#Stephen King should be shaking MY hand | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

muddyorbsblr · 1 year

Text

the new sorcerer supreme pt1

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration See my full list of works here!

Requested by: @rmoonstoner

Summary: After the events of Endgame, Carol Danvers gave you a device to send a signal to virtually any and every known receiver in the galaxy. After three years of silence, the device finally beeped with a response.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: mentions of Thanos; mentions of major character deaths; grief; angst; derogatory use of the word 'whore'

Beep beep beep

Your spine immediately straightened at the foreign sound echoing around your otherwise silent apartment. You knew every single alarm from every device and appliance in this apartment, and that was definitely something new.

And there was only one device in here that had alarms you'd never heard.

Beep beep beep

Immediately you rushed to the case that housed the intergalactic-caliber paging device that Carol had given you after the final battle with Thanos, the very same one where you wielded a modified version of Loki's scepter that synthesized the powers of the mind stone. Enough to give you an advantage. Enough to make sure you held your own despite being a simple human among the admittedly more formidable allies that surrounded you.

Enough that you had the mad titan on his knees when you and Wanda tag teamed the son of a bitch for ripping out your hearts and crushing them. In your case literally.

Carol said that you could use the device to send out a signal to any receiver in the entire galaxy. She also said that if you were right, and the one you were looking for was truly out there, then you should send out something that only the two of you would know. So you sent out something you two would often say when the other got too lost in their thoughts: Come back to me.

And now that very same device was beeping for the first time in three years.

With shaking hands you opened the case, gently grasping the device and lifting it out, hope once again blooming in your heart that perhaps your days would no longer be lonely. For the first time since Thor pulled you aside after the Battle in Wakanda to inform you of your lover's fate, your future felt full of promise.

That optimism was quickly extinguished once you read the message that the device received. It wasn't the words that you were expecting, not by a long shot.

Found you. You will pay for what you and your friends did to our Master. Jotun's whore.

A chill ran down your spine, quickly spreading throughout your entire body, all the way to your fingertips. You quickly set down the device back in its case, rushing to your phone to reach out to someone you knew was likely the most capable one to help you in defending yourself against your incoming adversaries.

"Y/N?" he answered after two rings. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"Strange. I think I'm in trouble."

It didn't even take thirty seconds before a portal opened in the middle of your living room, and in walked Stephen Strange and Wong, looking ready to battle whoever they may encounter inside the apartment.

"There's no one here," you explained. "Not yet, anyway." You motioned toward your couch. "Why don't you two sit down and I'll explain what I've been up to the last three years that got me into this mess."

When you'd finished telling them about the device and the signal you sent out, Stephen spoke first. "Y/N, I know this will be hard to hear, but Loki's dead. He's been dead for eight years now. If he really was out there, don't you think he would've answered your page already?"

You sighed. "I know. It's probably stupid to even keep the damn thing here, basically giving those cultists of Thanos a homing beacon to latch on to. A big intergalactic red neon sign saying 'she's here!'"

"But how do you know that these are followers of the mad titan?" Wong inquired.

You took a deep breath before you spoke. "When we fought Thanos three years ago, the henchmen that I was able to put down…They all called me 'the whore of Jotunheim's King'. The less wordy ones called me 'Jotun's whore'. So while I can't be completely sure, because who knows these space alien folk might be the type to share hot goss around the galaxy and somehow that became my galactic nickname? But I can make a pretty good inference that these are followers of Thanos that somehow got overlooked by Stark's Snap."

"Y/N you have to get rid of the device. You're leading them straight to you," Strange instructed, a look of concern evident on his face.

"I can't, Stephen."

"Why not?!"

"Because if I do, that means it's over!" you snapped, tears brimming in your eyes as you said the words. "If I get rid of it, it means that I'm letting him go. I bury any hope in my heart that he's somewhere out there, and maybe it's just taking longer for my message to be received. I get rid of the device, it means that I've accepted that the rest of my life will be desolate and cold. I can't accept that, and you of all people should understand."

Strange put his head in his hand, rubbing his brows in visible frustration, but ultimately relenting. "You're right. I'm sorry. But that device is still going to lead them right to you. I can think of one possible spell that could deflect their perception of you and the device, but it's beyond either of our powers. All I can do is maybe do a spell that could give you some enhanced abilities that could help you defend yourself. Basically as if you're getting my powers. On a loan."

"That's…that's really generous of you, but I'm curious. Aren't you two supposed to be like some of the most powerful individuals this side of the universe or something?"

"Yes, that is true. But to perform the spell that Strange mentioned? This might be beyond our powers, Y/N. You will need to consult with the Sorcerer Supreme."

Wong's response had you taken aback. "But I thought that…one of you was the Sorcerer Supreme?" you asked, pointing your finger at them.

"Not anymore. About a year ago, I woke up and the augmented powers I received from being declared Sorcerer Supreme were gone. There's a new one, and whoever it is, they're not in any of the sanctums around the world. They're not in Kamar Taj, either. They're going through great lengths to stay hidden, keep their identity a secret," Strange explained. "Now, I can't tell you who it is. I'm sorry. It's beyond me. But I can at least tell you where you can start looking."

You nodded eagerly, ready to find whoever this was, and get their help beating the asses of whoever was coming for you. For giving you hope even for a sliver of a moment that maybe the love of your life could still be out there, trying to find a way back home. "I'm ready. I'll go anywhere."

"New Asgard."

Well…at least you'd be able to check in on an old friend while you were looking for this new Sorcerer Supreme. "Alright…" You looked between the two sorcerers. "Any chance you could conjure me up a portal there?"

You watched as a fond smile graced Stephen's face. "Of course. Just one more thing. Gimme your arm." You held out your arm and he clasped one hand over it, chanting a quick spell. When he released you, there was a rune marking your skin. "In case you need to defend yourself. But remember. It's just a loan."

"Lady Y/N!" Thor boomed from the New Asgard Hall that now served as his kind of 'throne room'. It was a far cry from the gilded glamour of the realm of Asgard, the home he and the rest of the citizens here had lost from invoking Ragnarok in the hopes of thwarting his bloodthirsty war freak of a sister, but you could feel the community among them.

"Hey, Thunder," you greeted as he rushed over to you, wrapping you in a warm embrace. "Place looks great." When he pulled away, you put a firm hand on his shoulder, tears brimming in your eyes as you said, "I'm sorry about Jane. I should've called, I should've been there for you."

"No, my friend. You have no such obligations to me. And I was destined to face it alone—"

"Don't say that," you croaked. "Nobody should have to face that alone. You were there for me when—" Your words caught in your mouth, refusing to be uttered. "You were there for me eight years ago. I should have been here for you. Reached out. I'm sorry."

He placed his hand over yours, giving it a quick squeeze. "I would never dare hold that against you, Lady Y/N. Nor would I dare wish to have you here and witness another losing the one they love most across the Nine Realms. You are my friend, that is true. But I am also yours. And truly all I feel is a somber relief and contentment, knowing that even now…even after all this time, my brother has someone who still loves him as fiercely as you do."

"That's…kind of why I'm here…" He furrowed his eyebrows at you. "Thor, I'm in deep shit."

"What troubles you, my friend? I can assure you what ever it may be, you will not be facing this alone." He led you over to a couch where you could sit and explain your current predicament.

And so you explained to him. About the device and about how you refused to give up hope that maybe somewhere in the vast universe, Loki was still out there. Trying to find his way back home. That you were simply giving him a pin in the map, so he didn't have to do so unguided. When you finished you could see that the blond Asgardian was on the brink of tears again before he pulled you into another embrace.

"I care not that you were unable to marry. In my heart, you are my sister. You are my family." The tears fell from your eyes at his words. "So Strange is certain that this new Sorcerer Supreme is somewhere within New Asgard?"

"He said this was the last place that he and Wong could sense their power. I just want to spend a few days, take a look around, see if I could find them. Or at least my next clue on where to look. If it's alright with you."

"It is more than alright. New Asgard would be more than happy to host you. Assist you in whatever it is you may need. We can start with your lodging." He walked over to his desk and opened the top drawer, a sentimental look crossing his features as he took out a set of keys from inside. "Come, Sister. Let me show you to your home, at least for the next few days."

You stood from the couch, confusion rife on your face as you eyed him. "Did you know that I was coming? I mean…you have a place ready, so…did you just have that lying around, or…?"

A rueful smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "In truth, Lady Y/N, perhaps I was hoping that my brother was still alive, too. Trying to find his way home. That house had been allocated for you and Loki to build a home together if ever the fates were kind and brought him back to us."

You could feel your heart cracking again at Thor's words. At the knowledge that he'd been holding on just as much as you were. Sure, he didn't endanger anyone in the process from sending out an intergalactic pin on the map that how had some alien fanatics on their way to merrily destroy you and everyone you loved. No, nothing that reckless, thankfully.

He simply gave you a place to call home on the off chance that Loki did find his way back.

The two of you walked to a house not too far from Thor's place, making a tender smile break out on your face at the realization that in his optimistic vision he had in his head, he wanted to keep you as close to him as possible. The smile broke out into an amused grin as you tried to imagine the initial protest from his brother as he realized the proximity between your places.

"You would have made it such a beautiful home, Sister," the god of thunder said as he opened the door to the two-story cottage-style home, the alarm on his face evidence when he saw how, despite the sunlight on the outside, the house had been shrouded in darkness. A quick look around showed you both that there were no curtains installed; after all, nobody should be living in this house, according to what the god told you.

He was about to walk in when you held out your hand to stop him. "Let me." You showed him the rune on your arm. "I have some powers. Courtesy of Strange. On loan. But it lets me sense if there are other wielders of magic around. I just gotta figure out how Stephen does this…" You tapped your wrists together twice and pulled back an arm as if you were wielding two shields, astonished when your arms lit aglow with celestial looking shields made of pure light energy.

"That…is cool," the blond god commented, pointing at your light shields. "Do you sense anything?"

You concentrated on the presence that you initially felt when the door opened; it felt as if they were making a considerable effort to deflect anyone's attention if ever they were to come across this house. Their power. "It's faint," you answered him. "Like they're trying to muddle their presence to us somehow, make us divert our attention elsewhere." You took a breath, deciding to attempt communicating with whoever was hiding out in this house. Your house. "Hello?" you called out into the deceptively empty and quiet space.

There was no answer.

"We mean you no harm," you said loudly into the emptiness. "Perhaps…if we tell you our names, you'll come out? See that we are people of our word. We're not here to hurt you. We're friends."

There was a slight bristle in the presence, a single brush against your shoulder. As if the person inside the house was trying to communicate with you.

"Okay…my—my name is Y/N. I'm…well, I'm nothing special, really. But I work with some really extraordinary people and we collectively save the world from threats, within this planet and beyond. Mad tyrants, aliens--" Your voice choked as you said the final word, "Titans." You felt Thor's hand grasp your shoulder in support as you said it. "I-I'm here with one of those extraordinary people right now. Thor. Son of Odin. God of Thunder. King of New Asgard—"

"Actually, Sister, I'm no longer King. I bequeathed that title to Val," he corrected your introduction to the unknown presence.

"O-Oh. Okay. So he's not King of New Asgard anymore, apparently, but he is still the God of Thunder. That's pretty cool," you rambled, causing him to chuckle beside you. "Anyway, all this to say, we're not here to hurt you. And I promise. If you show yourself? We'll do what we can to help you. I understand having to hide for either your own safety or for the safety of others, I do. But this house you're using for sanctuary…it's mine. Well, kind of. It's a long story. But the important part is, I swear to you, if you come out, we won't leave you to fend for yourself. We'll help you. As best we can."

You felt another brush across your body, this time almost feeling like a person wrapping their arms around you in a tentative embrace. And then a door opened by the dining area…to where you presumed would have been a study, if you'd actually had the chance to turn this into your home with Loki.

Shields still up, you cautiously made your way toward the now open room, Thor following close behind as he summoned Stormbreaker by his side, the battle axe quietly sliding into the home and following the god's steps. When you got close enough, you saw that the threshold to the room was aglow with green magic. A familiar green magic.

"Thor, why does this glow look like Loki's magic?" you asked, voice shaking.

"There could exist other wielders of magic that possess a level of power similar to my brother," he answered softly. "But those would be very few and far in between. If they exist at all."

As you both cautiously entered the small room, you were greeted by a space glowing with the same green energy as its threshold. You spotted a shadowed figure at the end, floating midair and radiating such a powerful aura there was no doubt in your mind that you'd found the new Sorcerer Supreme.

There was a condition to the powers you loaned from Strange. They would fade as soon as you were definitively safe from immediate danger; you then found it peculiar that the shields you had up had not yet faltered in their vibrance despite being in the presence of the very individual you'd gone to New Asgard to seek their aid.

The sorcerer set themself on their feet, standing to their full height, shoulders squared, and taking on a silhouette that you were all too familiar with.

Heart lodged in your throat, you called out softly towards them. "Loki?"

The silence was deafening as your question hung in the air, waiting for the silhouette to respond. But then they did. Hedid. The answer to the signal you sent out into the galaxy that brought you here in the first place. Come back to me.

"There you are, my darling."

Your shields dropped.

A/N: Aaaaah I've finally started on requests! Just a quick heads up that I will be working on requests alongside 'relinquish the crown' and 'man of the month', so the going will be slow, but it will be going 👍 And also yes you read the title right. "pt1". There will be a Part 2, and our reunited lovebirds will have a lot to talk about 🥲

Taglist:

Everything taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27 @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston @ladyjames78 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley

Loki taglist: @calumance @severuslovebot @moonlightreader649

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #muddyorbs writes #fic requests

407 notes · View notes

munson-blurbs · 1 year

Note

For your 2k celebration: Eddie/Lover's Lake/book 🌼

Big, gigantic thanks to @trashmouth-richie for helping me with this one!

Warnings: attempted drug deal, mention of drug use

WC: 899

Mud squelches under your trainers as you make your way towards the lake. It’s a familiar destination; your favorite place to write. But today, you have other plans.

Eddie’s already there, waiting for you. He’s sitting on a stone wall, idly tapping his ringed fingers against his tin box. Your stomach flip-flops at the thought of what’s inside.

Come on. Don’t be such a coward.

“Um, h-hi,” you stutter, mentally kicking yourself for letting your anxiety seep into your voice. “Thanks for meeting me here.”

“Yeah, no sweat,” Eddie says, patting the empty spot beside him and popping open the box lid. You oblige, bringing your backpack onto your lap. “All right, I can do $15 for half an ounce.” He takes out a crinkled plastic baggie, frowning as you inspect it critically. “I really can’t go any lower; you’re already robbing me blind here.”

“No, no,” you shake your head, “‘s not that. Um, I was wondering if you had any, like, magic mushrooms?” Your face burns as you say it.

Eddie’s eyes widen. “Never took you for a psychedelics kinda girl,” he laughs incredulously, “but, yeah, I should have some.” He digs through his stash, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. “So, what’s the occasion?”

“Huh?”

“The shrooms. You going to a party, or…”

“Oh.” You wipe your palms on your jeans. “I, um, I’ve been having bad writer’s block, and I heard that drugs can help…unblock things? I smoked weed with my friend, but it didn’t do anything.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie asks, not breaking his focus. “What are you trying to write? Essays and school shit?”

You shake your head. “I’m working on a novel, actually,” you admit. It sounds silly when you say it aloud. “It’s like a horror-mystery hybrid? I don’t know,” you finish lamely, hoping he finds the shrooms soon.

But you’ve captured his attention, and his chocolate brown eyes light up as they meet yours. “No way!” he exclaims. “I love scary stories. I swear, I’ve read everything Stephen King’s written.” He crosses his heart for emphasis. “Can I get a sneak peek of your book?” He pouts adorably, melting your heart and easing your nerves.

“It’s just some chapter outlines so far,” you explain, tugging your notebook out of your backpack. It’s an assuming marble composition notebook, but it holds all of your hard work. “And I haven’t written anything in weeks, hence the…” you gesture to his lunchbox of drugs in lieu of completing the sentence.

Eddie raises his eyebrows as he scans your writing. “This is…really fucking good,” he muses, flipping the page and continuing to read. “How do you come up with this stuff? Puts my Hellfire campaigns to shame.”

You laugh bashfully. “Sometimes, inspiration just strikes, y’know?” Your smile falters when he skips to the rough sketches you have for your characters. You’re not an artist, not by a long shot, but you know he’ll be able to recognize who you’ve modeled a protagonist after. “Okay, give it back,” you blurt out, attempting to grab it from his hands, but his grip is too tight.

“What, you got some naughty drawings in here?” He waggles his eyebrows, making you giggle despite your embarrassment. “Don’t worry; I won’t judge.” Before you can protest further, he finds the one picture you were hoping he’d somehow skip over. It’s a tall, lanky guy with curly brown hair that touches his shoulders. He’s wearing a concert t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, displaying his tattoos, and ripped black jeans. “Whoa,” Eddie breathes, and you’re praying to be swallowed up by a black hole. “This dude is totally metal.”

“Wh-What?” Did he really not know who it was supposed to be?

“The guy,” he says, pointing to the drawing, “he looks so badass.” He closes the notebook but doesn’t hand it back. “Could I hang onto this? I wanna read more, but I gotta get going. Promised my uncle I’d make dinner tonight, and he’ll kill me if I say that and then order pizza one more time. Actually,” he pauses, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, “do you wanna help me cook? And stay for dinner, obviously. You could maybe tell me more about your story. Might help get those creative juices flowing or something.” He shrugs like he didn’t just use all of his courage to ask you.

“Sure,” you smile, hopping down from the wall and brushing off your pants. “And you can tell me about your…campaigns?” You furrow your brows, unsure if you used the correct terminology.

Eddie narrows his eyes. “I don’t know…how can I trust that you’re not working as an enemy spy?”

You gasp, startling him. “Sorry,” you apologize sheepishly, “but that just gave me a great idea. Maybe Kal–that’s the totally metal dude–used to be allegiant to the enemy, but is trying to redeem himself!” You pluck the notebook from him, flip to where a pen serves as a bookmark, and jot down your thought before you forget it.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Eddie teases, taking the book back and tucking it under his arm for safekeeping. “You’d better mention me in the acknowledgments. Better yet–dedicate the whole book to me.”

“I can see it now: ‘For Eddie Munson: thanks for the idea and for not selling me shrooms,’” you joke back, walking in tandem with him.

“Perfect.”

#bug's 2k celebration #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things

177 notes · View notes

cranberrymoons · 10 months

Text

break free

prompt: pool (@steddiemicrofic) word count: 442 rating: t? they're smoking

He settles a hand on Robin’s ankle, easy and loose-boned and half-high. He can hear the kids’ voices drifting out from inside, their conversation escalating into a full-blown shouting match over which Stephen King adaptation is best (it’s Christine, obviously, and Steve will broker no argument; he’s been forced to see them all at this point). He watches a block of stars wink in and out of existence in the patchy sky overhead as the sound of Eddie’s voice cuts through the chatter in an attempt to draw them all back into their campaign.

He takes a deep breath, and it catches in his chest.

“Hey, can I, uh- ask you something?”

Robin hums lazily, slumped in her seat. “Always.”

He taps ash over his armrest onto the ground and picks at his tumbnail. He’s staring into his lap when he says, over the rushing in his ears, “Do you ever feel weird?”

She’s silent for a beat, and when he looks over at her, she shifts, sitting up straighter.

“Weird?”

He blinks. His hands shake. “Different. I don’t know.”

He listens to her release a careful breath. “Okay,” she says. Her voice is quiet, attentive. “Are we talking like, scary Upside Down-y, spores-inside-my-brain different? Or- ”

“No, it’s not- that.” He shakes his head, squints over top of the covered-up pool and out at the treeline to the spot where Jonathan Byers had once crouched in the dark, snapping photos of a demogorgon eating Barb Holland. “I don’t know. No.”

“I mean, I think you’d know if- ” She draws his attention with a hand on his shoulder. “Is it a head thing?” she asks, over-enunciating in that way she does when she’s trying to make it easier for him to focus. “Because if you’re seeing spots again…”

He sniffs and shakes his head, and she leans forward to wrap an arm around him and tug him close so she’s speaking directly into his broken fucking brain when she says,

“Steve.” Soft. “Babe.”

“Yeah.” His heart is in his throat. “Sorry, I mean- my ears have been sort of… ringing lately, I should definitely see a doctor, but no, I- it’s not a monster thing.”

It’s very quiet outside now. The kids have calmed down, lulled into submission by the steady rhythm of Eddie’s voice guiding them through a dark cave which Steve knows for a fact has an evil elf hidden inside it. His chest clenches.

“You know I love you, right?” she asks, right up close to his good ear. “In every conceivable way. Almost”

He does know. He also knows that she knows what he’s about to say.

[also on ao3]

#steddie #stobin #stranger things #my fic #steddiemicroficjuly #hi lol i don't even know if this counts because it's very pre-steddie-steve very hesitantly trying to come out to robin #but! you said pool and this is what came out of my brain so #sue me; i just love them #break free #steddiemicrofic

71 notes · View notes

stvrchaser · 1 year

Note

omg omg omg ur such a lifesaver w ur requests for jay kelso being open! but how about going to the drive in movie with jay!! maybe a lil kissing here and there 🤭 n e ways i appreciate all your work! <3

drive-in

( note ) : ahh!! i loved this prompt sm. it gave me an excuse to write teeth-rotting fluff and temporarily retreat to a fandom i abandoned a while ago. the it miniseries had two episodes (I think??) and idk if drive-ins usually show series. if not, let’s say they do for plot purposes. the two episodes are like 3hrs total anyway so it’s a somewhat passable movie length. i just wanted to include a horror movie moment (because jay canonically gets scared easily and i couldn’t not use that to my advantage)… so here we are. have fun!!

oh. and can you tell by reading this that bullying is 80% of my love language? /j

( pairing ) : jay kelso x reader

( words ) : 1700

There’s a certain charm to Point Place. Most people dream of living in the city where time slips by faster than they can keep up with. They seek the thrill in busy streets and sleepless nights. Personally, you don’t think small towns are too bad. Point Place isn’t too bad. Of course, you might be a little biased.

The city doesn’t have a Jay Kelso. It doesn’t have the local ice-cream shop Jay took you to on your first date. It doesn’t have the old gazebo where you waited out the rain on your one-year anniversary. It doesn’t have a weekly drive-in at the local park where you spend hours critiquing movie plots and laughing at stupid jokes over milkshakes and burgers.

There’s only one place you’ll find that — home.

There’s a loud boom over the speakers, the kind they pair with a loud crescendo to evoke that sense of suspense. It shakes the ground and everything that touches it, startling your boyfriend. His hands find your own and grips them tight. When you look up, you see his eyes are squeezed shut.

“Why do they keep doing that?” Jay sounds breathless, his cheeks flushed from knowing that you’d definitely felt him flinch. It’s endearing, really.

“It’s a horror franchise, babe. If you wanted something more quiet, you should have just asked me to read the book. Less sound effects and pointed teeth.” You make a show out of baring your teeth, imitating the snapping jaw of the werewolf on-screen.

“There’s a book?” he asks, finally opening his eyes. You think he’s joking, at first. Like he’s about to say something about how waiting for the movie is just so much easier. But his brows are settled into that look he gets when he’s really confused. You sit upright, startling Jay with the suddenness of your movement.

“There’s a— What do you mean ‘There’s a book?’ It’s Stephen King!” He stares blankly. “You’re kidding. He’s published like thirty novels.”

“Well, none that I’ve read.” You roll your eyes.

“Well, duh. When was the last time you picked up a book?”

“I read!” he bristles.

“Comics don’t count.”

“I read other things! I don’t have an A in English for nothing.” You want to say something about how class novels don’t count either but you decide against it. He is smart, really. He’s easily distracted, sure, but Jay is a lot more knowledgeable than he lets on. He’s particularly good at reading people, what they like and don’t like. It’s probably why he gets along with everyone.

“Alright, fine. But please tell me you’ve watched some of his other films.” He shakes his head. ”No? Not even Carrie? The Shining?” You think your pitch rises with every question, baffled by this new revelation regarding your boyfriend’s lack of horror movie knowledge. “Jay, I don’t know how I feel about this.” He rolls his eyes at your dramatics.

“I’m just not a big horror fan!” That, you know, is a gross understatement. Jay can get scared by so much as a light breeze. You refuse to confirm nor deny whether you find pleasure in taking advantage of that very fun fact.

“Fair enough. Some people just scare easily, I guess.”

“Not me, though,” he huffs a defensive, albeit nervous laugh.

Oh, that’s cute.

“Really?” you challenge.

“Uh-huh. It’s gonna take a lot more than a movie to scare me.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

⋆

“Just imagine this happening in real life. I mean, it’s terrifying. This guy can just get inside your head. Sure, ghosts and stuff can be scary. But at least you can move out or… perform an exorcism for that. How do you tell an ancient omnipotent alien to get out of your head? I don’t even have to be afraid of one specific thing, but if I’m creative enough, who knows what I could come up with? Like… a flesh-eating centipede the size of a crocodile. What do you think he’d shape-shift into if he was trying to scare you?”

You’re only slightly thrown off to be met with silence. Your mind is running through a thousand words a minute, theorizing about hypothetical evils and mind-reading. The absurdity, all too welcome, is only manageable to the extent that you’re still aware of where you are, who you’re with, and how said person seems to have stopped breathing.

“Jay? Ja-ay!” you try to snap him out of it.

“Nothing, duh. I think I’d know if a creepy clown was trying to manipulate me, thanks.” He’s pale as a ghost, clearly unnerved. You’re cruel, and he’s unlucky.

“Really? Not even if a spider started crawling on you?”

“Y/N,” Jay warns, sensing the mischief in your tone, low and taunting.

“I wouldn’t go to sleep with my mouth open tonight, if I were you.”

“No, no, Y/N don’t put that into my head,” he whines. You grin.

“The creepy crawlies are out to get-cha!” You reach for the nape of his neck, fingers crawling upward to imitate his eight-legged foe. Jay’s eyes widen in horror. Before you know it, he’s scrambling for his car keys.

“Nope! Nuh-uh! Not doing this. Going home now, thank you!”

“Oh my god, Jay!” you call after him.

The couple to your right hisses an angry scolding in your direction. In your opinion, that was a hell of a lot scarier than the face-painted clown with a preference for human flesh. Jay doesn’t seem to notice that though because he’s climbing into the driver’s seat, face pale. He looks a little bit sick.

“Jay, baby, I was just messing with you.” He shakes his head profusely.

“First it’s centipedes, next it’s spiders. I don’t even wanna know what else you can come up with. I’m already not sleeping tonight. I’m gonna try to keep it to a one-night maximum.”

“Jay.” He looks at you through the rear-view mirror. “Ja-ay. Can you look at me for a sec?” You crawl after him, wrapping your arms around the backrest of his seat. There’s only an inch of space between your mouth and his neck. Your steady breath, and the softness of your voice, eases the tension in his shoulders. “How about this? If you watch the whole thing with me and still feel scared, I’ll sleep over at your place tonight. I’ll protect you from any killer clowns and creepy insects, hm? What do you think?” He takes ahold of your hand, looking at you through the mirror again with a slight grin. You can tell he’s holding back, biting at his cheek to keep the corners of his mouth from turning upward.

“Is that a promise?” You press a kiss to his knuckle.

“Cross my heart, hope to die. I can throw in a pinky-swear in, if you need it.” With your free hand, you raise a pinky to his face.

“Oh, shut up.”

“You love me.” He grumbles through your fit of laughter. When your breath evens out again, you’re surprised to see his expression change. Jay's eyes crinkle with a smile. Not his usual teeth-baring grin, but the blissed-out turn of the mouth that holds all weight in his gaze, alone. Sincerity. Admiration. Love.

“I do, don’t I?” You’re momentarily stunned by the intimateness of this moment. The sudden vulnerability is so unexpected that all you can do is press a kiss to his cheek – a silent acknowledgement of his affection as if to say ‘I love you too.’

Like most days, you slip back comfortably into childish banter.

“But I still don’t get why you like this movie so much.”

“It’s a classic. Besides, doesn’t The Losers Club kind of remind you of us? Tight-knit friend group in a small town, spending the summer together?” He tilts his head to the side, seemingly deep in thought.

“Does that make you Beverly?” You open your mouth, but hesitate to respond. Jay raises his brow, intrigued by your tentativeness.

“I was thinking Richie.”

“Huh. You know what? That checks out. Trashmouth Tozier’s got nothing on you.”

“Damn right.” You clap an approving hand for his shoulder, reaching back to the abandoned meal you’ve left in the back of the car. Jay, with his impeccable timing, decides to return the attempt of humiliating you just as you reach for your milkshake. Admittedly, it’s well-played. You’d be proud if it wasn’t you he was trying to make fun of.

“You sure it’s got nothing to do with your crush on Bill?” Your jaw drops, surprised.

“I do not have a crush on Bill!” Your voice gives you away, sounding undoubtedly guilty, almost reminiscent of the turbulence in Jay’s voice when he insisted that he wasn’t scared. Turns out, you’re both terrible liars when it comes to each other. It’s quite humbling. “Well, maybe a little.”

“I knew it!”

“Hey! I’m allowed to like things for multiple reasons.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure you’re here for the power of friendship.” He waves a dismissive hand.

“See?” You play dumb to his sarcasm. “Now you’re getting it.”

“You’re so lucky I like you.”

“Does that mean we’re staying?” You flash him a sickly sweet smile. With a sigh, Jay finally surrenders.

“Fine. But I’m holding you to that promise. You’re coming over.”

“Good.” You shift back to where you were seated, facing the large screen again. “I really wanted to get through all of the scenes with Bill.” He gasps, feigning offense with an exaggerated hand to his chest.

“First of all, how dare you?”

“You love me! Remember that!”

taglist (reply or dm me if you want me to add you!)

@ajaxisbae

#bullying as a love language #jay kelso hates horror movies it’s true #jay kelso x reader #jay kelso #that 90s show

317 notes · View notes

siouxiesiouxtryhard · 1 year

Text

Sweetheart - (eddie munson x reader)

Ch. Two - Stev

summary: the day drags on at school and tensions are high between our oldest step-siblings. pairing: eddie munson x fem!goth!mayfield! reader warnings: 18+ (minors dni) this is obnoxiously long, unfortunate use of y/n, me projecting my love of corn, language, mentions of abuse, billy hargrove, very light bullying -i think that's all- author's note: these parts are coming out so fast omg. I have pretty much the whole story written already I just need to put it on tumblr with all the extra stuff and whatever. am so excited for this one. love you <3

<<Part 1 --- Part 3>>

Y/n was afraid of third period. It was the only class she didn't have with Nancy so far, and it was the only class she could potentially be embarrassed in. Needless to say, she was nervous.

She tried to hide and walk in the room, but the teacher saw her.

Of course, he did.

Thankfully, he didn't make her introduce herself and let her pick a seat anywhere. Y/n sat down swiftly in the emptiest part of the room. She pulled out a book and used her bangs as a cover for her face. Thank God this class was the shortest. She jumped as someone sat down directly next to her and tapped her shoulder.

Y/n slowly peeked out of her hair at the person.

"Robin! Thank fuck! I was so worried I would be by myself!" Y/n exclaimed, putting her book back in her bag. Robin laughed and took a peek at the book Y/n just put away.

"You like Stephen King?" Robin asked.

Y/n nodded with a big smile. "Me too! We should read one together! That would be cool," Robin said.

Y/n agreed and with that, Robin started rapidly talking to her about literally anything and everything. That day ended up being more of a free day than an actual class and Robin looked at Y/n's schedule.

"Nice! We have first through third, lunch, and gym together!" Robin said.

"That's good, man. I hate gym! I've been faking ankle injuries for years," Y/n said, pulling a rolled-up ace bandage from her bag. Robin covered her mouth and laughed, "You gotta teach me that one," she said, giving it back and offering Y/n some headphones.

"Wanna listen to music with me?" Robin asked, a crooked smile on her lips. Y/n nodded, putting the headphones on and leaving one off her ear to talk some more. Robin did the same before popping a Fleetwood Mac tape into the Walkman. Y/n unconsciously bopped along to the music as they talked. The bell interrupted them mid chat about one of Y/n's tattoos, but they kept it going in the halls. Y/n tossed her bag into her locker and grabbed her jacket before following Robin to the lunchroom.

Y/n passed the lunch lady five dollars and smiled when she was given extra corn and another biscuit.

"Ah, hey. I gotta sit with the band kids today. It's some, like, unspoken rule that on game days you have to sit together. We can sit together tomorrow!" Robin spoke. Y/n smiled and nodded, nudging Robin's shoulder, and sitting down with Nancy, a few random people and that guy from before.

"Wassup, wassup," Y/n greeted, sitting across from Nancy and the hair man. They all greeted her, and hair dude introduced himself first.

"I'm Steve Harrington," he said, expecting some kind of reaction like everyone else so he could say no and stay loyal to Nancy. "Y/n," she replied simply, shaking his hand before fist-bumping him. Steve stared a little wide-eyed at her. He liked her already.

"So, what's with all the corn? Where did you get extra food from?!" the girl sitting next to her, Samantha, asked, noticing she had two of almost everything.

"Paid the lunch lady. It worked in Cali," Y/n shrugged, taking a spoonful of corn and humming in satisfaction. Steve and Nancy smiled at their trays trying not to laugh at her. "I like corn, dude!" Y/n laughed, triggering the table's laughter loose. They were interrupted by two guys coming up to the table and standing behind Y/n.

"Yo! Freak!" the shortest of the two, Tommy H, spoke first. Billy didn't say anything, just glared down at his stepsister. Y/n took another bite of food, dusted off her skirt, and turned in her seat. The boys had little smirks on their faces at their height over hers until she stood up. Tommy's face dropped as she stood over them both, looking down at them.

"I want you to repeat that," Y/n said nonchalantly.

"Uh, what?" Tommy laughed nervously.

"Repeat what you said! I didn't hear it the first time," she replied cheerfully, earning snickers from Steve. "Billy just had a question for you," Tommy mumbled. Billy stared at her blankly before holding his hand out. "Oh! My bad," Y/n laughed, pulling some money from her bra and giving it to Billy. "Have fun, make friends! Don't spend it all in one place!" she said, waving as they walked away. "I carry our lunch money. He can't keep track of it," Y/n rolled her eyes playfully.

"Who is that by the way? He's been here five minutes and he's already acting like top dog!" Another girl, Anna, asked. "Oh, that's Billy. He's my dumbass stepbrother. Yeah, he's used to being popular, so I guess no point in starting over," Y/n said.

The rest of Y/n's school day was filled with the same routine. Walk in, introduce herself and feel like an idiot, talk to one of her new friends, take notes, and grab catch-up work. Y/n sighed in relief at the last bell and walked out to Billy's car. He was already there and smoking a cigarette. Max was rolling down the hill, meeting the two at the car. Y/n with her arms in the window and prepping another joint, and Billy still smoking without a care in the world.

"Hey, pissant," Y/n greeted, "Hey, Ace," Max smirked at Y/n's fake glare.

"Can we go?!" Billy shouted.

Y/n opened up the car door, allowing Max to jump in the backseat. Y/n glanced around before licking the paper and rolling it up the rest of the way. She flopped into the passenger seat and leaned into Billy's light he had opened and ready for her. She coughed a little as she inhaled and rasped out a "sick!" as Metallica blasted through the speakers.

Y/n was squinting and humming to the music in the car as Billy and Max started yelling at each other. "Yo! Yo! HEY!" Y/n yelled over them, "Shh. You are so loud and for why?" she said quietly.

Billy rolled his eyes and swung the car into the arcade parking lot. Y/n and Max both got out, Max flipping Billy off as he drove away, and Y/n traipsing inside behind her. Two middle school boys ran up to the doors but didn't go in. They watched the two girls play different machines, "Is that Y/n?" Dustin asked, pointing to the girl in all black.

Lucas shrugged, putting up his binoculars to see Y/n leaned on the machine lazily playing Ms. Pac-Man. "Yep. That's her," Lucas said. Dustin's eyes widened and he pressed his face to the glass again. "No way!" he exclaimed watching her play with a bored expression on her face.

Dustn took a second to look at Y/n while Lucas oggled Max. There weren't many (if any) goth people in Hawkins, so her look was definitely new to them.

Dustin liked it.

taglist: @sisgotdemons @tlclick733 @deafeningmoontragedy @marjoriea13 @playfuloutcast @twosluttychains @leetaeilsnecktattoo @lil-quinnie @razzles-bottom-lip @originalstar1 @yessargeantbarnes @bebe0701 @shotgunhallelujah @uselessastheginlasagnaa @mynameismothra @niragis-right-hand-rabbit @shecagobaby @moviefreak1205 @munsonmunster

183 notes · View notes

weclassybouquetfun · 4 months

Text

With the release of AQUAMAN AND THE LOST KINGDOM, the DCEU has officially ended.

You could never make me hate you.

AQUAMAN AND THE LOST KINGDOM THOUGHTS. MORE SPOILERS THAN FISH IN THE SEA.

THE GOOD

-Loved the humour of it. The DCEU has been so serious and I find myself loving the lighter ones like WONDER WOMAN 2, the SHAZAM films and THE FLASH. Plus, Jason Momoa is better equipped for comedy/action, than drama. Meanwhile, Patrick Wilson excels at both! How great is he in this?!

Wilson was just so game. The cockroach scenes (scenes because there is a mid-credit call-back) would have been downright dumb if it was played by someone less committed than Wilson.

And the humour in their interactions weren't clunky because this is Arthur having the brother experience that he never had. It ties back to his father Tom (Temuera Morrison) saying Junior should have a sibling and how he wished Arthur had one. Now we see it played out, complete with the older sibling bullying (convincing Orm to eat a cockroach by saying it's the shrimp of the land. Which is priceless because people call shrimp the cockroaches of the seas).

-As soon as Kordax said his darkest night had ended, I knew what was going on.

Blackest Night!!!!!

Yes, the core story was vastly different but this was the their nod to it.

-People living under the sea should stoke the imagination so I'm happy they finally made the civilization under the sea so lively instead of us just watching Atlantean council meetings. Give us the nightlife!

THE BAD

-I don't think we got enough time with Black Manta.

It honestly felt like Randall Park's Stephen Shin had more screen-time.

Stephen who is obviously Jimmy Woo's identical twin cousin.

I think the film should have gone deeper into David Kane's slip into madness due to the trident with more of his "Gollum" scenes where we can see how Kordax is spurring him on.

But at least they gave Black Manta a great death. I was just waiting for Arthur to grab him and Black Manta still fall to his death. But it's so fitting that David wouldn't dare let the man who killed his father (a man who doesn't even feel bad about it) save him. True standing on business! Or falling... Falling on business.

-The water effects are horrible. I think it likely looks better in 3D but in standard - hazy, uncanny valley.

THE REST

-Pilou Asbaek plays Kordax and I find it fitting that my wretched sh!tty despot uncle of the Iron Islands plays a power hungry Atlantean.

-I was the only person to laugh at the Topo line spoken by Atlanna (Nicole Kidman).

Return of the King.

And Storm!

-Though in the SnyderCut we get Martian Manhunter, thus fulfilling the motto of Unite the Seven

in this film we get another united seven - the seven kingdoms of Atlantis which includes the titular lost kingdom.

-Felt like James Wan did a fair bit of nods. We get Orn living above ground at an outdoor restaurant a'la Bruce's retired life in THE DARK KNIGHT RISES. Arthur and Orn's team-up is like Thor and Loki's in THOR: RAGNAROK. Arthur even calls Orn Loki before making a Harry Potter reference.

There's a shot of Black Manta sat in the navigation chair in his Black Manta gear casting the same type of demeanor as T'Challa in BLACK PANTHER. The ending with Arthur deciding to tell the world about Atlantis is straight cribbed from BLACK PANTHER and IRON MAN. Is this the cinematic version of someone losing a match and shaking the hand of their opponent?

#jason momoa #patrick wilson #aquaman #aquaman and the lost kingdom #arthur curry #ocean master #black manta #yahya abdul mateen ii #randall park #comic book movies #dc comics #dceu #spoilers #movies

10 notes · View notes

c0ffinshit · 1 year

Text

Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome (The Grabber x Reader) Part Four

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

A/N: cat’s outta the bag! this was the secret smut i’ve been working on! so... enjoy!

this chapter once again is dedicated to my lovely wife alax, thank you for your ongoing support and love!

word count: 2,486

warnings: talks of past voyerism, fingering, oral sex (female), degradation, slight fluff at the start, regret, mentions of stalking, semi-dubcon, begging

Months passed since Albert left me that day. I hadn’t even seen him around town until October 19th. It was a few days before an old friend’s birthday; I was desperate for a gift. I asked everyone I knew for ideas, but those became dead-ends quickly. My friend, being the oldest, loved reading. War of The Worlds, IT, Pride and Prejudice, and many more. I never saw them without a book near them or in their hand. It was always funny to me, in a weird sort of way. I knew there was a bookstore about three miles away from my house. So, I put on my good walking shoes, opened my door, and walked down. Once I got there, I opened the door, my bell-bottom jeans sweeping against the dark, hardwood floors. That was what alerted him to the door. He looks at me with his cold, lifeless eyes and just stares. I hadn’t quite noticed him, but I could feel him lurking.

"Excuse me? Can you help me find a book?" I asked the store clerk, almost in a whisper. The place was as quiet as a mouse; only soft jazz played as the clerk got up from his seat and showed me around the fiction. I looked until finally, Misery by Stephen King. She had been searching for a copy with a specific cover. And lucky for me, it was right in front of my face.

"Rough night?" a voice behind me inquires, looking at the book’s cover in my hands, his hands placed neatly behind him.

I turn around to reveal a tall and disheveled Albert.

"Al, you look…well," I said, my eyes looking up and down his body. His shirt was covered in old stains, and his pants were riddled with holes. Albert looked as if he had never slept a day in his life.

"Yeah, and you look amazing as always." He said his gaze sharpening.

Al seemed off. I mean, he was always off. But he seemed frantic, itchy, for lack of a better word.

"Listen, I know you’re probably still reeling about what happened a few months ago, and I want to tell you that…I’m sorry for getting mad at you like that," Al said as he started to back away from me, "I was angry, is all."

I look at him blankly. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to rehash what happened the last time he tried to apologize. All the yelling and hurt feelings. Those memories came flooding back to me.

"You are so lucky I hate you right now," I said, walking away from the door.

The Grabber places the daisies neatly on the mat, "And I’m so lucky to have you feel what I’ve felt for years."

I blink, trying to bring myself back to the present. But all it took was Albert to say something to carry me back to the bookstore at the end of October.

"So? Do you forgive me?" he said, his pinky finger moving to mine.

Maybe it was something I still secretly longed for. To feel Albert’s hands run along my legs as if he was kneeling before me like I was his goddess. Maybe he had finally changed a new leaf, becoming the man I always longed he’d be. But a thought crept into my mind: Nobody wants to admit that shit.

"Well…" I started, still trying to figure out if I should also apologize or stand my ground.

"You know you don’t have to forgive me, right? I was merely saying sorry." Al said, playing with the rings on his fingers.

What a thought. To feel The Grabber’s fingers deep inside, hitting your g-spot over again as he tells you how good you’re taking it.

I shake my head, "No, no, it's alright. I do forgive you… for the most part."

Albert smiles, the gentle smile I used to love. "That’s good. Good girl."

God, he must know what he’s doing to me.

"I don’t know about good," I replied shyly.

"You’re good to me. Anyone good to me is good in my book." His smile suddenly forms into a smirk.

He fully knows.

"Listen, I have to buy this book, or the employees will think I’m loitering. So…talk soon?" I said, pointing it in the direction of the now-sleeping clerk.

"I’ll come by your place. How does that sound?" His voice is quiet and smooth.

"That sounds great!"

I will admit; I got a little too excited to see a man I’m supposed to hate. As I went to one of the many cash registers, I could feel Albert’s eyes scanning my body as he stood near one of the many shelves. Uncomfortable wasn’t even a word I thought of when it came to that; erotic seems more like it. To feel his dark eyes following along the curves of my natural body; his eyes finally landed on my ass as I said to the employee, “have a nice day!” Maybe I was finally giving in. Giving in to that voice in my head that day. I wanted to fall back into his arms and forgive him for using me. And now, he’ll finally get what Albert and I both needed, each other.

His eyes are still on me, even when I leave the store. I wouldn’t say I’m getting paranoid, but it's only a feeling. Albert followed me home. I only know that because it's across the street from my living room’s only window. A black van with teal lettering lies waiting for me. And I feel his fist ready to knock on the door, continuing to act like everything between us is normal and over with. Finally, that knock comes, and I finish putting everything together.

I open the door. A smile crosses my face. Again, to reveal Albert, still in his same dirty clothes. "I thought you weren’t coming by ‘til later."

Albert chuckles, "This is why I didn’t set up a time, just to hear you say that."

He is really sucking up.

"So, what do you want to do now that I’m here?" He said, playfully hitting my arm.

I would love for you to take my face in your hands and kiss me with the most passion I’ve ever experienced in my whole life.

"I don’t know. I’m up for anything." I said. Suddenly, his hand snakes around my wrist, squeezing in gently. Maybe he is a mind reader.

"Then I have the thing for you." He said, pulling on my wrist gently. "First, you have to invite me in."

"What are you? A vampire?" I giggle.

"No, it's just the right thing to do."

"Okay, fine, you may come in." Albert smiles the way he always smiles, his crooked teeth on full display. His long legs walked through my door for the first time. It felt like deja vu.

"Now, finally, I can give you what you want," Al takes hold of my hand gently, "I want to make love, darling."

I froze. Why on god’s green earth is he acting like this?

"Al, cmon, don’t play with me."

"Oh, dear," he pulled me closer to him, "why would I want to play with you? Do you want me to play with you?"

I didn’t want to reply. All I knew was it felt way too good. I could feel my old habits crawling up my back.

"I bet you’re just so excited that I’m here, especially since I know you’re still in love with me," he said, his hands tugging at my hand.

His hand felt warm but threatening, like any minute he would rip it off of my body. I did still love him, or at least I thought I did. But if I did love him, why did I always have so much hatred toward him? At least I know now that I overreached that day.

"Is it okay if I..." Albert pulls my hand. Taking me closer to him, "just put my hands right here."

I feel my feet beneath me moving closer to his enormous figure. I gently whine against him when he finally pulls me in for a hug. Suddenly, I feel Albert’s soft lips on my neck, kissing gently. I try to move away from Albert’s strong arms, but his grip stops me. He held me in a way that I didn’t want to leave, and he didn’t want me to leave either. Suddenly, I feel one of his hands go lower to my thigh. "You know, I’ve been watching you. The window in your bedroom is the perfect view to watch you cum to thoughts of me. I can even hear it when I’m in my house." he asked, whispering against my neck.

"Albert, I-"

"’ I’ what? Do you not want this? C’mon (Y/N), give in."

A giggle escapes my lips, "No, it's not that. It's the fact that you don’t mean anything you say." He kisses my jaw, "What if it's the truth, (Y/N)? How would you feel then? Give it, for your pleasure’s sake. " Albert’s other hand moved slowly to the opposite thigh. It felt weirdly intimate. His eyes met mine, which felt like frost on my skin.

"God, you’re even prettier up close."

I giggle in reply. My hands were along Albert’s shoulders.

"Why are you so giggly all of a sudden?" he asked, getting closer to my face again.

"I’m not giggly," I replied sheepishly, "I just know that this is all bullshit. You’re a liar that kills people. Not exactly trustworthy."

Albert’s breathing suddenly grows heavy, "Why do you not believe me?"

"I literally just told you why. You’re a murderer who is also a lair."

"No. I mean, why is it so hard to believe that I do love you?"

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. The Grabber really wants to play this game?

"Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it was the weeks of manipulation I had to suffer through; while still being in love with you."

He grew quiet. The loud cicadas sang outside, waiting for a mate of their own. Suddenly, I feel him push me up against a wall.

"I am sick of playing these mind games, princess. Now let me, why am I really here?" Albert said, his hands going up to touch my collarbones. It felt like my throat was closing, like having an allergy reaction. "Come on, spill it out. Before I use that whore mouth of yours and fuck it out of you." His mouth was close to my ear.

"I don’t know, I just thought you wanted to talk and forgive-"

"Forgive? Talk? Honey, I’m giving you what you scream about at night with your hands deep in your pussy. And don’t lie to me; I’ve seen it."

"What do you mean ‘seen it?’" I asked innocently.

"Oh, you didn't notice? I’ve been watching you from your bedroom window. You like the idea of me being the predator, preying upon you. Or at least, you cum the hardest to that thought."

His hands slowly work their way down to my thighs. My legs suddenly lifted off the ground, my ankle socks brushing against Albert's pants.

"What I’ve also noticed is when you cum, you call yourself a ‘dirty little slut.’ Mind telling me what that’s about?" Albert slowly gets on his knees, my thighs resting on his shoulders. "Do you want to be my dirty little slut?"

His big hands hooked around my panties and pulled them down my legs. One leg slipped out of the panties’ leg hole. Now, finally greeted with my aching pussy, he kisses it softly.

"Beg." Albert plainly said as he kissed my inner thigh.

"What?" I whisper. Looking down, I can feel every kiss he places down.

"Beg for me to fuck you with my tongue."

"Fuck… please fuck me, Albert. I want your tongue deep inside my cunt." I beg softly, trying to hold myself back as I squirmed around his face, trying to get any contact for my poor clit.

"One flick, and you’ll cum; I can just feel it." his nose rubs up against my clit.

"God," I moan out. Albert continues to rub his nose side to side, just slightly above my clit. I could feel his face get wetter with my cum as Albert went deeper.

"God-fuck-sh-please let me cum."

"Aw, you poor little thing, wanting to cum. You can hardly speak." Albert continued on like that for a little while until gently grazing his tongue over my clit. Causing my body to shiver.

"Do you want to cum, princess? Please cum for me," he said, his licking becoming more rapid.

The next few moments were a blur. A few different thoughts ran through my head, mainly that I didn’t know if I wanted it. Sure, I still had feelings that crawled in my skin like spiders. But I also couldn’t stand being around him. Either way, as I could feel my orgasm on the horizon, my pussy pushed into his face, my pearl still aching for any contact from Albert.

"Fuck-Albert-I’m gonna-" I manage to stutter out as the tight knot in my stomach finally snaps.

Once the brain fog lifts, I quickly realize what I am doing. I can’t do this anymore.

I push his face away from my clit and stumble away, straightening myself out. "Aw, c’mon, what’s wrong now?" Albert whines, his shoes sliding as he up, and walks over to me.

"What’s wrong? WHAT’S WRONG? What kind of question is that, Albert?" I ask him as I begin to pace around the room.

"This is a one time thing-"

"I WISH I KNEW HOW TO QUIT YOU." I screamed, slamming my foot down. "YOU ARE ALL I THINK ABOUT ALL THE TIMES. EVEN WHEN I HATE YOU FOR THE THINGS YOU DO."

Albert stands silently for a moment. I started to panic since all those words seemed to spill out of my mouth. "That’s a shame. I can’t say I feel the same.” He paused for a second before walking towards the door, "you know what? It doesn’t matter anyways. The thing is, even I know when to give up." Albert finished, finally walking to the door.

"Albert, please, you don’t understand-" I tried to speak but was interrupted by Al’s footsteps stop.

"(Y/N), ever I know when to give up. I’ll still call and mail you… the dream of having a relationship is dead. I’m not the guy for that. I’m the guy for casual sex and noncommittal relationships." Albert’s eyes move slowly to me and the street in front of my house.

I watched him turn the knob to the door, giving me a silent goodbye as he walked to his van. I saw him start up the car and drive away. Now all I have is me and sex filled with regret.

#ethan hawke #ethan hawke x reader #the grabber #the grabber x reader

56 notes · View notes

georgiapeach30513 · 2 years

Text

Rumplestiltskin, Part 4

Summary: Andy invites you to the ball

Pairings: Prince!Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, PIV sex, first time, voyeurism, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2.8K

Series Masterlist

Hearing Walter hoof the ground, and blow out an aggravated whinny, you look out your window. A white horse. And that only meant one thing. Smoothing out your skirt, you try and make yourself look more presentable, before your father storms into the cottage, “He is back. This needs to stop.”

“He’s just came for you to look over Clementine.”

“She got new shoes last week,” you roll your eyes, going to meet Andy outside, “Keep him away from the well.”

“I can’t help it that he gets thirsty,” you smirk at him, but continue your mission to greet Andy outside. He wasn’t wearing armor, but he was a decorated man. Nobility. More than just the King’s guard. Walter blows at you, his nose pushing you forward a bit. “You quit, you silly creature. I can never tell if you like him or you despise him. Quit pushing,” stomping your foot you turn to glare at him, but he only neighs in return.

Andy smiles as he jumps off the horse, already taking her to the stables, and you follow, but not too closely behind. Smiling at how comfortable he was around the barn. “She looks like she needs some oats.”

“Yeah, she’s a good girl. I’m afraid that I’m here for some royal news.”

“Why does royal news need to travel so far?”

“It seems…Well, you see,” he looks out at the barn when Walter stands in the doorway glaring at him, “Well, I’ve been keeping something from you.”

“Oh?” You didn’t like the way that sounded. Didn’t trust where this was going, and you were afraid. But then his hand brushes against yours. Holding it tighter, before bringing you closer to him. “Andy, what’s going on?”

“I’ve not exactly been truthful with who I am.”

“You’re not Andy?”

“No. No, I’m Andy. Officially, I’m Prince Andrew Stephen of Palmona, the future King,” you stumble back from him, shaking your head. “Miss, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you here?”

“To see you. It’s always to see you. I’m having to choose a wife,” you scoff at him, and pull his hand off yours. Your brows furrowed, and his expression never changes.

“You’re wasting my time.”

“No, I’m not. You’re getting an invite to the ball being thrown in my honor. A hope of finding a suitable wife,” you weren’t suitable. You weren’t anybody. Definitely not someone that a royal would marry, even if they could. You want to kick yourself for being so foolish. “I’m delivering the invitation personally. You’re the only one getting a personal one, the others were sent by courier.”

“So I get a front row seat of you choosing a proper lady to be your wife? Sounds like a riveting time, Your Highness,” Andy’s nostrils flare with the formal greeting. “Give your horse some water, and be on your way.”

“No. You are getting this invitation,” reaching into his side, he pulls out a beautiful golden invite to his ball. “It’s a masquerade.”

“How rich is that? Hide your mistress behind a gilded mask. I won’t be someone’s second option, Your Highness.”

“If you call me that one more time, Miss, I won’t be so kind,” he takes a deep breath, softening his features, and even his voice. “You have never been my second choice. You have been my only choice.”

“A fool’s game. One neither of us will win.”

“Go to the ball. Let me dance with you in the open. In front of my parents. Let’s show them that I only want the one, and that one is you. My father has power to change this stupid rule, and I can marry you. And if he won’t, I won’t marry until I am king, and then I will.”

“And should you become king in your old age? And I can’t give you an heir. Then what?”

“My father is old. Much older than my mother. She was his fourth wife. He’s tired, and doesn’t want the crown past the jeweled ornament that sits on his head. Should I want you, I will have you,” you flinch away from him, and Andy shakes his head, “That is not what I meant, Miss. I want you. And I can sacrifice the time to have you properly. I can’t give up the throne. My brother is not fit to be King. But I can be a wife-less king, until you marry me.”

“But, what will I wear?” You grin at him. Your cheeks heat up at the thought of you amongst the elite and proper members of society. Already getting nervous of people around the crowd, and people that would look down on you.

Andy’s face lights up at your question, pulling you into his embrace, he presses his lips gently onto yours, “Andy, I’m serious.”

“I’ll have you a dress made. Send you everything that you need. The only thing I need,” he starts, bringing his lips directly over yours. Making you feel his heated breath, and every word he speaks, you get the soft pillows of his lips pushing against your own, “Is you. Maybe, we should make a wish into the well, and you will grace me with food, since I have traveled so far.”

“Andy?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t wish for me to kiss you, okay? I will do that without a wish.”

“Don’t worry,” his hands skim down your sides, settling much too low on your back for a proper lady, but you did not care, you were no proper lady, “I’ve got some ideas on things to wish for.”

No one told you this mask was going to be so difficult to see through. Andy forgot to mention that he wanted you to arrive late. Wanted that grand entrance. Your gown with layers upon layers of the finest silks, the color of the purest gold, and you looked like royalty. Even stepping out of the carriage, you could feel their heated gaze. The whispers of who you were, and where you came from.

Walking into the palace ballroom, you smooth out your dress. Worrying your lip as you glance around. There were smiling faces everywhere. Jovial dancing, an orchestra, and compared to most in the room, your dress stood out, and was much more grand and intricate than anyone there. Andy had wanted you to stand out. The other dresses were smaller skirts in pastels, while every inch of you was covered in gold of some sort. Your dress, shoes, jewelry, even paint on your skin. Andy had made sure that you were the belle of the ball, and now you couldn’t even find him.

His father sits up straighter as you descend the stairs. Glancing around the room to find Andy, because it was as if people created a pathway right to his son. Spreading out as you wandered through the crowd, “Who is she?” His mother asks, catching a glance at her son who pushes through the throng of people. He had spotted you, but you were still a lamb amongst wolves.

Your chest heaving, and you wonder if this was a mistake, “I have no clue,” his father answers, zeroing in on the small golden tiara on your head, and even a golden pendant laying against your chest. He watches his son, who disregards every maiden in his path. “He’s going to her. He has been spending some time away from the palace.”

Your lips turn up into your sweet smile, when you finally spot him. Your gait speeding up as you rush towards him. The second that you reach him, he pulls your hand to get into position for a waltz, “Andy, I don’t belong here.”

“Nonsense,” he purrs, whirling you around the room. Everyone moves away from the two of you. Staring as Andy twirls you around, “It’s them who don’t belong here. You are right where you’re meant to be. In my arms, and the envy of the entire ball. You look breathtaking.”

“I think you did well.”

“I didn’t choose this,” you cock up an eyebrow at him, needing to know more, but he’s keeping it a secret for some reason. “A little birdie told me that he had something for you that was gold, and you should wear gold.”

Reaching to the pendant around your neck, you can’t believe it. “My father? He’s but a simple ferrier.”

“He is a ferrier, but I doubt he’s as simple as he plays. Gold is your color. When you become queen, I want you to wear gold everyday. You will be lavished in the color and the metal,” you give him a giggle, not even notice that you had caught everyone’s eyes. All of them were curious as to who you were, but more importantly where you came from, and how you got here. Most already deciding that you would be Andy’s future. “You’re every bit as regal as I am, Miss. Don’t forget that.”

You stand outside the ballroom, waiting on Andy to return, and needing a breather. Skin glowing and sticky with sweat; these skirts were not made for such movement. Dizzy with happiness and the nonstop dancing, not to mention how handsome Andy looked. Perfectly coiffed and looking every bit like the prince he was. It was more than the crown that sat atop his head, he was oozing a just and fair leader. People noticed him. Praised him, and were excited to see what the future held with Andy at the forefront.

They had noticed you as well, and you gave them comfort, because their future king had found a wife. Your eyes get heavier. Your heart and head pounding with the music and the prolonged high of happiness. You wander down the hallway whence Andy had left, wondering where that silly man had gone.

Walking past a door, you gasp when a hand covers your mouth, and pulls you into the room. “Shh, Miss, I just wanted some privacy. Waiting a long time for you to follow me,” spinning around the room, you wonder who’s bedroom this could be. It was beautiful. Bigger than the entire cottage, “It’s mine.”

“You lead me to your room?”

“I’m the only one with a key,” dropping your hand, he walks over to the door, locking it. Maybe it was the dancing and spinning. Maybe it was the champagne. Possibly how handsome that Andy looked in his suit. But maybe, just maybe, you were tired of waiting on things to happen. Waiting on everything to line up to where you could make Andy yours.

Watching him saunter towards you, his hands slide around your waist, and it’s you that backs up to the bed. Getting a disapproving growl from Andy, but you don’t listen. Your knees hit the mattress, and you pull him down with you, “Miss?”

“Will you wait on me?”

“I will?”

“You will make me your wife?” He nods his head, letting his weight start to settle over you, “Then we should do as married people do. You will be my husband, and you will always be my king.”

Andy removes the mask off your head, letting it fall to the floor, and then starts kissing down your body, stopping at the swell of your tits, and you take a deep breath, “Do you know how to tie up a corset?”

“My queen will not be leaving until tomorrow,” sitting up, you let him pull at your laces, “And my queen will have a different dress by then. My queen also needs to just breathe. You’re going to make yourself pass out, and I won’t be making love to your unconscious body. Just. Breathe.”

He removes your top, and starts working on your breasts. Leaving you gasping, and whispering at his name with the way his tongue was moving on you. He’d deal with the skirts in a moment. Right now, he was enjoying your unsullied body.

Little did Andy know, that his mischievous brother did in fact know a way into Andy’s room. The perfect Andy had gone missing from his own ball, no less. His lip curls up into a snarl as he watches the great and wonderful Andrew bed a maiden. He could barely see your face, but he heard your whimpers. Andy’s hand drifts up your skirts, and you yelp at the feeling, you were as pure as his parents had assumed, but here he was using you. He knew that Andy wasn’t so perfect.

Careful not to let his brother notice him, he sneaks out, locking the door again. Ransom wasn’t sure how he was going to use this information, just that he knew it was going to be of use to him.

“Andy, just touch me.”

“I am.”

“No,” his head pops up from your many layers with a devilish grin. “I want to properly feel my king,” you start undoing his buttons, sighing when your hand presses up against his hard chest. “Andy,” you mewl, “I want to feel you all over me. Ruin me for anyone else, because I’m only yours.”

An animalistic power overtakes Andy. Your beautiful self looking vulnerable and meek, needed him to claim you. He rushes in removing his suit, and helps you out of those ridiculous layers. The two of you timidly bring yourselves closer, before he crashes his lips into yours, laying you back on the bed.

His legs go in between yours, and he pushes them further apart. Licking the length of his hand, he buries it in your warmth. You were soaked. Pressing two fingers into your cunt, both of you moan. You were tight. “Andy,” everything about you was like a drug, and he was addicted. “Andy!”

“I need to get you ready to take me,” with his cock heavy on your thigh, you were not thinking about his fingers. You needed him, and he was going to give it to you.

“I don’t care,” you pout at him.

“As you wish, my queen,” pumping his length in his fist a few times, he lines himself up, and you gulp. Nodding your head as confirmation, and his bulbous tip breeches your entrance. A blinding sting heats up your pussy, and he tsks at you for forgetting to breathe again, “I will stop,” he playful scolds as he sinks slowly into your body.

“Don’t you dare,” you pant out. Your hands squeeze at his back, and Andy hisses through his teeth. Glancing down at where the two of you connect, you felt like he was in your guts, and there was so much length still to go.

“Changing your mind?”

“No!” You yelp, and he quickly pushes another inch. “Andy!”

“I’m not going to last long with how you say my name. You feel amazing. Delicious even,” his eyes watch as he pushes the final two inches in. Balls deep into your quivering cunt, and he has to center himself. You were hugging his cock perfectly. Your walls throbbing over him made it hard to concentrate. A deep desire just to fuck into you, but knowing it would be a bit more painful to you.

“Andy,” it’s the only thing you can say. The only thing you can think. Knees bent, and legs spread wide to accommodate his thick body, and even thicker cock. “Andy…An…”

“Shh, I’ve got you. Let me take care of you,” with a nod of your head he pulls out a bit. Your skin stretching around his cock, has him needing to push back into you quickly. A sob of his name, has him caressing your glistening skin.

“Fine,” you assure him, and he moves again. Slowly picking up speed with each thrust into you. Your body relaxes a bit, and Andy rushes into you. Doing it again, and when your face lights up with pleasure, he takes that as a sign. Changing to rut into you.

You don’t care about the sting. You had Andy. Your king. You revel in how he had a part of you that no one would. The steady build up over these past few months, and what Andy assumed was courting you, accumulating in this very moment. He wanted to see you every night in his bed, taking him just like this. Baring his children, and being the queen that the kingdom deserved. He would make him a better man and ruler with you by his side.

“Andy, I love you,” those simple words take his breath away, because you were just too perfect. It was destined in the stars for the both of you. He had made enough wishes into that well of a happy and long life with you by his side.

“And I love you,” his lips crash into yours as he swallows every sweet sound that moves off your lips. He needed this all the time. Everyday. He would make an excuse to bring a different horse a day if he had to. Commission another cottage in the woods for just you and him, he didn’t care. All he cared about was you, and you alone. The life that you were meant to have with him. You were going to be the perfect, kind, fair, queen. His parents didn’t realize how you didn’t need to have a title, because you were and would always be his. His miss. His queen. His equal. His partner. His.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @peaches1958 @whimsyplaty92 @xcaptain-winterx @bambamwolf87 @lavender-annd-lilac @thedarkplume @duuhrayliegh @rebekahdawkins @johndeaconshands @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @feyfantome @athena-penrose @royalwritersoftheuniverses

#rumplestiltskin #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x fem!reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x you #prince!andy barber #prince!andy barber x reader #prince!andy barber x fem!reader #prince!andy barber x y/n #prince!andy barber x you #andy barber smut #andy barber fic #andy barber fics #andy barber fanfiction #chris evans

144 notes · View notes

seths-rogens · 1 year

Text

HERE IS THE REPEATED IMAGE OF THE LOVER DESTROYED | PART 2

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 3 (Soon)

He could quite clearly remember their first official meeting. He says official because, well, to put it bluntly, Edmund had been watching the young Lord for quite some time. He needed to make sure the man was right for the job after all.

It was infuriating how inherently good he was.

Stephen seemed to have it all. The manor house, the pure heart the, uh, looks.

Edmund watched from afar as Stephen played with the village children, chasing them around and pretending not to find them when they played hide and go seek. He would race horses with a tall woman who seemed to prefer the more masculine trousers to the pastel dresses of her peers. They would hang all over each other when they weren’t riding, trading jabs and giggling at the silliest of jokes.

Edmund watched Stephen practise his swordsmanship with a small, fierce woman with features so sharp they could make you bleed. Despite the dresses she wore - in darker shades of purple and blue - she was never hindered. The pair were almost always equally matched.

Edmund always enjoyed watching them spar, those trousers did wonders for Stephen’s behind.

But that first real meeting, Edmund had made quite the impression.

Sat in the shadowed alcove of Stephen’s bedroom window, Edmund cut chunks out of a juicy red apple with his third favourite dagger. It had a bronze handle, inlaid with small blood red gemstones. It was stolen, of course, you don’t come by these things easily. (His favourite dagger was a family heirloom, sharp metal with a carved wooden handle. His uncle had made it, back when he was young and times were easier.)

Stephen had walked into his bedroom with a groan, brow sweaty as he rolled out the kinks in his neck. His shirt was unlaced down to just below his sternum, showing off a toned chest covered with a thick thatch of dark hair. His belt hung undone, though his sword still hung from his hip.

Stephen walked right past Edmund, stripping off his shirt as he went and revealing his toned arms and back. Edmund chomped down on a large piece of apple to stop his thoughts straying from his mission.

“So. You’re Lord of the house, huh?”

Stephen startled, unsheathing his sword and spinning towards the window. “Who’s there?”

Edmund carved another apple chunk, staying encased in shadow. “A bit young for a Lord, aren’t you?”

“Show yourself.” Stephen all but growled.

Edmund hopped down from the window, stepping into the candlelight. He bowed low, a smirk sitting pride of place on his lips. “My lord.”

The point of a sword tapped gently at the underside of his chin. Oh, that should not give him butterflies. “Who are you?”

Edmund raised slowly to standing. “Edmund the Exiled, my Lord. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Exiled? From where?”

“Why Henry’s Kingdom, of course. A wretched man, he is.”

Stephen lowered his sword. “And you’re here, why?”

“I’d heard Hawkins is nice this time of year.”

“I meant here as in my bedchamber.”

“Ah.” Edmund nodded. “Well, as you know, Henry is a cruel king. He does not care for the people he presides over. He cares only for power.” He grimaced, venom spitting from his words. “He is a violent and wrathful king, and an end must be brought to his reign.”

Stephen walked over to a hook on the wall, hanging his sword from it. He moved to the bed and pulled a bundle of cloth out from beneath the pillow before slipping it over his head. A nightshirt and by Gods it looked soft. Edmund had the urge to rub his cheek against it like a cat.

“What does this have to do with me?”

“There’s an… oppositional force growing. We’ve already amassed a large number of men.”

“Go on.”

“We’re going to overthrow the king. And we need someone to take his place.”

___________________

His legs felt numb. Every step he took weighed down with lead. His hands hadn’t stopped shaking. They were still coated in Stephen’s blood. It was dry now.

His mind was blank. He didn’t allow himself the luxury of thought. Couldn’t. If he did he would break, fall into a pit of despair so deep he wouldn’t be able to crawl back out. He would crumble into a million tiny little pieces. Poof into dust right there on the footpath.

Oh, there was a footpath. He must be nearing Hawkins.

He kept on stumbling forward.

He couldn’t say how much time had passed. Minutes since he’d last kissed Stephen’s lips. Hours since he’d left his body.

It must’ve been a while. The sky was pink with the early dawn as Edmund finally broke through the trees, crested the hill. He paused.

Hawkins lay at the bottom. The farmers were already out, tending their crop, their wains running amok in the fields. He could see Nancy training alone in the courtyard.

Edmund tripped over his feet as he started to move again. It was like he was floating, his feet not really touching the ground yet still carrying him forward.

No time passed at all by the time he reached the end of town. He could feel the eyes of the villagers falling upon his dishevelled, blood soaked appearance but still couldn’t stop.

He came to a halt at the edge of the courtyard. Nancy was striking at a cloth covered block of wood with her sword, grunting as the blade hit.

She gasped when she saw him, dropping her sword to the ground. “Edmund?”

Edmund couldn’t speak. He was frozen.

“Robin!” Nancy called out, fear lacing her voice.

Robin came stumbling down the manor steps, book in hand and not watching where she was going. “I’m at a really good part of the book, Nance. I swear if you called me just to spar with you--”

“Robin.” Nancy spoke gravely, eyes latched onto Edmund’s bloody hands.

“What?” Robin raised her head from her book. She followed Nancy’s gaze to where Edmund stood, shoulders hunched. She caught sight of the blood, flinched. “No.” Her voice was no louder than a whisper. She repeated herself, louder. “No.”

It’s that that broke him.

Tears began to flow freely, spilling in endless rivulets down Edmund’s dirty cheeks. He fell to his knees, curling in on himself as sobs started to wrack his body. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”

He forced his eyes open, staring up at Robin. She was barely holding herself together, face and eyes red as she held back tears. “Where is he?”

Edmund could only shake his head.

“Edmund, where is he?” It was the harshest her voice had ever been, no trace of the usual soft rasp.

“He’s gone. Went in my arms.”

Robin let out an involuntary sob. “No. No, he can’t be.” She was crying in earnest, fat, wet tears streaming. “He’s always been okay. He’s never- Oh gods.”

She turned on her heel, storming back into the manor.

“Robin!” Nancy called after her. Robin didn’t respond.

Edmund ducked his head, knees aching in the dirt. He flinched when a small hand touched his back.

“Just me.” Nancy spoke softly. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

Edmund let himself be tugged to his feet, pulled along with guiding hands into the bathroom connected to Stephen’s bedroom. It felt wrong, he thought, to mar such a nice place with blood and grime.

“I’ll be right back, okay? I’m just going to get some water.” Nancy left quietly.

Edmund caught sight of himself in the small mirror that hung above the sink. His hair was frizzy and lank, clinging to his head. His eyes were almost as red as the stains on his hands and clothes. Pale lines cut tracks through the muck on his cheeks.

And to think, not long ago, he was happy here.

___________________

“You’re awake early.” Edmund smiled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he leaned against the bathroom door.

Stephen caught his eye in the reflection of the mirror. It wasn’t big, but it was a little lavish, Edmund thought. A polished bronze oval frame twisted into leaves and flowers. Pretty, but no prettier than the man staring back at him.

“Says the man who’d sleep until noon if I’d let him.”

Edmund chuckled, scratching his bare stomach as he walked further into the room. He placed his palms on the slight curve of Stephen’s waist, laughing softly when he jumped at the cold, and slid them round to his stomach. He pressed his chest up against Stephen’s back, hooked his chin over his shoulder. Stephen leaned back into his embrace.

“Seriously though, my Lord. What’s got you up?”

Stephen rolled his eyes at the title, much as he always did, but smiled softly nonetheless. “Just nervous, I guess. Big day tomorrow.”

Edmund hummed, pressing his lips to the skin of Stephen’s shoulder. “I’ll be right by your side the entire time.”

“It’s a battlefield, Ed. We won’t be able to keep tabs on each other so easily. What if we get separated?”

“I won’t let that happen.”

Stephen turned in Edmund’s hold, bowing his head. Edmund’s hands dropped to his hips. “What if…”

Edmund nudged a finger under his chin. “What if what, love?”

Hesitantly, Stephen met his eye. “What if one of us gets hurt? Or worse? I don’t think I could take it if I lost you.”

“That isn’t going to happen.” Edmund spoke confidently. “We have the upper hand.”

“How can you be so sure?” Stephen whispered. “Just-- If something happens to me, just know that I love you. Okay?”

“Nothing is going to happen to you.”

Stephen only nodded, didn’t seem convinced.

“C’mon. Come back to bed.” Edmund grinned, tugging at Stephen’s hips, slipping his fingertips beneath the waistband of his sleep pants. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Stephen grinned, a pretty blush colouring his cheeks. He let Edmund tug him back to bed.

___________________

“Edmund?” Nancy said gently, startling him out of his trance. “The bath is ready.”

Edmund pulled his clothes off mechanically as Nancy averted her eyes. He stepped carefully into the bathtub, letting out a breath as he submerged his aching muscles in the warm water. He sat down, curling into a ball.

Nancy knelt beside the tub with a clean rag and a bar of soap. It smelled like Stephen.

She gently tugged his hands away from where they were wrapped around his knees and began to carefully wash the dried blood from his skin. Neither of them spoke. Edmund could only stare at the bath water as it steadily turned from clear to a muddy pink.

When Nancy started to rub the dirt from other areas of skin, Edmund began to stare at his hands. The blood caked under his fingernails.

All of a sudden he needed it off. He needed to be clean.

He grabbed a small scrubbing brush from a shelf beside the tub and began to feverishly rub at his nails.

“Edmund.” Nancy’s voice barely cut through his fugue. “Edmund, stop!” She grabbed his hands, stilling them and splashing water onto the stone floor. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.” She whispered, unfolding his fingers from the brush and starting to carefully clean beneath his nails.

“Is Robin okay?” Edmund croaked, voice hoarse and quiet.

“She won’t be for a while.” Nancy sighed. “She needs space right now.”

Edmund nodded, shutting his eyes tight with a shuddering breath. “M’sorry.”

Nancy ceased moving. “Whatever happened… it wasn’t your fault.”

Edmund hid his face in his knees and didn’t answer.

Nancy washed his hair with Stephen’s soap. She helped him out of the bath, helped him dry off. She dressed him in Stephen’s softest shirt brushed through his hair and tied it back into a loose braid.

She tucked him into a once shared bed with a sad smile and an almost maternal kiss on the forehead. He had never known Nancy to be maternal.

“Nancy?” He called out to her as she reached the doorway. She turned to him. “Thank you.”

Nancy just nodded, left. And Edmund lay in a bed that was far too empty.

___________________

The bright early sunlight cast soft shadows across the room from where it cut through the curtains.

Edmund had been awake a while, tracing over the slope of Stephen’s nose, the arch of his brow, the curve of his jaw. Admiring the soft way his eyelashes dusted the apples of his cheeks and the moles dotting his neck.

He was truly beautiful, and Edmund couldn’t get enough.

So he tried to drink it all in. Memorise it. Because surely, once Stephen awoke it would all come crashing down. The night before had been a heat of the moment thing, Edmund didn’t expect he would be permitted to stay.

They were both still bare, covered only by the dark green sheets. Stephen slept on his front, and the covers had slipped, pooling in the arch of his lower back. Edmund wanted to reach out, trail a finger down his spine.

Stephen made a soft noise, shifting as he started to blink himself awake, and Edmund felt his heart clench.

But when Stephen opened his eyes, he smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Edmund parroted.

“You sleep okay?” Edmund nodded. “Good.”

Stephen reached out a hand, splaying it across the centre of Edmund’s chest, stroking softly. Edmund looked at it in surprise.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t you want me to leave?”

“What? No?” Stephen laughed. Then his face dropped. “U-Unless you want to. I won't stop you.”

“I don’t want to go.”

Stephen’s face softened. “Then don’t”

“I had fun last night.”

“Me too.” Stephen inched closer. “We should do that again.”

“You think?”

“Mhmm.” Stephen pushed himself up on his elbows, leaning over Edmund. “I think we should do it all the time.”

“You’re so beautiful.”

Stephen’s smile was brighter than the brightest star. He laughed softly and pressed his lips to Edmund’s.

___________________

Edmund was just starting to doze when he heard the door creak open. Light footsteps tapped against the floor and then the other side of the bed was dipping with weight.

He squinted his eyes to make out the figure. Robin.

She curled close but didn’t say anything. It was an unspoken agreement that they both needed this. Needed each other.

Their hands met in the middle of the bed, pinkies interlocking. They fell asleep to the sounds of each others’ breathing and both wishing they were sharing the bed with someone else.

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

so yeah,,, this is gonna be longer than i thought lmao

thank you to @gothbat99 for the motivation, you're the mvp fr

hope you all liked this one!

#steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #my fic: HITRI

15 notes · View notes

dino-fart · 1 year

Text

Preview of In the Dragon’s Lair

Pairing: Dragon!Stephen Strange X Female!Original Character

Genre: Action, Romance, Adventure, Smut

Summary: Ellyon Midus is an infamous knight in her kingdom of Briarwood. She’s the go to knight when it comes to slaying monsters. So when the king comes to her with the biggest challenge of her lifetime, how will she fair? Can she defeat the legendary dragon or will she be burned to ashes?

Summary | Preview

Please like if you want to be tagged in the chapters!

“So let me get this straight...You are going to pawn me off to a dragon so you can get some wenches?!” Ellyon raised her voice and stormed toward Baylan.

“Now, now, when you put it like that, it sounds awful! And after all, you’re the great monster slayer, right? You can handle a silly little dragon...No offense.” The knight turned to the dragon.

Ellyon gritted her teeth and clenched her knuckles hard.

The dragon chuckled and rested comfortably on his treasure pile. “This is going to be interesting, fleshling.” He smirked at Baylan.

Baylan looked at him confused then when he faced Ellyon he was tackled to the ground.

“You unworthy, ungrateful, pig!!” She gripped the collar of his shirt, shaking him.

“Elly, please!! Mercy, my lady, not the face!!” Baylan covered his face.

“I should have the dragon eat your face for such dishonor!!” Ellyon wrapped her hands around his throat.

The dragon moved his tail to wrap around the female knight and lift her from Baylan.

“Release me dragon! I need to show him the consequences of being a coward!!” Ellyon shouted and struggled in the tail’s hold.

The dragon brought her up to his eye level and grinned, his sharp teeth showing. “I think that can wait, right...Pet?”

“Pet...Pet? PET?! I am no one’s pet! Let me go, dragon! Surely another arrangement can be made!” Ellyon glared.

“Strange.”

“Yes this is strange! Now unhand me!”

Stephen raised his head up to aim at the ceiling. He opened his mouth and breathed fire to silence the woman.

Ellyon froze and felt her heart race seeing so much fire.

Stephen then lowered his head back to look at her. “I am Lord Strange and this is my castle. You will obey...Pet.”

Ellyon sighed in defeat and rolled her eyes.

Stephen was about to continue when he saw Baylan picking up some coins and gems. “And you...You vile, pathetic excuse for a flesh bag. LEAVE AT ONCE OR I SHALL FEAST UPON YOU!!!” Stephen roared so loudly that the entire castle shook.

Baylan dropped the treasure and ran out of the hall and on his way out.

“Fucking coward!” Ellyon shouted. She turned back to the dragon and was met with a sharp toothy grin on his face.

“Now pet, let’s set some ground rules.” He purred.

Dividers By: @firefly-graphics

Tagging: @k1mikoz, @wolfie-west, @fizzybubbletea, @strangesthirdeye, @pinkthick, @mynamehasbeentakenbysomeperson, @strangeswife, @silver-shadow, @thealleydog, @strangelockd, @slenbee

#stephen strange x oc #stephen strange #doctor strange x oc #doctor strange

22 notes · View notes

dollarbin · 5 months

Text

Dollar Bin #25:

Stephen Stills' Manassas

Okay, I'm afraid it's finally time to listen to some Stephen Stills. As I've previously mentioned, my famous brother claims that Manassas is Stills' masterpiece and that after listening to it I'll make a pilgrimage to the shrine of all things Stephen, make penance on bended knee and then be forced to invent a new villain for this blog.

But I refuse to believe it. First of all, excoriating Stills makes me happy, so why would I ever stop doing so? All the other potential villains I can think of are fictional beings (you know, Sauran, the Ewoks), or are actually evil and therefore not fun making fun of (you know, Putin, Trump) or are too obscure to continually mock (Danny Kortchmire, destroyer of potentially great records by Neil Young, Linda Ronstadt, Don Hendley and Carole King, comes to mind).

But it's not fair to not give poor Steve, and my famous brother, a chance: objectivity rules in the Dollar Bin, yes? And so I must submit to my famous brother's advice and, as George Michael instructs me, listen without prejudice to Stills' double album of dog droppings.

So, let's do this: Manassas, Stills' substitute-supergroup-screw-you to C,N and Y from 72 (C, N and Y collectively shrugged and made better music without Stills). Someone get me about 16 beers and a punching bag so as to periodically take out my anger.

Song of Love opens Side 1 and, despite the fact that Neil Young probably has sixteen different unreleased songs coming out on Archives 7 in 2048 with that same sucky name, this song doesn't suck as much as we expect it to, at least at first.

Stills doesn't sound too much like a dope as he opens his pie hole to honor Song of Love's lousy lyrics, and there's space in the mix for the keyboards, bass and drums to hold their own. But then we get to the guitar solo, which could be pretty sweet - after all there's a worthwhile surprise in it as Stills unexpectedly climbs the flagpole of his own enormous ego then greases his way back to down in a flourish - but in Stills' coked-up, record mixing, hands his solo glides around the stereo space: check me out! Stills brags; I'm in your right ear now; but watch while I slide the mix over the right side - and back again! Hey everyone, Stephen brags, I learned how to spin a dial: aren't I a very stable genius?

Even so, if the rest of Manassas is as good as this song, I'm gonna have to eat some meaty crow dropped by an Amazon drone. It'll be yet another gift from my famous brother.

Next up, after a pretentiously teensy song gap, comes a song called Rock and Roll Crazies. Nice title, Stills. Come to think of it, all his titles on this record suck (seriously: there's a song called Blues Man; another is called The Love Gangster. Someone Get Me a Bucket is not a song title from the record, rather it's a request I am now making because I already need something to puke in. Apparently there is no Stills' penned number on this album entitled I'm A Giant Dickhead; that must be an outtake.)

This song sucks. Stills is dispensing advice on how to avoid being stuck up should you become, like him, a Rock and Roll God; meanwhile his rhythm section, led by the from-this-point-forward forever intolerable Joe Lala, justifies its existence by beating on its entire wall of cowbells at once. I'm a devoted pacifist. And yet I already want to punch Stills in the face.

But it gets worse! Rock and Roll Crazies is apparently part one in a medley of musical torture. After covering us with peanut butter and inviting over a whole school of starving rats in Rock and Roll Crazies, Stills crushes us into jelly with an elephant ass called Cuban Bluegrass. 51 years later Cubans everywhere are still shaking their fists at Stills in rage.

And then it gets even worse! What circle of hell are we now in? This thing claims to be a three part medley but there are at least 7 different jams stacked up. Imagine Guided By Voices's Alien Lanes reissued as a double album, but the never before heard Sides 3 and 4 completely undercut every wonderful bit of the frantic, drunken, homemade colleague that is the original record. That's what's happening in my ears. Stills apparently spent days and days in the studio making this crap up without ever sleeping. I wish he'd taken a goddamn nap.

Currently he's telling me he is part of the Jet Set. It sounds like everyone in the band has their shirt off and is flexing while hired ladies shave their chests and pay them false compliments. I don't own any Jimmy Buffet records dedicated entirely to covering Santana because this is what I imagine them sounding like.

At the end of Side 1 the bongos go nuts and there's actually some pretty cool guitar and keyboard in Anyway and especially in the somewhat hummable Both of Us. Someone/s other than Stills sings too, which is a relief. Much of the time it's probably Chris Hillman, who, after giving up on Gram Parsons, made a career of riding the coattails of increasingly annoying people, from Stills to Crosby to disco era McGuinn. Joe Lala owes me an apology for everything that's happened in this experience so far. Stephen Stills owes me another beer. Go get it Steve!

Before we flip to Side 2 I want to introduce a few big picture reasons why all of us should hate this record/band/Stephen Stills. Many more will follow later in the post and for as long as I continue to write this nonsense:

Stills claims credit for his "compositions" on this record. Dude, you made this swaggering nonsense up on the spot, and then made us listen to it. You didn't "compose" anything. I teach English for a living, so here, Steve, is an example of a composition: Dear Stephen Still, You Suck. Sincerely, The Dollar Bin. Now, someone, take away Stevie's composer baton before he accidentally puts out Joe Lala's eye.

There is no clear order of the sides. The records (remember, this is a double album, so get comfortable as I probably have 6,000 more words of anger left to spill before this is over) say that Song of Love opens Side 1, but the back of the cover says that's the start of Side 3; the inside gatefold muddles things even further. But who am I kidding, no one really gives a flying fugelhorn, because I'm the only person on earth who currently listens to this record. But still, Dear Stills, decide on a song order and stick to it. Or tempt my wrath further!

And what's the name of this band anyway? Stephen Stills is on the spine. Manassas is the name of the album. But that's the band's name too. What the hell is happening here? And who let Stills name his band after a Confederate victory? If there's a statue of Stills anywhere on earth it too needs to come down, pronto.

Okay, it's time to listen, with a very open and marginally sober mind, to Side 2.

Fallen Eagle opens. But wait. I should note before I go any further that all of Side 1 had its own subtitle, The Raven. Aside from pretension, there is absolutely no explanation or excuse for this title, let alone any title, for what we just sat through on Side 1. As near as I could tell the songs were about either nothing or about being a rock and roll star. I trust that Edgar Allen Poe's descendants sued Stills' ass.

But where were we? Ah yes, Side 2. This one gets an equally pretentious subtitle, The Wilderness. Apparently Stills wants us to travel with him into the country, where he will reveal his mastery of yet another musical form. We're down home with Stills and crew now. There are nutty fiddles and more dull lyrics. Yee-haw.

Next up Stills has thoughts on Jesus Christ. Jesus, he tells us, Gave His Love Away For Free. Thanks for the homily Father Steve. The piano here is lovely though. There is a piano player in the band, Paul Harris, but Stills lists himself as another pianist generally so we never know who's responsible for any given note. This is reason #648 for why I hate this crap.

The third song is one of Stills' best: I admit it, he has a few good songs. But that does not lose me the bet, not by a mile, famous brother. But I'll play nice and let you all give a listen to the first thing on this record that's worth your time, Colorado.

youtube

All the vocals are tasteful, the piano and steel guitar are lovely. But is it the best song with that title from this era? Of course not! Everything one of the six good things Stills has ever done is second fiddle to all the truly good things in life. So, let's take a deep breath here and listen to Linda Ronstadt's Colorado instead:

youtube

Wow, that was a nice break. Back to work:

The song that follows Stills' Colorado, So Begins the Task, is also perfectly nice; indeed it's pretty good. Both songs would have been reasonable inclusions on Deja Vu. The fact that Stills was capable of making music this straight-forwardly enjoyable but chose instead to write songs like Rock and Roll Crazies is making me crazy.

The fiddles return for the side's fourth track, Hide it So Deep. This song is not as good as the previous two songs, but it's not atrocious . If someone were singing this at a farmer's market with their case open for tips I'd give them a buck and a nod, but I wouldn't stick around.

The Wilderness wraps up with what sounds like an International Submarine Band outtake, Don't Look at My Shadow. Stills returns to his favorite lyrical topic: describing how hard it is being as famously awesome as he is. I guess that's why he understands Jesus...

Anyway, Stevie Nonwonder wants us to know that after playing for 20k adoring LA fans a handsome man like him craves a little me-time. Poor Steve, it's such a hard life he has as a young, physically fit, white, male celebrity. Don't worry Stevie, we won't look at your shadow, or you, ever again as soon as this record is over.

Here at the 1/2 way point I want to complain about the album's lousy aesthetics. The album's two pull out sleeves have identical photos of Stills on all four sides. Steve, if you wanna be a big deal 70's artist and splurge for sleeves that aren't blank, or are adverts for other artists on the label, or that encourage us to send $1.99 for Loss Leader collections, then use your investment to make your record cooler. Please ask Neil Young to show you his pull outs for Live Rust as a sweet example, Steve. (And please note, dear George Lucas, who I'm sure is among my legion of followers, those are Roadeyes, not Jawas, on stage with Neil; there is no connection whatsoever between the two hooded beings, at least according to Young and his legal representatives.)

Thanks for checking in with Neil on how to do pull out sleeves right Steve-O. And while you're at it, please tell Neil that I'm sorry I spent a whole afternoon listening to your music instead of his.

But there are more complaints to be registered about the pull out's. Stills's two Manassas sleeves a) have an identical bad concert photo of Steve on all four sides and b) that bad photo is a straight up rip off image from Dylan's cover from Greatest Hits Volume 2, which had come out six months earlier. Proof displayed:

Stephen, Stephen, Stephen: you are not, and have never been, a peer to Dylan. If you're looking for a peer, track down my old next door neighbor Ken. His front yard was full of broken toilets.

Stills could have put his "supergroup" bandmates on these pull outs or given us something interesting to look at, like, for example, every one of Stills' guitars and football jerseys in a beautifully flaming heap, or Stills' cat giving him a dirty look. But instead he uses the pull outs as further proof of his own suckyness.

(A quick note on the term "Supergroup": adding Chis Hillman and Joe Lala to his lineup does not qualify Stills' group to supergroup status. Supergroups do indeed exist. The Traveling Wilburies come to mind, as does Yo La Tengo, or, say, The Beatles; each is made up of people who could be a huge deal on their own but set aside their egos (at least for a moment) to elevate one another as equals. My famous brother is in an actual Supergroup as we speak. When he records his next record with me, Fuzzy Samuels and Stills my famous brother will not call it a Supergroup; he'll call it a pity project.)

Don't pawn the record's artistic ineptitude off onto someone else: alongside every other credit he dreams up for himself on this record Steve also says he's the Art Department. Every photo on the entire album, except, incongruously, two little shots of his, surely furious, engineers, are out of focus, lame and self-obsessed. Stills is as bad at making art as he is at making music.

Okay, Side 3 is called Consider. I'm considering the use of a lot of four letter words I swore I'd never use in this blog at this point; Stills is busy trembling in his Velveeta Castle (which is surely Steve's favorite kinda cheese), sure I will at last hurl such invectives at him.

It Doesn't Matter is better than the average Stills track, and once again there's pretty good guitar solo, but saying "better than the average Stills track" is like saying better than my average episode of flatulence.

I've already spent time on the second song, Johnny's Garden, and unlike Stills, I'm not a plagiarist, even of my own writing, so go reread my recent Ringo piece if you really want to hear my analysis a Stills song that rhymes "shine my shoes" with "singin' the blues." The song does have some nice guitar picking, I guess. Steve's probably better than me at picking... his nose. Ha! Even my humor is currently descending down to Stills' level at this point. Next thing you know I'll be claiming responsibility for my own art department.

Bound to Fall is a cool change of pace. Stills didn't write it or sing it, so that helps. And there's a sweet Moog thing going on. Stills takes credit for playing the Moog, of course. He's probably telling someone right now that he invented the internet too.

How Far... Move Around... do you really need me to write about these songs? They're fine: Stills sings about nothing and everyone knows how to play their assigned instrument. Move Around is actually sorta pretty with the Moog again swerving about. I hope I never hear either of these songs ever again.

But we've gotta spend a moment on The Love Gangster, which ends Side 3. The perpetually grumpy Bill Wyman, bass player for the Stones, showed up to help write it. Stills and Wyman are great peers for one another: both were forever whining about having to share the stage with bandmates who made them look special (Neil Young and Jagger/Richards, respectively). Plus, both Stills and Wyman eventually ditched their masterful peers, sure that their solo greatness would be instantly recognized, George Harrison style. But instead, to no one's surprise except their own, both men sucked solo. Both dudes are still with us; they should start a band. Eric Clapton could play lead guitar, Stan Lynch would handle drums. They could open for Jay Farrar. We'd call the whole thing Comeuppance.

The Love Gangster, in case you care, is a wandering mess. Whoever sings with Stills (it's gotta by Joe Lala) is an even more atrocious singer than he is. Thanks for stopping by and making this all even worse Wyman!

And while we are on the subject of Wyman, we need to just stop everything for a moment and read this excerpt from his Wikipedia page. Feel free to drop your jaw in advance:

In 1993, Wyman's son Stephen Wyman married Patsy Smith, the 46-year-old mother of Bill's ex-wife Mandy Smith (with whom Wyman had begun a sexual relationship a few years before, when she was 14 and he was 48; they eventually married, then divorced). Stephen was 30 years old at the time. Therefore, the ex-Rolling Stone became his own son's ex-son-in-law, the father-in-law of his ex-mother-in-law, as well as the stepgrandfather of his ex-wife.

No, I did not make any of that up. Stills has had three wives, not to mention his affair with Rita Coolidge which led to the first of CSN&Y's many breakups, but none of his relationships were straight up criminal. Apparently we need to list Wyman alongside Trump in the "too evil to mock" category for this blog. And "The Love Gangster" must also be the non-tongue-in-cheek title of Wyman's biography. Let's not read it.

Ready for Side 4 of this monstrosity? It's called Rock & Roll Is Here To Stay and I'm frankly tempted to lie and say I listened to it already and just wind things up right here. But, like the poor lady in Julie and Julia who had to eventually cook all those gelatinous meat molds, I need to finish this terrible task.

Let's get Side 4 over with in one sentence shall we? What To Do is another piece of anthem rock crap; Right Now involves guitar slides that can surely only be performed while in spandex (Stills must have invented spandex too); The Treasure (Take One) may be better than takes 2-96 of the song and involve some sweet piano licks underneath the pomposity but it sounds like donkey testicles falling onto your dinner plate and involves wackachicka guitar moves a full five years before disco, plus the rhythm shifts make we wanna shift my own status to dead; and the last song is called Blues Man: Stills wrote it about himself and performs it solo so I'll just let you imagine the horror, the horror.

There, I did it: I listened to Manassas.

I'll see my famous brother next at Christmas. I'm already carving him a piece of coal in the shape of Still's terrifying goatee.

#stephen stills still sucks #bob dylan #neil young #manassas #julie and julia #Youtube #joe freakin' lala

6 notes · View notes

candied-peach · 1 year

Text

ao3: “all my troubles” rating: T warnings: platonic logicality, drowning, attempted murder genre: angst with a happy ending description: Patton should have known better. He believes the best in people anyway. It backfires. ( day 26: “Sometimes dead is better.” — Stephen King, Pet Semetary @tsshipmonth2020 )

Patton approaches the town hall, his shoes squelching with every step. He's utterly freezing, but he can't make himself care. He can hear them, hear them celebrating, and a coal of white hot fury flares to life in his chest, burning hotter than any chill could hope to defeat. He flings open the door, letting it thud off the wall, and the conversation and music jangle to a discordant stop.

Patton steps forward, his shoes still squelching and leaving river water stains everywhere. There is a shocked horror present on every face, guilt squirming underneath it. It makes him sick to his stomach.

"I'm not dead," he says aloud, the words dull and flat. "What did I ever do to you?" He demands. "I just had a garden. I had a garden and I helped your pets. Helped your children. I helped cure sicknesses and found lost livestock. Why did you-" He breaks off, with a dead little laugh. "It doesn't matter," he says.

"You're a witch," some daring soul blurts out. Patton's gaze could shatter glass.

"And?" He says. There is no more talk. "Did I ever hurt you? Kill you? Destroy your animals? Steal your harvest?" There is a shuffle of shaking heads.

"I did nothing but help you," Patton whispers. "And you tried to drown me." Water still trickles down the back of his neck, ice cold.

"May God have mercy upon you," Patton says. "Because I sure won't." He turns to limp back out, saying over his shoulder, "Sometimes, dead is better."

A clamor arises at that, a hubbub of panic and unease, but Patton's already waving a hand and shutting the door. He won't kill them, despite his words. But they'll spend a harsh night in the town hall. Maybe two. He's not entirely sure how well he's sealed the building, but it's definitely good for a night.

As he approaches the edge of the village, his black cat slinks out from a bush, meowing plaintively at him.

"You're right," he tells his familiar, who looks up at him with mismatched eyes and meows again. "I do have time. But first-"

He whistles, sharp and short and loud. There is a rustle among the bushes, then a man walks out. Another witch, who frowns at Patton's sopping wet appearance.

"Save the lectures, Lo," Patton says tiredly. Logan waves a hand at him, drying his clothes and hair, saying nothing.

"They didn't deserve your assistance," Logan finally murmurs. Patton sighs, and looks back one last time.

"The children did," he says. "And the animals. I'll never regret helping them."

"Fair," Logan acknowledges, tilting his head. "Come. They barely ransacked your house, so you should be able to change and pack properly."

Patton follows, no longer squelching with every step. His cat trots along at his side, meowing every once in a while.

The village is silent behind them.

#🍬.txt #sanders sides #eotp2022 #tsshipmonth2022 #logicality #platonic logicality #logan sanders #patton sanders #patton #logan #sanders sides fic #📚#ok to rb #peach writes

15 notes · View notes

midnighthangintree · 1 year

Text

Eras Tour Setlist and Surprise Songs (as of May 5, 2023)

I figured with this weekend being Nashville I should update this month old post.

Taylor Swift

Tim McGraw - March 17

Picture to Burn

Teardrops on My Guitar

A Place in this World - April 22

Cold as You - April 23

The Outside

Tied Together with a Smile

Stay Beautiful

Should’ve Said No

Mary’s Song

Our Song - March 24

I’m Only Me When I’m with You

Invisible

A Perfectly Good Heart

Fearless (Taylor’s Version)

Fearless

Fifteen

Love Story

Hey Stephen

White Horse - March 25

You Belong With Me

Breathe (feat. Colbie Callait)

Tell Me Why

You’re Not Sorry - April 21

The Way I Loved You

Forever & Always

The Best Day

Change

Jump Then Fall - April 2

Untouchable

Forever & Always (Piano Version)

Come In with the Rain

Superstar

The Other Side of the Door - April 28

Today Was a Fairytale - April 22

You All Over Me (feat. Maureen Morris)

Mr. Perfectly Fine

We Were Happy

That’s When (feat. Keith Urban)

Don’t You

Bye Bye Baby

Speak Now

Mine

Sparks Fly

Back to December

Speak Now - April 13

Dear John

Mean - April 15

The Story of Us

Never Grow Up

Enchanted

Better than Revenge

Innocent

Haunted

Last Kiss

Long Live

Ours - March 31

If This Was a Movie

Superman

Red (Taylor’s Version)

State of Grace - March 18

Red

Treacherous - April 13

I Knew You Were Trouble

I Almost Do

We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together

Stay Stay Stay

The Last Time (featuring Gary Lightbody of Snow Patrol)

Holy Ground

Sad Beautiful Tragic - March 31

The Lucky One - April 2

Everything Has Changed (featuring Ed Sheeran)

Starlight

Begin Again - April 23

The Moment I Knew

Come Back… Be Here

Girl at Home

Ronan

Better Man

Nothing New (featuring Phoebe Bridgers)

Babe

Message in a Bottle

I Bet You Think About Me (featuring Chris Stapleton) - April 30

Forever Winter

Run (featuring Ed Sheeran)

The Very First Night

All Too Well (10 Minute Version)

1989

Welcome to New York

Blank Space

Style

Out of the Woods

All You Had to Do Was Stay

Shake It Off

I Wish You Would

Bad Blood

Wildest Dreams

How You Get the Girl - April 30

This Love

I Know Places

Clean - April 1

Wonderland - April 21

You Are in Love

New Romantics

Reputation

…Ready for It?

End Game (featuring Ed Sheeran and Future)

I Did Something Bad

Don’t Blame Me

Delicate

Look What You Made Me Do

So It Goes…

Gorgeous - April 29

Getaway Car

King of My Heart

Dancing with Our Hands Tied

Dress

This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

Call It What You Want

New Year’s Day

Lover

Forgot That You Existed

Cruel Summer

Lover

The Man

The Archer

I Think He Knows

Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince

Paper Rings

Cornelia Street

Death by a Thousand Cuts - April 1

London Boy

Soon You’ll Get Better (featuring The Chicks)

False God

You Need to Calm Down

Afterglow

Me! (feat. Brendon Urie of Panic! at the Disco)

It’s Nice to Have a Friend

Daylight

Folklore

The 1 (era opener as of 3/31)

Cardigan

The Last Great American Dynasty

Exile (featuring Bon Iver)

My Tears Ricochet

Mirrorball - March 17

Seven (spoken)

August

This Is Me Trying - March 18

Illicit Affairs

Invisible String

Mad Woman - April 15

Epiphany

Betty

Peace

Hoax

The Lakes

Evermore

Willow

Champagne Problems

Gold Rush

‘Tis the Damn Season

Tolerate It

No Body, No Crime (feat. Haim)

Happiness

Dorothea

Coney Island (feat. the National) - April 28

Ivy

Cowboy Like Me - March 25 (with special guest Marcus Mumford)

Long Story Short

Marjorie

Closure

Evermore (feat. Bon Iver)

Right Where You Left Me

It’s Time to Go

Midnights

Lavender Haze

Maroon

Anti-Hero

Snow on the Beach (feat. Lana Del Rey) - March 24

You’re on Your Own, Kid - April 14

Midnight Rain

Question…?

Vigilante Shit

Bejeweled

Labyrinth

Karma

Sweet Nothing

Mastermind

The Great War - April 14

Bigger Than the Whole Sky

Paris

High Infidelity - April 29

Glitch

Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve

Dear Reader

Hits Different

#the eras tour #taylor swift #the eras tour setlist #jessielynnposts

2 notes · View notes

seawitch62 · 2 years

Text

A bus ride, what can go wrong?

Word count 748

Bus ride.

The bus engine purrs, clocking mile after mile. Passengers from the depot now firmly planted as they await their destination. Luggage stored in the allotted compartments, backpacks and handbags ride with their owners.

Several stops as new passengers alight and find a seat, some depart, mostly though they stay, they are here for the long haul.

Thinking herself fortunate she has a window seat plus the adjoining seat is vacant.

The seats are being occupied with each stop, fingers crossed the seat next to her remains unoccupied.

With her head in book, she barely notices the bus stop, and that passengers walk the aisle looking for an available seat.

Glancing up she notices a very well dressed guy, looking for a seat.

Please no! No! He is looking at the seat next to her. Not making eye contact, she avoids his gaze.

Any other seat please!

"Is this seat taken?"

"No"

The man then claims the seat, making himself as comfortable as one can on a bus.

Returning to her book, the story is building and the pages turn, one after another.

Shuffling and moving constantly. The man wriggles and squirms.

'Not an avid bus traveler' she assumes. His clothing alone speaks he has means to afford other modes of transportation.

"My vehicle broke down" he offers.

Giving him a wry smile, "sorry to hear that".

"I'm Donghae"

"Nice to meet you"

Noticing her non reciprocal introduction, "and you are?".

"Look I don't mean to be rude, but I just want to read my book".

Showing him her hardcover of Fairytale by Stephen King.

"My apologies, please continue reading your book".

Totally absorbed with the story unfolding, the passage of time escapes her.

"Do you like dogs?"

Concentration disrupted, giving a sideways glance to the source.

"Yes"

"A fellow dog lover" he replies with a beaming smile.

"These are my babies" he states proudly as he shows photo after photo after photo.

"They are adorable," she admits.

Pages of her book turn, the wheels of the bus amass mile after mile. The driver alerts the passengers they will be stopping in ten minutes, bathrooms are available and food for those inclined.

"I'm starving" Donghae tells her "care to join me ?".

"Yes that would be nice, thank you".

Seated in the quaint diner, menu in hand they order. Donghae offers conversation topics that keep them chatting till the food arrives. Not realizing how hungry she actually was till she began eating her meal.

Donghae's meal was large in comparison to hers, he digs in with gusto. "I will regret this later," he laughs.

The bus driver alerts his passengers that they will be departing in ten minutes.

Wheels turn, the engine hums, the passengers all lost in their own individual train of thought.

"Do you play Tennis?" Donghae enquired, "not for a very long time" she answers.

"We should play sometime".

Looking at him, she just smiles.

Like we are going to see each other again once we exit this ride.

The print on the page slowly blurs, eyelids heavy they reluctantly close.

Awoken by the screech of brakes, her body jerked back and forth.

The bus rolls and keeps rolling.

Feeling like she is in a clothes dryer, she tumbles and rolls in unison with the bus.

Finally the bus comes to a halt, she tries to move, realizing with dread she is pinned under a seat.

Terror takes hold and her body shakes, the threat now is shock.

"Speak to me! Are you hurt? Are you okay?" Donghae asks urgently.

Sobbing, "I can't move!".

Donghae takes stock of the situation.

Speaking calmly to the distressed frightened woman, "I will be right back".

Donghae checks on his fellow passengers, helping some off the bus carcass, organizing others to help those in need.

The unconscious driver is taken off the bus, passengers busily call the emergency services requesting immediate help.

The shaken and injured mostly cuts and bruises, help those whose injuries are more dire.

"Gas, I smell gas!" One panicked passenger screams.

Mayhem ensues, Donghae once more takes control, telling them to move back.

All the passengers are safely off the bus bar one.

Donghae runs onto the bus, he notices she is unconscious.

With time of the essence, the gasoline dripping, he prises the seat from the unconscious woman.

Gently he picks her up and carries her off the bus safely in his arms.

super junior

we are super junior

we are super super man

#donghae fanfic #super junior fanfic #super junior imagines #super junior scenarios #Donghae imagines #super junior fluff #donghae x reader #suju x reader #suju donghae fic #suju fic

14 notes · View notes

when-worlds-end-archive · 2 years

Text

The Marauders!

A/N - This one is one I’m very excited for! I grew up reading Harry Potter and I’ve always loved the Marauders era so I really hope I do these boys justice. Sadly, with the one day deadline I have for each of these (due to the challenge), I’m only able to do the first year. I promise I will be coming back to edit this after I finish the challenge to make it the true Sirius x Reader fix I intended it to be. In addition, I hate Peter Pettigrew so I didn’t write him in. Besides that, I hope you enjoy the fic!

Day 13 of Writer’s Block Challenge

Pairing(s) : Marauders x Reader

Summary : It’s your first year at Hogwarts and you make three new friends on the train ride there.

Warning(s) : One swear word.

Word Count : 1,205

Year One

“My dear, we are not going to be late,” your mother spoke in her infamous “mother knows best” voice as she pulled your sleek black suitcase from the car trunk. The reason for her statement was your brother, a current third year, who was impatiently tapping his foot while complaining about the time.

While they were having their normal disagreement about punctuality, you were running through your mental checklist. You wanted to sure that you hadn’t left anything behind during the chaos of trying to get out the door and into the car.

That should be everything, you concluded, checking off each item one more time; your textbooks, your regular books, your stationary, your cauldron, your owl Petram with his many toys and treats, a bunch of extra clothes, and some of your favorite candies. All of it was accounted for.

“Good grief, Max,” your mother muttered when you finally tuned back into the the conversation, her fingers pressed to her temple, Max listing off all the things your family had been late to, “just go.”

That’s all it takes for your brother to sprint off with his dark blue bag and suitcase in hand, his destination being the wall that would take him to Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

As he disappears into the bricks, you take the time to wonder how the first people to do this had felt. Had they been worried about slamming into the wall? That they been scared about the pain? Or were they excited like you were now?

“Are you not worried about being late?” Your mother asks, pulling you from your thoughts as you mindlessly follow behind him, your pace much more leisurely than his.

“No,” you grin, “I set his watch five minutes early. The train doesn't leave for another ten.”

With that, you take hold of your luggage and run towards the wall, a sneaking suspicion that you mother was shaking her head behind you. She wasn't a prankster like you or your father and she normally scolded you whenever you pulled one off successfully, not that it ever made you stop. She just didn’t understand your love for it.

After your pass through the bricks, your surroundings change from London King’s Cross Station to a large group of Hogwarts students saying goodbye to their parents and hello to all their friends.

Being a new student who didn’t know anyone, you instead pass off your luggage to the luggage man and pull yourself up into the train to begin looking for an empty or quiet cabin, someplace to plan your next few pranks. You didn’t shove those dung bombs in your bag for no reason.

The train was mostly empty but you found yourself drawn to a brown haired boy sitting in an otherwise empty portion of the train. The reason was the book in his hands, your favorite book, Misery by Stephen King.

“Is this your first time reading it?” You ask softly, awkwardly shuffling into the compartment so you wouldn’t block the middle path. You weren’t used to starting conversations so your movements were rather clumsy. You hoped he didn’t think you were weird.

His head shoots up in surprise and you quickly begin to apologize, “sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just don’t know many people around my age who also read his books.”

“It’s actually my second,” he answers, seeming to accept your apology, “and I could say the same thing. The name’s Remus.”

“I’m Y/N,” you tell him, “mind if I join you?”

He shakes his head and gestures to the seats around him in a “take your pick” sort of manner. With his permission now gained, you sat down across from him and pulled your thickest notebook out of your carry on bag.

This notebook had documentation of every single prank you had pulled in the past and planning for every prank you would pull in the future. Each page was a compilation of notes, lists, photos, and random souvenirs. It was a roadmap of all your favorite successes and you carried it with you everywhere.

You were in the process of writing down a new list of materials you needed for a prank when a boy with jet black hair and an untied tie opened the door, yelled out “fuck you Regulus,” and sat down beside you.

“Hey,” he waved to you both when he noticed he wasn’t alone, completely brushing off the fact that he was twelve and swearing already, “I’m Sirius.”

“I’m Y/N,” you respond, giving him a once over while Remus introduces himself, still slightly taken aback by the fact that he’d said “fuck.”

You already knew he’d be popular among the girls with his messy hair and unkept appearance. They wouldn't be able to resist his “bad boy” persona. They wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to try and tame him. You however knew better. It was never worth the hassle.

“So, how’d you two meet?” He asks, pointing between you and Remus.

“I noticed his book.” It probably wasn’t the response he was expecting but it was the truth and you weren’t one for trying to impress people.

Maybe you were being a bit short, maybe you were being a bit antisocial, but could anyone blame you? All you had wanted to do when you stepped onto the train was find a quiet place to plan your newest prank.

And you’d just about gotten back to writing your notebook when another boy opened the cabin door and stepped inside. This one had messy brown hair, green eyes, glasses, and a uniform almost as messy as Sirius’s.

“James,” he stated, taking a seat beside Remus, “and if anyone asks, I didn’t set off those dung bombs.”

“My lips are sealed,” you state, holding your hand up in a scout’s solute.

There was an unspoken agreement among all pranksters to vouch for each other whenever possible and you followed it to a T. The agreement kept pranks alive, it kept pranksters able to prank, and you wholeheartedly supported the cause.

“So the Miss is a prankster, eh?” Sirius nudges your shoulder playfully, his own hand mimicking yours as he catches on to the fact.

“Very much so,” you laughed, nudging him back, “my mother’s always wondered where she went wrong with me.”

“You should join me in a prank,” James suggested, beginning to get excited, “we could all work together. We could be a tag team.”

“A tag team implies that it’s just two individuals,” Remus pipes up from over his book, “the correct term, since there’s four of us, would be ‘team.’”

“Then we’ll be a team,” James exclaimed, not letting Remus steal his thunder.

“Then what will we be called?” You asked, deciding that it could be fun, “We need a name if we’re going to be a team.”

“How about The Pranksters?”

“Too bland.”

“The Pranking Kings?”

“I’m a girl, James.”

“What about the Marauders?”

“The Marauders,” you muttered softly, “I like that.”

“Me too,” James agreed, nodding vigorously.

“Me three,” Sirius added.

“The Maunders it is then,” You held your arm forward, waiting for the other three to place their hands on yours.

“The Marauders!”

#harry potter #harry-potter-imagine #marauders #the marauders #the maruaders #the maraunders map #james potter #james #sirius #sirius black #remus lupin #remus #james & peter & remus & sirius #no pettigrew

12 notes · View notes