but the defender didn't choose it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Leah watched as the woman in front of her eyes narrowed, jaw tightening as she tilted her head back in a ready challenge.

Please don’t call my bluff.

All the blonde could do was pray silently.

“Okay.”

One word.

One word was the reply the blonde got, Lia staring at her silently for a second longer before marching away, a determined weight set on her shoulders.

It’s fear that has Leah blindly reaching out, her hand connecting sharply with the Swiss’ wrist, pulling her back before she could make it any further.

“Promise me you won’t ask her about this. You can’t Lia…please…”

Nearly begging, the skipper, eyes silently pleading, held on tightly.

“I’m going to ask this once, and only once more…Leah what happened?”

She could either tell Lia of how she’d failed to treat you right and get absolutely bashed for it, or she could push it under the rug once more, make a lame excuse and get out of this.

Sighing deeply to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose, the blonde made her decision.

Maybe it was time she grew up.

~~~

You do your best to hide your surprise as you walk into the locker room and don’t see Lia or Leah, the absence of LW squared making your heart leap into your throat, thoughts you knew were nothing but blasphemy clouding your mind.

You knew they were work wives, nothing but platonically of course. You knew they prided themselves on being the best of friends on the pitch and off it. You knew there was nothing more going on between them- well, at least you hoped, for you didn't know what you would do if they were anything more.

The thought that you’d never been enough for Leah still floated around your mind. You weren’t a crazy striker, or a mind-blowing defender. You were a midfielder that just so happened to be pretty good at their job, but that was all.

You weren’t special. You weren’t the captain of your national team. You weren’t heavily sought after for brand deals, you weren’t the popular, favourite player that Leah was- the player nor partner she deserved.

You were simply you- and you didn’t know if that was enough for the English skipper.

Your thoughts get interrupted by the thump of the door hitting the stopper, two distinct voices echoing through the hall as the owners make their way in.

Leah and Lia.

Willing yourself not to turn around, you take a peak out of the corner of your eyes, immediately regretting your decision.

The pair was close- Leah had an arm slung over the other girl’s shoulders, a soft smile on her face and the Swiss captain had her own arm around the English skipper’s waist and it did nothing to ease the rampant thoughts in your mind.

They were both sharing hushed words, indifferent to the few stares in their direction, too consumed in their conversation to bother paying attention.

It was only as Lia gave Leah a gentle squeeze in the side-hug that they had going on did the pair break up, the two still sticking close together as they headed towards Leah’s locker.

Turning to face your locker, your eyes caught the bright yellow of the petals, jealousy anger coursing through your veins as what used to be your favourite laugh rang out.

Hastily grabbing the card and throwing it back into your locker to be dealt with later, you stared at the sunflowers peering up at you.

Ironic that of all the days to receive them, you’d gotten them when the world felt anything but full of sunshine and rainbows.

Making the quick decision, you quickly grabbed the bouquet on your way out, ignoring the questions being shot your way from the teammates that heard the unmistakable sound of the cellophane.

Quietly letting Steph lead you out the door, you quickly glanced behind you in a silent prayer that Leah still cared for your presence- that she was looking at you.

She wasn’t.

Tossing the flowers into the nearest bin as a sour expression crossed your face, you helplessly let the thoughts of the past two hours take a hold of your heart, the poor thing constricting ever so painfully.

Clenching your jaw and hastily tossing on your headphones, you shouldered your kit bag, more than ready to get out of here- to go to a place that felt more like home than your apartment now ever would.

With you long gone before Leah even leaves the change room, you don’t get the chance to witness the way the blonde stops talking mid-conversation as she’s leaving, her stopping in place as her eyes notice the golden petals that peeked out from the top of the bin.

It’s why you’re unknowing of the way the blonde’s heart shatters a bit more, her eyes widening, heart sinking, and head immediately hanging low as she processed the bouquet unceremoniously dumped in the trash.

And with a rough shrug to get out of Lia’s comforting pat, instead wiping away tears she refused to let fall in the presence of the few remaining teammates, Leah hurries out, discussion on how to win you back momentarily forgotten as she focuses on soothing her aching heart.

~~~

It’s a couple days later that the weight of you leaving makes itself known again to Leah.

The past few days, the blonde had been silently stewing in the memories of you two, but had been fortunate enough that there weren’t any new stark reminders of your absence.

But now, if Leah was honest, the feeling of you not near the blonde as she walked off the pitch post-game felt like a stabbing pain in her chest.

It was odd, the way wins didn’t feel like wins as of late.

Not when you weren’t by the blonde’s side.

Euphoria wasn’t an emotion she felt of late, but with the absence of you in your rightful spot to the right of the blonde as she walked around the pitch, misery stung the blonde harder than before.

The high Leah (rightfully) expected after the win against United didn’t come.

It didn’t pounce on her immediately as the whistle blew at the end of the game.

It didn’t hit her like a truck as she headed towards the locker room.

It didn't sneakily creep up on her as she entered a locker room full of her fellow teammates dancing in celebration, music blasting, the joy palpable in the room.

All that sunk in was the gut wrenching feeling of regret in her chest as she timidly watched you make your way to your locker.

For the past few days, three or so having passed since she last saw you at training, the blonde had been crashing with Lia, not that you would know.

She’d been actively visiting your apartment, trying to find any signs of life there besides the three plants of yours she’d been watering in her visits.

Each time though, she was left with not a single trace of you, it evident that you hadn’t been home yet.

It was just slightly over a week of your absence, and with each passing day, Leah was losing a bit more hope, a bit more of her sanity, a bit more of her ability to feel anything but despair.

So it didn’t surprise her that the exhilaration of the win didn’t come. It was the norm. It was the norm for her now that she’d gone and fucked up.

Rubbing a hand over her face as the sight of her teammates came into view, Leah tried to will away the spiral of thoughts in her head, headache imminent with the lack of sleep she’d had these past ten days.

Sighing to herself at the pounding music in the room, the blonde hung her head low, trudging her way to her kit bag as she pretended to yawn in case anyone asked about her foul mood.

If she’d looked up once though, she’d have seen your concerned look.

She would’ve saw the way you had involuntarily turned to face the blonde as she entered, your arms itching to reach out and pull her into a hug, as you had done many times before in the safety of your own home.

But she wasn’t yours anymore. She wasn’t yours to hold, to hug, to comfort, especially anywhere but in the four walls of your apartment.

So you’d brought your arms taught around your own body, giving yourself a hug as your heart sank, a shaky breath escaping you as you closed your eyes, letting the overwhelming emotions wash over you.

~~~

It’s as the girls are leaving the locker room that Katie remembers to invite Leah for the celebratory night out the team had planned.

You’d been asked immediately after the game, the Irishwoman surprisingly able to sense the change in your mood as of late, doing her best to try and make you laugh more in the past few days to try and silently uplift it, bless her.

You’d thought about going. Considered getting more than friendly with Millie, your last conversation with Leah replying easily in your mind.

Maybe if you’d make her jealous she’d realize you still existed.

But just as quickly as those thoughts crossed your mind, you shook yourself out of them.

If she couldn’t see your importance in her life, you weren’t about to go and beg for her to see it. You couldn’t show her something that wasn’t there.

Having then declined the offer, you’d cited your tiredness as an excuse.

Now though, you tried to act nonchalant as you eagerly awaited Leah’s answer, well aware that she was one of the last people asked.

Maybe she’d wonder whether you were.

The blonde was tired, that was clear for all to see. But would that be enough for her to spend the night in?

Would your absence mean she’d go home in misery, or was the blonde okay? More than over you, ready to move on?

You wondered if she’d find someone to bring home tonight. Whether she’d spend the time at the bar (that they’d inevitably, somehow end up at). Would that someone be better than you? Better company? A better girlfriend?

Hearing the immediate cheers following Leah’s quiet hum of agreeance and quiet ‘why not?’, you bit the inside of your cheek.

God, how could you be so naive to think she’d ask if you were going?

And as your thoughts spiralled again, you felt a gentle hand come to rest on your shoulder, Steph protectively stepping into your space as she could practically feel you fall into the rabbit hole of your mind.

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

The both of you having agreed that Australian would drop you off at her place before heading out with the team, you adamant on her enjoying the win and her night, you let yourself be led out, increasing the volume of the headphones on your ears to drown out the world, and more importantly, your mind.

~~~

The air’s chilly and Leah can’t help but wrap her arms around herself a bit tighter in a futile attempt to stave off the cold.

She’d expected the crowded club that the team had arrived at to feel stuffy and hot, but it wasn’t the case.

All the blonde could really feel was the cool breeze she couldn’t locate the source of and a constant shiver in her spine as she saw practically everyone but you there.

Having waited all through dinner praying you’d show up, and then convincing herself you’d be there as the team decided to move things to a club, the blonde felt stupid for not remembering how you hated cramped social gatherings like these.

For the months that you were together, Leah had gotten accustomed to spending nights in, cherishing them actually, for they gave her the breather she so rarely got.

It’s why she’d love it when you’d often pass up the nights out, giving Leah the perfect opportunity to leave events early, a smile on her face despite being called variations of ‘old’ and a ‘party-pooper’, the thought of going home to you more than overpowering the salty accusations.

The few times you’d both gone out together with the team, it’d always ended with you two sneaking out of the celebrations early, revelling in the chaos or peace of the night as you’d trek home, more than content to be in each other’s presence.

It had gotten to the point where the few date nights the two of you had consisted of Leah convincing you to stay in. The decision was a mix of not wanting to be in the public and getting you all to herself, but she’d never tell you that.

And yeah, sure, she’d avoided you on the nights that you’d both be out, surrounded by teammates and friends celebrating god-knows-what, but she swears she did it for your own good. You didn’t need the press, the comments, the voices that came along with the fame.

At least she made the decision you didn’t.

It’s looking back now that she realises the implications of her actions, her avoidance of you no doubt a joke- her only failing to protect you from any hurt, instead being the one to cause you grief.

God, she really treated you and your relationship like shit…

Shaking her head to herself, mood already soured with the lack of your presence, Leah excused herself from Lia’s side, heading to the table and grabbing her coat.

There wasn’t a point staying. Not when you weren’t there too.

Bidding her goodbyes and ignoring the pleas to stay longer, Leah shot the Swiss captain a grateful look as she distracted a tipsy McCabe away from trying to convince her to stay.

Taking a deep breath as she exited the stifling building, the blonde began her trek home, lost in her thoughts, wary of the empty apartment she’d no doubt be returning to.

~~~

Steph had texted you early on in the evening, letting you know that Leah was at the dinner, and you didn’t know whether to be glad or not.

All you knew was that it was the perfect opportunity for you to finally grab your things, a change of clothes, something you desperately needed now that winter was finally kicking in.

You’d expected the blonde to be gone at least a few hours, so you’d taken your time to show up, grabbing dinner before you had made your way over.

What you hadn’t expected though, was the blonde cutting her night short- the clock reading near half past nine taunting you as you heard the familiar jingle of keys as the front door opened.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest- hell, you could hear it, as you listened to the sounds of the taller girl kicking off her boots, something you would tell her off for time and time again.

Holding your breath as you heard Leah hang up her keys and drop her clutch on the island as she always did, you wondered if you had enough time to escape.

Surely, you could sneak out, right?

Shaking your head at the stupid idea, you looked around you, contemplating on how you were going to get out of this.

What were you to tell the blonde? That you weren’t kicking her out of your apartment? That you instead were moving out, already having talked with your tenant about likely cancelling your lease soon. You wondered what Leah would think you’d ask for her set of keys back- for her to take her stuff to her house as you’d empty your apartment.

You wondered if she’d then realize that she’d likely ruined the last good thing you had going for you, a house you’d been staying in for nearly two years now, a place you cherished deeply but now needing to say goodbye to.

Sighing as you took in the sight of your clothes scattered around the bedroom, clothes you’d been sorting into a ‘yours’ and ‘Leah’s’ pile, you waited to hear the movement of the blonde.

It was only as the trudge of footsteps padding down the hall reached your ears did your throat go dry, body freezing as you anxiously anticipated seeing Leah in your bedroom for the first time in over a week.

Swallowing hard, you wondered if this was the beginning of the end, or the end of the beginning.

~~~

Leah didn’t know how she didn’t notice the light peeking out from under the bedroom door. Nor how she missed your infamous Converse tucked behind the door.

All she knew was that you were here.

Here, in your apartment.

In your shared bedroom.

And all the blonde could do was stare at the sight of you looking like a kid caught stealing out of a cookie jar, the various piles of clothes scattered around you making you look tiny.

Flexing her jaw a few times, the midfielder struggled to find any adequate words, a quiet ‘what?’ the only thing she was able to muster out.

There’s a blanket of silence that covers the room after the word, the pair of you rooted in your spots, staring at each other.

It’s only as Leah realises that the hoodie currently in your grasp is one of her old England ones, from camps eons ago, does the silence break.

“Wait a second- I’ve been looking for that...”

Furrowing your eyebrows, your shock long gone and anger replacing it, you did your best to keep your voice level.

“That’s your concern?”

This was the first and only chance the blonde had gotten to you since you’d broken up with her, and her concern was the hoodie you were holding.

“You know what? Fuck off.”

Throwing the hoodie at her with all the rage you could muster, you watched as it softly hit your ex in the face, Leah pulling it off as her eyes widened.

“Okay wait! Wait. No. Sorry. It just took me off guard…”

Rubbing her neck sheepishly, the blonde brought the hoodie behind her in an attempt to brush over what just occurred.

Shaking your head because of-fucking-course, you pinched the bridge of your nose, pausing for a moment before realizing just how utterly done you were with the blonde already.

Waiting a second to see if she’d continue, to see if she’d ask you how you were, what you were doing, or better yet, apologise, you sighed as silence overtook the room once again.

Checking your watch, you figured that if you ran through all you needed to, you could be out of here by half-past-ten, a whole hour earlier than you had originally planned for.

“Listen, all I need is like an hour then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Muttering the words, disdain clear in your voice, you started speeding up your actions, sorting the pile of clothes behind you and tossing everything that was yours into the open suitcase.

It took a minute for the defender to understand what she just heard, to comprehend what she’d witnessed.

One hour and then you’d be gone?

Taking note of the clothes scattered across the room and recognizing her extra pairs of pyjamas and trainers in the decently-sized pile on one side, garments that looked distinctly like yours in the other, the blonde felt dread sink in.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait…what do you mean ‘out of my hair’?”

It’s as the weight of the words sunk in did Leah step into the room, squinting her eyes as her mouth fell open slightly, body rigid with concern.

Sighing deeply inwards, you ran a hand through your hair, pulling it slightly in an attempt to stave off your annoyance.

“Leah, I’m moving, yeah? It’s about time.”

You watched as the hoodie fell from the blonde’s hands, dropping unceremoniously into ‘your’ clothes pile as she swallowed hard.

Yes the pair of you weren’t together anymore, but this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You weren’t supposed to move out, much less out of your own apartment, that’s for sure.

Shaking her head as she felt her heartbeat pick up, panic in her eyes, Leah closed the distance between you.

“You’re not moving out.”

The statement was nothing of a question, hands going on her hips as the blonde eyebrows furrowed.

“I know I hurt you, but you can’t move out.”

Watching an exasperated expression cross your face, an expression that Leah was all too familiar with, having seen it every time she declined your request to post a picture of the two of you, she dropped her own shoulders, closing her eyes in defeat.

“Please don’t move out.”

Please don’t leave me.

“Please.”

Sorting the shirt that was in your hold, you placed your hands behind you, letting your weight fall on them as you leant back, head thrown back, eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling you were very much used to seeing on lazy mornings spent with the blonde in front of you.

Making sure your voice was steady, you closed your eyes as you spoke.

“We’ve broken up. One of us needs to move out.”

“No...”

“Leah…”

“No.”

The second ‘no’, firmer and coupled with a definitive tone in Leah’s voice had you appalled, your eyes opening as you righted yourself and faced her

“No? Leah, I’ve spent enough time seeing you with another woman outside of this apartment. I’m not in the fucking mood to see it here as well, in my apartment.”

You waited to see if she’d offer to move out instead, considering this was your place after all.

You waited, only to be met with silence.

Guess it was a good thing you didn’t wanna stay here anyways.

“I mean it. Please don’t go…”

The timid voice had your shoulders dropping.

Sure, she broke your heart, but it didn’t mean you were heartless.

Deciding to humour her, for your own sake- you wanted to see just what her justification would be, you hummed in response.

“Why?”

She’d broken your heart enough. So why was it that she was asking you to stay?

You watched as the always-confident blonde wrung her fingers, her head hung low as she stared into the ground.

“I still love you…”

The weight of the words blanketed the room in quiet. Or it might have been the blood rushing in your ears. Either way, you couldn’t believe what you were hearing- unable to do anything but sigh in response, mind a frenzy.

Racking through your brain to find the right words to say, you curse at the universe for aligning so maliciously.

“You can’t just say that.”

“Ba-“

“No.” Cutting her off, your voice raising slightly, you bit the inside of your cheek.

“You can’t say that. You can’t say that when you’ve practically been a stranger to me any place outside of these four walls. You can’t say that when all you’ve done is gone and break my heart multiple- Leah, multiple times. You can’t say that when you haven’t once rung me in the week that we’ve broken up. You don’t get to call me ‘baby’ anymore and you don’t get to say those three words anymore.”

You’re breathing heavily by the time you finish, having gone and stood up at some point during that rant.

Eyes level with Leah’s as there’s a defiant look in your eyes, you wait.

You wait to see just what excuse she’d come up with this time.

“I didn’t-“

Lips pursing, you rolled your eyes. You knew how these words always ended.

“Let me guess…you didn’t know if I wanted to hear from you, yeah?”

You watched as she nodded sheepishly, nearly curling into herself as your voice got sharper with each word.

“Y’know…I told myself that maybe if I waited long enough, that you’d eventually care enough. Told myself that if I tried hard enough, loved you enough, was a better player, a better girlfriend, maybe I would’ve been good enough for you. That you’d want me as much as I want you.”

You watched as Leah looked at you, it clear that she was itching to say something, but you continued.

“I spent the last week with my ringer on, do not disturb off, hoping you’d call. Hoping you’d text. Send me a message, someway, somehow. Anything that would let you know me breaking up with you killed you as much as it killed me. And what did I get? Nothing.”

Your voice is quiet as the final word slips through, the both of you staring at each other, the room an outright mess with the clothes strewn around, suitcase open beside where you were sat.

Truth be told, you didn’t want this to end.

You didn’t.

All you wanted was for Leah to realize your importance in her life. And whether that was good or bad, you wanted to know where you stood- because you’d stick around if she loved you, but you couldn’t bear to stay if you weren’t wanted.

You couldn’t light a candle in the rain.

Watching as Leah flexed her jaw once, then twice before inhaling deeply, you felt a chill go up your spine as anticipation slowly killed you.

“It hurt more than I could ever imagine…”

The confession was quiet, barely a whisper, but it had your attention, and it didn’t go unnoticed by the other girl.

“It’s killed me every time I’ve come to this apartment alone y’know? Every single time I’ve walked into this place and you’re not behind me yelling at me to put away my shoes properly.”

Swallowing her emotions down and steadying her voice, she continued.

“Do you want to know how wrong it felt, driving to practise without you beside me? Without your humming and singing? Or how much it sucks not being able to stand beside you at practice. Or how the only thing I’ve wanted these past few days is just one of your hugs- the ones you give me when you know I’m not feeling well, too tired to do anything but cuddle you?”

“It’s stupid, but I’ve visited- stayed- at your place nearly every day since our breakup, hoping each day that you’d come back and I could- we could talk. That I could make it up to you. I’ve missed you. I really have. More than anything else ever- I swear. Spent the first night and the second too, on your couch, hugging your favourite cushion and your international hoodie.”

Smiling bitterly to herself at the memory, the blonde wiped away the few tears that had escaped.

Feeling your eyes starting to sting as you remembered just how gruelling the first few days had been for you, you quickly wiped away the one lone tear that managed to escape, holding back the oncoming sniffles.

Feeling your chest rise as you did your best to loosen the anxious feeling in your chest, you stayed rooted to your spot, too afraid to move for fear that Leah would stop talking.

“Did you read the note?”

The question was small, especially after the large confession just moments ago, and it had you nodding in response, scared that you’d break the atmosphere in the room if you spoke too loud.

“I-,” Leah cleared her throat, running a hand through her own hair as her gaze met yours again.

“I meant it y’know? Seeing you and just you in my future? I wanna fix this…us. I’d really like to fix what I broke, if you’d let me.”

Biting back a grimace because wow, were you really about to give her the power to break your heart again. The one thing you told yourself you wouldn’t let her do- not anymore.

“I don’t know how to trust you again…”

You knew the words were harsh, but they were the truth.

How could you trust someone that single handedly broke your heart over and over again.

Holding your breath as you watched Leah slowly step forward, inching towards you until she was merely inches away from where you stood, you wondered if you could ever let the blonde back in.

“One chance is all I ask for. I’ll earn your trust again, I swear. Just please don’t go. Please don’t leave me.”

You watched as her fingers flexed, jaw clenching and unclenching as the blonde fought herself internally.

As she made a decision, you smiled at the way the little crease between her eyebrows disappeared, a place you loved to kiss whenever the blonde was upset about the movie you’d choose for movie nights.

So caught up in your memories, you were only jolted out of the dreamland your mind went to as you felt Leah hesitantly grab your hand, the touch cautious and feather-like as she tried to gauge your reaction.

Looking down at your intertwined hands, you bit your lip, one question floating around your mind.

“Are you planning for us to continue being a secret or…?”

Closing your eyes as you waited for her answer, you wondered if this would be the last time you’d feel Leah’s touch.

You knew you couldn’t bear to be a secret. You liked private, sure, but all you really wanted to do was be you. Be you and her, and be able to show the world that, without bounds.

“No.”

Eyes flying open, you narrowed your eyes at Leah, surprised by the confident tone, so sure of herself, so assured, that it nearly had you convinced.

“And if you let me down?”

“Then I’ll leave your life myself, just say the words and I’ll go. But I don’t plan to let you down. Not again. Not ever. I don’t want a life without you. I’ve had a taste of if, and fuck, I needed that. I needed that because I know I’d rather deal with everyone’s comments, everyone’s judgement, their prying, their invasive questions, than lose you.”

Swallowing hard at those words, you felt your shoulders relax, mind and heart practically numb with the overwhelming emotions you were feeling.

Words a whisper, tears silently falling down your cheeks as the weight of the past week hit you, you prayed that you never felt this type of hurt again.

“Hurt me again and I’ll break your kneecaps alright?”

And letting yourself be pulled into the taller girl’s embrace, you let yourself sink into her hug, a warmth you’d missed so dearly, so fervently in the past few days- a hug that even the best Calvin cuddle couldn’t compare to, you let out a sigh.

Things weren’t alright yet. They weren’t going to be for a while.

But this was a step in the right direction. A step you’d take, praying to the universe that it wouldn’t let you fall- at least not without someone to catch you.

You just hoped it would be Leah- she was the only one you wanted to catch you when you fell. You just had to trust her word that she would.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso #my writing #fic #fic req #angst #iwytb #hcie

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writinginthetwilight · 1 month

Text

Knock, knock.

Neighbour!Eddie Munson x Neighbour!Reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ for smut in later parts if you are under 18 you do not belong here, be gone. AFAB reader. Stress. Strong language. Nightmares. Negative self talk. Horror-esk/creepy vibes. See Masterlist for full list of warnings.

Authors note: He's finally here, in the flesh.. ish. Thank you for all the love on the last part. Officially out of the introduction and into the meat of this creepy lil story.

Find @bettyfrommars @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing full prompt list here including the one that birthed this weird little world I'm making.

6. You move into a new apartment and soon discover that you share a wall with a very noisy neighbor. Loud laughter, talking, and music are a constant companion. When you decide to go over and knock on their door to confront them in person, you find that the apartment is unoccupied and has been for months.

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. Love you and hope you're being kind to yourself, okay bye.

Part 4: Conspiracies made through the hardwood.

The smell is nostalgic.

In every home you lived in, in your formative adult life, the introduction had been followed by the earthy smell of burning sage, whisps curling in draughty apartments and catching the light in shared dorm rooms.

Tina, your college roommate insisted on every room being scrubbed down and smudged before you unpacked.

You'd since lost touch, but you still kept the tradition of scrubbing places head to toe when you moved in and now you can't help but wonder, had you kept smudging your homes could some of the negativity in your life have been avoided.

You aren't dead.

After the momentary spiral the other night you had righted yourself from entertaining the idea.

Ghosts didn't eat, sleep, pay rent.

Go to work.

What a fucked up purgatory it would be if you had to spend eternity listening to Shona chew at her desk while desperately waiting for payday.

But it didn't stop the rattle in your bones as you'd unplugged the radio, fetched it away from the wall and fitfully slept on the couch.

You tried to explain that night away, the note was easy, a neighbour was trying to scare you, it was a prank, a bad joke.

But the radio.

You scoured the internet for hours looking for reasons as to why you had picked up what was playing on the radio next door.

It's fairly common apparently, to pick up signals from elsewhere, but you're lost in jargon.

HAM radios, the chatter of people talking over radio waves, inanimate objects picking up signals and freaking people out.

Nothing quite fits, and the rabbit hole ends in bad ghost hunting videos and advertisements for spirit boxes.

So, you call Charlie again, under the guise of fixing the faucet. The noise from next door’s not outrageous by your own relatively low standards but enough to show that next door isn't vacant.

He's exactly as he was the day you met him, with a wide smile and bright eyes, you try your best to match it, despite the dark circles hidden beneath thickly applied concealer.

He hums and haws at the pipes and you can hear humming clearly from above you as he tinkers with them.

He's chatting to you absent-mindedly about a place downtown that sells the best cubans he's ever eaten, asking if you've been to various spots around the area yet.

He's not acknowledging the noise.

Even when laughter and the TV starts he just continues on until he finally catches you staring angrily up at the scar.

“Still giving you trouble?”

He can't hear him.

You can tell by the way he phrased it, as a genuine question not a reaction to the noise.

“I thought I could maybe still hear someone in number 5?”

He chuckles. “Taking a look around spooked you huh? “

“No, just the noise.” you wave above your head, all subtlety lost in the interaction.

He doesn't even glance up.

“Honey, there's no keyhole on that door, only way someone's getting in is scaling the walls or breaking down the door.”

He pats your arm reassuringly, then moves turning the faucet on and off again as the water runs smoothly out.

“Good as new.”

You're not dead.

But maybe he is.

So, here you stand white sage and lavender burning in your hand on a Wednesday night, desperate for something to work.

Step 1. Introduce yourself.

“Hello, Eddie.”

“I'm,” You take a deep breath and let your name slip out, despite the conflicting information online as to whether it's a good idea. “and this is my apartment.”

The silence hangs for a moment. You know he's there, can hear soft distant sounds of movement.

This is so fucking stupid.

You flick through the multitudes of tabs open on your laptop.

Step 2. Acknowledge they were here first.

“I know this is your home too, and you were here first but-”

“ I'm not dead.”

The voice echoes and warps down to you and you feel your stomach roll at the sound, quickly you scroll, there isn't anything about them talking back.

“You, might not know but this apartment was split-”

There's a nervous laugh that cuts you off.

“Yeah, whatever you are, you need to leave. This is my apartment.”

You try again but can't get a word in and you can feel frustration building, rolling up your back and making your jaw clench as he talks over you.

“Look, a maintenance guy changed the locks on room 5 the other day.”

He's not listening, and you increase your volume, trying to explain, the calm and gentle candence is gone, your voice now shrill and foreign to your own ears.

“So either your fucking with me and you're somewhere else or you're the one who's dead so if you would kindly leave me the fuck alone.”

You're practically yelling now, and you almost fall from where you've scaled the kitchen counter when there's a knock at the door.

He's still yelling.

It can't be him.

You walk hunched, heart pounding, anger still coursing through you. You're not sure if you want it to be him, if he's there in the flesh then you're not losing your mind at least.

But if he is, then you're about to be faced with an irate man who's just been screaming at you through the walls.

You latch the chain, and it rattles at the force needed to open it.

A woman a good decade older than you stands arms crossed with a scowl on her face that your mother would be proud of. Behind her shoulder, a man stands with an apologetic look on his face.

You recognise them vaguely, he was one of the few who had given you a small smile as you moved in when you passed them, she had not.

“Hi? Can I-”

“I don't know what's happening in there but do you think it's acceptable to be yelling at almost 11 pm?”

She sounds like your mother too.

The urge to ask them if they can hear him is fleeting and the only response you can muster is to press your lips into a hard line.

“If it carries on I'm making a formal complaint.”

You can feel your temper still simmering and don't trust yourself with any sincere retort so merely murmur your apologies and close the door on them.

She knocks again, obviously unhappy with your lacklustre response and you can hear the man trying to reason with her as you lean your forehead against the door.

No longer yelling, the sound of him moving around remains.

The rough surface of the door is grounding as you squeeze your eyes closed.

You can't live like this.

But there's a stone in the bottom of your stomach.

The rent really was a steal, and with at least another 6 months on your lease, probation at your job still ongoing, you're going to have to.

You can't go home, not after the arguments and upheaval.

The scene you made.

People who would welcome you back were still in the group chat, talking shit after sending their well wishes. The only real person who would sincerely welcome you back lives next door to your old home and that's not happening.

You’ll exist with your undead roommate, bury the feelings down.

You're good at it, pretending that you're fine.

You just hope eventually he leaves, so you don't have to, again.

The next week is, well, loud but you reinstate the headphones and earplugs that had accompanied you in your first few days and manage.

Living for the quiet moments in between the noise, they usually come in the early evening, the low light of lamps colouring the room in fire lit hues and podcasts on the speakers instead of headphones while you cook.

A sanctuary from the surreal.

Headphones in your pocket ready.

It's the exact state you're in when you hear the raucous sounds of a group entering next door, voices overlapping and unintelligible.

“You hear that right? Uh hello?”

This is new, he never actually acknowledged you.

He calls out your name and you pull the pan from the heat, cautiously walking around the counter to where the voices are loudest.

“It's Eddie.”

“Eddie dude.”

“Shh!”

Other dead people?

Maybe the whole building's haunted you muse, reaching over to give your dinner an idle stir, heat from the metal still lingering.

“Some people want to meet you.”

That gets your full attention, and you pause for a minute unsure if you should greet more spectors into your living quarters.

Surely it couldn't get worse.

“Hey, other dead people.”

“We're not.” he grits out "You heard that right, see?”

Silence

“ Eddie man-”

“ No, don't look at me like that.”

You frown hard at the ceiling, dots connecting but in no useful way.

They can't hear you, Charlie couldn't hear him.

“Letter, letter, I have a letter!” you can hear him scramble away leaving the concerned murmuring of the others in his absence.

“Look see I'm not crazy.”

More silence

“It's a noise complaint.”

“No, well yeah, but it's from them and-”

“Dude, why don't you go stay with Wayne for a while.”

He doesn't like that.

It sets off an argument that you try to track but the movement makes their voices pitch in and out.

They just want to help.

They're worried.

Just get out of the city for a bit.

A slam of the door.

“Eddie?”

It's tentative the way you say it, the silence loud.

You're not prepared for another shouting match but the desperation that was in his voice makes your chest ache, you can't just leave it, maybe you should, but he was an echo of how you would sound had you anyone here to tell.

“Nobody can hear you either.”

“I'm not dead.” The sudden sound comes from directly above you and makes you flinch, eyes snapping up.

“Neither am I.”

His voice goes an octave higher, already defensive, diving headfirst into a ramble that you can't quite catch as he paces and, once again you find that your voice is rising to match his.

You catch yourself this time though, not about to have to explain this to your landlord if you get an actual noise complaint.

So another note to your otherworldly pen pal it is.

I've almost gotten a noise complaint, so if we can stop screaming through the ceiling to each other that would be great.

Neither of us think we're dead, nobody else can hear the other.

My apartment was split. I went round to number 5 last week and they changed the locks.

It's been empty for years.

I don't know where you are but it's not next door.

You hear the front door open and close not long after you slip the note under and settle yourself crisscross on the floor to wait.

He's quiet, only small movements audible as you run clammy palms into the carpet at your sides, fibres scratching against your fingers.

There's the sound of his door opening, then the note edges its way under your own.

The page has indents in the top corner where an empty pen has been tried, the writing fading halfway down before it changes colour.

My locks work fine.

I called the landlord to see if I needed to wait that day, he said nobody had called him and it can't have been next door because it's empty.

Sure you're not dead? No bright lights, big tunnels calling you. Fire? I don't know, tiny red dudes with pitchforks. No judgement.

Also, I'm not shouting at the ceiling. Your voice has been floating around here like an invisible stalker for almost a month now.

No judgement. Fuck this guy.

Not dead.

No lights.

No tiny men.

So what is this?

You wait with the door latched this time peeking through, as a family passes by and you make accidental eye contact with one of the parents watching as they hurry the kids past.

You close the door quickly cringing, when there's a soft crinkle underfoot, your heart stutters at the sight of the note under your feet. This can't be real.

I propose 50 questions.

A sharp breath leaves you at the words, but maybe it's not the worst idea. You need to get a handle on this, need more information because currently you're flying blind.

Okay 50 questions, how long have you lived here?

Boring. 2 years. How many eyes do you have?

You laugh but then the idea that maybe you could be dealing with something other than a human makes you feel a little ill. A ghost is bad enough.

Two. You?

You snatch the note up when it comes through.

Two eyes. So human right? Two arms, two legs, head, ass, junk between your legs?

Thank God.

So were both human. That's a relief. This is harder than I thought it would be. Who's president?

Yeah? I was kind of hoping for alien contact myself. President’s Clinton. No supernatural abilities at all?

You frown at the note.

Hillary or Bill?

The family from before return with their takeout, catching you in the hall crouched and stuffing the note under the door, you try and smile casually, it's returned but you hear the youngest kid hushed when they ask their parents what you're doing.

Great, you're going to be that person in the building.

"You have to answer the question!" He yells in a singsong tone as you close the door and the odd stares from the family in the hall are enough for you to risk shouting back.

“What year is it?”

“The games no fun if it's one sided.”

You roll your eyes climbing on top of the kitchen counter. “Eddie?”

“1993.” The huff is evident in his voice but when you don't respond he calls out almost timidly.

“What year is it there?”

“2024.”

He asks a thousand questions straight away and you spend the next hour comparing music, media and anything else you can think of. There are slight differences, no traces of shows, bands and brands he talks about, too many to pass off as just being lost to the passage of time.

You can't even find Hawkins on Google earth, Indiana he says not Texas or Wisconsin.

He's never heard of your home town either but that's not surprising unless he has a detailed map of the continental US.

You explain the concept of googling to him for a good twenty minutes when he asks how you're getting all the information and you're worried you might have broken him from the sounds he makes when you tell him that people make a living playing dnd.

Then he's gone, abruptly, cursing about having to leave and already being late, leaving you wide eyed in the middle of your apartment.

You pad toward the letters that are discarded on the floor, fingers tips running over the indents on his words.

You take your phone out, take a photo and send it to Janet.

You can see these right?

Your phone’s on your chest when you wake, your last memories are that of a concerned Janet, informing you that you could come stay any time.

You'd played it down, explained a neighbour’s playing a prank, you were just playing along.

You didn't need her worrying.

Now as you go to respond the blank screen of the phone reflects your tired face.

A sound, a drip suddenly fills the space around you.

Not again.

You reason with yourself that maybe you should just stay in bed, nothing good yet to come from actually getting up.

He always said that you were a busy body.

The noise of movement makes you peek out of your sheets, the distinct sound of walking making your bare feet hit the ground, creeping quietly towards the door trying to avoid the spots you know creak.

There's somebody there. Your heart rate quickens as you watch them leaning over the countertop, head tipped, with wild hair falling to the side they stare up at the drip, eyebrows knitted, he's leaning in hand going in to catch the next droplet.

“I wouldn't touch that,” you say on instinct, body pushing past the safety of the door.

“Jesus Christ.” he recoils backwards away from you hands outstretched.

You know that voice.

Staring at you with wide eyes, you take him in. As if this couldn't get any more fucked.

“Eddie?”

He looks wearily back at you, a confused frown settling on his face for a moment before realisation takes over.

“Holy shit.”

“So you're just in my dreams now too?”

“Your dream?”

“Yes?” you put your hands out to the side displaying the mismatched pyjamas you're in.

“Okay, if this is your dream, why have I been waking up in it?”

He crosses his arms, looking you up and down. He's fully dressed, in jeans and leather jacket and as you take another step into the room you catch the smell of him, like he's just come in from the cold.

Definitely a ghost.

“Beats me. Maybe this is where I help you pass on.” you tease and you struggle to bite back the smile at the way his nose scrunches in annoyance

“I'm not dead”

You humm looking over the room, dancing wall of light, black abyss, all still intact.

“Wait?” you turn cautiously.

“Were you the one chasing me?”

He fumbles a little, eyes wide “I wasn't chasing you.”

“The hell you weren't, I almost broke my neck falling.”

“Well, why were you running?”

You gesture wildly around yourself.

“Why wouldn't I be? Why were you chasing me!?”

“To see who it was and what the hell was going on.”

You eye him warily, how much harm can he do in a dream?

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he takes a step back from you, hands raised.

Brushing past him to the bookshelf that blocks your door, your fingers running over the spines, some titles you know others you don't and you try to take a mental note to look them up when you wake.

“So this is the future.”

He's rotating the remote control in his hands inspecting it like something’s hidden inside.

“Kind of. I guess.”

“I expected more.”

“Like what.”

“More, Sci fi shit.”

“Robots in the shop, sorry”

He tsks

“Massive TV's though.” he falls heavily down onto the couch and you can't help but laugh at his impressed expression at the 30 inch second hand TV.

You pull your phone from your pocket and throw it over to him, it lands with a soft thud beside him and he flinches away.

“Electrics seem to be dead, so there's not a lot to show while we're here.”

“What is it?”

“A phone.”

He pulls a face between impressed and confused as he inspects it closely.

You turn to the drip, blackness now sliding down and puddling on the linoleum, inching towards the darkness where your kitchen cabinets should be.

That can't be good

His head turns to watch you as you follow the scar, no signs of a drip anywhere else. Your hands smooth over where it runs down the wall.

“Don't you think we should stay away from that?” he says standing up, still keeping his distance

“Why?”

“Why? Because it looks like a cavern to the underworld,” he says incredulously.

“What do you think’s past it? The light is your apartment so there must be something past it right?”

You lean forward and he rushes towards you catching your elbow just as the darkness hisses.

You both stumble back.

“Okay yeah no that was stupid.”

“You think.”

“I'm just trying to work this out.”

You shake yourself free of his grip and turn to go to the front door, but it's blank where it should be.

Had it always been gone?

You smooth your hands over where the frame should be, no sign it has ever been there or will be.

“What's wrong? “

You push your head through the light squinting as the room comes into focus, his door sits where it should.

“Your doors here. Mines. Not.”

“Your door would be .” he waves down to the abyss.

“No my doors here it-”

Doesn't look like it should be though.

Eddie's eyes search your face.

You move through the wall quickly opening his door as Eddie scrambles behind you.

The noise is deafening, all consuming blackness and screeching static howls as you recoil away, Eddie's arm curling round you as he kicks the door closed.”

“Can you stop?” he says, taking you by the arms and turning you to face him.

“We're trapped.” your mind's racing scrambling to be awake.

His face softens.

“Until we wake up. Right? You get the whooshing?”

His arms flail around his head and you nod mutely, heart in your throat.

It's just a dream.

“So let's just attempt to not piss off the overlords of this place until then, ‘kay? Obviously we're not meant to leave.”

It's just a dream.

“So what brought you to the apparent entrance of the nether realm with me,” he asks, turning to look back at you as you enter the hallway.

He walks through the frosted glass door and you trail behind following him through dust that dances in the strips of light, you're struggling to get your breathing right, lip crushed between your teeth.

You avoid eye contact walking into his room and inspecting the models that sit on his window ledge.

“It was cheap.”

He bounces as he goes to lay back on his bed, hands scrubbing his face.

“Yeah, wonder why that was. Cursed apartment, half price.”

“Comes with a free undead roomate.” you murmur, lips quirking up despite the quiver in your voice.

He gives you a deadpan look, but he's not as subtle as he thinks he is when his hand searches his neck for his pulse.

“What about you, no roommates, pretty big place for one?”

He bristles but you're too busy pressing the point of a tiny sword into your finger to catch it.

“Yeah, uh no just me.”

“Really? How do you afford it?”

“Anyone ever told you you're nosy?”

The sudden change in tone makes your face fall, his words causing heat crawl up your neck.

“Sorry.”

You walk quickly out, leaving to the quiet sanctuary of your room and sitting on the edge of your bed.

You hate how the words crawl around your head, like you're a bother, a pain in the ass.

You make things so difficult.

He appears out the bathroom door in your peripheral, his body leaning against the frame.

“I can't afford it”

You risk a glance, chewing the inside of his cheeks he stares at your partially blocked door.

“No?”

He stands upright about to speak when his hands fly to cover his ears.

Just as the rushing starts in your own.

Bent in half looking up to you, you manage to send him a grimace and a half wave, before you're gulping air.

Everything's quiet but the blood’s still rushing in your ears, sheets a tangled mess around you as you try to steady your breathing.

At least you're awake.

Two quick knocks come from behind you.

You're frozen, any intention of trying to make yourself believe this was all your subconscious leaving you in an instant.

Hesitantly, your body moves shuffling up onto your knees and you stare at the back wall.

Your hand hovers.

Knock.

The sound of distant traffic murmurs from outside.

A headache brews behind your eyes.

What the fuck is going on.

Next.

Tag list: @munsonburn3r @winchester-angel let me know if you would like to be added <3

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #stranger prompts #knock knock #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x afab reader #my writing #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson series #Spotify

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sheeple · 3 months

Text

Miracles don't exist | Epilogue

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): None A/n: It feels weird uploading the last part of the story. Shoutout to everyone who has been following the story — from the beginning and from the end. [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

It's dark around you. Dark and dingy and it vaguely smells of mould. It makes your nose itch. Every way you look is pitch black. Only when you focus really hard you spot a faint light in the distance. You start to walk towards it, in the hope of escaping.

But the more your speed picks up, the farther the light goes. Until you're sprinting and the light is gone. You collapse on the ground and heave while tears start to pool in your eyes.

You let out a scream and your voice echoes around you. Clutching your head tightly, you curl up into a ball and rock yourself back and forth. The silence of the void is all-consuming, swallowing you whole.

Your eyes open widely as your chest raises rapidly. Cold sweat runs down your temples and you turn your head, to look at your husband. Tired eyes look at you with concern. Knitting your brows together, you shuffle into his embrace. "Sorry for waking you up", you whisper, your voice wavering with sleep.

"Was it the same one?", he asks, stroking your back while his other hand takes hold of your hand, pressing kisses against the inside of your wrist, his lips ghosting around the Mark. He always does this when he wants to soothe you.

You hum and close your eyes. "It's been so calm lately." Clutching tightly onto the back of Theo's sleepshirt, you try your best to forget the memories.

The two of you know why your nightmares are resurfacing. It's the first time in years that you're back on British soil. The first time since the end of the war.

Immediately when the end was declared, Theodore and you got your affairs in order and left Great Britain for Canada. You had to leave. England was never your home and you're happy now, with your little bookshop that caters to wizard and non-wizard kind.

And the weirdest part is that you're back for Hermione and Ron's wedding. Yes, you've kept sending letters to Hermione — and when you finally got a computer communication got way easier — but you never expected her to want you to be at her wedding. A lot has changed in five years.

It was actually Theo who convinced you to go. "If not for the ceremony, then for the reception afterwards. Didn't you always say you two were friends?" He raises his brows with a teasing glint in his eyes and you know he's right. By now you've learned that he's almost always right. Almost.

You're lucky you've kept the cottage by the sea. It's the only happy thing about coming back. The sound of waves crashing against the shore calms you as you squeeze your eyes closed in the hope of going back to sleep. But it's no use.

Once you hear the grandfather clock downstairs chime six times, you decide that you've laid awake enough and you slip out of bed. Making sure Theo's tucked in warmly, you put on your robe and make your way downstairs.

You turn on the water cooker and start to prepare for breakfast, softly humming to yourself as the silence of the old house is jarring to you.

Over the years you've discovered that you don't do well with silence. Call it trauma from the war or just living in a bustling city, but not having any music on in the background makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight. And since you still have to buy a radio for the cottage, you have to make do with humming to yourself.

Two arms wrap around you from the back as Theodore buries his nose in the nape of your neck. He holds you close to his body as he watches you fry the eggs.

"Morning", you muse, laying a hand over his own. He grumbles while pressing butterfly kisses against your skin. A soft giggle escapes you as he stays clutched tightly around you while you plate up the food.

A disapproving hum gets muffled against your skin as you try to unfold his arms from you to have breakfast.

Then, an idea pops into your head. "I was thinking of taking a bath after breakfast. Do you want to join me?" You feel Theo halt his ministrations before quickly letting go and practically throwing himself in front of his breakfast.

"What are you standing there for?! Eat up!"

You're nervously chewing on the inside of your cheek as you walk towards the entrance of the tent, Theodore's hand clutched tightly in your own, grounding you.

The reception is beautifully lit with stars and fairy lights. Tables are spaced around and people mingle around. Off to the side stand Hermione and Ron, welcoming guests who haven't been at the ceremony.

Hermione's face lights up when she spots you and you hurry your steps towards her. The two of you hug for the first time in years and you can't wipe the wide smile off your face.

"Oh, how lovely you look!", you say once you've parted, admiring her beautiful wedding dress.

Hermione's glowing and the dress compliments her perfectly. The tule floats around her and sparkles under the lights.

"I'm so happy you came. We'll talk later, okay?", she says as the next guests enter the reception.

You nod and take Theo's hand to find the table you're assigned to. He pulls the chair out for you and you thank him with a smile. Slowly the table fills and the speeches begin.

First, it's Mr Granger. He tells about her growing up and the sacrifices she made during the height of the war to ensure her parents were safe. Then it's Mr Weasley, who gives a somewhat funny speech. He ends with the question of what a toaster does before he's ushered away from the mic.

And finally Harry. He still wears the same round glasses and his hair is also the same, although less unruly. Seeing him after such a long time makes you feel weird, how much you want to ignore the feeling.

Under the table, you feel Theo lay a hand on your thigh. When you look at him, he gives you a reassuring smile while squeezing your knee. You lay your hand over his own and continue listening to the other speeches.

Dinner gets served and you converse with the people around the table. That's how you discover you're seated with Hermione's cousin and a good friend from Ron's work.

Once dessert has been cleared, everybody's free to mingle around. "I'll get us something to drink from the bar. What do you want?", asks Theo as the two of you stand to the side, watching Hermione and Ron dance.

"Cola's fine. Thanks, babe." He gives you a quick peck before he's off to the bar.

You're not alone for long as someone slowly comes to stand next to you. Looking to the side, you're eye to eye with Harry. Your body tenses and you clench your hands to fists. "Hello."

"Hi", he answers back simply, clutching a glass of champagne tightly in his hands. "How have you been?"

"Good", you nod, praying that Theodore returns soon, "you know, just… living life. And you?"

Harry nods. "The same, honestly. I've been in the Auror force for almost five years now."

"Really? I've always thought you would get into teaching." You chew on the inside of your cheek, surveying the room.

After that, silence falls between the two of you. You're still not totally at ease next to Harry. It's been a while but the memories still haunt you.

Harry takes a sip of his champagne, watching Ron twirl and dip Hermione with wide smiles on their faces. "Did I ever have a chance?"

The question makes your stomach drop. "Yes", you answer after a moment or two, "but after- after sixth year- I was so afraid you would hurt me again, Harry. And that the next time, you would kill me." You swallow thickly, glancing at the bespectacled man next to you, gauging his reaction.

Harry looks shocked at your reaction and his hand reaches out but stops just short of your arm. it closes to a fist before dropping next to him. "I could never hurt you intentionally. I loved you too much… still do."

"Stop", you say while shaking your head, taking a couple steps away from him. "Stop it, Harry. You're with Ginny. And Teddy and I… We're a family." Subconsciously, you lay a hand on your stomach and Hary's eyes focus on the movement.

He takes a moment to realise what you're implying. "You're pregnant?", he asks bewildered. Something flashes through his eyes. Could it be… hurt?

As he takes a step towards you, you take one back. And praise the heavens, Theo comes back at the right time. "Potter", he says, giving you your glass and standing protected in front of you.

Harry relents and creates some distance between him and the two of you. "Nott. Congratulations on the pregnancy." It comes out forced. With one last flickering look towards you, he turns around and walks off.

You follow him until he is back at his label, taking place next to Ginny, who's already looking at you with an unreadable look. You must up a kind smile and wave towards her. Ginny does not return the gesture and turns her back towards you.

A deep breath escapes you and you take a large sip of your drink.

"What did he want?", asks Theo as he lays a hand on your hip.

You shake your head. "I'm not sure myself. Going here was a mistake, Teddy. Can we please just go?" You look up at your husband with pleading eyes.

Without hesitation, he nods and the two of you collect your belongings. You shoot Hermione a quick text as an apology saying you're not feeling too well and that you didn't want to bother her.

Once outside of the venue, you apparate back towards your home. With a sigh, you kick off your shoes and let yourself fall onto the bed. You look up at Theo as he undoes his tie. "I love you", you say, watching his face soften.

He walks closer towards the bed and drags you towards him by your ankles. You let out a giggle, sitting upright. He traces your face with his fingers before closing the gap and pressing his lips on yours. You close your eyes and hum into the kiss, pulling him closer by his neck.

When Theo breaks the kiss, he leans his forehead against yours. "I love you. The both of you."

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo @literallyobessed @lestat-whore @vanishingcherry @harrysnovia @pietrobae @ireallywannasleep127 @yeolsbubbles @fruityfrog505 @fluffybunnyu @theroyalmanatee @shinrjj @hegdus @kermits-bitch @m1kasawps @noah-uhhh-what @mypolicemanharryyy @fals3-g0d @decapitated-coffee @thatgirljas13 @slytherinambitious @raineisms @mastermindmiko @timmytime17 @regsg18 @supernatural-lover @bubybubsters @lafrone @hermionelove @the-sander-fander @akengii @aliciacat20 @unstablereader @burns-in-the-sun @rachelnicolee @damagelove @mqndrqke @llpovi @clairesjointshurt @222244445555 @jolly4holly @padf00ts-l0ver @fandom-life-12 @prettyb1tchsblog @pari-1 @f14ever @nopedefe @randomgurl2326 @rinalouu @yazminetrahan @ellen3101 @comfyvic

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princesscait26 · 4 days

Text

Jazz Music

(This is my very first EVER story. It was written on my phone. I took inspiration from a few stories.)

(I would love feedback. However, if you don’t like it, please just move on.)

Summary: The newest member of Hazbin Hotel has caught the attention of the Radio Demon. How will this turn out?

Alastor x Doe! Reader

As Alastor leisurely strolled through the corridors of Hazbin Hotel, his ears perked at the familiar strains of jazz seeping from room 430. The melodic notes beckoned him, coaxing a ghost of a smile to his lips as he approached the source.

Intrigued by the vintage tunes reminiscent of a bygone era, a simpler time, Alastor paused in front of the door, his curiosity piqued. With a gentle push, the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room bathed in the soft glow of evening light.

Inside, a petite figure moved with grace, her silhouette illuminated by the warm hues of hells “sunset” filtering through the window. Alastor's crimson eyes widened slightly as he took in the scene before him—a woman, unpacking her belongings while white fluffy tail swaying to the rhythm of the music.

Caught in a moment of vulnerability, Alastor's smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of something he couldn't quite place. He watched in silence as the woman danced around the room, her movements fluid and unhurried.

Suddenly aware of his intrusion, Alastor quickly withdrew, retreating into the safety of the hallway. His heart pounded in his chest, a strange heat creeping up his cheeks as he grappled with the unfamiliar sensation stirring within him.

Descending to the lobby, Alastor attempted to regain his composure, though his thoughts remained fixated on the enigmatic woman he had just encountered. As he approached the bar where Husk and Angel Dust lounged, he couldn't shake the lingering image from his mind.

Before he could gather his thoughts, Charlie burst into the lobby, her vibrant energy filling the space. With her was Vaggie, trailing behind as always, and a newcomer whom Alastor had only gotten a glimpse of.

With a flourish, Charlie introduced the newcomer to the gathered residents as Y/N, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. Alastor observed from a distance, his gaze drawn to the doe-eyed stranger who stood shyly beside Charlie.

As Angel Dust playfully urged Y/N to step forward, Alastor's heart skipped a beat at the sight of her blushing cheeks and hesitant smile. He felt a strange pang of protectiveness wash over him, though he couldn't fathom why.

When Y/N finally noticed him, her eyes widened in surprise, and Alastor found himself momentarily transfixed by her gaze. Charlie's comment about their shared "deer-like" characteristics drew a small chuckle from the others, but Alastor remained silent, his mind elsewhere.

Unable to articulate the whirlwind of emotions swirling within him, Alastor offered a polite nod before excusing himself, retreating once more into the shadows. As he disappeared from view, the others exchanged puzzled glances, while Y/N's ears drooped in confusion.

Husk's gruff voice broke the silence, followed by Angel Dust's characteristic laughter, but Alastor's absence lingered like a ghost in the room, leaving them all to wonder about the mysterious radio demon and the woman who had captured his attention.

———————————————————————

Y/n hadn't set out seeking redemption; rather, she longed for a sense of belonging in a place where safety felt like an elusive dream. Damned to hell, she had navigated its treacherous paths with constant vigilance, always on edge. But fate intervened when she crossed paths with Charlie in the bustling city streets. Their chance encounter led to a conversation that sparked hope within Y/n's weary heart, and Charlie's unwavering optimism convinced her to give Hazbin Hotel a chance.

Though redemption wasn't her primary goal, Y/n embraced her new role with sincerity, channeling her innate kindness and sweetness, much like her shy and skittish animal counterpart. Yet, beneath her gentle exterior lay a hidden past, a tale of woe she dared not share with anyone. There is a reason she was sent to hell.

Finding solace in keeping herself busy, Y/n eagerly lent a hand wherever needed, particularly finding joy in assisting Nifty with her cleaning duties. The quirky little demon took an instant liking to Y/n, charmed by her selfless gestures and warm demeanor.

Angel Dust, with his keen eye for character, saw in Y/n a kindred spirit. He admired her intelligence, wit, and undeniable beauty, envisioning a blossoming friendship between them. Even Husk, typically reserved and aloof, appreciated Y/n's presence during late nights, finding solace in her company as they indulged in a casual game of cards.

Despite her growing rapport with the other residents, Y/n couldn't shake the memory of the red deer demon she had encountered only once. Charlie had mentioned his busy schedule, while Husk had cautioned her to steer clear of him. Yet, the more she tried to push him from her thoughts, the more his image lingered in her mind.

Determined to unravel the mystery surrounding the elusive demon, Y/n resolved to uncover the depths of his character, drawn to his undeniable charm and the allure of the unknown. With each passing day, her curiosity only intensified, fueling her desire to uncover the secrets hidden beneath his facade.

———————————————————————

A typical Monday morning at Hazbin Hotel unfolded in its usual chaotic manner, with the corridors bustling with activity as demons scurried about their daily routines. Lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, Y/n navigated through the labyrinth of hallways, her mind buzzing with a million different tasks demanding her attention.

Caught up in her own thoughts, Y/n's foot caught on an unseen obstacle, sending her stumbling forward with a gasp. Bracing herself for impact, she closed her eyes, anticipating the hard embrace of the floor beneath her. Instead, she found herself enveloped in a cloud of intoxicating scent, a mixture of cinnamon and pine that sent a shiver down her spine.

Opening her eyes, Y/n found herself locked in a gaze with none other than the infamous radio demon himself, Alastor. Towering over her with an air of elegance and confidence, he exuded an aura of mystery that left her feeling like a deer caught in headlights. Why is he constantly making her feel this way.

Muttering apologies and expressions of gratitude, Y/n's words stumbled over each other in her haste to regain her composure. Alastor's chuckle cut through the tension, his voice smooth as silk as he remarked on the importance of being careful in the bustling corridors of the hotel.

With a polite nod and a reassuring smile, Alastor assured Y/n that all was well, his crimson eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched her regain her footing. As she continued on her way, Y/n couldn't shake the lingering sensation of his presence, his charm leaving a lasting impression on her mind.

———————————————————————

As days turned into weeks, Y/n and Alastor's chance encounters in the hotel corridors evolved into deliberate rendezvous, their paths seemingly intertwined as if by fate. With each passing exchange, Y/n's smile grew brighter, mirrored by Alastor's friendly wave and the unmistakable twinkle in his crimson eyes.

Their bond deepened as they found themselves working side by side, tackling tasks together with effortless synergy. Y/n found herself drawn to Alastor's smooth, captivating voice, hanging onto his every word as he regaled her with tales from his past, his radio talk voice weaving a spell around her.

Unbeknownst to them, their burgeoning friendship did not go unnoticed by the other residents of Hazbin Hotel. Husk's warnings about steering clear of his boss fell on deaf ears as Y/n and Alastor became practically inseparable, their connection undeniable

As time passed, it became increasingly evident to those around them that there was something more than just friendship blossoming between Y/n and Alastor. Angel Dust, always quick to pick up on such matters, took delight in teasing Alastor mercilessly, earning himself a death stare in return from the radio demon.

Vaggie, ever the protector, grew increasingly wary of Alastor's intentions towards Y/n. With her keen angelic powers, she sensed a strength within Y/n that belied her gentle demeanor, suspecting that Alastor may have recognized it too. Determined to shield Y/n from any potential harm, Vaggie kept a watchful eye on their interactions, her concern palpable in her every glance towards the pair.

———————————————————————

With the Hotel buzzing with Lucifer’s impending visit, Vaggie wasn’t able to worry too much and found herself torn between her duty to protect her friend and to her girlfriends mounting stress, who was determined to make a flawless impression on her father. With Charlie frantically orchestrating preparations, Vaggie could do little but offer her support, juggling her own concerns alongside her duties to the hotel.

Charlie's anxiety radiated throughout the hotel, her relentless pursuit of perfection leaving no room for rest or respite. Alastor and Y/n, sensing her distress, stepped in to assist, hoping to alleviate some of her burden and quell her fears. Vaggie, though grateful for their aid, couldn't shake her worry over Charlie's fragile state of mind.

Alastor, however, harbored no such sympathies for Lucifer's impending arrival. To him, the king of hell was nothing more than an unwelcome disruption, his disdain for Lucifer's callous indifference towards his daughter and the inhabitants of hell simmering beneath his composed exterior.

Y/n, always attuned to Alastor's moods, noticed his brooding demeanor and instinctively moved closer to him, seeking to offer comfort in her own quiet way. With a gentle touch, she intertwined her arm with his, silently reassuring him of her support.

Despite his aversion to physical contact, Alastor found himself surprisingly comforted by Y/n's presence. As she leaned into him, he couldn't resist the urge to reciprocate, offering a rare pat on her head that earned a blush and a soft, endearing noise of affirmation from Y/n.

Caught off guard by the warmth of her response, Alastor felt a rare flush of warmth spread across his cheeks, a sensation he hadn't experienced before. In that moment, he realized just how much he valued Y/n's companionship and the solace she provided, silently wishing he could be the sole recipient of her affectionate gestures.———————————————————————

As Charlie's anxiety about Lucifer's impending visit reached its peak, she implored everyone to put their best foot forward, emphasizing the importance of making a stellar impression. Her visible stress prompted a collective agreement among the hotel staff to dress to impress, each determined to ease Charlie's worries by presenting themselves in their finest attire.

Y/n, always a vision of elegance, opted for a striking red 1930s-inspired midi dress that accentuated her curves flawlessly making her bosom and tail poke out more. With its puffy sleeves and collarbone neckline, the dress exuded vintage charm, complemented by her hair pinned up and a delicate set of pearls adorning her neck. A touch of matching lipstick that completed her ensemble, drawing admiring glances from all who crossed her path.

As Y/n made her entrance into the lobby, she commanded the attention of everyone present. Angel Dust couldn't contain his excitement, letting out a whoop of approval and a wolf whistle that caught Alastor's attention. When Alastor's eyes landed on Y/n, his breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding so loudly he feared it might burst from his chest. She looked positively radiant.

Unable to resist the magnetic pull of her presence, Alastor approached Y/n with a graceful stride, his movements fluid and purposeful. Taking her hand in his, he pressed a reverent kiss to her knuckles, his words overflowing with genuine admiration as he proclaimed her the most beautiful doe he had ever seen. Y/n's cheeks flushed pink as she bashfully covered her face, but Alastor gently removed her hands, insisting that she not hide her stunning features.

Linked arm in arm, they ventured into the corridor together, leaving Charlie in awe of the softer side of Alastor that Y/n seemed to effortlessly bring out.

Meanwhile, seeking refuge from the overwhelming emotions swirling around her, Y/n made her way to the bar in search of a drink to calm her nerves. Husk's amused chuckle greeted her request for something strong, while Angel's playful compliment about her bewitching effect on Alastor elicited a shy blush and a nervous laugh from Y/n. She secretly hoped there was truth to his jest.

As the final preparations for Lucifer's arrival unfolded, Y/n couldn't resist a tantalizing touch as she passed Alastor, her finger tracing a delicate path across his chest as she met his gaze through her lashes. The effect on Alastor was immediate and undeniable, his usual composure crumbling in the wake of her subtle yet potent allure. Ears flushed crimson, his tail betraying his inner turmoil, and a noticeable tightness in his pants, Alastor found himself utterly captivated by the enigmatic woman who had managed to ensnare his heart and unravel his self-control with a single touch. What was she doing to him?

———————————————————————

The atmosphere in Hazbin Hotel ground to a halt as a portal crackled open in the lobby, spilling forth the unexpected figure of Lucifer. Contrary to everyone's expectations, the imposing ruler of hell was surprisingly short, a stark contrast to his daughter, Charlie. Y/n, petite herself, couldn't help but note the irony, realizing she might even tower over him.

Charlie's nerves were palpable as she reluctantly approached her father, offering a hesitant greeting before embarking on the daunting task of introducing him to the hotel's residents. Alastor, ever vigilant, stood close to Y/n, maintaining a respectful distance while silently wishing he could be closer, especially when he noticed Lucifer's intense gaze fixated on her.

Lucifer's eyes lingered on Y/n, his appraisal unsettling as he took in her innocent beauty. Sensing her discomfort, Y/n found herself at a loss for words as Lucifer gallantly took her hand and planted a kiss upon it, his words dripping with a disconcerting charm. Feeling intimidated, Y/n's nerves betrayed her, causing her to giggle nervously in response.

Alastor, seething with barely-contained rage at seeing Y/n's discomfort, could no longer stand idly by. Stepping up behind her, he introduced himself to Lucifer, a silent gesture of protection that did not go unnoticed by Y/n, who smiled gratefully at him, internally thanking him for rescuing her from the uncomfortable situation.

However, Lucifer's audacity knew no bounds as he seized Y/n's wrist, pulling her towards him and demanding a tour of the hotel. Alastor's patience snapped, his demon form surging forth as his antlers grew, his fury unleashed at the sight of Y/n being manhandled.

Ready to defend Y/n at any cost, Alastor bristled with aggression, his intentions clear as he faced off against Lucifer. A confrontation seemed inevitable until Y/n and Charlie intervened, diffusing the tension and redirecting Lucifer's attention. As they redirected Lucifer's focus, Alastor stormed off in frustration, leaving Y/n bewildered by his sudden outburst.

As Y/n clung to Alastor's arm, attempting to calm him down, his agitation only grew, his temper flaring as he abruptly ripped his arm away, causing Y/n to stumble. Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled to comprehend what had transpired, seeking solace in the comforting words of Angel and Husk.

Meanwhile, Alastor paced in the radio tower, grappling with his conflicting emotions and struggling to understand why Y/n had such a profound effect on him. Realization dawned upon him, sending shockwaves through his being as he came to terms with the depth of his feelings for Y/n. She was his, and he would protect her at all costs.

Alastor, after his realization, went in search of y/n, finding her in her room, withdrawn and overwhelmed. As she retreated from the day's events, she changed out of her dress and into one of Alastor's button-up shirts that she stole a while back, still carrying his faint scent of cinnamon and pine. Despite her efforts to distance herself, a knock at the door disrupted her solitude. Expecting sympathetic friends, y/n mumbled her intention to talk tomorrow until she heard Alastor's voice, distinct and sweet, on the other side

Unlocking the door with her powers, she avoided meeting his gaze, her disappointment palpable. Alastor, visibly regretful, pleading with her to look at him, apologizing sincerely for his earlier behavior. He assured her that he never intended to hurt her, explaining that he was grappling with inner turmoil that needed sorting out. His gaze held such adoration that she forgave him instantly, though not without a warning that any future transgressions would not be tolerated. He laughed at her stern look. She was just too cute.

She stood from her bed, Alastor noticed the shirt she wore, his eyes lingering appreciatively at her body in his shirt before he composed himself. She turned on the radio, filling the room with quiet jazz, and Alastor approached her, his presence intoxicating. Offering his hand, he asked her to dance, his voice devoid of its usual static, like honey to her ears. As they swayed together, their tails wagged in sync, reflecting the emotions swirling inside both of them. She rested her head on his chest, humming to the song. He was content and could get used to this domestic life with her.

Alastor complimented her appearance, both in the dress and in his shirt. Y/n blushing as she realized her attire and apologized. He expressed that what was his was hers, a statement that surprised her but to which she readily agreed, reciprocating the sentiment.

After the dance, Alastor took a bold step, asking her on a proper date, expressing his desire to court her. Overwhelmed with emotion, she said yes without hesitation, kissing him before realizing the implications of her actions. Instead of being upset, Alastor seized the moment, pulling her into a passionate kiss, the intensity of which left them both breathless. Green and white powers intertwined, marking the beginning of a powerful and enduring love.

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godaweful · 2 years

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“prayer” by murphy taylor smith // @shaysorthel on tumblr // @thewarmvoid on twitter // caduceus clay on critical role // bitter snow by @bestworstcase // tumblr // “wildflower” by murphy taylor smith // tumblr // WHO PUT BELLA IN THE WYCH ELM? by emerson mae smith

#parallels #writing #poetry #word weaving #comparatives #poets and writers #quotes #mushrooms #dark acadamia aesthetic #plant aesthetic #critical role #caduceus clay #moss aesthetic #bitter snow #taliesin jaffe #radio: a ghost story musical #murphy taylor smith #WHO PUT BELLA IN THE WYCH ELM?#ao3

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mockerycrow · 4 months

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CHIROPTOPHOBIA (Roommate!Gaz x GN!Reader)

roommate!gaz masterlist

summary; you meet kyle’s team for the first time and bond over his suffering. 2.9k words! note; the flashback is implied to be past "the day we met"!

[WARNINGS; alcohol consumption, pre-relationship, phobias of bats and rabies, near panic attack from gaz, fluff, humorous overall.]

The pub Kyle dragged you to—the tables have turned it seems, as you’re usually the one dragging him when he’s on leave—is fairly loud and smells like peanuts and alcohol, but has such a comforting vibe to it. It’s familiar. Messy, but honestly for a meeting like this, there’s no other pub he would have chosen. Of course Kyle is the one driving with you in the passenger seat. You’re controlling the music this time, the radio turned to a comfortable volume where you can still hear each other if one were to speak.

Tonight is the night. You’re meeting his team for the first time and for some reason, you have this nervous itch under your skin. You’re bouncing your leg in the car, chewing your lower lip and looking out of the car window. Kyle nudges you after taking his eyes off of the road for a moment to check on you, considering how silent you’ve been. “Hm?” You hum, your head snapping to look at him. Kyle’s leaned back comfortably in his seat, one hand on the wheel and the other leaning on the center console like an arm rest. He’s wearing a delicious dark red button up, his facial hair minimal like always.

Fuck.

“I asked if you were alright.” Kyle murmurs in response, his eyes glued to the road. You catch a glimpse of a necklace dangling in the neckline of the button up—you avert your eyes to the road ahead of you, the car slowing to a stop at a red light. “Yeah, just..” You let out a slow breath in an attempt to calm yourself, but of course, it only makes the flighty feeling underneath your skin worse. Your eyes read the license plate of the car in front of you absentmindedly. “Nervous, I guess.”

Kyle’s thumb taps against the steering wheel at your response. “Nervous?” Kyle echoes with a questioning tone. “No need to be nervous, sweets. They’ve heard a lot about you, they’re excited.” He assures you, smile evident in his tone as he speaks. You roll your shoulders for a moment before groaning as all attempts to chill out have failed thus far. “Okay, but what do we even talk about?? Like, I’m horrible at talking about myself. Ask me my favorite color and I’ll tell a lie out of panic.” You complain, glancing over at him as the car starts moving once more.

Kyle lets out a chuckle, the sound heard clearly over the music playing in the background. It warms your stomach for just a moment before the beat passes. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out, yeah? There’s going to be five of us there.” Kyle hums, your eyes hovering on his charming soft smile. He says your name before continuing. “I promise you won’t have to carry the conversation. You’ll be fine; now, cheer up, we’re nearly there.”

Right. Everything will be fine.. Everything will be fine.

Kyle only regrets introducing you to them slightly. The ever so slightest, littlest bit. He should’ve known the conversation would go like this. Go to.. That.

“So,” Price had uttered, his voice hoarse and low before he took a small sip of his glass of alcohol. “How long have you known about Kyle’s problem?”

Kyle’s head snaps to his Captain, his eyebrows pushed up the farthest they can go. “My problem?” Kyle gawks, shock evident in his tone. You can’t help the laugh that leaves you, the laugh that causes Johnny—Soap, who you learned him to be after Kyle’s stories—to lean forward with a grin. Ghost seems reserved, but you’re certain you see his crows feet. “His problem?” You echo with a smirk, side eyeing Kyle as you sip on your own drink. You set it down, your eyes landing back on Price, his Captain. “You mean his bat problem?”

Kyle groans, rubbing his face. “For the love of God.” He hisses, holding no venom in his tone. It causes everyone’s amusement, to his disappointment. Ghost shifts in his seat as Price lets out an amused huff, his fingers twitching around his glass. “Ye mean he’s always had a fear of—” Johnny begins to speak, but is interrupted by Gaz shoving at his arm playfully. “Oi! It’s not a fuckin’ secret noo’, is it?” Johnny says, his accent thick and accompanied by a winning smile. “No, it isn’t.” You agree, sending Kyle a grin who is sending back a “please don’t” look. Of course, you don’t listen.

“So, it all started at this summer camp Kyle and I attended together..” You begin with a smug tone, which makes Kyle sigh in defeat. You glance at him and he motions for you to go on. You stifle a laugh before taking a sip, glancing between the men. “We were young, I don’t remember how young but we were over the age of thirteen.” You begin, gears turning in your skull to attempt to recall the story. Your fingers tap against the table for a moment; mindless fidgeting. “We were partnered up since the camp had a buddy system for anything exploratory. Now that I’m thinking about it, I’m sure it didn’t start here, but anyway…”

“Do you even know how to navigate the map?” You question Kyle, who is standing on a large rock that sits in the middle of a split path, holding out a giant piece of paper that had worn down fold marks; the map. He huffs, glancing down at you, where you’re standing in the midst of the split path with a worried expression. “Of course I do! I did pay attention to the navigation classes, you know. Did you?” Kyle asks you with an accusatory tone, but you know he’s just jabbing at you due to worrying so much. Always the person to try to calm you, hm?

“Yes,” You utter, telling a half truth. It’s not that you didn’t pay attention, but at the moment you were running on maybe three hours of sleep minimum and barely processed anything that was being taught to you. You have half a mind to blame Kyle directly for this, as you stayed up nearly all night, secretly playing games with him. “Just.. didn’t grasp the concept as well as you.” You pout, making Kyle roll his eyes and turn his eyes back to the map. You look around the forested area; the only sign of humans being the man made gravel paths beneath your worn down hiking footwear.

You take a deep breath, the lukewarm air entering your nose and filling your lungs. It smells like.. Well, outside. You can smell the scent of the pungent soil, the woodsy smell of partially rotted wood from the century old trees that surround you. You can smell some sort of animal excrement that makes your nose wrinkle—you also focus on that sweet, sweet, annoying cicada zing that constantly rings through the air. The sun is high in the sky, right in the middle of the blue. The air smells clean and when you Kyle, a little voice in your head says that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

“Alright!” Kyle exclaims, the sound of his voice and the map crinkling between his fingers back into an imperfect square snaps you out of your thoughts. You glance at him where he’s stuffing the map into the water bottle holder, between the bag and his water bottle. Probably a bad place for it, but you don’t get the chance to correct him. Kyle hops off of the rock, his feet landing onto the gravel below, making you back up half a step. “It’s the left path that’ll lead to the hill.” Kyle continues, looking at you as he loops his thumbs between the straps of his backpack and himself.

You blink for a moment, raising a brow. “Are you sure?” You ask, some residual worry remaining. Kyle’s eyes dart for a moment before they meet yours once more. “Yes, I’m sure. Bloody hell, makin’ me doubt myself.” He laughs for a moment, reaching for the handle of your backpack and pulling you closer. You huff and shove him gently, but you fall into a nice pace next to him, walking the left trail together. You glance around the trail, your eyes scanning the trees and the assortment of plants, poking out just enough into the path to brush by your exposed femurs. You hope none of it is poison ivy or anything of that sort.

The walk is nice, but it is long. You find yourself drinking much more water than you anticipated, which when the opportunity presented itself, you paused Kyle by putting a hand in front of him. He stops when his chest presses against your palm and he looks down at you with a questioning look, his brown eyes scanning your face. You throw a thumb over your shoulder at a little area of fluffy, concealing plants. “Gotta piss.” You utter, making Kyle groan. “We only have a little ways t’go. You sure you can’t hold it?” Kyle attempts to negotiate, which causes you to look at him. “I’d prefer to not piss myself.” You respond.

Kyle groans and looks around, finding himself a rock to sit on while you do your business. You roll your eyes playfully as you make your way across the trail and behind the plants you spotted before. You set your pack down and took out a travel sized pack of tissues from the front pocket. In the middle of you doing your business, you hear a sound you never wanted to hear—Kyle’s scream. Your heart nearly jumps out of your throat hearing it and your mind races a million miles an hour.

“Kyle??” You shout, swearing under your breath as your fingers struggle to button your pants back together. Your hands are trembling because you’re quite literally out in the wilderness with only pocket knives and walkie talkies as defense and communication. You nearly trip over the backpack that rests on the ground, but you catch yourself and stumble out to the path, your chest feeling tight. You look around, your eyes wildly moving to spot your friend. You find him on the ground, scrambling backwards, dirtying up his backpack in the process. “Kyle!” You shout, exasperated. You run towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder when he screams again, his arms coming up and flying around his head like something is attacking him.

“Jesus—Kyle, what’s going on??” You grab his wrists to stop him from hitting you. He looks up at you with pure fucking unadulterated fear. Fucking hell, he’s already broken out into a worse sweat than the heat previously gave him. You look around, ready to rip out the knife sticking out from the other side of his backpack, but you don’t see any active threat. You let out a harsh breath, putting a hand on your beating heart. “Kyle, what in the hell made you scream like you were bein’ chased by a damn bear??” You curse him, lightly kicking his backpack. Admittedly, you feel a bit frustrated at his.. Joke.

“Bats,” Kyle gasps out, scrambling to his feet, so fast he almost topples back over onto the gravel below. Which, by the way, is all over his backside now. “Fucking bats—Oh my God, I didn’t get bit, did I? They were fuckin’ everywhere t.. the second you were gone, please check my head, they didn’t, right? No bites??” Kyle rambles, grabbing onto your upper arms. He quickly shoves his backpack off, thumping against the gravel path. He hurriedly contorts his neck in different ways, presenting his skin to you, even pulling at the collar of his shirt to show you more skin. You blink, standing there for a moment before he says your name desperately.

“Bats.” You repeat, your eyes roaming his neck for bites. Kyle pulls back and you hold eye contact with him for a moment. A beat passes. “Do not laugh at me,” He hisses, seeing the way your shoulders are moving up and down, the way your eyebrows quirk and the way you press your lips together in an attempt to hold down a smile. “Oi!” Kyle shouts as you aren’t able to contain your laughter. It’s not a joke! Even better.. It’s a fear. “You’re such an arse!” Kyle snarls for a second, going to pick up his bag. You reach and grab his wrist, pulling him to prevent him from stomping off like you know he would have.

“Wait! Wait, wait—” You choke out another giggle before waving your free hand in the air. “I’m sorry, Ky. I am.” You murmur his name, feeling his wrist flex underneath your fingers. “Let me check your neck, yeah?”

Kyle huffs. His face is burning from embarrassment. He knows it’s stupid, but he genuinely isn’t able to help it. He relents, turning around. You pull at his shirt a bit, your fingertips brushing over his skin. You let out a soft sigh. “No bites, right? They’ve got rabies. Can’t be bit.” Kyle pushes out, showing how panic is still running through his veins. You let go of his shirt and pat his back. “No bites, Kyle. You’re fine.” You assure him, more serious this time but the humor running through your words is not lost on him.

He turns back around and lets out a relieved sigh, his eyes nervously looking in the sky, in the trees. “So..” You begin, picking up his bag for him, grunting as you hand it to him. Kyle slides his backpack on with a huff. “What happened?”

Kyle rubs the back of his neck as you fetch your own backpack, using the remaining water in your first water bottle to rinse your hands, then using a small travel pack of hand sanitiser to clean your hands thoroughly. “Bats happened,” Kyle says your name afterwards, grumbling in his tone. “They surrounded me, they did.” You let out an amused noise, your lips curling into a grin despite his look of warning. “Uh huh. Let’s get a move on, bat boy.”

“Oi!!”

Johnny lets out a whistle, interrupted by a loud, boisterous laugh of his own. His hand comes slamming down on the table a couple of times, jostling the drinks and wallets sitting on it. Price has such an amused smirk, his eyes glued to Kyle who is sipping on his non-alcoholic drink, hiding behind it. “That’s also how I found out he has like, a chronic fear of rabies, too,” You add, glancing at Ghost who is leaning forward a bit, showing his interest in your story. “Yer pullin’ my fuckin’ leg!” Johnny exclaims, causing you to smile and shake your head. “Honest.” You utter, putting your hands up for a moment.

“I appreciate the origin story.” Price breathes, his smug and amused smirk remaining. Which reminds you, something has had to happen for Kyle’s phobia.. Phobias? to be triggered. You make a noise in the middle of a long sip of your drink—the drink being alcoholic, and you can feel a light buzz behind your face. “That being said.. What happened, Captain?” You say, emphasizing his rank. Price huffs out a noise, wrapping both of his hands around his glass.

“This was maybe..” Price pauses for a moment, his eyebrow quirking as his brain takes a moment to think. “..Maybe two years ago by this point. We were in the middle of nowhere, to be frank. Just me and Kyle, an’ it was getting dark.” Price pauses for a moment to take a sip of his drink. “Found a cave.” You let out a snort, immediately picturing Kyle’s face contorting with paranoia. “It began to sprinkle a bit and we didn’t want to sit in soaked knickers. Despite being his CO, Kyle nearly decked me for tryin’ t’pull him into shelter.”

Your jaw drops and your head snaps to look at Kyle, who looks more relaxed under the influence of everyone getting looser—for the exception of him—from alcohol. “I apologized, I promise.” Kyle chuckles, seeing the look on your face. “Mm, that he did. Nearly took back his apologies when I had to include his fear in the reports.” Price retorts, his smirk widening when Kyle lets out a sigh, obviously embarrassed about his behavior. “It’s irrational, I swear. I genuinely don't have the foggiest idea why they petrify me,” Kyle admits, making eye contact with Ghost for a moment. “Well, I think it’s the threat of rabies, but wouldn’t I be scared of every animal, then?”

You space out as the boys quietly debate the route cause of Kyle’s phobia of bats and rabies, your finger circling the rim of your glass as your eyes are just lingering on Kyle. You’re not really paying attention to what anyone is saying, but Kyle’s face sure is interesting due to the alcohol in your blood right now. Your eyes slowly move down to the necklace dangling between the open folds of his button up. You quietly curse yourself when you realize you’re practically staring right at his chest, downing the rest of your drink. You put the glass down onto the table and you look directly at Johnny. “Guess what I dressed up as for Halloween the following October?”

“Wha’?”

“Batman.”

Johnny howls, slapping the table once more, knocking his knees against Ghost’s, causing an elbow to fly into his ribs and a lazy smile to appear on your lips.

🏷️; @kivino @mlmxreader @soapybutt17 @microwavedcheetos @frazie99 @narcolepticduck @ch3rrykoolaid @kimdiedlater @glossysoap @thisuserloveshalloween @ornateorchid @missborntodiex @indefenseofkara @lieutenantlashfaz @queen-leviathan @specter319 @theunplannedvariable @spacelia @1117sblog @snoowply @dumb-fawkin-bitch @abigatorchomp @s8nsbride

this is from my overall taglist which you can find here. if you would like there to be a roommate!gaz taglist, comment below! mistakenly tagged/wrongly tagged? let me know, no hard feelings.

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