#rock bottom ch 5

[toxicanonymity]

Rock Bottom Ch 5: Taste of God

3.5k words | Corey x Allyson (thinks about y/n & Michael), Corey x Michael (x2),

Corey is no longer in control of his actions, blinded by an incapacitating lust that overpowers his will to live.   He grabs the bulge in Michael's jumpsuit with his bloody hand, and his other hand begins to unzip it.  Corey is so hungry for Michael's cock he doesn't even stop to free his own from his pants.  As he lowers Michael's zipper, the large, calloused hands around his throat relax a little but don't fall away. 

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I really got into Corey's POV as you could tell from my recent surge of Michael thirst-posting lol. NSFW

Corey gets on his motorcycle and takes one last look at the entrance to the sewer.  That really happened.  They killed Doug Mulaney together, then they stood together against the wall, Michael's knife at Corey's throat, raging erections pressed so hard up against each other.  The feeling of Michael's hard length against him lingers, and there's a new hope swirling in his soul.  He rides to Allyson and Laurie’s house, exhilarated, reliving it all.  He keeps seeing Michael coming right at him,  stabbing Mulaney on his chest.  Michael, jacked full of dark energy, engorged by the kill.  

Corey has a completely different life than he did just days before.  Michael found him at the edge of darkness, grabbed him by the throat and said, "let's go!"  Corey has been in free fall since then, enjoying every seedy minute of it.  

As Corey gets closer to Allyson and Laurie's house, he has intrusive thoughts about the web he's weaving.  He really doesn't want to introspect - it's such a buzzkill.  But the old Corey is still hanging on somewhere inside him and loves to brood.   His feelings are a tangled mess of joy and gloom.  Lust and bloodthirst.  And in the heat of each moment, he's okay with it. But in the back of his mind as the high fades just a little, the possibilities spin like a mobile above a crib. He wants to sleep with Allyson and rub it in Laurie's face.  He wants to feel Michael inside him. He wants to be Michael inside of (Y/N).  He wants to fuck (Y/N) until she cries.  Why should he have to choose?  

He wants it all, but of course it's not that simple.  Most of the time, he’s graphically sure about what he wants from Michael, but there are moments where he wonders what could possibly come next.  He thinks about the things (Y/N) has said about Michael and wonders.  Really, how could she possibly know?  The fact that (Y/N) is supposedly off limits only makes him want her more.  He wants to find out.  And then there are the moments where he thinks Michael would be enough - that Michael could own him. 

His thoughts turn to Allyson as he parks his motorcycle outside her house.  He feels hope for who she could become - who they could become together.   And if he's honest with himself, he wants to take her from Laurie.  His core is pulled in so many directions.  He imagines himself in the Donnie Darko wormhole with multiple paths coming out of his core. 

Anxiety takes over.  By the time Corey knocks on the door, he's in tears.  Allyson's face says he must look like a wreck.  He's even more banged up than the last time she saw him.  “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” he says.  Her eyes blaze with desire.  She lets him in.

Corey’s inner turmoil fades away the moment their hands meet. 

***

Allyson unbuttons Corey's shirt on the way up the stairs, opens the door to her bedroom, then pulls Corey by his jacket onto her bed and he takes off the jacket and button-up.  She kisses him hungrily, pulls him into her with her legs, and as soon as she feels his hardness through his jeans, she unbuckles his belt.  There’s an urgency about her that Corey can relate to. He wonders if it’s contagious. 

Corey  kisses Allyson’s soft lips and pulls her tank top over her head, then she pulls his undershirt off.   He palms her breasts as they grind into each other desperately.  Allyson’s pale cheeks flush red as she frantically unbuttons and unzips him and her small hand grabs his package.   At the touch of her hand, Corey can only think of Michael, and his sense of urgency returns.  

In Corey's mind, Michael chokes Corey, stabs Mulaney, pins Corey against the wall, slices his jaw. . . 

Allyson gropes Corey needily.   Her tongue thrusts into his mouth as he unbuttons her jeans and she kicks out of them.  She looks so beautiful when she’s needy for him.  Her eyes are wild.  Her lips are red like a pin-up.   Corey pins her to the bed and sucks at her neck.  The hardness in his briefs meet the warmth of her panties.    

He grinds his arousal into her and thinks of his cock against Michael.  Allyson frees his stiff member from his briefs.  He shoves a massive hand into her panties and is greeted with the wettest warmth.  He needs to taste her.  He backs up as he pulls the garment  down slowly, kissing her stomach, and aims head downward, but Allyson yanks him back up.  She wants him inside her.   

Corey thinks of Michael inside (Y/N) and his cock hardens even more.

“I need you,” she says as she pulls him up by the underarms.  He kisses her ribcage before he obliges.  Once he’s close enough,  she grabs his swollen package again.  She closes her eyes as she massages it and spreads her legs, bringing it close enough that her pinky grazes her wetness as she moves the skin of his shaft.  Corey lays his cock down against her pubic bone first, then she moves it to her entrance and he hears her loud and clear.  With one thrust, he  plunges into Allyson.  She gasps at the stretch of his girth. 

He has intrusive thoughts about killing Allyson's ex, Mulaney, with Michael.  

Corey’s cock swells even thicker.  Allyson feels it and her lips part with a small sigh.  He thrusts into her, and she pulls his body into hers.  She wants it all, and he doesn’t hold back.   He plunges into her with all the power and passion that’s pent up in his core, and he does it again, and again.  She melts and moans and mewls, and he only pushes harder.    

Corey lasts longer than he has in days.  Allyson comes, whining his name, fingering his hair. Clenching around his cock again and again, moaning obscenely –  he hopes Laurie can hear – until her whole body relaxes under him and she looks at him, her eyelids heavy with love or lust.  Corey tells her he’s close, and Allyson slides out from under him, releasing his cock.  She pushes him down on his back.  She puts her hair up with a ribbon from her wrist, and promptly replaces her warmth with her pretty little head between his legs.  Her ponytail starts to come loose as she sucks his cock with gusto. 

As Corey gets ready to come, his mind is just Michael stabbing - his knife into Mulaney, his cock into (Y/N).  

His ass clenches and the tension releases all at once with a pulsing deep in his ass and an eruption – no, several — of cum into Allyson’s mouth.  She looks up at him with doe eyes as she swallows, her eyes watery. 

Corey looks at Allyson and sees an angel.  One he doesn’t deserve, but one that can fall – or, preferably,  is already falling.  He snuggles up behind her and puts his arm over her.  She takes his hand in hers and traces the wound.  Corey thinks about the way the doctor spoke to her and his veins run cold.  

***

As Corey drifts off, he falls off a bridge and into a dark river as warm as it is violent.  He has no desire to swim to shore.  He's swimming lazily, almost floating, with the current.  It carries him from fuck to kill to fuck with flashes of the last few days. 

Then, he dreams of Halloween 2019.  The opulent front door is open.  Corey is searching desperately for Jeremy and worrying more and more about Michael Myers as he steps into the attic.  Jeremy’s nowhere in sight, but Corey’s mother, Joan, is there.  The door slams behind him.  

"Corey, there's my baby. You want some custard?" Joan unbuttons her sweater and takes his head in both hands.  As she tries to pull his head closer, Corey's muscular neck stiffens in disgust.  

Out of nowhere, the huge, silver knife from the kitchen gleams behind Joan and her face contorts as it penetrates her back.  Joan begins to fall into Corey, then the mask comes into focus behind her.  Michael Myers catches Joan by the hair and yanks her head back toward him.  The knife slices Joan's neck, and as blood splatters onto Corey’s glasses, a wave of relief showers him, too.   Michael lets Joan’s body fall to the floor in a heap and steps over it.  Michael and Corey stand still and Corey gazes through his blood splattered glasses into the warm dark holes of the mask for what feels like forever until he forgets all about Joan. 

Michael lets the knife fall to the ground and outstretches his arms.   Corey steps forward, hesitantly, into Michael’s broad chest, then relaxes as the large arms engulf him, and Corey feels the strong embrace of a man for the first time in his adult life.   The arms tighten around Corey and his core tingles.  As soon as Corey’s cock begins to stiffen, the arms tighten more and he can't breathe.  He begins wriggling and thrashing, and Michael abruptly lets go, but then Corey feels cold and desperate for his arms.  Michael grabs Corey by the throat and slams him into the attic door, and Corey's arousal swells stronger.  

Corey reaches for the mask.  His fingers tremble as they  lift the bottom edge of the off-white rubber, then Michael’s large hand grabs the mask by the face and removes it. Michael’s  face and hair looks exactly like the mask.  His skin is chiseled but leathered.  The should-be whites of his eyes are a glistening black.  Michael stands perfectly still and breathes heavily as Corey reaches for the zipper of Michael’s jumpsuit. 

As he begins to pull Michael's zipper, Corey finds himself nude.  Michael turns him around and violently shoves him against the door face-first and Corey’s breath hitches.   Michael breathes loudly in Corey's ear and Corey feels a stiff, pulsing heat meet the small of his back then drag wetly down and up his crack.  Corey's lungs are floating in his chest and pleasure shoots from his shaft, through his balls, to his ass, and pulses. He’s rock hard.  

Michael's cock wedges head-up between Corey's cheeks, grinds against him, then slides down, finds his hole, and forces its way inside.  Corey shudders as he's impaled and feels every bit as full and alive as he knew he would.  Michael thrusts again and hits Corey’s most sensitive spot, the one no one has ever touched before, not even himself, the one that throbs at the thought of Michael who continues to bury his length in Corey again and again, banging him hard against the attic door until the door begins to weaken as Corey erupts in his sleep.    

The attic door disintegrates and Corey falls over the bannister.  As he tumbles through the air nude, he looks up at the attic door.  “Michael,” he tries to call out, but the shape in the attic door is Corey himself holding the mask. 

Corey wakes up just before he hits the floor.  His briefs are damp and he’s grateful he never fully discarded them. Allyson is stirring.  

Allyson rolls over toward him and speaks.  "Did you. . ."

Heat washes over his face. 

"Did you say 'Michael'?"

“It was a nightmare,” he tells her.  

She kisses him and falls back to sleep, but Corey doesn’t.   He slides out of bed and gets dressed.  He doesn’t wake her up, but he leaves a sweet note: “Great night.  See you later <3”

When he goes downstairs, he smiles smugly at Laurie on his way out the door. “Nice seeing you again, Laurie.”  

-

When Allyson’s clinic is about to close, Corey rides his motorcycle there and parks out of view with his scarecrow mask in tow.  He watches as Dr. Mathis gets into his Porsche with Deb from the Halloween party, then follows them to the doctor’s house. 

Corey creeps around the doctor's property and into the courtyard.  He grabs a drycleaning bag from the garbage and waits.  When the doctor goes inside, humming obnoxiously, Corey grabs a corkscrew from the faux romantic set-up by the fire pit and hides on the other side of the sliding door waiting for him to come back out.  As the doctor reemerges and starts crossing the courtyard, Corey sneaks up from behind and covers the doctor's head in a drycleaning bag.  

The doctor grabs at the bag and gasps for air and Corey tightens the bag around him with one large hand, coming down to his knees as the Doctor weakens and his considerable weight falls against Corey.  Corey then holds the corkscrew between his thick fingers and stabs him in the neck through the plastic.  The doctor's chest rises and falls as he tries desperately to breathe.  As he squirms and thrashes his head, blood smears around inside the bag.  Dr. Mathis finally stops struggling.  

-

A sliding door opens and Deb sticks her head out. "Dr. Mathis.?! " She steps forward and sees Corey in his scarecrow mask holding Dr. Mathis in the dry cleaning bag full of blood.  As Deb panics to get back inside, Corey drops the doctor and races to  the sliding door.  She slams his injured hand in the door several times before managing to close and lock it and grab the phone to call 911.  She recognizes Corey's mask from the Halloween party, and no one could mistake his strong, husky figure and curly hair.  Deb looks at Corey like he's the psycho she always thought.  The look wounds and enrages Corey. 

Corey sees something.  Yes, behind Deb, Michael Myers lurks in the shadows.  Corey's heart swells and his whole body feels warm and light. He bangs on the glass for Michael to let him in.  Michael lumbers toward Deb and snatches her by the throat, not missing a single beat in his heavy stride toward the wall.  As Michael slams Deb up against the large, abstract painting, Corey lifts up his mask and watches intently, unraveling his bandage, giving up on healing, letting the blood flow out, letting all of Michael flow in.  He wants to absorb as much as he can from Michael.  An incapacitating need floods Corey's body and thickens his cock as he watches his master effortlessly lift Deb by the throat.  He holds her against the wall, her feet off the ground. 

Michael stabs Deb in the chest with an enormous knife, pinning her through the art to the wall.  Her feet dangle from the ground.  Corey doubles over in arousal and presses his huge bloody hand to the glass, gazing lustily at Michael.  Corey is utterly his, soaking up Michael’s warm, thick, dark energy.  Michael slowly turns his head to return Corey's gaze.   The intimacy and intensity of the moment between them sends Corey to another level.  His chest heaves and he palms himself with his free hand.  Michael holds the gaze for a moment then admires his work on the wall before abruptly walking through the kitchen and exiting into the courtyard.  

***

Corey needs him so bad he can hardly breathe, but Michael is walking away.  Corey can't let him leave.  "No!," He yells   Corey hobbles, tripping over himself, scrambling to reach Michael while he's still in the courtyard.  He manages to catch up and cut Michael off.  Michael swiftly grabs Corey by the throat, slams him up against the outside of the house, and pins him to the wall with his thigh, adding his second hand around Corey’s neck.  "YES," Corey croaks, and locks eyes with the dark holes of the mask.  His arousal throbs into Michael's thigh and he can feel the hard shape of Michael's length against him once again. 

Corey is no longer in control of his actions, blinded by an incapacitating lust that overpowers his will to live.   He grabs the bulge in Michael's jumpsuit with his bloody hand and his other hand begins to unzip it.  Corey is so hungry for Michael's cock he doesn't even stop to free his own from his pants.  As he lowers Michael's zipper, the large, calloused hands around his throat relax a little but don't fall away. 

With Michael’s jumpsuit open, rays of light might as well burst from between his legs. It’s Corey’s first time seeing what Michael’s packing up close.  Corey's massive hands wrap around the stiff, veiny shaft.  Pre-cum beads at the monstrous tip and Corey salivates.  He looks back and forth between the mask’s eye holes, his brows furrowed, silently asking, begging for his cock.  Michael lets Corey's head slip through his fingers as Corey begins to fall to his knees.  

Corey admires the monster cock head-on just briefly before wrapping his mouth around the head desperately, like it might slip away.  He thinks to himself, so this is what God tastes like.  He unhinges his jaw and curls his lips over his teeth. He slurps the cock into his mouth, sucking hard enough to pull his head down on the shaft.  The girth barely fits in his mouth, and the length certainly doesn’t.  It requires his hands.  Corey sucks from the back of his throat and his eyes water.  He slowly drags the O of his mouth up and down trying to fit a little more of Michael down his throat each time.  The head nudges past his tonsils.  He unseals his mouth briefly to collect some drool as lube for his hands to stroke the rest that doesn't fit. He even dares to cradle Michael's balls for a moment.   

Michael, initially frozen, cradles Corey's head, nestling his large fingers in Corey's locks, causing the scarecrow mask to fall off the top of his head.  The gesture of acceptance has Corey feeling high as a kite.  He looks up with his dark, watery eyes and the mask looks down at him.  He can hardly believe this is happening.  Michael Audrey Myers is gazing down at Corey, cradling his head as he sucks him off.  Corey feels chosen.   

He wants to please Michael better than anyone else possibly could.  He lacks experience and relies largely on instinct, but it seems to come naturally.  He uses his tongue and the pressure of his teeth through his lips and sucks with his throat, creating a vacuum around the shaft.  Michael is tall.  Corey sits up higher on his knees to try more of a downward angle.  Michael moans softly and looks upward as his abdomen flexes against Corey's forehead.  The tears in Corey‘s eyes threaten to overtake his waterline already.  Corey's throat bobs as he continues sucking and stroking, then feels a twitch in his mouth, followed by a pang in his taint and that special place.  

Michael's hands begin to move Corey's head, shoving his length down his throat.  Corey gags and he likes it.  He’s grateful for every thrust, every inch. His mouth is stretched so wide the corners hurt.  And he's drooling.  His eyes prickle and tears run down his cheeks.  Then, Michael’s cock pulses and Corey’s mouth pulses with it.  

Michael places one hand against the wall and his other hand engulfs the crown of Corey's head, forcing him down on his cock as he erupts in Corey's throat. The pulsations are so strong, bursting every two seconds, the swell of his cock filing Corey’s mouth as cum trickles down his throat.  Corey struggles to keep his mouth sealed, not wanting to waste a single drop of Michael's seed.  He swallows with every pump.  

When Michael is finished, he takes his hands off the wall and Corey's hair. Corey lets go of this cock with a kiss and looks up again, desperate for Michael's approval.  But, Michael doesn't look back.  He merely zips up his jumpsuit and continues walking the same direction he was going, like nothing happened.  Corey is left on his knees, painfully hard, alone, and rejected.  And yet, he’s also brimming with joy that Michael is inside him, in a way.  Such a vital part of Michael is inside him, and he can feel it in every part of his being. 

-

Corey uses his sweater to wipe drool off his mouth and massages his jaw.   Then, he unbuckles his jeans.  He closes his eyes and his large hand strokes his throbbing, aching member, still feeling the ghost of Michael against his body and in his mouth.  He's startled by the sound of faint footsteps and opens his eyes to red and blue flashing lights illuminating the fog over the fence toward the street. 

The lights go dark, and the footsteps grow clearer. Corey puts his dick away, crouches low to the ground, and scurries into the shadows, past the sliding door, against the outside wall of the house.  He's squatting down next to the glass, still in need of relief, but he tries hard to focus. As he looks for somewhere to hide, static sounds from a walkie talkie.  

"Haddonfield Sheriff's Office,"  (Y/N)'s voice announces.  A bright light approaches.  

_______________________________________

Continue with Chapter 6

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#corey cunningham smut #michael myers smut #corey cunningham x michael myers #michael myers x corey cunningham #rock bottom fic #rock bottom ch 5 #custard #corey cunningham #michael myers #toxicanonymity ☠️ #rock bottom ☠️ #rock bottom fic ☠️

[feyhunter78]

Among the Sun Ch 5

Description: Miguel has finally returned home with his bride, but first he must see his daughter. Ch 6

Miguel carries you into the palace, your sleeping form curled against his chest, his steps echoing in the empty hall. He loves you. He has as loved you from the moment your eyes met his all those years ago, but he has not seen his daughter in many months. And he does not wish for your fear of being confined in yet another strange place to draw him from her side.

He lays you down on the soft bed, glancing around the sweeping chambers, meant to be used only for the night before your wedding. The Maiden’s Sanctuary, as it is called, is a place for future brides to rest and prepare before they are brought before their husbands. The ceiling towers above you, the windows soaring but locked tightly, and he has your meager possessions quickly stored in the various wardrobes about the room.

He doesn’t want to leave you here. He wishes to keep you by his side, but Gabi is undoubtably planning a multitude of ways to escape her caretaker and come find him, now that word of his arrival has reached the inner workings of the palace.

Miguel ensures you’re properly covered, then exits, locking the door behind him and nodding to his guards. He cannot have you blindly venturing further into the palace and stumbling upon the wrong person.

The walk to Margo’s chambers—Gabi’s caretaker since she was a mere babe—is not far, and his joy at seeing his daughter once more gives flight to his feet, the sound of her giggling reaching him before he even rounds the corner.  

He throws open the door, and Gabi darts towards the open door, flinging herself into his arms.

“Papá, Papá! I missed you.” Gabi says, burying her face in the crook of his neck, her tiny horns poking at his skin.

Miguel holds her tightly, dropping his head onto her shoulder. “Hello mija, have you been good for Tia Margo?”

Gabi nods, pulling back, her eyes meeting his, a bright smile on her face. “Yes, she said I could ask you for anything I wanted when you returned because I was so good.”

Miguel’s eyes flicker to the older woman seating in a wooden rocking chair. Her tanned skin is wrinkled, her dark hair slowly turning gray. “She behaved admirably, Miguel; you should be quite proud of her.”

“And I did not cry after the first week…well, there was a storm, but I tried hard to be brave.” Gabi adds, sticking her bottom lip out slightly at the mention of the storm.

“I am sure you were very brave, mija, a true princess of Neuva.” Miguel praises, shifting her to one hip as he nods to Margo and begins to carry Gabi back to her own chambers.

Gabi wraps her arms around his neck sleepily. “Did you find Mamá?”

He stumbles for a moment, his breath catching in his chest. “Your mother?”

Her mother, Ava, had abandoned them when Gabi was born, claiming she had no desire to raise such a demonic being . He’d warned her that there was a possibility their child would inherit his abysmal abilities and features, but she’d assured him it would not sway her love for them. He later learned that sentiment was not the only falsehood to come from his former paramour.

“The one from your dreams, the princess.” She continues, a yawn interrupting her words.

The tension growing within him like a thicket of thorns recedes. “We will discuss such things in the morning, you and I both must rest.”

“But I wish to see the princess.” Gabi pouts.

“Is your Papá not enough? You wound me, mija.” He says playfully, putting on an expression of mock hurt to make her laugh.

“Papá is always enough.” She reassures him, snuggling closer to him as Miguel enters their shared wing, and begins to set her down in her bed.

“Do not forget my candle.” She says sleepily, holding her stuffed bear to her chest as she drifts off to sleep.

“Of course, I would never forget.” Miguel lights the rose-colored candle and sets it on her small tea table.

The large candle was among the first gifts presented to him to celebrate Gabi’s birth. Ava had fled, and he was young, and alone, cradling a babe he felt unable to care for. He was a monster, a murderer, he did not deserve such a precious gift, such a pure and innocent being, and yet he could not—would not turn her away. It had been Margo, a former midwife and widow, who had given him the candle. It was the meekest of gifts, but only she had been brave enough to deliver the gift herself.

“Goodnight mija, I will come wake you in the morning, then we will break fast, and I will tell you all about my adventures.”

He hears her say, “goodnight Papá,” and a few tired ramblings about “breakfast cakes,” and “dancing bears.”

He muffles his laughter and closes her door softly before meandering back to the Maidan’s Sanctuary.

Miguel nods to the guards before reentering your chambers, exhaustion pulling at his bones, impatience at his feet. He simply wishes to lie beside you, as he has done for many weeks now.

But you are not there.

The bed is empty, your scent lingers only faintly in the air, and he cannot hear your heartbeat.

He roars in anger, taking hold of the nearest object—a table—and hurling it at the wall, feeling a familiar satisfaction in the way it cracked and shattered, splinters of wood littering the floor.

“Find her.” He demands as he stalks out of your chambers, enhanced senses searching for you, his mind set ablaze with panic and rage.

He does not wish to chase you, to hunt you like an animal, but it seems you leave him no choice. This is his home, he has bled to claim his rightful place within this palace of stone, and there is no corner, no nook, no cranny, that you might find that will hide you from him.

Tag list: @not-aya, @belos-simp69, @deputy-videogamer, @sxnasbitch, @maxi-ride, @minimari415, @syndrlla97, @gejo333, @lady-necromancer, @zeyzeys-stuff, @tayleighuh, @loser-alert, @envyjmoney, @allysunny, @princessloveweird, @freehentai, @xlittlebubx-blog, @berry-potchy, @drefear, @jkthinkstoomuch, @ihateuguys, @yuuotosaka3, @queenofroses22

#meg's writing #among the sun #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #spiderman 2099 x reader #emperor!miguel #princess!reader

[eddies-house]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Five - Cold Eggs

W/C: 6K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety attack, mentions of drinking

Some early morning honesty on the rocks. Eddie is fucked. In every sense other than literal.

A/N: I'm getting giddy over these two please tell me yall feel the same

Masterlist

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The Munson bachelor pad wasn’t as boyish and messy as you initially thought.  You were sober enough to make that observation.  It was cozy, much like your own home and was around the same size.  The kitchen was probably the messiest part of it however you didn’t get a peek at the bedroom which you assumed could also be very disheveled.  There were cereal boxes left open on the counter, Cocoa Pebbles being the one that caught your eye along with a neglected box of Rice Krispies that laid on its side.   

A few too many pots and pans cluttered the stove top and some empty cans of soup and Spaghettios were left to collect dust near the sink.  His refrigerator held a collection of magnets, some being letters from the alphabet, although quite a few were missing, and others were ads from a pizza place and a few fruits and vegetables with cartoony faces.  Among the mess on the counters, you also noted a few empty liters of soda and some crushed beer cans.  Budweiser to be specific.

Other than that, the living room you’d been sitting in was tidy.  There was a clearly used checkered blanket bunched up on the corner of the couch you’d been occupying for the past several minutes and a few car catalogs littering the coffee table along with a copy of Lord of the Rings, bookmarked with a coupon for ground beef clipped from the local ads.  Next to that, an ash tray nearly overflowed.  

His wallpaper wasn’t as ugly as yours, which you envied.  It was maroon with even darker stripes alternating, creating a dark but homey atmosphere.  The wall sconces on the other hand, we’re tacky.  They looked more medieval than anything, almost like torches.  The light wood floors contrasted with the walls and at your feet was a frayed rug that looked like it had seen better days.  Not dirty, just tattered.

In the corner sat an acoustic guitar painted with the words ‘this machine slays dragons’ and next to it was an electric guitar, red with cracks of black.  You’d never seen one like it before and it seemed to be well loved from what you’d heard every day, the endless guitar solos bleeding into your eardrums daily.  At least he was getting his money's worth out of it.

You continued eyeing your surroundings, taking in the habitat that was Eddie Munson’s home when your gaze lands on a particular object that piqued your interest.  It sat atop a shelf near the door, a lonely Garfield mug.

Before you could further examine the mug or even think of reasons as to why it was displayed, if it was even displayed, or perhaps it was abandoned in a hurry out the door, Eddie emerges from the bathroom just off the living room.  His curls are now wet ringlets toward the bottom, and instead of wearing your puke, he wears a red sweatshirt that reads ‘Indianapolis, Indiana’ on the front along with some baggy black sweats.  Despite his comfy clothes, his face is still decorated with that grouchy frown you’d grown used to.  Did this man ever relax his face?  His eyebrows were still pinched together either in thought or in irritation.

“I-um, I’ll wash the shirt and um the–the boots.”  You stutter, rapidly standing from your perch at the edge of his couch.

Though still a little tipsy, more coherent thoughts flooded your mind.  Guilt plagued you as you thought about the blanket of barf that coated his shirt and boots about a half hour earlier, abandoned on the front porch.  You were smart enough to avert your gaze when he lifted his shirt off of his torso just to let it wrinkle up on the wood planks to be dealt with later.  It wasn’t your fault that you’d caught a glimpse of the tattoos that adorned his body, some kind of dragon if you remember correctly, wound from his waist up to his ribs.  The others you didn’t have long enough to distinguish their imagery, though there were several along with what appeared to be some scarring of some kind.  You couldn’t be sure, the darkness from the night not allowing you a clear picture along with your hazy mental state.

“Don’t worry about it.”  He dismisses while you bashfully sit back down on the edge of the couch.

It was hard to grasp whether he was pissed at you or just at life in general.  You would take full responsibility for the vomit but everything before that was on him.  Yelling at you over a pile of broken plates seemed far more degrading based on his tone, the way he reprimanded you and painted you as this stupid girl, unable to stand your ground.  Maybe it was better that he fired you, you wouldn’t be subject to his obnoxious mood swings where he seemed to take everything out on you when shit hit the fan.  

You continued watching Eddie move about his surroundings, taking in how he interacted with his day to day environment.  What did he look like fully relaxed?  Lounging around, playing his guitar without a care in the world.  It was difficult to picture; the image of a moody man with a tensed facial expression the only one you could seem to conjure up every time rather than the vision of him with his feet kicked up on the coffee table, enjoying coffee out of that stupid Garfield mug.  You wonder if takes his coffee with cream and sugar.  Maybe just cream?  Or just sugar?  Maybe he drinks it black, that would be the most sensible option if you were going by his grouchy nature.

“Gonna find my keys, then we’ll go back to the bar to get yours.”  Eddie decides, shuffling through some items on the kitchen counter.  

The irony.

Agreeing with a hum, you allow yourself to lean further into the couch while trailing your finger over the faded plaid pattern, lines of beige crossing over white that temporarily held your focus.  The clinking of empty beer cans against the linoleum counter can be heard, and then footsteps into the bedroom just off the living room to your left.  Two idiots with misplaced keys under the same roof.

It feels as if the couch begins to mold around you, welcoming you into its springy cushions that otherwise wouldn’t be very comfortable but considering the night you had and the state you were in, you felt like you were on a cloud.  Your thoughts drift back to curious visions of Eddie.  What did his hair look like first thing in the morning?  Was it as wild as you imagined?  Curls sticking up every which way, frizzy and matted?  Or was it somehow still perfectly messy?  Boyishly messy.  

Did he take those chunky rings off every night, leaving them on his nightstand until the morning?  How many more tattoos did he have?  What movies did he watch?  What did he do for fun?  You suppose plucking at his guitars was a main contender with the way it would constantly invade your ears.  Obviously he read, your eyes catching that copy of Lord of the Rings on the coffee table again.  Maybe he worked on cars too, based on those car part catalogs.  

The image of him working under the hood of a car, all sweaty in some kind of tank top occupied your brain, his usually tense face hard at work with grease smeared along his cheek.  And his hands.  His hands would be coated in oil and he’d pull a rag out from his back pocket to wipe them off.  Then he’d smile and reveal those deep dimples framing his face so perfectly.  And then you would–

“Uh, Bambi?”

Eddie’s voice doesn’t do much other than cause you to stir in your sleep, snuggling a pillow while curling into yourself.  You were nearly drooling, completely content.  He couldn’t help but stare a little longer than necessary before realizing what a creep he was being.  Was he supposed to wake you?  If he was, he felt wrong doing so with how peaceful you looked.  He rolled his eyes but truthfully, he didn’t mind having a guest for the night.  

Maybe he’d be able to get some sleep for once.

–

Tossing around as the springs beneath you squeak, your mouth feels like it had previously been filled with sand.  Not an ounce of saliva coated your tongue, you were severely dehydrated.  You flung the knitted blanket that had rested on top of you off–when did that get there?  You don’t remember grabbing a blanket before drifting off into a deep slumber.  

This wasn’t even your house.

Collecting your thoughts, you recall that you had been sitting on Eddie Munson’s couch before apparently falling asleep.  It was still dark outside, signifying that it had to be early in the morning which meant you’d only slept for maybe two or so hours.  A lamp set atop a beat up side table in the corner was the only thing illuminating the room now.  Sitting up and stretching, your bones ached from the way they were piled on top of each other in the position you had been sleeping in.  Your right arm had pins and needles running up and down it from being cut off from circulation for so long.  

The groan that threatened to escape you was held in your throat as you scooted forward, only to find a full glass of water right there on the coffee table.  This was beyond embarrassing, this was humiliating.  If you could scurry out the door and across the yard back to your place you would, but you were in this predicament due to your own negligence.  

With no other options available to you, you gulp down the lukewarm water, just grateful that your tongue was no longer dryer than the Sahara desert.  But it still wasn’t enough.  Your thirst seemed unquenchable, at this rate you’d need approximately five more glasses.  So you stood yourself up, legs shaky and stomach a tiny bit queasy, and wobbled over to the kitchen.  You’d have to pace yourself to avoid throwing up a bunch of water since your stomach was so sensitive right now.  Food was out of the question but water was a necessity.  

Twisting the sink handle with a small screech of the metal, you fill the glass with a shaky and weak arm before sipping away.  

Slowly.  You remind yourself.

It must have taken around eight minutes to finish that second glass of water, coaching yourself through it the entire time.  You grew tired of drinking it but persisted anyway.  As you reach to fill a third glass, you’re startled by a figure in the doorway to Eddie’s room, unable to make out any features in the dim lighting.  With a yelp, you manage to drop the glass in the sink, it clanking around noisily but thankfully, not breaking.  

“Shit, why are you awake?”  Eddie asks, hands raised in surrender as he emerges from the shadows.

“Why are you awake?”  You counter.

He raises a brow, clearly wide awake.  He didn’t even have that gravelly, sleepy voice.  Maybe he hadn’t even gone to sleep at all.  There was no evidence that his hair was any frizzier than before and his face didn’t have that puffiness to it when you wake up.  It’s also possible that he just looked perfect when he woke up but if you’re being honest, no one really woke up perfect.  

“I, uh, I was reading.”  He admits, scratching the back of his head.

“Oh.”

An awkward silence trickles in, causing you to cross your arms as a means to close in on yourself, steadily backing up until you hit the counter behind you.  Eddie maintains eye contact with you as he retrieves his own cup from one of the cabinets, filling it up and chugging it down with ease.  You suddenly feel so out of place, like you were supposed to leave but there was nowhere else to go.  

“I, um, I’m sorry for…for the puke.  A-and for falling asleep.  I didn’t mean to intrude.”  You tell him honestly.

He only nods.  

“I can go…sit on my porch until you go into the bar.  And I’ll get my keys and be out of your hair.”  

A few drops of water roll down his chin as he continues drinking, the back of his hand coming up to swipe the liquid away.  He appears to be lost in thought, eyes concentrated on the counter in front of him where a few rogue Rice Krispies live.  You let your legs carry you a few feet away, your goal being the front door until he speaks up again.

“I’m not gonna be responsible if you get eaten out there.”  He grumbles.  

“Eaten?”

Eddie looks you up and down as if to say ‘are you serious?’.  To be completely honest, you hadn’t taken into account the wildlife that thrived throughout the area before you moved in.  Now you were looking more and more dumb by the minute.

“Bears?”  He offers an anxious head tilt.  “We have fucking bears here, Bambi.  You can’t just wander around in the middle of the night.”

“I wouldn’t be wandering.”  Why were you trying to make an argument?  Out of all the things you could fight him on, why were you choosing whether or not you’d get eaten by a bear?  “I would be sitting on my porch.”

You felt like the dumbest woman on the planet and you knew you should’ve stopped talking but the words just…came out.

“Bears can reach your fucking porch, you know that, right?”  

His large eyes bored into you in disbelief, his mouth slightly hung open as he awaited your answer.

“Y-yeah.”  You gulp.

“God.”  He scoffs, turning away from you, perplexed before muttering something under his breath that you happened to also catch.  “Christ, they shoulda turned you away.”

“Who?”  You pipe up, feeling a bit daring.

For a moment, he turns to stare at you blankly.  It’s almost as if you’re the only two people awake and if either of you happened to raise your voice in the slightest, it would awaken the town.

“The assholes that sold you that house.”  He just about whines, his voice an octave higher, frustration obvious in his tone.

The refrigerator light briefly appears over the blue and green tiled floor as Eddie opens it, reaching for something before turning around toward the stove and kicking the door shut.  

“What–what do you mean?  Turn me away?  What’s that supposed to mean?”  You ask in offense.

“I mean…”  He cracks an egg into a pan, followed by another.  “They shouldn’t have sold it to someone so clueless.”  Another egg.  

The shells are discarded in the sink, further cracking into smaller pieces at the impact he’d thrown them.  

“What?  Were they just supposed to reject me until someone more ‘qualified’ came along?”  You try to catch his gaze, ducking your head as he reaches for the salt and pepper.  “And–are you seriously making eggs right now?”  

You earn a scowl from him as his pan begins to sizzle, his hand quick to grab a spatula from one of the pots on the stove to flip the eggs.  This had to have been some weird dream or manifestation.  And there they were again, those three numbers falling from his lips in a whisper as his eyes shut temporarily while his eggs simmered.

“I was already qualified before you came along!”  He raises his voice, not quite to a yell but not very quiet either.

Silence. 

Your eyes must have bulged out of your head, Eddie’s features softening by the second.  Regret settled in his eyes, your face the vision of pure horror and all because of him.  

He got impatient.

His therapist would be disappointed in him.  And so would Wayne.

“I-I just…I was going to, um…”  He starts calmly.  “I was gonna buy it.  And, and I was—”  His breathing is now shallow, his eyes wet and pleading.  “It–it was–I don’t–”

“Eddie.”  You whisper, trying to break through whatever trance he was in.

He seemed stuck in his own head, eyes darting back and forth while he struggled to find words.  The eggs were on the verge of burning which prompted you to reach over him and turn the stove off.  The spatula he previously held clung against the tile.  

“I-I–um, I was–”  

It’s as if he isn’t even in the room, totally removed as the same few syllables fell from his tongue.

“I’m–I-I–”

“Eddie, it’s okay.”  You attempt to soothe him.  “Do you wanna sit down?”  You ask, trying to catch his eyes but failing as he squeezes them shut.

Again with the counting.

One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.

All under his shaky breath.

“I-I’m fine.  ‘M fine.”  His voice cracks, eyes opening timidly.

When you go to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder, he flinches, a gasp leaving his lungs.  Forcing yourself a few steps backward in order to provide him the space he needs, you recognize a hint of fear within him.  It’s not of you, it’s something else yanking at his thoughts.  

“Sit down, let’s sit down, okay?”  You instruct, gradually lower yourself, waiting for him to follow your actions.

Nodding, he slowly slides his back down the side of the counter, falling into a position where his knees were to his chest, hands resting against the floor.  You join him, still keeping your distance but wanting him to know that despite the previous tension, you were being supportive through his episode.  Whatever it may be.

“Breathe.”  You tell him, just as he had done with you back at the bar.  “In…and out.”  You encourage him.

He follows, his breathing still labored but improving.  Continuing for a minute or so, his shoulders finally loosen up, his face relaxing.  You let him guide the situation from here, if he wanted to talk or remain mute.  Either was okay.

Moments pass, the hard kitchen floor causing you discomfort that you willingly take, not daring to shift around too much as to keep the tranquility finally falling over the two of you.  Instead, you take interest in the wood grain of the cabinets, eyes wandering around each curve like a maze, sometimes identifying shapes along the way.  A dog’s face, a ghost, and occasionally the haunting silhouette of a human.  

Sneaking a glance at Eddie, you find that his eyes are shut as he rests his head against the cabinet behind him, his hands fidgeting with the strings on his hoodie, tying little knots and then undoing them just to repeat the process.  Your watch indicates that it’s 4:03 AM.  You would usually be sleeping however you can’t really offer yourself much sympathy when it seems this is the norm for Eddie.  He always had tired eyes though you’d never put much thought into it until now.  He must not be sleeping.  Which could also be a contribution to his moodiness.  

“I’m gonna lose the bar.”  Eddie speaks up from beside you, eyes still shut as he continues to fidget.  

“Hm?”  You turn your full attention to him.

There’s a pause, a moment of thinking.  You can tell as he opens his eyes and side-eyes you, not with malice but more so to collect his thoughts.  Lips pinched in between his teeth roughly, you could almost wince at the way blood surfaces from the poor abused skin.  Not too obvious, but obvious enough as you await clarification, the tiniest bit of crimson seeping out from behind his teeth only to be left to dry out on his perfectly shaped lips.  Then he breaks the silence with a heavy exhale.

“I, uh, I’m pretty close to losing it.  Can barely pay the bills on the damn place.  Been going downhill for a few months now.”  He elaborates, spinning a ring around his finger repeatedly .  “I was gonna use the rest of my savings that my grandpa left me to buy that house.  Rent it out.  I talked to a friend who’s really good with all that financial shit and he said I could get a steady income and most likely keep the bar running and profiting again.”

“Oh.”  You whisper, a huge sensation of guilt overtaking you.

“Not your fault.”  He sighs.  “Guess I’ve been kinda taking it out on you.”

Now he avoids your gaze, far more interested in the cracked tile beneath him.  A curse can be made out from just under his breath while he buries his head in his hands, running them up and down his face, almost as if to relieve some of his stress but having no such luck.  His admission catches you off guard, not at all suspecting that this morning would turn into honesty hour.

“No.”  You reply quickly.  “I mean…yes.  But I-I didn’t know.  If I knew–”

“Don’t give yourself a stroke, Bambi.”  He cuts you off, turning to look at you.  “I’m not proud of how dick-ish I’ve been.  It’s nothing personal though.”  Eddie confesses, seemingly annoyed with himself.

Sincerity floods his eyes, a cry for help.  But how were you supposed to help him?  Before you can muster up some kind of response to his almost-apology, he continues.

“I-uh, I just can’t lose this bar.  I inherited it from my grandpa and he had been running it for…years.”  Behind his persistence, there’s hints of defeat.  A bitterness that you’d come to recognize in the last few weeks.  “And, uh, I didn’t know ‘im for very long but, I kinda feel like it’s my responsibility.”

“Didn’t know him for very long?”  You asked before even calculating the consequences.  You had no right to pry into his personal life.

His hands begin to move up and down his shins, a self-soothing gesture from what you can tell.  Eddie was very fidgety, and you’d only just started noticing.  

“Yeah.”  He whispers.  “I moved here like four years ago.  Some bad shit happened back home and I–”  There’s a moment of hesitation, a sudden panic lurking behind his gaze.  “I can’t go back.”

You want so badly to ask him where ‘home’ used to be but decide against it.  He had already willingly offered you more information than you would have originally been brave enough to ask for.

“Anyway, I never really knew my grandpa until I came here to live with him.  He died last year.  I’ve been trying to keep things afloat since then.”  He explains, pinching the bridge of his nose with a shaky hand.

“I’m so sorry.  I-I didn’t know.”

Genuine sympathy drips from your voice, the kind that felt like hot honey running down a sore throat during flu season.  During the moment it feels…good.  Comforting.  In the way that only his mother ever was in the brief time they had together.  And then the sting returns.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”  The walls are rapidly raised once again and god knows when you would get to peek through the cracks again.  “We should, uh, we should get to the bar so you can get your keys.  And your car.”  He suggests, pulling himself up from the floor with a groan.

“Wait–what about your eggs?”  You mention, gripping the edge of the counter for leverage as you stand.

The eggs were long forgotten about, now all sad and cold in the pan.  Unappetizing.  One of the yolks had somehow broken among the commotion of Eddie’s panic and left a disgusting coating around the gaps, that eggy-wet-dog smell nauseating you.  They were trash in all honesty but Eddie didn’t seem to mind, quickly lifting the pan and grabbing a fork to shovel them into his mouth.

You can’t fight the urge to stare, cold eggs and runny yolks being tossed into his mouth without a second thought.  

“What?”  He glances at you in irritation.

“You could’ve at least heated them up.”  You complain, nose crinkled in revolt.

He rolls his eyes but his annoyance quickly melts away, a fraction of a playful smirk pulling at his lips, eyes gleaming with something captivating.

–

The scent of tobacco and motor oil invades your nose, the smells of Eddie’s truck, much different than the little pine tree air freshener in the car he’d driven you in last night.  The engine rumbles down the road, startling the birds as he drives by.  Some kind of guitar riff blares through the radio, his ringed fingers tapping along against the steering wheel.  Instead of his sweatshirt and sweatpants, he now wears a long sleeve covered with his leather jacket along with some ripped up blue jeans.  As far as you’re concerned, he’s way underdressed for the brisk morning air, only getting colder and colder by the day.  Though, he may run hot and the drop in temperature just doesn’t faze him.  Even so, it’d make you feel better if he at least put on a heavier coat.

Regardless, you can’t seem to control the shivers that rattle your body, your teeth nearly chattering, jaw clenched tightly.  You were mentally scolding drunk-you for forgetting your jacket at the bar and though you were on your way there now, it didn’t do you any good with the way you were practically an ice cube.  It was apparent that the heater of Eddie’s truck wasn’t very efficient as the air coming out was slightly warm but not warm enough to relieve the cold nipping at the exposed skin of your arms.  You could see your breath, only further reminding you of how cold you truly were.

Attention was the last thing you wanted as you subtly moved your hands that rested politely in your lap, up your arms to offer the tiniest bit of skin-on-skin warmth.  Any kind of relief would do.  You only hoped he wouldn’t notice as you began to move your hands back and forth as a means to create some friction, more heat.

Buy a large, fuzzy, soft coat, ASAP.  You note to yourself.

As a distraction, you begin to identify objects within the truck, a solo game of ‘I spy’ if you will.  At your feet, there’s a small crate of cassette tapes.  An impressive collection, mainly metal and rock from what you can see.  Maybe a few folksy ones behind those based on the labels, John Denver being the one that stood out to you.  Then, another car parts catalog on top of the dash.  An empty can of Dr. Pepper in the cup holder.  Or what you assume to be empty.  A definitely empty cigarette carton abandoned in the other cup holder–

“Shit, here.”  Eddie says, reaching behind into the back seat only to magically pull out a denim jacket covered in several patches and pins.  

Evidently, you weren’t playing it as cool as you thought, clearly somehow exposing that you were in fact freezing.  He showed no emotion as he urged the jacket into your reach, eyes still focused on the road.  Your hesitation only had him pushing the denim into your hand, wordlessly cautioning you that he wouldn’t have your modesty or insistence that you were fine.  Clutching the rough fabric in your hand, you pause to stare at him, as if he was going to change his mind any second.  He doesn’t.  Only keeps his eyes forward, brows furrowed in that grumpy manner.

His nose is pink again and you were willing to bet that the tips of his ears matched if they hadn’t been hidden by his wild hair.  Even his cheeks were dusted with the lightest rosy shade.  Fall looked good on him.  You couldn’t even imagine how amazing Summer would look on him.  

Quickly, you undo your seatbelt and shrug the jacket on.  It’s cold from living in the truck all night but warms you up regardless, much cozier than your bare arms out in the open.  And it smells like Eddie, a smell you can’t quite pinpoint to one specific thing.  A little bit like cigarettes, maybe a hint of cologne, spicy but not overpowering, and a whiff of rubber.  It almost smelled like a garage.

The sun was just rising on the horizon, the lake coming into view perfectly as if to put on a show.  Hues of orange painted the sky, birds chirping and squawking as they announced the arrival of a new day.  An apricot dream accompanied by peachy tones.  

–

The Bourbon was a shell of itself at 5:00 AM.  The morning was bright and early though the bar wasn’t ready to awaken just yet, not until the evening when it thrived.  Until then, it slept peacefully throughout the day, forgotten about until Happy Hour.  Ribbons of light snuck in through the blinds, illuminating the smallest sections of the tables and the floorboards.  

The lights quickly took over that magical early morning feel as Eddie emerged next to you, hands tucked into his pockets while you scanned the room.  And there they were, your keys.  Sat right on top of the bar just as you had remembered.  Your jacket, however, was nowhere to be seen.  

Bummer.

You could’ve sworn you grabbed it from the back lockers before you declared war on Eddie last night.  It wasn’t there either, your locker devoid of your belongings other than a pad of paper and a pen.  

“Have you seen my jacket?”  You ask Eddie, checking the barstools just to be safe.  Nothing.

He had slipped right back into work mode, even at the crack of dawn.  You suppose it's fair though, the information he had shared with you in the quietest hours of the morning resonating in your mind.  Work never stopped for him.  

“Hm?  No, I haven’t seen it.”  He answers, collecting the dirty rags from their designated bin behind the bar to start them up in the wash.

With a soft pout, you trace your steps in your head but can’t seem to recall where you’d left it, your brain failing you.  Maybe it would eventually pop up again, it wasn’t anything special anyway.  It just happened to be one of the heaviest jackets you owned so you would have to remember to stop by one of the shops to search for something equivalent.  Beginning to pull your arm out of the sleeve of the jacket you currently wore, Eddie’s voice stops you.

“Just–keep it ‘til you find yours.”  He says.  Like he knew.  

Were you that obvious?  Girl moves to a random town miles and miles away from home only to be unprepared for the weather conditions in which you would think she would be aware of before committing.

“No, it’s–”

You immediately shut up when you see his expression, something that says ‘for the love of god, just listen’ with glaring eyes and furrowed brows.  Instead of fighting him on it, you offer your gratitude in the form of labor.

“Um, I could stick around…and help.  If you need.”  

Your words float in the air, so delicate it makes him want to vomit; not out of disgust but out of confusion for whatever feeling was swirling around in his head, making him dizzy.  Each word was too sweet, cavity inducing sweetness that he wanted to lick up like icing.  He wasn’t used to being presented with such regard, a candied offer delivered right from your pretty lips to his ears.

“If I still have a job.”  You add.  Sugary syllables pouring from your lips unintentionally.  He may have a heart attack from the amount of sugar.

Eddie collects himself, clears his throat as if to also clear his conscience, not succeeding.  You’re so unlike everything that he knows.  He knows of friendly conversation and boyish banter, endless nights followed by endless days without sleep, he knows of his shitty attitude that comes around more often than not, but he’s never been one to know pure kindness, a certain tenderness radiating from you and seeping into him.  Sure people are kind to him, especially here.  But you’re something else.

“Yeah.  Yeah, ‘course you have a job.”  He affirms.  

The small smile you grace him with makes him want to jump off of a bridge.  Because he is such a cruel being, such a monstrous man awaiting further punishment from the universe for being much less than gentle with such a sweet-tempered, sympathetic human that may even be a gift from god himself if Eddie believed in all that.  

And then Chrissy crossed his mind.  He could not endure another loss.  Chrissy was never even his but he used to mourn what could have been had she lived.  Perhaps she was his first love.  A miserable little middle schooler pining after Hawkin’s Sweetheart all the way up until highschool.  And the moment he got close enough, she was gone, right in front of his poor traumatized eyes.  It was enough for him to swear off love for good.

For some reason he was finding himself wanting to dial back on that promise.  He had only known you for around two weeks and was going back on his own word.  It was freaking him out, making him want to yank his hair out from the roots and collapse onto the floor.  He felt like a teenage boy again, going through puberty and trying to work out all of his jumbled feelings and hormones.

You were staring at him expectantly and it was only then that he realized he had been lost in thought.  A pool of thoughts actually.  Maybe even having a revelation?  

“You can uh…”  He clears his throat, nearly hacking up a lung.  “You haven’t…you haven’t eaten, have you?”  

Internally, he’s scolding himself.  

You’re gonna get hurt before you can even get close.  People are not meant to love you, Munson.  It’s been proven time and time again.  Quit while you’re ahead.

He was too far ahead anyway.  Would he ever learn his lesson?  

People are not meant to love you.

“No.”  You answer sheepishly.  “But I-I’m fine!”  You try to say convincingly.  The reality was that your stomach was swallowing itself, the fact that your dinner had been four tequila shots was not favoring you.  

“Bambi.”  Eddie says sternly.

God she’s gorgeous.

He was fucked.

“Okay…fine.  I haven’t eaten.”  You admit.  “But I can help out a little and then–”

“C’mon.”  He demands, abandoning the bin of dirty rags to head for the kitchen.  

And on the way, he reasons with himself as you follow.

Just be friendly.  There’s nothing wrong with being friendly.  We can be friends.  Stop scaring the shit out of yourself.  She wouldn’t even like you beyond that.  No one would.  

“So, what are you feelin’?”  He asks, knocking his knuckles against the metal worktop.

“Oh, I-I don’t know.  Whatever is easiest.  You know what, I can just go get something from one of the shops, I’m sure that little pancake place is open by now.”

“You don’t trust my cooking?”  He jokes, amusement written all over his face.

To be fair, he hadn’t given you much reason to trust him since you arrived.  But somehow, layers were starting to peel back and you were getting the tiniest glimpses of his true self.  And you’d be stupid not to indulge when he had practically propped the door to his mind right open.  At least for the time being.

“Should I?”  There’s a huge grin on your face, a stupid grin that you try to conceal but can’t.  “I dunno, you kind of have me wondering if you’re gonna spit in my food or something.”  You quip.

“Ouch.”  Eddie feigns hurt by bringing a hand to his chest.  “You think I’m that scummy?”  He asks, raising his brow playfully.

“Oh, the scummiest.”  You banter back.

“You’re breakin’ my heart Bambi.”  He frowns before disappearing into the walk-in freezer, discarding his leather jacket on a hook on his way.

Truth be told he was breaking yours too, with his handsome face and his dumb smile, deep dimples you could think about for hours, and those eyes.  They told a story, a tragic story that maybe he would never care to share.  And that’s what broke your heart.  Suffering in silence.  You knew that feeling all too well.

“By the way…”  Eddie shouts from the freezer before appearing once again.  “I’m Eddie.”  He sticks his hand out toward you, two eggs held in his free hand.  

You look up at him, bewildered.  

“I never asked for your name.”  He reminds you with a shit-eating grin.

The Eddie you met weeks ago was gone as far as you were concerned.  All within a few hours, he seemed to warm up to you.

The scary dog was rolling over…for you.

~end~

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[bibbykins]

Moonlight Reign Ch. 5

A/N: Lmao hi! I'm back and this chapter is sorta boring but trust the process! Hopefully next chapter will be much sooner! Basically I post a chapter once I have the following one or two done~ Please enjoy and send asks and all that! I keep meaning to make a banner for this series, and one day I will have one!! As usual everyone thank @rapline-heaux my wonderful beta reader who read this months ago lmaooo

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yandere Mafia! BTS x Reader

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, poly relationship, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mafia activities, crime, manipulation, crying, trauma, sensory flashbacks, murder, pining, past abuse, past neglect, familial issues, academic neglect, Taehyung and Jimin being mean, abandonment

By the time Jungkook returned to his apartment, all six of his lovers were seated around his dining table, waiting for him. The men looked at the youngest with an aura of moderate annoyance. They hated tardiness, and Jungkook could only imagine the story he spun about you.

“How are you going to be late to the emergency meeting you called?” Jin asked, sighing as he checked his nails impatiently. 

“Go on, tell em where you were.” Taehyung snipped, but Yoongi clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“Don’t bother, he already whined about it.” Namjoon sighed out.

Jungkook snorted, “Yeah, I can tell by the way Jimin looks pissed too.” The MMA fighter bristled at this but sighed, crossing his arms. 

“I’ll never understand what you guys have against her.” Hoseok rolled his eyes, “How is she, dare I ask?” He sarcastically spoke, “According to Tae she’s the Devil incarnate.” 

Jungkook rolled his eyes at this, landing on the man in question to send him a glare, “Did he tell you how much of an asshole he was?” 

“Funnily enough, he neglected to mention his behavior.” Yoongi spoke, not breaking his eye contact with Taehyung who shrunk in his seat a bit, “I also will never understand why she gets under both of your skin so much.” He looked to JImin who shifted in his seat, “None of our trysts have ever gotten to you both.” 

“She’s different.” Taehyung snarled bitterly. No one said it, but the sentiment was there. You were different because Jungkook kept going back to you. You were different because instead of making him worse and leaving them to pick up the pieces, you made him… better. You helped him come from the depths of rock bottom in a way none of them had been capable of doing due to their own internal battles, and it weighed on the two men in a way that guilt could never fully encapsulate. 

“Anyways.” Jungkook spoke, plopping down next to Yoongi who sat at the head of the table, “I’m sure everyone here wants to know why I called you here?” He asked, and the men looked on expectantly. It was rare for Jungkook to call these meetings, especially so close to the anniversary date. Truthfully, he was surprised that they were all even able to attend in the first place, but it was all fate after all, at least in his eyes, “Well, I have just given us the best anniversary gift yet.” The men in the room perked up noticeably. 

“Did Byungjoo seriously give you something useful?” Jimin asked curiously, “I thought I was supposed to go in tomorrow because he’s not talking about the old man’s whereabouts?” He looked to Namjoon whose gaze stayed fixed on Jungkook.

“Yeah… you told me he wasn’t squealing?” The CEO asked suspiciously.

“And he didn’t, not about Byungyeol.” Jungkook confirmed, “But he did mention something… about the girl.” Yoongi’s back was pin straight as the younger man spoke. 

“Isn’t she dead?” Hoseok asked, making Yoongi’s jaw set. 

“Hey, we don’t know that for sure,” Jin argued for the sake of the second oldest who waited for Jungkook to continue with bated breath.

“Oh come on.” Taehyung huffed out, “That fire–”

“Enough.” Yoongi grit out, “Let him finish.” 

Jungkook smiled a bit, all too eager to finally have you out in the open, “She’s alive.” The room went still as he continued, “He gave me her name, and I had to check it out to make sure he wasn’t lying but… I found her.” 

“No way.” Jimin gasped, turning to the older man who had a lump in his throat, “What did you wanna do with her, boss?” The title was a bit sarcastic, “She sharing the same fate as Byungjoo?” 

“No.” Jungkook and Yoongi spoke in unison, making the two look at each other curiously. Everyone in the room knew Yoongi had a certain fixation on finding the green girl, especially as they were preparing for the fall of the Moon group, but they weren’t sure why. The only person who really knew had been Jin who remained as tight-lipped as ever about the topic. 

Yoongi cleared his throat to break some of the tension, “No, I don’t think I plan to kill her.” He spoke cooly, but Jungkook’s jaw set at the mere possibility.

“None of us will be killing or harming her.” Jungkook proclaimed, making the two bosses in the room glared at him. 

“That’s not your call to make, JK.” Namjoon reminded him, but he shook his head in defiance.

“Why do you even care?” Jin asked curiously.

Taehyung watched with squinted eyes as he studied the scene before him. Jungkook never once cared about who lived or died. Hell, he hated attending most meetings. It didn’t make sense why he’d care about some random girl he didn’t know–

Oh. 

Rage bubbled in the pit of Taehyung’s stomach as the puzzle pieces clicked into place, “It’s because she’s been right next door this whole time, isn’t it?” He piped up, and Jungkook’s glare at him deepened, “She’s fucking dea–” Taehyung stood and Jimin followed suit.

“Sit down.” Yoongi hissed, and the men had no other choice but to listen as he turned to the maknae, “Is that true?” 

Jungkook pursed his lips and let out a short laugh, “And I had no fucking clue,” He admitted, and Namjoon wanted to bang his head on the table. All of the men knew that Jungkook wouldn’t lie about this kind of thing, not when it meant so much to Yoongi, but still–

“How could you be so careless–” 

“We all thought she was dead!” Jungkook defended himself, and Yoongi remained quiet, “None of us knew her name, how she looked, hell, we didn’t even know her real age, evidently.” He sighed, “She didn’t even know about me.” 

“What?” Hoseok chimed in, “You’re telling me this is all a coincidence?” He asked incredulously, but Jungkook stood his ground.

“The reason I’ve been so off these days?” He offered, and his boyfriends stiffened, “She saw Namjoon on the news as Bangtan Corp’s CEO, and she… I mean, she’s not an idiot. She added two and two together.” He bitterly admitted, “Our one rule was shattered, so we agreed to go our separate ways but…”

Jin scrunched his brows as he took it in, “You couldn’t let her go, could you?” He asked, and the implications made the men in the room feel ill. Jungkook, the man who could have multiple one-night stands in a night without feeling an ounce of affection for them, couldn’t let you, his friend, walk out of his life, “Jungkook you…”

“She was all I had during…” He trailed off, and the other men could fill in the blanks, “We found each other at our lowest, and now I see why she was so skittish at first it…” He sighed, “It was fate, I see that now.” 

“Fate?!” Taehyung guffawed, “She was playing you!” 

“How?!” He challenged, raising his voice back, “It’s been years and she’s never once asked me for anything!” 

“Everyone calm down, okay?” Hoseok tried to mediate, “Look, I agree with Jungkook, there’s no way she knew or was playing him.” He defended and Jimin scoffed, “I’m serious. I was the one who watched her those days, alright?”

“Byungjoo had no idea I even knew her.” Jungkook mentioned, “I didn’t tell him I did, obviously. He just… immediately gave me her name and her phone number.” He said, but sighed, “She got a new phone the day after she saw Namjoon on the news, you know.” He admitted, “I know now Byungjoo called her that day and she freaked out, now I know why.”

“Freaked out?” Yoongi asked, expression unreadable. 

“Why would she freak out if her uncle called?” Namjoon asked, the Moon family was supposed to be tight-knit.

“She’s…” Jungkook tried to find the word, “I don’t think she was raised how we thought at all, hyung.” He admitted, and it made the older man’s stomach churn, “I think we need to reevaluate everything we thought we knew about the Moon family.” Whispers in the Underworld spoke of a spoiled yet deadly princess who got everything she wanted at the snap of a finger. You were supposed to have been pampered to a nauseating degree. 

“Why don’t we ask her ourselves?” Jimin bitterly added, unbelieving that you could be anything other than what they’d been told.

“Fine.” Jungkook surprisingly agreed, “But not tonight.” 

“What are we even going to do with her?” Jin asked finally, “If we’re not going to kill her then what?” He felt the need to add, “We can’t let her run. Obviously, she was planning to.” 

“We hire her.” Yoongi announced and all of the men except Namjoon looked at him in surprise.

“Just like that?” Hoseok chuckled, “Very well then.” 

“What use do we have for her?” Jimin hissed just as Taehyung stood.

“You’re joking.” Taehyung seethed, “Hire her to what? Stab us in the back?” 

“I haven’t heard anything to suggest she has any allegiance to her family.” Namjoon reasoned, “And she is a nurse, has been Jungkook’s very own for a while now.” He added with a tinge of bitterness, “It only makes sense that–”

“No way in hell am I going to the green girl prodigy killer to heal me.” Taehyung scoffed.

“Then don’t.” Yoongi clipped, making the man scowl further, “But if you need to, she is our new nurse, effective immediately.”

Hoseok, utterly amused, beamed a bit at this, “And no more coming to me to patch you up anymore.” He added, making Taehyung click his tongue, “I’m no good at it and it makes me have to cut into our supply.” He defended. Hoseok had some medical training, he had to in order to be the knowledgeable pharmacist he was now, but he didn’t like using it. 

“And who’s going to tell her?” Jin asked, seemingly unphased by the night’s events, but he seldom was.

“I will.” Yoongi proclaimed, “I’ll speak with her tomorrow and lay out the terms after we hammer them out tonight.” Jungkook stiffened at the idea of the other members seeing you, but it was unavoidable. All he really cared about was the fact that your heart would remain beating and you would be relatively free. 

Jimin glared at Jungkook, “What did you two talk about over there?” He asked.

Jungkook stiffened at the memory of just moments ago before returning his lover’s harsh gaze, “Have something you wanna say?” 

“Interesting that Jungkook gets to keep his toy.” Taehyung spat, making the man in question snarl before Jimin had a chance to say anything. 

“She is not a toy.” Yoongi hissed to everyone’s surprise. He cleared his throat, letting the heat melt from his body, “She is now a vital member of the group and should be treated as such.” This made Jungkook smile.

—

“...And then you tie it like this.” Eunhwa explained, tying the know just above the tip of your gash, “These are poligecaprone sutures, best for general tissue repair, like this.” She was so dutiful in her words, you almost envied how well-spoken she was. Eunhwa was a new instructor since the last one stopped showing up, and you didn’t have it in you to worry when she was so rotten. So far, Eunhwa was quite kind, but she made a displeased face at your wound, and you wondered if she blamed you for it. Father did, after all. He always said you had no business being as clumsy as you were.

Nevertheless, you watched the needle enter your skin and the knot she tied carefully as you nodded, ten-year-old mouth trying to form the word in silence as you did the next suture, the pattern being interrupted, “Pol–” You cut yourself off, looking at Eunhwa with surprise at the fact that you made a noise. You knew the rules, you knew legacies don’t speak unless they have something useful to say. 

You gulped, waiting for admonishment or a behavior report to be made and handed to your uncle, but instead, she smiled, “Do you want help sounding it out?” She asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” You whispered out. 

A brief moment of sadness, an emotion you couldn’t identify yet, flashed on her face before she dutifully guided you through the word. 

You completed the knot and she checked your work with a nod, “Very good.” She mused before her eyes flicked to yours, “Did it hurt? Your father suggested I not give you numbing cream, but if it hurt too bad I can try to convince him.” She offered, but you shook your head. She looked at you quizzically, “It didn’t hurt?” You shook your head again. It hadn’t hurt more than anything else you’d taken, “You don’t want me to talk to him?” 

You swallowed, left with no other choice but to talk, “I can take it. I must.” You echoed his words, “It’s my job.” You solemnly spoke and Eunhwa paused for a moment, before nodding. 

“Very well.” She spoke softly, “I won’t talk to him, then. Just, speak freely around me, okay?” She asked, “I won’t tell, I promise.” 

You nodded, unable to say that you didn’t know how to speak freely.

—

If sleep found you, it certainly didn’t feel like it. Your eyes opened, and it felt like a mere blink. Nevertheless, the sun was slowly beginning to light the sky. The world was still turning for you, for now. You wondered how long you could keep that up. 

It wasn’t going to be long now before the devil was coming to collect your soul in the form of one of the Bangtan men, so you decided to use your last moment to speak to the only other person who ever cared what you had to say. 

The line rang only twice before she picked up, and before she could say anything you spoke, “It’s over.” You breathed, “They found me.” 

“What?” Eunhwa asked, and you could hear a door close, “No, that can’t be–”

For the first time in your life, you cut her off, “It’s okay.” You breathed out shakily, “I lived a bit.” You wanted to say you were ready to die, but you weren’t. You weren’t and the fact made you envious of your past self. A puppet with no concept of a life to live can’t fear death.

“No you didn’t.” She seethed, making your jaw clench. She was right. Your life had just barely started. You still had so much to learn and so many things to do that were now evaporating right before your eyes, “Are you sure they’re going to kill you?” She asked, and your brows scrunched.

“They’ve been looking for me this long.” You pointed out, “Why would they keep me alive? Even if Jungkook were to plead my case.” 

“Why would they kill you though?” Her voice was too hopeful for you, but you let her speak anyway, “Why would they kill someone they’ve been pursuing this hard?” 

“Eunhwa–” You were cut off by a sharp knock on the door that made your stomach fall, “Thank you.” 

“Don’t talk like that.” She hissed, but you could hear the quiver in her voice, “I-I’m going to make a few calls and–” The knock on your door pounded louder this time, and you smiled sadly. 

“I have to go.” You simply said before hanging up. You took a deep breath before approaching the door. You figured death was best faced without thought. You had spoken to the one person from your past life that would miss you, and that was enough. 

The doorknob was unbelievably cold in your hand as you opened it. You didn’t realize you were looking down until you were left to stare at the fanciest pair of dress shoes you’d seen in a while. Finally, you looked up to face the man before you, and it was like time stopped for a moment. Something about his sharp eyes was eerily familiar, and it nearly gave you a headache trying to think about it. 

Yoongi on the other hand, found himself blown away by you. Finally, after years of searching and clawing his way through unwritten records of the underground, here you were. Right under his nose this whole time. How many times had he passed you in the elevator or in the mail room? You were beautiful, stunning even, so how could he have missed you for this long? He watched you drink him in with knitted brows and a brief flash of recognition nearly made him jump back. Could you truly recognize him, even after all you went through since? 

“Do… Do I know you?” You asked, and Yoongi smiled. You could see the melancholy dripping from the expression, making you feel even more uneased, “Are you here to kill me?” You asked, voice smaller than you hoped but you supposed it wasn’t going to matter much pretty soon. 

“Quite the opposite.” He quickly corrected you. Yoongi couldn’t kill you even if he wanted to. You may not be able to recognize him, but he’d know your face anywhere. It was his one comfort for a long time until it was ripped from him, “May I come in?” He raised a brow and you shrugged. 

“I don’t suppose I have much of a choice.” You mumbled under your breath before walking to your couch. 

Yoongi shut the door behind him, studying your form. Even in this despaired state, you were full of more life than he’d ever seen before. A smidge of jealousy boiled in his blood at the realization Jungkook got to see you laugh and act aloof like a friend would this whole time. He shook it off, sitting on the armchair next to the evidently second-hand furniture you sat on, “Needless to say, I am involved with Bangtan.” You nodded, eyes clouded with a million different emotions, “I am Min Yoongi, one of the seven bosses.” You sat on the couch next to the chair, never taking your eyes off of him.

“I don’t recognize you like I do Namjoon.” You spoke, studying his face further. 

He flashed you a tight smile, heart panging from hearing you say you don’t recognize him, “I’m in charge of running our underground operations and appearances.” He explained and your mouth formed a small O for a moment. 

“Wait.” You spoke, studying him further, “Min…” His surname stuck to your lips for a reason you couldn’t place, “I know that name I…” You bit your lip, you prided yourself on remembering faces and placing them just as well, but something about him clouded that ability, “Did I…” 

“No, I don’t have a vendetta against you.” He shook his head, and you scrunched your brows, “I do against your father and uncle, but you’ve done nothing to harm me.” He spoke, “It’s why we plan to let you live.” 

“And not them.” You finished for him, heart dropping a bit when he nodded. You knew you should’ve been more upset hearing that your father and uncle were to be murdered, but you didn’t care too much if you were being honest. It wasn’t as if they would’ve felt any different if the roles were reversed, even if the child in you was mourning them.

However, Yoongi was unnerved by your lack of reaction, “Does that upset you?” He asked, genuinely unable to tell. 

“Not really, no.” You spoke honestly, not wanting to nor trained in the art of lying all that well, “So I get to live?” The glimmer of hope in your eyes squeezed at his chest in a way that made him shift a bit.

“In exchange for something else.” He confirmed, and your body went stiff as you waited for him to continue, “Your time and knowledge.” 

You sighed. Fuck, you were screwed if he needed you to know anything of use, but most importantly, you were tired, “If you think I’m at all still connected to the Underworld…”

“No, no.” He stopped you short, and you looked at him quizzically, “I would’ve found you long ago if you were.” You nodded, and his confidence was all you needed in order to see him for what he was. He was the man who triggered the downfall of your family. You wanted to hate him for it, but you couldn’t, not really, “We all agreed to hire you on as our new nurse” Your breath hitched at his words, mind swimming with a million different things, “We will compensate you for your time and stock whatever supplies you need. You will also have our protection.”

You nodded, but you could hardly believe it, “Who will be my patients?” You asked.

“The seven of us.” He didn’t need to elaborate much further than that, “The lower echelons have their own designated medical services.” He explained, and you were a little impressed by it it all. Your father’s organization was not nearly this… well, organized. You and Eunhwa were the primary medical services for the upper echelons and the lower members had to fend for themselves.

“And can I still have my current job?” You asked, and you breathed a sigh of relief when he nodded. 

“Yes, it’s best that way.” He confirmed, “If any of us need you during your work hours, we will make sure to tell you beforehand so we can coordinate that in a way that doesn’t look suspicious.” He said, but it all sounded too good to be true. 

You fixed a sharp look on him, “What else?” 

He sighed, “Tomorrow, we plan to have you come forward.” You had to grip the couch to stop your bones from turning to jelly at the fear that burned you from the inside, “Without revealing your identity fully, of course.” He quickly added, but it did nothing to ease you, and something about your evident panic made him feel sick, “We plan to have you announce your intent to bring your father and uncle to justice. It may draw the old man out.” He leaned forward, trying to catch your panicked gaze that’d been darting across the room, “All you have to do is record a voice line tonight, include something that only you would know, and send it to me.” He said, and it slowed your heart a mere fraction, “We will take care of the rest.” 

“How will you explain this to the public?” You asked, but he simply shook his head, “They’re going to demand my head I bet.” You were a cold-hearted killer. You knew that the few people that did hear of you firsthand had seldom good to say. Who even knew what your father publicized about you? You stayed away from the news because you didn’t need to know. 

“How scared you are right now tells me that the public will never have been so happy to be wrong about someone.” He mused, and your brows scrunched in confusion, “You were supposed to be some prissy spoiled heiress who killed when she bribed to.” 

“Bribed? Spoiled?” You balked, shaking your head, “That–” You didn’t even know what those words really meant until you met Jungkook, “How did–” 

“Your father controlled the narrative for a long time.” He spoke, words heavier than he knew, “He won’t now.” He spoke as if it were so simple, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but be honest about what kind of man he and Byungjoo were.” He chuckled, no amusement behind it, “Taehyung will be by in a bit to take your statement and give you the contract.” He stood, and you wanted to complain about Taehyung being the one to do it. However, you held your tongue, only nodding, obedient as ever and you hated it. But what choice did you have? 

“Yes, sir.” You sighed, and the silent submission made Yoongi feel disgusted with himself. 

“No need for that.” He shook his head, making you look up at him in confusion, “Please, just call me Yoongi.” His plea was a little too noticeable, but you nodded anyway, “I’m not your father nor your uncle.” He said softly, but that was only something you would believe when you saw it for yourself, “Were they…” He stopped, trying to think of how to ask such a thing, “You really weren’t spoiled or sheltered, were you?” He asked, already knowing just by how you looked away. 

“No, not in the way you think.” You breathed, “I was an employee more than anything.” You murmured, embarrassed for some reason, “I see that now more than ever.” 

“I see.” He simply said, “And Jungkook…” You stiffened at the mention, “Has he been good to you?” He asked against his better judgment. This wasn’t his business, no matter how much he wanted it to be. 

You nodded, and he felt his shoulders relax, “No one had ever been so kind to me.” You refrained from cursing him for bringing the Underworld back to your door. Not only were you unsure how angry you were, you doubted his boyfriend would fancy hearing it. 

“Good.” He simply said before taking his leave. 

—

“Look, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here,” Taehyung said when you opened the door to reveal him and Jungkook’s favorite MMA fighter, Park Jimin, at his side. You didn’t even have the energy to be surprised as he regarded you with as much hatred as Taehyung held, “So let’s get this over with.” He pushed past you to enter your apartment. Namjoon trailed behind them, at least having the decorum to nod at you.

You thought about introducing yourself to Jimin, but decided against it at his glare, “Right.” You simply breathed. 

“First, here’s the contract.” Jimin shoved the paper toward you as you read through it. You may not have been the best speaker or the best writer, but you could sure as hell read. Reading was all you could do for a long time. When you signed your name, his nose scrunched, “You write like a grade-schooler.” He spoke, and it pricked at your deepest shame. You had only been writing for the most part for five years.

The pen snapped in your hand, but you paid no attention to the ink that spilled onto your skin, “Fuck you.” You hissed, taking him aback for a moment. 

“Watch it.” Taehyung snapped, pausing as he set up the equipment. 

“I don’t talk back unless spoken to.” You snarled, moving to wash the ink off, “I don’t need this from either of you, especially not tonight.” You sat at the table, waiting for him to position the mic, “So let’s just get this over with, I have work tomorrow.” 

“Everyone relax.” Namjoon finally spoke, “We can be adults about this.” He glared at the three of you, before letting his gaze land on you, “I’m going to ask you questions, and you respond accordingly.” You nodded. 

“Okay, Ms. Moon, I say as this is not your real last name, please address your father Byungyeol.” He spoke into the mic. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. What the hell was there to say? You had laid it all out to him five years ago. You had shown true and genuine weakness, real desperation, and he didn’t hesitate in turning his back to you. 

You looked at Namjoon, expression totally lost and much more vulnerable than you wanted. Something about the way you looked like a puppy tugged at his heartstrings a bit in a way he didn’t understand, “What? Don’t wanna disparage your precious dad?” Taehyung taunted, snapping the CEO from his trance.

Your eyes snapped to him in a sharp glare, “How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t know one thing about me?” You seethed, but he looked less than convinced. 

“Look, just pretend he was rotten and mean and you’re scared of him.” Jimin spoke to you as if you were a child, and it only made you angrier, “You should be used to lying, come on princess.” 

“Enough!” Namjoon silenced the two men, “If you upset her it’ll show in her statement.” He spoke, as cold as ever, “Behave.” He ordered before looking to you, “Now, tell me is Byungyeol a good man?” 

“No.” You spoke, immediately, and you were both disappointed when he waited for you to elaborate and you had nothing to say. You didn’t know how to do this, and it pissed you off. Jungkook knew how to keep you talking all the time, and so did Eunhwa, but outside of them, you were a mere soundboard. Namjoon could see the frustration on your face, and it unsettled him. 

Why were you having such a hard time talking? He looked around the room to see his lovers glaring harshly down at you and figured maybe that was the reason. He sighed, “How is she supposed to feel comfortable saying anything with you two looking at her like that?” He asked, shaking his head, “Bring Jungkook or Hoseok in.” He waved them off with a sigh. 

“No, it’s fine.” You grit out, the pride in you swelling, “They can think what they want to.” You didn’t even dignify them with a glare, “Again.” You nodded at Namjoon who finally broke his disbelieving look at you with a sigh. 

“Okay.” He fixed his tie despite this whole thing only being audio, but you supposed it just made sense he was constantly aware of his appearance, “Let’s try a different approach.” He announced, “Just talk directly to your father.” He said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, “Tell him to turn himself in and be sure to mention something only you would know. Do the same with your uncle for the sake of optics.” He ordered and you wanted to say you weren’t sure if your father committed his actions towards you to memory. Odds are many of those days and nights tattooed in your memory weren’t out of the ordinary for him, as mundane as brushing his teeth. However, you shut your mouth. It wasn’t your problem if it didn’t work. 

You nodded and he gestured for you to start after Taehyung clicked the record button, “Father, I…” You took a deep breath as you tapped on your thigh mindlessly, “I think it’s time to atone for your sins.” Your words were shaky, “Remember? We don’t show fear, and you shouldn’t now.” The words were heavy on your tongue, “You told me that you find me in three years… that we would be a normal family after I begged you not to leave me alone, all by myself in a world I never got to see.” You wanted to choke on your father’s false promise, “It’s been five years since that day, and I’ve grown up a lot since then. I understand now more than ever how wrong you were about so much, and I have solemnly accepted the consequences of my actions under your guidance.” Your leg began bouncing as you spoke, “It’s time for you and uncle to do the same.” You tried to think of anything else to say, but it was all you had, so you looked at Namjoon, “Good?” 

His eyes were clouded, and you were unable to make out how exactly he felt. However, one thing remained that was clear, he was undeniably skeptical of you. That was fine, you didn’t need his trust, you just needed your heart to be beating, “Yeah, that’ll do for now.” He nodded to Jimin and Taehyung, “If he doesn’t come forward, we may need more.” You nodded, and that was thankfully enough for him. 

“You can let yourselves out.” You sighed, “I’m exhausted, so goodnight.” You didn’t bother to wait for a response as you turned on your heel and shut your bedroom door behind you. 

Namjoon opened his mouth to mention that they didn’t have a key, but you didn’t seem to care anyway. He sighed, a mix of conflicting emotions swirling in his chest as Taehyung packed up. 

“She’s the worst.” Tarhyung grumbled under his breath as Jimin curtly nodded. Namjoon rolled his eyes, knowing the two men well enough to see when they felt a twinge of regret. It was obvious at least some of what they heard about you was incorrect– if your statement was to be believed, that is.

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

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Masterlist

#bts mafia au #bts fanfic #bts series #bts poly au #ot7 x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #bts x reader #mafia bts #yandere mafia bts

[hbyrde36]

Times Like These (The Anniversary Edition)

CH 1 CH 2 Ch 3 Ch 4

Chapter 5: Under Pressure

WC: 7049 | AO3 link

TW: Mentions of past homophobic abuse

“I- I think so?” Robin said.

Eddie shook her gently. “Robin, the two of you basically share a brain at this point. If you think you know, then you know.”

“Okay, yeah, I'm on it!” She said, nodding rapidly as she ran from the room. He could hear her feet flying all the way up the stairs and into Steve’s bedroom.

Eddie cradled Steve’s face in his shaking hands. “Stay with me Stevie, please? Just hold on.”

Robin came charging back into the kitchen less than a minute later, cassette in hand. “I’ve got the tape, but I can’t find his Walkman!”

“Shit.” Eddie cursed, remembering too late that it was probably out in Steve’s car like it had been in the last loop, but they couldn't risk wasting more precious time retrieving it. “Just put it in the living room stereo and crank the volume.” 

In seconds a familiar baseline began to filter in from the other room. 

🎵Pressure pushin' down on me🎵

🎵Pressin' down on you, no man ask for🎵

🎵Under pressure that brings a building down🎵

Eddie almost had to laugh.

“Under Pressure? Little on the nose don’t you think, big boy?” He murmured to Steve under his breath. 

Robin rushed back in, worrying her bottom lip as the song continued to play.

🎵Watchin' some good friends screamin' Let me out🎵

🎵Pray tomorrow gets me higher🎵

🎵Pressure on people, people on streets🎵

Eddie kept waiting for Steve to snap out of it, for there to be some kind of reaction but there was nothing. He wasn’t responding, but he wasn’t floating either—It was the only indication he had that they were doing something right. It would have been reassuring except that the song was almost over and he didn’t know what would happen when it reached its end and they were forced to stop and rewind the tape.

“Come on, come on, come on.” Robin chanted, staring intently at Steve’s face, looking–just as Eddie was–for any small change. “Why isn't it working, Eddie? Why won’t he snap out of it?” 

He didn’t reply to her, he had no answers to give. All he could do was plead with Steve, beg him not to leave them like this. 

“We can’t do this without you. You gotta come back, man.” Eddie’s voice cracked, tears threatening to spill down his face but he forced them back. “You have to fight your way out.”

Robin latched onto his back, adding her own cries to his plea. “Don’t do this to me Dingus, please. I’m not raising these kids without you. We need you—I need you. ”

Eddie’s heart sank as the final notes of the song played, but just when the rhythmic snaps started to fade out Steve sucked in a sharp breath, and his beautiful eyes returned to normal. He pitched forward hard as he came back to himself, but Eddie was right there to catch him and slowly lowered them both to the floor, half cradling the other boy in his lap.

Steve whimpered, letting out the most heartbreaking sound as he wrapped his arms around Eddie's shoulders, holding onto him right back—gripping him hard enough to hurt. Eddie couldn't have cared less, he’d take the bruises. No force on this earth could have made him let go of Steve right then, or vice versa.

“It's over.” Eddie said softly, reaching for what he could say to reassure Steve that he was safe now. “You’re on the floor in your kitchen with me and Robin. I don’t know what he showed you, but I promise you it wasn’t real.”

Robin fell to her knees beside them and added herself to the pile, her body shaking with the force of her own sobs. Steve removed one of his hands from its vice grip on Eddie and grabbed onto her as they all rocked lightly together. 

“This is real. Me and Eddie are real. We’ve got you.” Robin added.

Eddie whispered words of comfort into Steve's hair over and over again. There was nothing else he could do for him except to just be there. He knew Vecna liked to take your worst moments and twist them into something even more awful and devastating—to use your worst fears against you, and Steve had lived through a lifetime’s worth of trauma in just the last few years alone, leaving him with no shortage of bad memories to choose from.

The three of them remained huddled together on the floor for a long time, until Steve finally quieted. Still, Eddie didn’t want to let him go. He was sure Robin didn’t want to either, but the clock was ticking. There was no guarantee that Vecna would lay off for any long period of time. They needed to get Steve’s music back on, now, and get him a tape made as soon as possible.

Robin seemed to arrive at the same conclusion he did, and pulled back from the group hug swiping roughly at her face. “He- he’s gonna need his Walkman. Steve, where–” 

“His car,” Eddie answered for him. “I’m sorry… I didn’t remember until–”

“It’s okay.”

Robin sat back on her heels and looked thoughtfully between the two of them—Eddie looking back at her, and Steve still hiding his face in Eddie’s chest. She nodded to herself once and stood up, brushing herself off. 

“You got him?” She asked.

He felt terrible. He knew he should be the one to go. Get the Walkman, do the tape, all of it, and leave the two best friends to console each other, but this was his worst fear come to life—that his changing something had resulted in someone else getting hurt. It should have been him, not Steve.

“Yeah, Buckley. I got him.”

Robin bent down and pressed a kiss to the top of Steve’s head, pausing in silent debate for a moment before doing the same to Eddie, and went to take care of business. 

Finally Steve sat up a little, no longer needing to be completely held up. His eyes were red-rimmed, swollen, and he looked exhausted. 

“I know you’re not okay, so I won’t ask stupid questions, but is there anything I can do?” Eddie asked. 

“Help me up?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Eddie said, the pet name slipping off his tongue so easily and naturally that he almost didn’t realize he’d said it. Not that it mattered given the circumstances. He didn't have the energy to care just then anyway. There would be plenty of time to panic about it later. 

With help Steve managed to get to his feet, though it was obvious that he was still a bit shaky. 

“Think you can make it to the couch, or do you want me to carry you?” Eddie asked. He honestly intended for it to come off as a joke, but even as he said it he knew he would have done it had Steve asked—had he needed him to.

Steve rolled his eyes but that didn’t stop Eddie from noticing the slight flush creeping up his neck. “I’ll manage.”

The blush continued to spread, pinkening his cheeks as Eddie led him into the other room with a guiding hand on his lower back for support. 

Once he’d seen Steve safely to a seat, Eddie joined Robin on the floor where she was surrounded by blank tapes looking lost, which was fair. The Harrington's sound system was a little intimidating if you were only used to a standard radio. He patiently showed her what the kids had done the night before to make Chrissy and Max's tapes—where to load each cassette, which buttons to press, and in no time they were making progress on Steve’s very own mixtape.

Steve was quiet while they worked, and the longer it took the more he seemed to withdraw into himself as he stared off into space. 

-

Just over two hours later it was done, both sides of the cassette were full of back-to back-recordings of Under Pressure. 

Robin excitedly ejected the tape and popped it into the portable player, walking it over to Steve and placing the headphones over his ears herself. He took the player from her with a weak smile and pulled his knees to his chest, going right back to gazing at nothing as the music played.

She caught Eddie’s eye and the two of them shared a worried look. He opened his mouth to say something reassuring, though he didn’t know what, when the sound of the front door hit their ears.

It had to be the girls coming back from their mission to find Fred, but the noise still put him on alert, and he only relaxed when he heard Nancy—already talking before she and Chrissy had even rounded the corner to the living room.

“We couldn’t find Fred. He wasn’t home, and neither were his parents. We checked the diner, the library, even stopped at the school in case he went in to work on the paper. I just can’t imagine where…” She trailed off, finally looking up and spotting Steve tucked into the corner of the couch.

Chrissy went pale as she noticed him too—her hands flying up to touch the wires of her own headphones hanging loosely around her neck. “Oh my god, Steve, I- I'm so sorry. Are you okay?” 

“I’m alright.” Steve said, sitting up straighter and squaring his shoulders. 

It was as though Eddie could physically see him putting himself back together now that he had more of an audience, and he kind of hated that Steve felt like he had to be strong at all times. He should be allowed to fall apart if he needed to, and if he would allow it, Eddie would be right there to put him back together again.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t find your friend,” Steve continued. “Maybe Vecna won’t go for him now, considering how things have changed.” He waved a hand, motioning vaguely to himself.

He didn’t even sound bitter about it, that’s what fucked Eddie up the most, and of course he didn’t want anything bad to happen to anyone if they could avoid it, but if it came down to a relative stranger or Steve? Right or wrong, Eddie knew what his choice would be. 

“Steve, don’t…” Nancy began, but Robin quickly cut her off.

“Hey! So I was thinking… Why don’t we all go, and let the boys get some rest? My parents are expecting me home tonight anyway, and Nance I’m sure your dad is ready to kill the kids by now. Do you think you could give me and Chrissy a ride?”

A few hours ago Eddie would have been nervous at the prospect of being left completely alone in the house with Steve, but now he could have kissed Robin for jumping in like that. He also owed her one, again, for letting him be the one to stay with Steve. After the way he had tensed when Nancy and Chrissy walked through the door, it was clear he didn’t need the extra stress of so many eyes on him right now. 

“Yeah… if you’re sure you two will be okay here alone.” Nancy said, aiming the question at Steve who simply clenched his jaw and nodded. 

Chrissy looked down at the floor, shifting her weight from one foot to he other. “I’m still trying to avoid my parents.”

“No, um, I was thinking you could come home with me tonight?" Robin said quickly. "Buddy system, right? We should stick together.”

Nancy didn’t look too happy about any of it, but thankfully remained quiet as Robin said her goodbyes to Steve. The two friends hugged, sharing a brief whispered conversation, and if Robin’s face was sporting a few new tear tracks as they pulled apart, no one was going to call her on it. 

“I'll be right back,” Eddie assured Steve, before following after the three girls to walk them to the door. 

Nancy went right for the car after giving Eddie one last sidelong glance. Chrissy hesitated, throwing an apologetic smile his way before following after her. Robin lagged behind, pulling Eddie into a fierce hug. “He’s my best friend—just, promise me you’ll take care of him?”

“I promise.” Eddie said easily, hesitating before deciding to say more. “I– he means something to me too.”

“I noticed.” She said, giving him a knowing smile, and rushed off to the car before Nancy could get too impatient.

Eddie waited for their car to pull away before closing and locking the door, quickly returning to Steve's side. 

"Listen, uh-” He began, rubbing his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants. “I’m not gonna push you to talk about what you saw or anything, but I’m here for you if you do want to talk about it, or for anything really. I... care about you. I know that's—maybe that's weird for you and if it is I'm sorry. It’s just-” 

He trailed off for a moment, waving a hand through the air. “Time loop shit, y’know? We’ve been through a lot together even if you don’t remember it, and seeing you like that–"

The silence stretched between them for a minute with Eddie unable to finish his thought. 

"Thanks, Eddie. Really I... I don't.” Steve stuttered out after a while. “It’s not weird, its—nice, that you care. I don’t think I'm ready to talk about any of it yet? But um, when I am… it’s– I’m glad you’re here.”

Eddie nodded, relieved. He wondered what they should do now, what might make Steve feel a little better, bring him back to himself. Like earlier, he came back to food. Wayne was always trying to feed him when he had a bad day, and while this was maybe a lot worse than anything you’d call a bad day, a little nourishment certainly couldn’t hurt.

“Alright, come on.” He said finally, getting up from the couch and offering Steve a hand. 

“Where are we going?” Steve asked, letting Eddie pull him to his feet. 

“We haven’t eaten anything since this morning, and I kinda want to see what I can throw together in that fancy kitchen of yours.”

-

He sat Steve down on one of the stools pulled up to the counter, feeling eyes on his back as he flitted around the kitchen doing a thorough search of the refrigerator, freezer, and pantry to get a feel for what ingredients he had to play with.

At first Steve had tried to insist on helping, since Eddie was technically the guest here, but with a little convincing he seemed happy to watch with barely concealed amusement as Eddie worked.

He was pretty good at making something out of nothing, so the fact that the fridge was just on the wrong side of barren wasn’t a problem. 

“Do you like to cook?” Steve asked.

“Not really a matter of liking it, but yeah, I don't mind. My uncle works a lot so I've always tried to help out, then he went on the night shift and it was either this or starve. What about you?”

“I can cook a little. Got tired of takeout and frozen meals so I started trying a few recipes here and there. It’s fun, actually. I like chopping stuff.”

Eddie chuckled lightly. “Yeah, me too.”

Something about it did have him wondering though, and not for the first time, where Steve’s parents were. Obviously they were out of town right now, otherwise the party wouldn’t have had the run of the house all the time like this, but the way Steve was talking made it sound like they were around even less than Eddie had thought. He might have asked about it but he had a hunch that parents weren’t a happy topic for Steve, and he was determined to keep things light for now. 

“So, what are you making anyway?”

“Goulash? I don’t know if that’s really it’s name but that’s what Wayne always called it.”

There had been a single sad borderline freezer-burnt package of ground beef in the freezer. Not much on its own but add that to a box of noodles, a few cans of tomatoes, and some of those fancy rich people seasonings? And it was some good shit. A recipe he could make with his eyes closed and one hand tied behind his back.

It took maybe all of 20 minutes before their meal was ready, and to Eddie’s surprise they talked the whole time. Steve asked him more questions about the food he grew up with, and what sort of things he liked to make for himself now, and as the conversation flowed he seemed to return more and more to his usual self. 

Eddie scooped some of the delicious concoction into a couple bowls and plopped one down in front of Steve with a little bow, a move that drew the widest smile out of the other boy that he’d seen all day. 

He ate standing over the counter, which he often did even at home, but in this case it was just so he could keep looking at Steve.

“Where did you learn to play guitar?” Steve asked between inhaling forkfuls of pasta, somehow not growing sick of listening to Eddie babble on about himself.

“Self taught, mostly. Wayne got me this second hand acoustic the first birthday I had with him. I checked out some books for beginners from the library and figured out the basics that way, and then I just learned by listening, trial and error.”

Steve put his fork down, blinking up at him. “That’s… you’re kind-of incredible, Eddie.”

Heat rose to his cheeks instantly and he ducked his head, avoiding having to respond by taking a much-too-big bite of his food.

-

With full happy bellies they returned to the living room after cleaning up the remnants of Eddie’s culinary masterpiece. Steve looked even more exhausted than he had before, a side effect of the aforementioned culinary masterpiece no doubt, but when Eddie suggested he turn-in for the night early, the other boy insisted he was fine.  

“I hate all this sitting around waiting and not doing anything.” Steve huffed, plopping himself down heavily on the couch.

“We did manage to arm ourselves, I'd say that’s pretty good work for one day.”

“I know, and I know I’m the one that told the kids we needed to wait to make a move until everyone was together, but—it just doesn’t usually happen like this. When this shit comes back it’s always go-go-go right from the start. There isn’t all this time to sit around and… think.”

Eddie could understand that. If he wasn’t using so much of his energy in worrying about Steve right now, he’d probably be feeling more antsy about the lack of progress on a plan himself, but as it was, he was happy they had a little time to just breathe.

“Let’s find something to do besides think then, yeah? What sorta movies you got laying around here? Must be something worthwhile about working at Family Video.”

Steve gestured to the cabinets on the other side of a large built-in entertainment center, the one opposite the stereo system they’d been using earlier. Inside was a plastic shopping bag loaded up with VHS tapes. Eddie quickly flipped through the titles, unimpressed with the selection until he reached the last one.

“Goonies?! Dude, that literally just came out on video!”

Steve shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “I may have snatched a copy before they went out on the shelves the other day. For the kids.”

Eddie grinned. “Screw the kids, we’re definitely watching this.”

They barely got past the opening credits before Steve fell asleep, his head falling to rest on Eddie's shoulder as his entire body relaxed. For the next hour and 54 minutes Eddie didn’t dare move a muscle, not wanting to disturb Steve when he’d finally allowed himself to rest. On a more selfish note, the situation allowed him to enjoy the feeling of Steve's body against his own without having to feel self-conscious or guilty about it. 

Unfortunately, the movie had to end eventually and then Eddie had no more excuses. He roused Steve as gently as he could, lightly nudging his shoulder until he blinked awake with bleary eyes. 

“Come on big boy, let’s get you to bed.” Eddie whispered.

Steve nodded absently, allowing Eddie to pull him to his feet again, just as he had earlier, except this time once he was vertical Steve didn’t let go—instead linking their fingers together as he held on tight to Eddie’s hand.

They had touched far more than this only a few hours ago, but for some reason feeling Steve's warm palm pressed so purposefully against his own made Eddie's breath hitch, and he froze in surprise. 

“You’re coming too, aren't you?” Steve said through a huge yawn, tugging on Eddie’s arm when he didn’t move right away. 

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Eddie replied in a daze. 

-

He thought Steve would drop right back off to sleep once they were laying down in the comfort of his bed, but as they faced each other, he could see the other boy's eyes shining in the dark—reflecting the dim glow of a streetlight peeking in through a crack in the blinds.

“It felt like I was stuck in there for a long time.” Steve said after a while, his fingers picking nervously at a spot on the sheet beneath them. “I know it was only a few minutes… but it felt like so much more. He showed me Robin getting beaten up by the Russians at Starcourt. When it happened for real, I was able to keep their attention on me most of the time, but in there–”

Steve stopped himself mid sentence. It was clear he was fighting back tears and Eddie didn't hesitate to offer his hand, laying it out between them on the sheets. Steve took it immediately, fiddling with Eddie’s rings as he continued to talk.    

“Then it was the kids—Dustin. There were these tunnels, and I had gotten the rest of them out but he… The demodogs were coming too fast. All I could do was wrap myself around him and hope that was enough. Back then we got lucky, the dogs just ran off right past us for some reason, but he changed it. Vecna, he… I saw–”

He broke off with a sob, his whole body shaking with it. Eddie scooped him up into his arms, running soothing hands along his back. 

“The dogs, they- they tore him apart.”

Steve clung to Eddie like a lifeline, just as he had in the kitchen, burying his face in Eddie's chest as he went on. “He also showed me my parents. It was nothing compared to watching Dustin or Robin being hurt, but god Eddie... It was like hearing every shitty thing they’ve ever said to me all at once. How much of a failure and a disappointment I am. Too dumb, too soft, too sensitive. How I could never be the man they wanted me to be.”

“You know that’s all horseshit, right? You don’t believe any of that stuff, do you?” Eddie said.

Steve only sniffled, shrugging with his face still hidden, pressed against Eddie’s borrowed shirt.

“Hey, none of that.” Eddie leaned away, gently tilting Steve's head up to look at him.  “You are an amazing person, Steve Harrington. You are kind and loyal and brave and absolutely selfless, literally to a fault sometimes. You’ve been saving those kids—shit, you’ve been helping save this whole town for fucking years. Even without all that, if your parents can’t see how lucky they are to have you for a son, then fuck them. Seriously.”

-

Like the morning before, Steve was gone again when Eddie woke up, but this time he wasn’t in the bathroom.

He rushed down the stairs in a panic, worried about what might have happened in the night. What if the Walkman’s batteries had run out. Eddie had flipped the tape for him once in the middle of the night when he’d woken briefly and realized it was a little too quiet, but each side only ran for so long. 

Maybe they should have set an alarm.

In his distraught state, he didn’t smell the coffee or the bacon cooking, only noticing the aroma when he skidded down the hallway on socked feet to find Steve in the kitchen making them breakfast. 

The wave of relief nearly sent him to the floor, and he had to grab onto the wall to keep himself upright. Steve had his headphones on and was mercifully facing away so he didn’t notice Eddie’s ridiculous overreaction. 

When Steve did finally turn and saw him standing there, the look that spread over his face threatened to finish the job and put Eddie on his ass. There were no walls strong enough to keep him from falling when the insurmountable force that was Steve Harrington’s smile was aimed at him like that. 

In a role reversal from the night before, it looked like it was Eddie’s turn to watch while Steve cooked for him. 

He wanted to turn the tables in other ways too, by asking Steve more about himself like he'd done for him the night before. The problem was, everything Eddie could think of that he wanted to ask would inevitably lead to topics he didn't want to bring up while Steve looked so light and happy. 

A hundred little questions died on his tongue as he shot each one down for one reason or another. 

Somehow sensing his struggle Steve interrupted his thoughts. “Eddie, I'm okay. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me…. I can tell there's something you want to say.”

“Sorry.” Eddie said, wondering when Steve had gotten so good at reading him. “It's nothing specific really I just-” He shrugged. “I dunno, you let me talk your ear off about myself last night and I guess I wanted to do the same for you. I want to know more about you—the real shit you don’t learn through the high school rumor mill, but I didn’t want to bring up anything that would bum you out.”

Steve nodded in understanding. “All roads lead to the Upside Down. This—stuff, it kinda takes over your life once you’re in it. There’s not many days that go by where I don’t think about it, at least a little. It’s okay. Go on, what do you want to know?”

Everything, was the honest answer, but in the interest of starting somewhere Eddie asked, “Why didn’t you leave? Go to college or just move or something, why did you stay here after graduation?”

“I always planned to go to college. I’d even filled out the application and everything. I was still working on my essay when it all started up again the second time. In the middle of it all I got the shit beat out of me by Billy Hargrove, my first serious concussion, and suddenly it just didn’t seem important anymore.” 

Steve blew out a long breath, plucking the last two pieces of bacon out of the pan with a pair of tongs and adding it to the pile already draining on paper towels. He was quiet as he plated up the food, sliding one of them across the counter to Eddie before finally continuing.  

“I was supposed to go to business school, get a degree, and work for my dad—at least that’s what he wanted me to do.”

“What do you want?” Eddie asked. 

Steve smiled sadly.

“To make it to 21.”

“Jesus, Steve.”

“Sorry.” He said, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I don't know. I guess, I've never really thought about what I wanted. Only what was expected of me.”

“What about when you were a kid? What did little Stevie Harrington want to be when he grew up?”

“Promise you won’t laugh?” Steve asked.

“Cross my heart.”

“An astronaut.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

He would have expected something very different, though nothing less grand— professional athlete of some kind maybe? It was a pleasant surprise though, and he felt like he’d uncovered Steve’s nerdy little secret. It was kinda hot. 

“I was only like two years old, but I remember everyone gathering around the TV to watch the moon landing, and then seeing the footage again when we learned about it in school. I thought it was the coolest job, getting to explore something new, to see and touch things no one else ever had before. I know I'm not smart enough for NASA, I figured that out pretty early on, But yeah, that was my first big dream.”

“There’s lots of different kinds of smart, Steve. And for what it's worth I think you’d have made a great astronaut. NASA only wishes they could have someone as strong and fearless as you.”

It wasn’t until after they’d finished breakfast that Eddie realized it had been almost 24 hours since they’d sent the kids packing to Mike’s house.

“I’m surprised that Dustin and Co haven't knocked down the door yet. Do you think Nancy told them… about yesterday?”

“She did. She uh, also told them to give me some space today unless there was an emergency.”

“Huh. That was nice of her.”

“Yeah.”

Part of Eddie wanted to just come out and ask. The more he saw them interact, the more confused he was about whatever was or wasn’t going on between Steve and Nancy. Half the time Steve just seemed stressed and uncomfortable around her but Eddie couldn’t tell if that was only due to the whole exes thing, or if it was because he still had feelings for her. But somehow, even after everything else they’d opened up to each other about, it felt like a step too far, and he didn’t want to accidentally make things weird between them. 

They spent the rest of the day being blissfully lazy, which again felt so strange in the middle of everything, but it was also just what Eddie needed. It was nice to have a break from it all, to feel normal for once even if it was only temporary, even if they were playing pretend. 

Reality, of course, came crashing down on them just as they decided to turn in for the night, when Robin called to let them know Fred’s body had been found earlier in the day in the woods behind his house. 

It was a blow for sure, and Eddie felt awful for not doing more to help when Nancy had suggested it, but there was nothing they could do about it now. He’d managed to save Chrissy, and that would have to be enough.

-

“How come you live with your uncle?” Steve asked, a little out of the blue as they were getting into bed. 

They’d both been quiet since getting the bad news from Robin, and that might have been part of why Eddie was so taken aback by the question, or maybe it was just because the answer wasn’t a happy one. 

Steve quickly realized he’d accidentally struck a nerve and immediately tried to backpedal. “Sorry, I was just curious, I didn’t think. I- I shouldn’t have asked that.” 

“No, it’s okay. I mean, you already know my deepest darkest secret so–” Eddie shrugged, trying to play it off like it was no big deal, but Steve wasn’t buying it. They’d grown too close for that now. 

It was a painful story, and not something Eddie usually like to even think about, let alone talk about, but he realized with a start that he did want to. For better or worse he wanted Steve to know him, all of him. 

“My mom left when I was five. Couldn’t blame her, my Dad is a real mean bastard. I thought that maybe one day she’d come back for me but… Anyway, I did my best to keep my head down, stay on his good side. I was nine when he started taking me out on jobs, I got real good at hot-wiring. He loved that his son was turning out just like him.” 

Eddie scoffed, the very thought of him becoming anything like that garbage dump of a human being was disgusting, laughable. He’d played a part, acted the way Al Munson expected a son of his to act out of self preservation, nothing more. 

“I hated it, but it kept him off my back for a while. A couple years later I skipped school one day with a friend, who also happened to be my very first crush. I thought my dad was out for the day. We weren’t even doing anything, just hanging out listening to music, which is why I didn’t hear the old man come home. I don’t know how long he watched us from the doorway, but he must have seen something on my face that tipped him off. Maybe he’d already suspected it and this was his confirmation, I don't know. When I finally noticed him standing there, he- he looked so angry, and I just knew that he knew—that he’d seen.”

Eddie rolled over, staring resolutely at the ceiling. He’d never told the full truth of that day to anyone before. Wayne knew the most, not every detail, but enough that he’d sooner kill his own brother than to ever speak to him again. 

“My friend left, I’m sure he just thought I was in trouble for skipping. I don’t remember much of what happened right after that, it’s all a bit of a blur, but I know he beat the absolute shit out of me. I woke up later that night on the floor. One of my eyes was swollen shut and there was hair and blood stuck to the carpet all around me. He’d taken a pair of clippers to my head. Looking back, I know I was lucky he hadn’t killed me but in the moment I was just so mad that he’d cut my stupid hair. It was long, not as long as it is now but he’d hated it, thought it made me look like a girl, or a queer.” 

Eddie let out a burst of humorless laughter, the sound wetter than he’d expected it to be, from the tears he only just realized were streaming down his face. He rubbed at his cheeks absently and cleared his throat. 

“I’d only met Wayne a few times, he and my dad never really got along, but he’d always been nice to me. I knew where he lived, so I shoved a few things into a bag and hitchhiked to Hawkins. He took me in, no questions asked. Dad got arrested on a drug charge a few weeks later, wound up going to prison, been there ever since.”

“Can I hold you?” Steve asked, sounding as though he’d been crying too and Eddie realized he’d been hovering there for a while, unsure if his touch would be welcome. Given the story, it was understandable, and incredibly thoughtful and sweet of him to check first.  

Eddie nodded, allowing Steve to pull him into the circle of his arms, and couldn’t think of a time where he’d felt safer or more comforted.  

“I’m so sorry that happened to you. I’m glad you had someone like your uncle to run to, he sounds like a really great guy.”

“Yeah, he’s the best. Don’t know what I’d do without him.”

-

Eddie woke up surrounded by warmth. He vaguely remembered falling asleep while Steve held him, and was surprised to find himself in the same position, as if neither of them had moved during the course of the night. 

His heart began to race, and almost immediately he was filled with a deep sense of dread. Was this it? Had they finally gone too far? It was one thing to comfort each other in the throes of a panic attack, or while taking an unpleasant stroll down memory lane, but it was something else entirely to wake up with another dude’s face pressed into your neck.

He shifted, wondering what the odds were that he could disentangle himself without waking the other boy up. It didn’t seem likely but he had to–

“Morning,” Steve said, with absolutely no trace of sleepiness in his voice. 

–try. Shit.

Okay, so Steve was awake—may have been for a while. No need to freak out about that or wonder how and why he was so comfortable cuddling this closely with a male friend. Nope, Eddie was not going to think about or read into that at all, because that way lay madness.

Instead he made the perfectly sane decision to wrench himself out of Steve’s grasp and scramble off the bed, intent on locking himself in the bathroom for some as-yet-to-be-determined amount of time. 

But, before he could make it to that door, there was a knock on the other one. 

“Hey Dinguses, just wanted to give you a heads up that you’ve got a full house downstairs so, y’know, join us when you’re ready.” Robin said loudly through the wood, her footsteps retreating down the hall quickly once Steve shouted back that he’d heard. 

“I guess our day of rest is officially over.” Steve muttered, stretching as he flung the covers off, and said nothing about Eddie’s dramatic dismount from the bed. 

He got up, maintaining eye contact as he pulled his shirt off, depositing it in the hamper before pulling a new one out of the drawer. 

Finally Steve looked away, slipping past and into the bathroom leaving Eddie staring after him dumbstruck with his mouth hanging open wondering what the fuck was going on.

- 

Still half in shock and questioning his reality, Eddie followed Steve down the stairs to join the rest of the party, only for the phone to start ringing as they hit the bottom step. 

Steve grabbed his hand, as if it was the most natural thing in the world and pulled him down the hall, past the kitchen, and into a room that looked like an office where he picked up the call. 

He couldn’t gather much from Steve’s side of the conversation. Partially because he said very little other than—“Okay,” “I will,” and “yes, I understand”—and partially because Steve was still holding his hand!!

Steve smiled brightly as he hung up the phone. “I meant to tell you yesterday but with everything it slipped my mind. You remember Hopper, right?”

“Yeah, um, didn’t he die in the fire at the mall?” Eddie said, struggling a little to focus on the current topic. 

Steve gave him a significant look and, oh—right. He remembered now, the fire that wasn't just a fire.

“The chief was mixed up in all this Upside Down shit too, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, he’d been in it from the beginning. He got killed in the blast when Joyce closed the Russian gate under the mall, except… maybe he didn’t? According to Joyce, Hop's been in a goddamn Russian prison for the last 8 months. She got a ransom note a couple days ago, that’s why she’s not coming here right away. She and this guy Murray are in Alaska right now trying to get him out.”

“That’s amazing!” Eddie said, and he meant it too. They could do with a little good news for a change. He and the chief hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye but he was a decent guy, for a cop.

Steve's smile dropped suddenly.

“What is it?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, just—what if she can’t get him out? What if they hurt him in there? I know what it's like to be tortured by these guys and that was only for a day. They’ve had him for months.”

Eddie squeezed his hand. “I wish I could tell you it’ll be alright, but the truth is I just don’t know. In the past loops we could never reach them. I guess this explains why if she was off trying to rescue Hopper.”

Steve squeezed back. “She asked me not to tell anyone, especially the kids, not until he’s out of there and safe, but I thought you should know. Just in case.”

-

They finally joined the others who had taken over again like they fucking owned the place. It was a full house, everyone was buzzing in anticipation of Jonathan, Will, and El’s arrival. When asked about the phone call Steve only said that it was Joyce and she’d just dropped the others off at the airport. A small but necessary lie.

It felt good that things were finally happening. Obviously Eddie had been enjoying all the downtime with Steve, but there was always that lingering worry in the background, like a dark cloud hanging over their heads. Wondering what would happen next, if they would win, if he would survive. If it would stick this time or if he was doomed to keep looping back forever. 

The afternoon went by in a flash with all the commotion and before long it was time for Nancy and Mike to leave for the airport to pick up team California. 

The expected time of their return came and went, souring the excitement of the day.

It was shaping up to be another big family sleepover night, which was just as well. With Nancy and Mike not having returned yet, stress was at an all-time high and it was probably best that everyone stay under the same roof until they knew what was going on. 

Steve kept reminding them all that it could be nothing. Flights got delayed all the time, for all kinds of reasons, it didn’t necessarily mean something bad had happened.

It would have been a solid excuse, if only any of them believed it. 

Over 4 hours after Nancy and Mike had left, the phone finally rang. It was them, but it was not good news. It had taken time and a lot of persuading on Nancy’s part but she’d finally gotten someone from the airline to talk to her. The plane the others were due to come in on had left Lenora on time and landed in Indianapolis as scheduled. Jonathan, Will, and El–Jane had even checked in for the flight, but when the plane took off from California none of them were on it.  

Chapter 6

Special thanks to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader.

Reblogs are always appreciated and if you want to be tagged, just let me know! I'd be more than happy to do so 💜

Taglist: @hitlikehammers @pearynice @cranberrymoons @thoroughlycollected @blubblesandink @finntheehumaneater @brbsoulnomming @estrellami-1 @hellion-child @mentallyundone @manda-panda-monium @spicysix @kikidoesfanfic @dreamwatch @lawrencebshoggoth @stillfullofshit @lil-gremlin-things @mamafaithful

#steddie fanfic #time loop #pov eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie fic #fanfic #robin buckley #hbyrde's anniversary project

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

Why Not Me?

Chapter 7 (Epilogue)

[Ch. 1] [Ch. 2] [Ch. 3] [Ch. 4] [Ch. 5] [Ch. 6]

[[Y'all this entire fic without the epilogue is just under 20k. This epilogue is juuust shy of 7k. It's over a third of the entire fic 😂. But anyway -- Here it is, the epilogue, in which LQR and LJY get to hug it out a few times (and we catch up to canon time, to the interactions that inspired it all) Enjoy!]]

--//--

-9-

“ZEWU-JUN!!!!!”

Jingyi’s shout skitters off the rocks in the pretty white gardens and the buildings ahead of him, propelled by his powerful lungs and the racing of his feet as he tears through Cloud Recesses like a wild mountain wind. Scandalized teachers and disciples alike call after him to stop running and shouting, but Jingyi doesn’t care one bit what they think, not right now.

“Zewu-jun!!” Jingyi shouts again at a volume that maybe won’t wake the ancestors when he’s closer to the Sect Leader’s office, but he’s thankfully still loud enough that he sees the man in question step out onto the porch to meet him before he’s even reached the border of his courtyard.

“Jingyi, hush,” Zewu-jun cautions, though without much conviction in his always-soft voice. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

Jingyi skids to a stop at the base of the few stairs that lead up to the porch and he bends double to brace his hands on his shaking knees to try to suck in deep breaths and recover what he hadn’t drawn in while he’d been running pell-mell through every shortcut he knows — and he knows a lot of them.

“Lan-xiansheng is hurt!” he manages to cough after a few breaths and Zewu-jun hurries (politely) down the steps to take him by the arm and help him stand upright.

“How is Shufu hurt?” his cousin asks, quick and quiet. Jingyi turns at the sound of scuffling behind him to find that his headlong flight has garnered them an audience. He hurries to wave Zewu-jun down to his level so he can talk quietly in his ear, and Zewu-jun obliges him immediately.

“Lan-xiansheng didn’t wake up on time this morning so I made him breakfast but when I woke him up to eat it he got sick and then coughed up a bunch of stale blood and then he told me to come find you and then he passed out and you have to come and help him, please Zewu-jun!”

Jingyi is half-expecting Zewu-jun to brush him off like all the other adults in the Sect do (except for Lan-xiansheng and Hanguang-jun, of course), but thankfully Zewu-jun seems to know he isn’t telling a tall tale just for attention. Jingyi’s definitely too big for it now but Zewu-jun still bends down to sweep him up onto his hip, and Jingyi isn’t even embarrassed to be carried like a baby because Zewu-jun can walk as fast as Jingyi can run without making it look like running, so he clings tight and tries to stop shaking as Zewu-jun carries him back through the disturbance Jingyi had left in his wake.

They arrive at the Yashi quickly and Zewu-jun sets him down again just inside the door that Jingyi hurries to close against the curious eyes of the rest of the Sect while Zewu-jun hurries further inside the house.

“Shufu?” Jingyi hears him ask, low and urgent, and he breathes a tiny sigh of relief at the responding rumble from Lan-xiansheng, too quiet for him to pick out the individual words. He has too much nervous energy in his hands for even his well-worn rock to contend with, so Jingyi busies himself with making tea and stirring up the morning’s congee to make sure it isn’t getting all burnt and gross on the bottom of the wok.

When the tea is steeped and the congee stirred he cleans up the mess he’d made while preparing breakfast and stirs the congee again a few more times for good measure…and Zewu-jun still hasn’t come back from the bedroom Jingyi shares with Lan-xiansheng. He doesn’t want to interrupt in case it would be bad, but he can’t stand another second not knowing what’s happening so he creeps on tiptoe to the door to peek cautiously around the frame and look through the gloom to try to see what’s happening.

Between Zewu-jun and Lan-xiansheng there glows a thin thread of qi, pure blue and glinting like a mountain stream at noon, tossing strange shadows on the walls beside and behind Lan-xiansheng’s bed. Jingyi drifts a little closer, still on tiptoe, to try to see what’s happening, and between one flickering blink and the next he’s able to make out the shape of Lan-xiansheng on his back and Zewu-jun’s first two fingers pointed at the center of his forehead where the cloud emblem of his ribbon would be sitting had Lan-xiansheng had the strength to get dressed this morning. Jingyi watches the transfer of qi with bated breath, holding still with a monumental effort as if the efficacy of the healing is completely dependent on how quiet and small he can keep himself.

It goes on for a long time, long enough that Jingyi’s fingers begin twitching on his sleeves and his knees feel like a wobbly jelly from his favorite dessert stall in Caiyi from how tightly he’s been keeping them locked to stay still. But finally, just when he’s about to break, the room goes dim again and Zewu-jun sighs as he pulls his hand away, no longer feeding Lan-xiansheng a stream of his qi.

“You are overextending yourself again, Shufu,” Zewu-jun says quietly, even though Lan-xiansheng looks like he’s gone back to sleep.

“It is hardly anything to be so fretful over,” Lan-xiansheng grumps in the same tone he uses when he knows Jingyi is right about one of his ethics puzzles but it isn’t the nice orthodox answer Lan-xiansheng likes. “I taught the talisman classes yesterday and activated a few too many, that’s all.”

Zewu-jun’s voice is nearly inaudible as he replies, “You frightened Jingyi, Shufu. He doesn’t know what sorts of injuries are fatal yet, he may be…overly worried.”

“Well it’s not fatal,” Lan-xiansheng snaps, still grumpy. “I’ll just need to rest today and I will be fine by tomorrow, I said there’s no need for so much fuss!”

Jingyi forces his jelly knees to bend so he can creep back out of the room before he gets caught eavesdropping. Now that Zewu-jun has said it, Jingyi realizes he is scared, and he should probably do something about that before he has to hide it while he brings Lan-xiansheng breakfast again. He digs around in the hollows around the hearth until he can fish out their big sack of rice and tuck himself small and round in the space it fits in, the stone pressed against his back toasty warm from the fire. Jingyi huddles into a ball there in his new hiding place and hugs his knees tightly to his chest, tight-tight-tight until his arms shake and his joints ache and he doesn’t feel like he’s about to fly apart into a million little pieces like he’s heard fierce corpses do when Hanguang-jun plays his guqin at them.

What if Lan-xiansheng isn’t really okay? What if his health is getting really bad? What if he’s going to die and leave Jingyi alone again, like his parents? What if he has to go back to the children’s home to live? What if he doesn’t get to have special classes and a family and a purpose anymore, what if he has to go back to being just a regular disciple with no one to want him around? Hanguang-jun leaves often for night hunts, and Sizhui lives in the disciple dormitories now whenever his dad is gone. Jingyi supposes he could probably try to live in the dormitories too, but Lan-xiansheng has said he doesn’t want him to, he said it wouldn’t be the right place for him because they wouldn’t understand him and the ways he has to live noisily. Would that be worse or better than the children’s home? But there’s no doubt that both of them would be horrible because it would mean Lan-xiansheng is gone, and Jingyi doesn’t want that to happen ever. He wants to keep living with Lan-xiansheng and helping him with all his work and being allowed to be noisy and run around when they’re at home and he wants his life to keep going exactly how it is, with Lan-xiansheng looking after him so Jingyi can look after him, too.

But what if it all just…ends?

“Shhh, Jingyi, it’s alright,” Zewu-jun suddenly murmurs from close by, and Jingyi hiccups around his next ragged breath. “Don’t be afraid, Shufu’s going to be fine. Do you need to stay in there a little longer, or would you like to come out?”

Jingyi squeezes his arms tight-tight-tighter and buries his face in his knobby knees, tilting sideways away from Zewu-jun until the back wall of the cubby-hole is pressed up against his side. He tries to push himself harder against it with his feet but they scuff against the floor and don’t help much at all, so he tries it again with a frustrated little huff that turns into a whine when the scuffing just happens again.

“It’s alright, Jingyi,” Zewu-jun repeats but that’s a lie because it’s not alright! Jingyi opens his mouth to tell him so, Sect Leader or not, but then big warm hands are pressing against his shoulder and knee to hold him stuck firmly in place against the stone, so tight it feels like he’s being squished under a boulder. Jingyi lets some of the tension in his arms go and Zewu-jun still holds him right there, pressed up against the wall so Jingyi can relax and lean his head against it too, suddenly exhausted as if he’d run laps around the base of the whole mountain instead of only through the main part of Cloud Recesses.

“Can you hear me now or is your mind still too loud?” Zewu-jun asks after a few long minutes of silence except for Jingyi’s breathing slowing down and the occasional ruffle of silk against stone when he or Zewu-jun readjust a little bit.

Jingyi pouts into his knees, but he gives his honest answer anyway. “I can hear.”

“Thank you, Jingyi. Shufu is only tired, he isn’t sick, or hurt. He was hurt some years ago when the Cloud Recesses was attacked, and sometimes his old injury takes up all his energy when he tries to do too many things in one day.” Zewu-jun’s explanation is patient and soft, and as he continues to hold Jingyi smushed up against the wall Jingyi finds that the information is…good. That it helps him to relax a little more. “He will not die from it, Jingyi, I promise you. No matter how tired he gets, no matter how ill he feels, this injury will not take him away from us. Can you repeat that for me?”

“Lan-xiansheng was hurt by the Wens when they burned Cloud Recesses. He feels worse when he’s used up too much energy. He won’t die.”

“Good. Shufu is a very strong cultivator. Everything will be alright so long as we make sure he looks after himself well to keep up that strength. Can you keep helping me do that?”

Jingyi sucks in a deep breath and lets it all back out with a big whoosh that takes all the tension in his muscles with it. “Yes, Zewu-jun,” he promises, and when he wriggles a little bit against his Sect Leader’s hold, beginning to feel cramped, Zewu-jun releases him easily and helps pull him back out of his hiding spot. Zewu-jun is kneeling right there in their kitchen, on eye-level with Jingyi, and so Jingyi can see it perfectly when Zewu-jun offers him a gentle smile as he pats the side of his head, careful to avoid his ribbon.

“You’re a good boy, Jingyi,” Zewu-jun tells him. “I was worried at first that Shufu would get too tired looking after you, but do you want to know a secret? It’s a good one, I promise.”

Jingyi nods, though perhaps a little reluctantly. (He still doesn’t like hearing that Zewu-jun thought he wouldn’t be good for Lan-xiansheng to keep around, which he privately thinks is fair.)

“Shufu’s health has been much better since he brought you home, I think raising you is a very good thing for him. Hanguang-jun and I are quite relieved and happy that he has you. Thank you, Jingyi.”

Jingyi’s tight chest sparks with the same joy he still finds in being useful to Lan-xiansheng, in carrying out his chores well and helping Lan-xiansheng with all his paperwork and meetings in between their cultivation lessons. He stands up a little straighter, feels a little better, and Zewu-jun smiles at him in the same gentle way Hanguang-jun does (only he does it with his mouth too, and not just his eyes).

“The congee is still warm,” Jingyi says. “But the tea is probably gross now.”

“Mm, I see. Shufu can have water with his congee, then. Will you take it to him?”

A task. A set task, one he can for sure accomplish without a problem. Jingyi relaxes further, relieved, and hurries to nod and scoop up some congee into a small wooden bowl, only realizing belatedly that it’s one of his and not one of Lan-xiansheng’s nice ceramic bowls like he always uses. Oh well, maybe wooden bowls are better for eating in bed anyway.

“Lan-xiansheng?” he calls from the doorway, as soft as he can make his voice (he’s getting pretty good at it!).

Lan-xiansheng’s voice is still rough around the edges, but it’s a relief to hear him call back an exhausted, “Come in, Jingyi.”

“I have congee and —“ Jingyi cuts himself off, guilty, and half-turns as if to head back to the kitchen only to find Zewu-jun already waiting behind him with a cup of water and that nice smile still on his face. He holds a finger up to his lips to shush him and winks before he hands the cup to Jingyi, so he doesn’t have to admit that he forgot something important. “I have congee and water,” he says to Lan-xiansheng and shoots a grateful look at Zewu-jun over his shoulder.

“Hmph. Filial child,” Lan-xiansheng huffs as he does anytime Jingyi makes it a point to take extra good care of him. He always sounds grumpy when he says it, but there’s always a little smile hiding under his mustache so that’s okay. “Bring it here, then.”

Jingyi makes his way carefully across the room to offer Lan-xiansheng his breakfast, and when the man takes the dishes off his hands Jingyi simply climbs up to sit on the edge of his bed and wait, kicking his feet a little and trying not to yawn. He always gets sleepy after he has to be small and tight for a while, but usually he can ignore it if he goes to do something outside after.

“You should not have run and shouted for Xichen like you did, Jingyi,” Lan-xiansheng admonishes when he’s finished and Jingyi has carefully taken the dishes back, the jade cup tucked safely inside the sturdier wood bowl. Jingyi grips the bowl a little tighter and shakes his head with a stubborn clench in his jaw.

“Lan-xiansheng’s health was in danger, I needed Zewu-jun’s help.”

“His help could have been requested at an appropriate volume.”

Jingyi’s jaw pops from how hard he’s biting down a big shivery feeling in his chest, and because Lan-xiansheng sees everything of course he notices.

“Jingyi?”

“I was scared,” he admits, ducking his head and using the hand Lan-xiansheng can’t see to swipe at his suddenly-damp cheek. He still cries just as easily as he had before he got his family, which is embarrassing, but they never say anything mean about it so it’s not too bad. “I yelled and ran because I was scared.”

“Ah, I see,” Lan-xiansheng hums. Jingyi swipes at his cheek again before he sits up straight and tries to begin hopping down from the bed to take the dishes back to be scrubbed — but then strong arms are wrapping around him and Jingyi melts into the embrace immediately.

Lan-xiansheng isn’t much for hugging. Hanguang-jun is, he hugs Jingyi a lot, but Zewu-jun and Lan-xiansheng don’t ever really hug him, and he’s noticed they don’t hug Hanguang-jun or Lan Yuan all that much either. But Lan-xiansheng is hugging him now, just as warm as the hearthstone and a little tighter than even Zewu-jun had pressed him against the wall to help him get through his panic, and without thinking Jingyi drops the bowl and cup with a clatter to hug Lan-xiansheng back just as fiercely.

“Please don’t die,” he whispers into Lan-xiansheng’s shoulder. His heart shies away from just saying it aloud, like maybe if he says it right to Lan-xiansheng it’ll actually happen. But before he can really get himself worked up, Lan-xiansheng presses a hand tight to the back of his head and shakes his own head enough for Jingyi to feel it.

“I will not die, Jingyi. I promised I would raise you. Are you grown yet?”

Jingyi laughs a little wetly around a big sniffle. “No, Lan-xiansheng.”

“Mm. Silly child.”

“Can you stay even when I’m grown though?” he has to ask, his voice small and nervous where he’s still hiding in Lan-xiansheng’s shoulder. If Lan-xiansheng has to die when Jingyi grows up then he’ll just have to find a way to stay a kid forever, it’s flawless logic.

Lan-xiansheng pauses for a long moment before he gives Jingyi an extra-hard squeeze and then pushes him away enough to look him in the eyes. “I will live for as long as I can.  You may be…60 years old and still be a silly child. Will you be grown, then? Will you stop needing me then?”

Jingyi laughs again, stronger this time, and shakes his head ‘no’.

“Correct. I need to rest now — you may have a rest in your bed as well if you need to, we will not be doing work today.”

Jingyi, thus reassured of both Lan-xiansheng’s longevity and permission to nap through the exhaustion of one of his own episodes, hurries to return the dishes to the now-empty kitchen so he can lay down for his nap, the fear from the morning all but gone in the wake of getting a hug from Lan-xiansheng.

--//--

-15(.5)-

“Yangfu!” Jingyi hollers as he slams the door to the Yashi open with a clatter. “I’m home!”

“Child, how many times must I remind you that I can hear you coming from a li away? You do not need to shout that you have arrived.”

“Sorry,” Jingyi grins, not sorry at all. As expected, Lan-xiansheng waves a wooden spoon at him with a vague noise of irritation and nothing more — he’s long since stopped reminding Jingyi of any of the several rules pertaining to lying and careless speech that render his ‘apology’ worthy of reprimand.

“Go wash,” is all he says instead, so Jingyi salutes him deeply just to tweak his tail again before he hurries to set his sword aside and head out into the back garden for a perfunctory wash in the rain barrel. The weather is turning cool so he’s not too dirty from sword practice, which means he’s quick enough to wash and change into fresh clothes before he returns to the kitchen to strategically make himself too much of a nuisance for Lan-xiansheng to be willing to share the hearth with him. Jingyi cheerfully takes over the making of their dinner when Lan-xiansheng retreats with irritated grumbling about filial piety and pointy teenage elbows — a familiar background music to Jingyi’s evening routine.

“Yangfu,” Jingyi pipes up after they’ve finished eating in their usual silence and he’s chattered at Lan-xiansheng about his afternoon of training through the process of washing up and brewing tea that always follows. Lan-xiansheng barely glances up from the painting he’s carefully contemplating the next addition to at his call.

“Hm?”

“Did da-shixiong come to talk to you this afternoon?”

“He did.”

Jingyi fidgets from foot to foot before huffing in (fond) exasperation. Lan-xiansheng ignores him, of course, and continues to sip at his tea and study his own in-progress painting like the possibility of Jingyi beginning to join his peers on nighthunts isn’t being dangled in front of Jingyi’s eyes like a fish flailing on a line.

“Can I go?” he finally breaks enough to ask, flopping down into a…sort of correct kneel in front of the table. Lan-xiansheng holds his ink-loaded brush well away from the clattering table with the ease of many years of practice navigating a space with Jingyi’s clumsiness.

“If your da-shixiong has not seen fit to inform you —“

“Yangfu!”

Lan-xiansheng sniffs and finally looks up from his painting to level an acerbic glare at him from under truly impressive angry brows. (He can’t fool Jingyi though, he’s doing this on purpose just for the fun of teasing him.)

“Do not interrupt me, child, I’ve had enough of that in my meetings this afternoon. If your da-shixiong has not seen fit to inform you of your first assignment then why should I rob him of the headache?”

Jingyi grins wide enough to split his face and gamely gives Lan-xiansheng enough time to set his brush down and cover his ears with a pointed look before he lets out a noisy whoop and hops up to go run a couple laps around the back garden to burn off the sudden burst of energy.

“Wash again before you come inside if you’re going to be so energetic!” Lan-xiansheng’s sharp bark makes Jingyi laugh, and when he finishes a few more laps (cartwheels, to tire himself out as much as he can) he obligingly heads back to the barrel to dunk his head in the cool water, if for no other reason than to see the poorly-disguised distaste on Lan-xiansheng’s face when he tromps back in dripping water on the floor from the ends of his hair.

“Incorrigible boy,” Lan-xiansheng huffs. “Come sit, I know you won’t remember to comb your hair and I refuse to look at a bird’s nest on your head tomorrow. We have to go down to Caiyi for business in the morning, you should be presentable.”

Jingyi grins, fetches his usual oil and his comb, and finally feels his energy settle enough that he only fidgets a little once he’s sat at the table and Lan-xiansheng is kneeling behind him to comb his hair out with methodical movements.

“Thank you, Yangfu,” Jingyi murmurs when the motion of the comb in his hair has settled him further.

Lan-xiansheng sniffs in a way that could either be dismissive or a show of emotion (Jingyi will choose to believe it’s the latter). “It’s past time you went out on hunts. The other boys your age already do, and you are ahead of most of them in your cultivation.”

“Aiyah,” Jingyi tuts with a smirk. “Arrogance is forbidden! Do not flatter! Hey–!”

“Do not use the precepts for levity with me, Yi-er, it is disrespectful,” Lan-xiansheng scolds while Jingyi rubs at the spot on his scalp Lan-xiansheng had just swatted. “It is not arrogance or flattery to state what is fact. Your cultivation is highly ranked amongst your peers, they should take you for an example in their learning on night hunts.”

Jingyi smiles, practically glowing with happiness from such blatant praise, and settles down obediently for the rest of the de-tangling process.

“You will be careful on your hunt,” Lan-xiansheng says eventually, as serious as always. “You will listen closely to your seniors and obey them, should their instruction be correct. If it is not, you will go through the proper authority to see it corrected, you will not take matters into your own hands to reprimand them yourself. You will only attend group hunts supervised by Wangji until you have proven yourself capable of behaving well enough for the other supervising cultivators that they understand you are not intentionally disobedient. You will not risk your life, and you will not encourage or support others in doing so, either.”

Jingyi nods vigorously enough that Lan-xiansheng puts his free hand on top of his head to stop him from yanking at the comb the man is still running through his hair.

“What scenario have I not considered?”

Jingyi screws up his face for a moment to run back through the list of instructions. Lan-xiansheng has gotten really good over the years at learning how to give him thorough enough lists of instructions that most circumstances are typically accounted for, but Jingyi is nothing if not creative in circumventing any rule he can, even when he doesn’t mean to be.

“What if a mundane person is in life-threatening trouble and I’m the only one who can help them but it’s really dangerous?”

Lan-xiansheng swats at his head again, more gently this time. “You will not be going on such dangerous hunts, and you will not be tasked with protecting civilians directly. It will be your task to shadow your seniors and do as directed, and to learn all you can from observing their work. You are not to endanger yourself, Jingyi. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Yangfu. I won’t endanger myself.”

“Good.”

Jingyi stays still as Lan-xiansheng finishes combing his hair and braids it for sleep, tucking the ends of his ribbon neatly into the braid to keep it safe. (Most of the time if he takes it off at night he forgets to put it on again in the morning, it’s easiest to just sleep in it.)

Jingyi returns his comb and oil where they belong and settles in across from Lan-xiansheng at the table to work on a bit of lure talisman research he’s interested in, the silence comfortable and peaceful at the end of a day. When the sandalwood incense burning in the brazier switches to jasmine, informing them of the start of hai shi, they set aside their individual pursuits and begin to prepare for bed. Jingyi is about to slip into his own bedroom — an addition to the house Lan-xiansheng commissioned to be built for him some years ago — when a hand around his wrist stops him.

For all the growth spurts Jingyi has gone through in the last few years, Lan-xiansheng still stands a few cuns taller than him. He looks every bit of it now, his gaze stern as Jingyi turns to look up at him, curious. “Yangfu?”

“I will not stop you from night hunting,” he says with apparent difficulty. “It is your right and your duty as a cultivator capable of helping to do so.” Jingyi stays quiet as Lan-xiansheng visibly chews on his next words before he manages to get them out. “You are..vitally important to me. Promise me you will be careful.”

Jingyi — suddenly feeling quite a bit younger than his 15 and a half years — surges forward to hug Lan-xiansheng tightly around the middle and hide his face in his chest. Lan-xiansheng still isn’t much of a hugger, but for now he indulges Jingyi enough to wrap his arms around his shoulders and hold on tight.

“I’ll be careful, Yangfu,” Jingyi promises into soft white silk, feeling wonderfully comfortable. “I won’t take risks. I’ll listen to my seniors. Hanguang-jun will keep us all safe, and I swear I’ll behave and follow all the rules.”

Lan-xiansheng is too slow to stop his disbelieving snort at that, so Jingyi grins and squeezes him tighter to irritate his adoptive father for daring to doubt him.

“Follow what rules you can,” Lan-xiansheng sighs, long-suffering, and pats his back a few times to signal him to let go. “And come back in one piece.”

That much, at least, he can do. He says as much and wishes Lan-xiansheng goodnight before they retreat back to their individual rooms. He settles in for bed with a smile and a shake of his head, unable to sleep for hours with the excitement of his first nighthunt humming under his skin.

--//--

-17-

In the two years since Jingyi started joining his agemates on nighthunts (when his other duties allow), he’s seen his fair share of wild and unbelievable things. The world is wide and the Lan disciples travel far, following the example set for them by (and usually under the direct leadership of) Hanguang-jun. He’d known even on that very first hunt that they wouldn’t always be so easy, that he wouldn’t always get to follow his favorite seniors around doing little more than holding their spare qiankun pouches for them and shouting about how cool they are at opportune moments in battle. That being said, he still thinks that it’s a little excessive that only two years later he’s progressed all the way up to getting kidnapped and thrown in a cave in the Burial Mounds with a bunch of other juniors who don’t have any better ideas than he does as to how they’re going to get the fuck out of here.

“If you ask me, you shouldn’t have just stabbed him once. Why didn’t you slice his throat?”

Ugh — not only kidnapped and thrown into the Burial Mounds. Kidnapped, thrown into the Burial Mounds, and tied to Jin Chan. Truly a low point in his life, Jingyi has to admit, and something he will decidedly not be putting into his reports of this nighthunt if they make it out of here (though he will likely complain about it to Lan-xiansheng in the privacy of their own home. Their home which he will definitely see again, he promised to be careful and come back in one piece, like he always does).

“It’s been a few days since they left us here,” Jingyi says, mostly to distract himself from the prospect of breaking such an important promise. “What do they want to do? To beat us or kill us…at least make it fast.” Jokes? Jokes. Jokes about death are a solid way to make it funny and not at all a very real possibility. He can make jokes about anything until he’s blue in the face, this is fine. “I’d rather be bitten to death by a monster while hunting than starve to death in this shithole.”

Jingyi can’t even find it in himself to feel bad that no one laughs. He’s not really laughing either, after all.

“What else would they want?” Jin Chan retorts into the despondent silence. “It must be like back in Nightless City, he wants to make us into fierce corpses and use us to fight our families!..”

Jingyi sighs and tunes out whatever other drivel about Wei-qianbei is coming out of Jin Chan’s mouth, and barely pays attention to whatever Jin Ling snaps back at him as if they aren’t always at each other’s throats anyway. He tunes back in enough to hear Sizhui trying to calm them down but he doesn’t bother trying to help his best friend — he at least knows a hopeless cause when he sees one. Or is tied to one, as the case may be, which becomes ridiculously annoying when Jin Chan starts struggling at their ropes to try to get at Jin Ling.

His irritation at his companions is a decent enough distraction from the morbid direction his thoughts had been trying to head in, at least — and then it hardly matters because someone’s calling to them from the entry to the cave and when Jingyi cranes around to look towards the familiar voice he can’t help but grin and relax in relief.

“Hanguang-jun!” Jingyi’s call comes right on the heels of Sizhui’s. It’s a simple fact of life that so long as Hanguang-jun is here then everything will be fine, and between one breath and the next he doesn’t doubt for a moment that he’ll make it home to Lan-xiansheng after all (though he will admit that being approached by the Ghost General wielding a sword comes really close to making him doubt it all over again in the moments before he’s cut free).

As is proper, he and Sizhui are the first to hurry up and greet Hanguang-jun, who studies them both closely as Sizhui greets Wei-qianbei and reaffirms for everyone present that their whole kidnapping and attempted murder predicament is not his fault. Jingyi doesn’t really care whose fault it is, if he’s being honest, he mostly just wants to go home and maybe spend a couple weeks (at least) doing nothing but helping Lan-xiansheng with his mountains of paperwork and badmouthing the Sect Leaders he doesn’t like since Lan-xiansheng can’t say any of it himself. Not that he doesn’t like nighthunting, and not that he doesn’t enjoy going out on adventures with Sizhui and Hanguang-jun, but this is maybe enough excitement for a while.

In the interest of washing his hands of the situation, Jingyi tells Hanguang-jun and Wei-qianbei what he knows about their captors and the fierce corpses outside (which is really very little). Hanguang-jun’s soft, “You did well,” makes him feel just as incredible as ever, even having to share the praise equally with Sizhui. He preens just a bit under it, smirking and sharing a look with Sizhui that his best friend returns with all the natural good grace that Jingyi always seems to lack. They’re so close to being able to go home he can almost feel the cool mist of Cloud Recesses on his face instead of the dry stale wind of the Burial Mounds.

Hanguang-jun’s attention suddenly darts over Jingyi’s shoulder and he shifts his weight to step in front of Wei-qianbei. When Jingyi mirrors him, ready in a heartbeat to follow Hanguang-jun’s signal, he scowls to see Jin Ling stepping forward with his usual sour expression on his face.

“What, are you going to stab him again?” he demands, ignoring Sizhui’s gently admonishing call of his name. They’re all thinking it anyway or else they wouldn’t be stepping forward to protect Wei-qianbei from him, so that means it’s only rude to say, not actually against any rules. (It’s not gossip, everyone knows Jin Ling stabbed Wei-qianbei at Jinlintai, and it’s not a lie because it’s a question, so there.)

“Aiyah, don’t surround him like that. Enough,” Wei-qianbei chides. “We’ll talk outside.”

Jingyi has to fight hard to keep from rolling his eyes when everyone else simply fidgets and makes no move to head for the doors like he’s itching to do. “What?” he calls to the room at large. “Still want to stay here?”

“There are so many fierce corpses outside. You want us to go out there and die?” Jingyi does roll his eyes at that, but since it’s Jin Chan who said it he’s probably not the only one doing so.

The Ghost General offers to keep the fierce corpses outside at bay, and Sizhui comes up with a much more eloquent argument than Jingyi’s badgering, and finally they’re all moving to head out, Jingyi’s practically thrumming with an electric buzz to get his sword under his feet and go home —

Or else the buzzing is actually the crackle of the Zidian whip, considering it throws the Ghost General back into the cave before the rest of them can even step foot outside. And where there’s the lightning whip, there’s —

“Jin Ling!” Sandu Shengshou shouts from outside the massive doors to the cave, and Jingyi feels everyone’s mood lift at the idea of help arriving that isn’t Wei-qianbei and the Ghost General (Jingyi, personally, thinks that they have no right to be picky since Hanguang-jun is also here, but maybe that’s just him [and probably Sizhui too]).

Ouyang Zizhen calls out to his dad next, and Jingyi’s heart actually does a little leap because if that old windbag Ouyang-zongzhu is here as well as the young ones like Sandu Shengshou then, maybe —

Jingyi falls into step quickly behind Hanguang-jun to file outside and yes, there, through the trees — Lan-xiansheng. Jingyi barely keeps from hopping out of line to run to him, and only manages it because Hanguang-jun hurries to lead them over so they can salute and fall in line properly the moment it’s possible. Jingyi takes up his spot close behind Lan-xiansheng’s left shoulder with immense relief that nearly makes his knees buckle. The only person he’s happier to see than Hanguang-jun is his adoptive father, and a few minutes later when Lan-xiansheng steps close enough amongst all the shouting and clamoring for Wei-qianbei to apologize (or whatever it is the rest of the world is demanding of him), Jingyi latches his fingers into the trailing end of Lan-xiansheng’s sleeve gratefully to give it a little tug in greeting.

Jingyi has a very definite purpose in this life, and that’s to take care of Lan-xiansheng with all the energy he has. The man took him in, raised him, taught him, sheltered him from the criticisms of the extreme traditionalists in the Sect, amongst whom Jingyi knows Lan-xiansheng was once counted. His job, then, is to be the most filial ward he can be, and so when a wicked trick costs everyone their spiritual energy the moment they begin fighting off the next wave of fierce corpses, Jingyi immediately lets Lan-xiansheng lean on him to hurry into the protection of the cave. He shouts down Su She and his stupid fucking joke of a Sect copying theirs because he knows Lan-xiansheng can’t say it himself, but won’t stop Jingyi from saying what everyone knows to be true, even if it’s ‘rude’. When all the talking and standing around comes to an end and Wei-qianbei makes himself into a lure for the fierce corpses, Jingyi knows that Hanguang-jun can rest easy helping him fight them off because he’s helping Lan-xiansheng down the path and away from danger.

And when all is said and done, when they’ve arrived at Lotus Pier to recover from their ordeal, and the events of the evening have unfolded in shocking ways but everyone is too exhausted to run after Jin Guangyao tonight, Jingyi settles into a guest room deep in the warrens of Lotus Pier with Lan-xiansheng to let the man fuss and grumble over him to his heart’s content. Jingyi half-listens and passes him a steady thread of qi like he’d seen Zewu-Jun do almost a decade ago, his own energy now more than strong enough to support Lan-xiansheng’s recovery efforts whenever necessary.

“I told you not to get in trouble,” Lan-xiansheng grouses, clearly unhappy to be laid up with his old injuries through no fault of his own. “I told you to stay on the safe roads and to stay with Sizhui at all times and to use your signal flares if you needed help —”

“Aiyah, Yangfu! Enough,” Jingyi admonishes with a little jiggle of Lan-xiansheng’s wrist in his grip where he’s monitoring the balance of his qi. “I was with Sizhui, we both got caught! Everyone did. Are you going to blame me for getting the juniors of so many Sects kidnapped when we were plotted against and meant to be used as bait?”

“Yes,” Lan-xiansheng snaps. “You’re different than they are, you’re not supposed to get caught up in these sorts of things. You’re my son!”

Jingyi’s breath hitches in his chest and he has to stop the stream of qi to Lan-xiansheng as his energy bobbles in response to the depth of the emotion boiling in his chest at such a pronouncement. Lan-xiansheng has let him call him ‘Yangfu’ without complaint since he started doing it when he was 11 and had just learnt what it meant, and that had been plenty, that had been great. Lan-xiansheng has always indulged him and shown him he loves him in the stuffy quiet ways all good Lans do (with the exceptions of his rare and treasured embraces). But this, right now, is the first time Lan-xiansheng has ever called him his son.

“Ha-Hanguang-jun,” he says around the tightness in his throat, “Zewu-jun..they’re…”

“Jingyi,” Lan-xiansheng interrupts, not unkindly. He strains to sit up straight again and Jingyi lunges forward to help him, conscious of how exhausted Lan-xiansheng is after his qi is depleted and his injury allowed to flare up in its absence. “Your cousins know that I care for them, but it has always been…complicated. They belong to the Sect, and to the world, because they must. They are their father’s sons, and they will never escape that entirely. Out of the three children I have raised, only you could ever truly be mine.”

Jingyi’s next inhale hiccups in his chest — it’s been a while since he cried as easily as he used to, but he doesn’t think that Lan-xiansheng calling him his son is something he’s supposed to take as stoically as most people would expect him to.

“I was so afraid, Yangfu,” he hiccups and darts in to wrap his arms around Lan-xiansheng’s middle so tightly it must be a bit uncomfortable, but Lan-xiansheng doesn’t protest. “I just wanted to go home and see you.”

“Well you’ve seen me now, and we can leave for home tomorrow. Leave this mess to the others, we’ve got enough work to do in Gusu. Alright?”

Jingyi nods and Lan-xiansheng’s hand resting on the back of his head moves with him, as solid and comforting as it had been that very first time when he was still so lonely and afraid, so certain that no one in the world would ever truly want him. But now he’s Lan-xiansheng’s son. His Yangfu loves him as his own, worries for him when he’s in trouble, accepts his help without complaint when he needs it. Jingyi burrows into his shoulder a little tighter and imagines standing in front of himself as a child just so he can look himself in the eyes and promise that it all gets better in the end.

#the untamed fanfic #Lan Jingyi #Lan Qiren #Lan Xichen #Lan Wangji #Junior Quartet #Why Not Me #Now that I have one LQR-gets-the-children-he-deserves fic done....I think I'd better work on the og one lol #also I fully had Jingyi calling LQR yifu and then I looked it up just to check and it turns out yangfu is much more appropriate! #yangfu is more directly adoptive/foster father while yifu is apparently more symbolic and more like a mentor figure? #the more you know #I love language

[elastijubilee]

2024:

Beauty and the Beast (1946, French foreign language)

The Color Purple (2023)

Time Bandits (1981)

Mean Girls (2024)

Repulsion (1965)

The Uninvited (1944)

Rumble Fish (1983)

Alien (1979)

A Brighter Summer Day (1991, Taiwanese foreign language)

Tess (1979)

Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975)

Aliens (1986)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, I decided in 2019 to keep track of every movie I'd watched for the first time each year moving forward. This year has been my biggest year!

Movies I watched for the first time in 2023:

Glass Onion (2022)

X (2022)

Pearl (2022)

The Witch (2015)

Fright Night (2011)

The Lighthouse (2019)

Knock at the Cabin (2023)

The Northman (2022)

Hereditary (2018)

Midsommar (2019)

Men (2022)

Saint Maude (2020)

The Wolfman (1941)

Psycho (1960)

The Birds (1963)

Vertigo (1958)

Psycho (1998)

Into the Spider-Verse (2018)

Across the Spider-Verse (2023)

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3 (2023)

Suspiria (2018)

Rosemary's Baby (2014 made-for-tv 2-parter)

Poltergeist (2015)

Shazam! Fury of the Gods (2023)

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)

A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy's Revenge (1985)

ANOES 3: Dream Warriors (1987)

ANOES 4: The Dream Master (1988)

ANOES 5: The Dream Child (1989)

Freddy's Dead: The Final Nightmare (1991)

Wes Craven's New Nightmare (1994)

A Nightmare on Elm Street (2010)

Freddy vs. Jason (2003)

Friday the 13th (1980)

It Follows (2014)

The Flash (2023)

Oppenheimer (2023)

The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (2023)

The Little Mermaid (2023)

The Red Shoes (1948)

Rebel Without a Cause (1955)

The Blob (1988)

Paint (2023)

Mafia Mama (2023)

Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022)

Uncut Gems (2019)

The Green Knight (2019)

The Last Airbender (2010)

The Dark Crystal (1982)

The Fog (1980)

They Live (1988)

Office Space (1999)

Fifty Shades Freed (2018)

Teen Titans Go to the Movies (2018)

John Wick Ch. 1 (2014)

Super Mario Bros (2023)

Muppets From Space (1999)

Scream 6 (2023)

12 Monkeys (1995)

Bottoms (2023)

Five Nights at Freddy's (2023)

The Craft (1996, fully through)

I Married a Witch (1942)

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964, French foreign language)

Friday the 13th, Part 2 (1981)

Barbie (2023)

The Boy and the Heron (2023)

The Color Purple (1985)

Violent Night (2022)

The Stepford Wives (1975)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2022:

Staten Island Summer (2015)

Nobody's Child (1986)

This is Spinal Tap (1984)

Shawn of the Dead (2004)

The Wiz (1978)

Phantom of the Paradise (1974)

Ghostbusters: Afterlife (2021)

Licorice Pizza (2021)

Fifty Shades of Gray (2015)

Fifty Shades Darker (2017)

Cyrano (2021)

The King and I (1956)

Carrie (2013)

Carrie (2002, made-for-tv)

The Batman (2022)

Firestarter (1984)

Frozen 2 (2019)

The Fury (1978)

Firestarter (2022)

The Rage: Carrie 2 (1999)

The Bob's Burgers Movie (2022)

The Deadzone (1983)

Sparring Partner (2022, short)

My Fair Lady (1964)

The Untouchables (1987)

Singin' in the Rain (1952)

The Black Phone (2022)

Barbarian (2022)

Nope (2022)

Flashdance (1983)

Crimes of the Heart (1987)

Don't Worry Darling (2022)

The Exorcist (1973)

Child's Play (1988)

Scream 3 (2003)

Scream 5 (2022)

The Fablemans (2022)

Halloween (1978)

Black Panther (2018)

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever (2022)

Thor: Love and Thunder (2022)

Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness (2022)

Return to Oz (1985)

Newsies (1992)

National Lampoon's European Vacation (1985)

National Lampoon's Las Vegas Vacation (1997)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2021:

Star Wars: Return of the Jedi (1983)

Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015)

Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017)

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker (2019)

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)

Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018)

X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014)

X-Men: Apocalypse (2016)

Dark Phoenix (2019)

X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009)

The Wolverine (2013)

Logan (2017)

Deadpool (2016)

Deadpool 2 (2018)

Watchmen (2009)

Wonder Woman (2017)

Aquaman (2018)

Shazam! (2019)

X-Men: New Mutants (2020)

Cruella (2021)

Space Jam: A New Legacy (2021)

The Suicide Squad (2021)

Reminiscence (2021)

My Hero Academia: Heroes: Rising (2019)

My Hero Academia: Two Heroes (2018)

My Hero Academia: World Heroes' Mission (2021)

Dune (2021)

Poltergeist (1982)

The Babadook (2014)

A Silent Voice (2016)

Rockdog (2016)

Rockdog 2: Rock Around the Park (2021)

Lion King (2019)

Terminator (1984)

Hot Fuzz (2007)

West Side Story (2021)

Spiderman: Homecoming (2017)

Spiderman: Far From Home (2019)

Spiderman: No Way Home (2021)

Looper (2012)

Brick (2005)

Back to the Future Part II (1989)

Back to the Future Part III (1990)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2020:

Mr. Mom (1983)

Rosemary's Baby (1968)

Pretty Baby (1978)

Private Benjamin (1980)

The Color of Pomegranates (1969, foreign language)

Only Angels Have Wings (1939)

Cunningham (2020, documentary)

And Then We Danced (2019, Georgian foreign language)

The Young Girls of Rochetfort (1967, French foreign language)

Love on a Leash (2011)

Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back (1980)

Star Wars: The Phantom Menace (1999, fully through)

Star Wars: Attack of the Clones (2002, fully through)

Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith (2005)

Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992)

Blazing Saddles (1974)

The Producers (1967)

Dr. Horrible's Sing-along Blog (2007)

Death Becomes Her (1992)

Captain Underpants (2017)

X-Men (2000, fully through)

X-Men 2 (2003)

Dust in the Wind (1986)

Phantasm (1978)

The Cabin in the Woods (2011)

Sonic the Hedgehog (2020)

I Eat Your Flesh (1971)

Serenity (2005)

Juice (2017, short, Indian foreign language)

Earth (1998, Indian foreign language)

Protocol (1984)

Voices Within: The Many Lives of Trudy Chase (1990, 4 hr full version)

Clue (1985)

Unleashed (2016)

Fright Night (1985)

Moll Flanders (1996, BBC 2-parter)

Parasite (2019)

Tucker and Dale vs. Evil (2010)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2019:

Irreconcilable Differences (1984)

The Brady Bunch Movie (1995)

A Very Brady Sequel (1996)

Frozen Assets (1992)

Knives Out (2019)

Doctor Sleep (2019)

Santa Claus With Muscles (1996)

Jack Frost (1997, dog sh*t horror)

Home (?, Indian foreign language film)

The Greatest Showman (2017)

Pinjar (2003, Indian foreign language)

Interstellar (2014)

Shock and Censorship (1993)

The Witches of Eastwick (1987)

Beetlejuice (1988)

Gypsy (1962)

The Shape of Water (2017)

The Favorite (2018)

A Small Circle of Friends (1980)

A League of Their Own (1992)

Shock Treatment (1981)

Empire of the Sun (1987)

#2023 #2022 #2021 #2020 #2019 #shelley long #robert eggers #wes craven #steven spielberg #horror #a nightmare on elm street #horror remake #jacques demy #foreign films #nancy meyers #charles shyer #goldie hawn #friday the thirteenth #friday the 13th #stephen king movies #french musicals #greta gerwig #a24 #the witch #ti west #brian de palma #ari aster #classic cinema #rebel without a cause #the criterion collection

[toxicanonymity]

Rock Bottom Ch 6: Rock Hard

3.1k | Corey x Y/N, Corey x Y/N x Michael x Corey x Y/N | NSFW

Summary: They just can't help themselves 🥵

She turns off the flashlight and slowly holsters it along with her gun.  She takes a deep breath, mesmerized by Corey's disheveled, aroused state. 

Rock Bottom Index - All Chapters

Check out the art by @cordelium from Ch 5. commissions please don't repost their work without permission.

@ethanhoewke @kuromi2005 @rebel-blue @wolvesandvampires

18+ MDNI

_______________________

Corey watches (Y/N) survey the scene and prays she arrived alone.  

Seeing her in uniform takes him back to 2019 when she felt him up at the courthouse.  Corey now suspects that before she met Michael, she didn't desperately crave criminal cock.  He wonders if she was miserable like him or had a good life. He wonders what her first time with Michael was like.  He can still taste Michael's cock in his mouth, and his jaw is pleasantly sore. 

Her flashlight illuminates Dr. Mathis on the ground. She kicks him to make sure he's dead - probably not Sheriff's Office protocol.  She bends down and puts her fingers on the doctor's pulse through the dry-cleaning bag.  Corey quietly stands up, but stays doubled over, holding his bloody hand and pressing his wrist into his stiff, aching shaft. 

She's still looking at the doctor, inspecting the scene curiously. Her hand goes to her radio.   

"He was a bad guy," Corey interrupts.  His voice is even lower and more gravely than usual.   

She stands and whips around toward him. "Cunningham, is that you?"  Her light shines on him.

She touches her radio and says, "False alarm."  It beeps.  She comes closer and starts to ask, "What are you-" when she looks through the glass sliding door to the bedroom and sees Deb, the nurse, pinned to the wall. 

Her eyes widen and she steps closer to the sliding door.  "He was here."  She turns to face Corey more directly.  He raises an arm to shield his eyes from the light and she lowers it.  The light falls down his blue sweater and lands on his unbuttoned pants.  Her eyebrows shoot up, intrigued.  

She turns off the flashlight and slowly holsters it along with her gun.  She takes a deep breath, mesmerized by Corey's disheveled, aroused state.  The look on her face says his cock is the only thing in the world that matters right now.  He follows her gaze to the swell in his briefs peeking out from his unbuttoned pants.  

She approaches and stands right up against him.  He doesn't budge.  She grabs his ass.  Her uniform pants glide smoothly against his engorged briefs while her belt digs into his hip bones.  Corey begins to breathe heavier.  Before he knows it, his hands are unbuttoning her uniform top.  And she lets him.  No hesitation this time.  

Corey pauses and meets her eyes.  "Yeah, he was here," he tells her. "And you don't know Michael as well as you think." 

"Why's that," she asks quietly in his ear, uninterested.   She pulls him against her and grinds into him.  He swells harder and she exhales with a soft moan.  

"I sucked his cock," Corey says.

She laughs into his neck and her breath is warm on his skin.  Corey sniffs.  

She pulls back to look at him, and her smile fades when she sees his watery eyes. 

"Holy shit." For a moment, she looks like she's seen a ghost, but one she'd like to fuck.      

"Yeah," Corey says.  "It was. . ." His lip trembles.  

"Yeah," she says softly, looking into his eyes. 

She looks at him warmly and touches his cheek. There's a hint of sympathy but mostly wonder.  She closes her eyes and kisses his lips.  When she looks at him again, her eyes are wild.  She licks her lips and takes a deep breath.  She walks Corey up against the glass door. 

She breathes heavily, looks back and forth between his eyes, cradles his head with one hand, and kisses him desperately, like she wants to suck something out of him.  

She reaches into his briefs. 

"God,"  she says half into his mouth when she feels his naked girth.   

He thrusts into her hand. He's still painfully hard and her soft skin feels so good.  She pulls his cock out and steps back enough to marvel at it, then  lowers herself to her knees.  She admires it head on then wraps her lips around it.  She takes it halfway into her mouth and sucks. A pang of pleasure shoots through his gut. After only a moment, she stops to lustily admire it again.  She licks it up and down and massages it slowly in her hand as it weeps.  She sucks up his pre-cum and starts to take him into her mouth again, then stops. 

"No," she says, her brow furrowing as she thumbs the swollen head.  "I need you inside me."  

Corey inhales deeply. 

Her face is flushed and her chest heaves under her unbuttoned uniform. "Right now," she says to his cock, then looks up at Corey before standing.  She grabs a tool from her belt and pries open the glass door.  She holds it open for Corey and unbuckles her belt with the other hand. 

Corey undresses then sits at the foot of the bed, massive erection throbbing in one hand against his abdomen.

Her cheeks grow even rosier as she admires the pool of blood under Michael's artwork while pulling off her boots.  She puts the gun on the bed and lets the weight of her belt and holster send her pants to the floor with a thud.  She takes the radio off, turns it down, and throws it in the pile.    

She walks up between Corey's knees. He lets go of his cock and she grabs it while he pulls down her soaked underwear, then feels her with his thick fingers. 

Corey wants her so bad his face hurts, but he feels guilty about last time.  "Are you sure?" He asks. 

"God, yes," she says, and the breath in her voice leaves no doubt that she means it. 

She spreads her knees wide to straddle Corey’s broad frame on the bed. "You're right.  I guess I don't know him."  

Corey swallows. 

"He wants you alive," she adds.

She grabs his cock and massages her clit with it, breathing heavily. 

"You really sucked him off," she says, shaking her head.  "That's so fucking hot." She looks like she means it. 

She positions his swollen tip for entry. Corey's brow furrows.  He wets his lips as his large hands knead her hips.  

"Are you sure?" She asks. 

Between heavy breaths, he manages to say, "I'd die happy."  

Her wet heat begins to engulf the head of his cock. He groans and pulls her hips down.  

Her tight cunt sinks onto him and she gasps as her insides make way for his girth.  Corey thrusts his hips up and she moans.  She feels so hot, so wet, so snug. He can feel every ridge of her walls. She begins to rise up and he pulls her down harder.  His breath hitches as he bottoms out.  They grind their hips in rhythm.  

Red and blue lights flash in the fog outside and Corey's heart jumps into his throat. He freezes and his large hands force her still on his cock. 

"Is back-up coming?" He asks her.  

She doesn't even look. Her eyes are barely open.  "We're good, just fuck me," she begs, rolling her hips into him.

Corey wants nothing more than to do just that, but lights are definitely flashing outside.  

"A car's here," he insists.  She turns to look but the light cuts off before she can see it. 

She sighs and reaches for the gun. "Leave the look-out to me, okay? Fuck me, then we’ll get out of here." 

She rises halfway up his cock then sinks back down with a moan and starts rolling into him again.  She puts her wrists behind his head, holding the gun in one hand and fingering his curls with the other as she rides him.  Corey lets her, but he's hesitant. Law enforcement is definitely on the property.  

"Fuck me like you mean it," she demands.  She takes his chin in her hand.  "Now." She's not asking. 

She pauses to rip off her undershirt and bra.  Then she starts moving her hips again, her eyes drifting from the window to the artwork.  She takes a deep breath and begins riding him full-throttle, moaning.  

It feels too good. Corey closes his eyes and they kiss sloppily – So much for the look-out.  He kneads her asscheeks and already feels like he could come any second.  

A noise outside startles him. 

"It's nothing," she says, incapable of caring about anything but his cock inside her.  She keeps riding him. A rush of pleasure shoots from his balls, through his chest, to his throat. His ass clenches and he erupts inside her, his strong arms wrapping around her back.  He buries his mouth in her neck to keep from making noise. She moans quietly with each pulse of his enormous load. When his balls are empty, Corey slows to a halt. Any other time, he'd be committed to making her come. 

"No, no, no, PLEASE don't stop," she begs. She's practically crying. 

Corey feels bad.  She's already such a hot mess, how long could it possibly take her to come?  What's more, if he's honest with himself, he feels so much safer with her walls around his cock, even in this hazardous situation.  He hopes she'll finish quickly.

"Yeah," he pants.  "Just a sec." Her hips move and his large hands still her.  

She twitches around him and he groans from the overstimulation, but a loud crash cuts him off.  Corey reflexively tightens his arms around her.  They sit frozen on the bed.  

There's a scuffle, a man groans, and something clatters to the ground.  

Corey starts to whisper, “should we-”

"Shhh. Don't move," she says. 

They stay perfectly still for what feels like five minutes.  His cock twitches inside her and her nipples harden against his pecs.  

They hear footsteps.  She lets Corey's cock slide out and slowly leans back to peer across the room.  His hands on her hips keep her from falling off him.   The blood rushes to his pounding heart and head.  Both of them stay frozen, looking toward the sound.   

-

The footsteps resume and get closer, heavier.  

A shadow appears.

Then a shape.

It's Michael Myers.   

***

Michael enters the room with a knife in one hand and something else in the other.  He stops to observe the scene, sniffing the air like an animal.  Corey should be afraid, but he feels a rush of life and arousal.  

Michael approaches the bed from the side, with Corey and (Y/N) both frozen on the foot of the bed, breathing heavily.  She's still straddling Corey.  

Michael observes them like one of his art installations, then tosses two Sheriff's Office badges onto the bed next to them.  Michael stares at the badges, then at them, as though to say, "you're welcome."

His boots thud as he slowly steps to the foot of the bed to stand in front of them.  She begins to dismount Corey, but Michael stops her with the flat of his knife on the nape of her neck.  Her nipples pucker.  Corey keeps his arms around her and watches Michael.  There's a prominent bulge in Michael’s suit.  

Michael breathes deeply and slowly.  He begins to  unzip his own jumpsuit.  She hears the zipper and looks at Corey with her eyes wide.  Corey’s cock rapidly hardens against her clit, and her eyes close with a gasp.  Corey can’t tell if she’s scared or excited until she rubs herself against Corey's cock.   She’s so warm and slick.  Even wetter than before.  

Corey swells back to full mast with a shudder. He doesn’t dare move.  He glues his eyes to Michael's unzipped uniform.  Michael’s breath gets louder and his monster cock falls out.  It almost seems to glisten.  

-

Corey is still sitting there with (Y/N) straddling his lap.  Michael steps forward and spreads his feet to either side of Corey’s, looming over them.  Michael’s large hand on her back pushes both of them down. Corey lies flat while she hugs him with all fours.  

Michael huffs, bends his knees, and his hand presses down on the small of her back.  He lets his cock fall between her legs and graze Corey’s balls, sending a shockwave through Corey.  Michael slickens himself with their combined mess, then aligns himself, holds her down, and plunges into her ass.  

Her eyes go wide, her mouth falls open, and she grunts as she’s propelled forward, wetly dragging up Corey’s shaft.  She reaches down and nestles Corey's tip in her front door and he gasps.  

Michael retreats slightly, then he pulls her back hard onto both of them and she groans.  Her cunt is so tight on Corey’s cock with Michael in her ass.  Through her thin membrane, Corey feels Michael's every groove and vein right up against his own. It's unlike anything he's ever felt before or even knew he could feel.  He rests his hands on her back and gazes into the holes of the mask, taking it all in.  

Michael puts his hands down on the bed. He pulls back, then thrusts into her harder, and Corey feels every inch of his monster cock push by.  Michael hovers over them, his mask making eye contact with Corey.  Corey starts fucking her warm, wet cunt in sync with Michael's rhythm. Corey pulls back while Michael pushes in.  

Their bodies drift back toward the headboard.  The mattress sinks under Michael’s weight as he kneels on the bed, straddling Corey’s legs, and they keep fucking.  With every thrust into her, Michael’s cock firmly strokes Corey’s, and every time, a pang of pleasure shoots through Corey’s ass. 

Corey thought his wildest dream was to fuck Michael, but he never could have imagined the intimacy of this moment, feeling the rock-hard silhouette of Michael's cock drag against his own, hot and wet, their balls meeting, the mask gazing down at him. 

Their three bodies blur together in synchronicity.    Corey grunts and Michael breathes.  She groans and wails as she’s fucked by both killers at the same time.  They continue pounding her, their shafts sliding against each other through her thin wall.  

Michael audibly grunts, making Corey’s balls jerk.  Corey doesn’t want to finish yet, but the next time the shape drags against him, it’s too late.  Corey pulsates powerfully as he comes. Michael keeps fucking her, rubbing against Corey's cock, slapping into his slowly emptying balls.  Corey groans at the overstimulation.  

Her walls contract and she moans into Corey's neck.  Michael doesn’t let up.  The rhythm of his hard, veiny length keeps Corey coming longer than he ever has.  Corey groans loudly and she wails. They sound like wild animals as they come together while Michael remains relentless. 

Corey tries to kiss her but Michael grabs both her wrists, pulling her chest up and away.  He holds her arms out.  Her breasts quake as she finishes coming. Then, her head bows in exhaustion and she silently cries, tears falling onto Corey.  She and Michael look like an obscene crucifix.  As her convulsions fade, he lets her collapse onto Corey.  

Michael pulls out, still absurdly erect, but Corey stays inside her.  Safe, comfortable, protected.  

***

Corey is just beginning to catch his breath when his legs are forced open by Michael kneeling between them.  His whole body erupts in goosebumps.  Michael drags his cock through the frothy blend trickling down Corey's balls, then his wet tip probes Corey’s entrance.  Corey is instantly rock hard again inside (Y/N).  She whimpers and stays wrapped around Corey’s body, enrobing his hard cock. Michael’s arms wrap around Corey’s thighs. 

Michael yanks Corey back on his wet cock, breaching the tight, virgin ring of muscle.  Corey hears his own groan echo through the house before he can fully process that this is really happening.  Michael plunges into him again.  When the swollen tip hits Corey’s prostate, Corey feels like God is physically touching his soul.  His eyes sting with tears. 

Michael's powerful thrusts into Corey propel (Y/N) up Corey’s cock, then she sinks back down as Michael retreats. The three of them move as one machine with Michael as the engine.  Corey feels something building deep inside him.  

She moans into Corey's neck and the flat of her teeth press into his skin as Michael’s rhythm bounces her on Corey’s cock.  Corey’s prostate throbs harder and harder.  He's never been this hard, and he can hear it in her whimpers. 

Her tight, wet cunt massages his cock while Michael destroys his hole and rearranges his insides.  Michael shows no signs of fatigue.  The pressure builds more and more and Corey savors every second.  

Something explodes deep within Corey, sending several pulsing waves through his body before his cock erupts again.  He groans as the most intense rush overwhelms him and he pulsates enormously inside her.  She cries out and contracts around him. She bites his neck and moans into him. 

Michael twitches inside Corey and inhales sharply.  Michael grunts, then softly groans as his cock pumps violently into Corey, and Corey keeps coming.  

There’s a whole galaxy flowing between them, with Michael’s unfathomable load emptying into Corey and Corey’s into her.  Michael stays still and quiet as he finishes, while she and Corey writhe and moan into each other. 

Michael pulls out and drops Corey’s legs, then zips up.  He stands by the bed and picks up his knife, gripping  the handle, blade-down.  For a moment, Corey thinks this might be the end of his life.  But Michael observes them for a few seconds, then walks out. 

***

Corey quietly sobs.  A week ago, he had nothing and no idea what he wanted.  He was too tired to dare to dream.  Michael plucked him from the edge of death and gave him new life, purpose, and want.  And now he's made Corey's dreams come true, and more.    

Corey is euphoric.  Life makes sense.  He's struck by the interconnectedness of everything and everyone and every little moment.  For the first time, he's glad Jeremy Allen died that night.  He's glad he was bullied and tormented for three years.  He's happy to be the psycho.  He's proud to be Haddonfield's other Boogeyman.  Because all of that brought him to this moment right here. 

-

(Y/N) gently coaxes Corey into leaving.  First, they strip the bed and take the linens.  There are two dead cops - one in the kitchen, one outside.  The one outside is face down in the pool in a giant cloud of red.

He makes her swear not to burn, dump, or even wash the linens.  He wants to keep them forever.  She's obviously just pacifying his post-coital psychosis when she agrees, but he still appreciates it.  

She calls the scene in to dispatch as if she had the wrong address before. Then, Corey leaves on his motorcycle.  He clenches his ass as he rides, wanting to keep Michael's seed inside as long as possible.  

#toxicanonymity ☠️ #corey cunningham smut #michael myers smut #michael myers x reader #corey cunningham x reader #rock bottom ch 6 #rock bottom fic #corey cunningham x michael myers #michael myers x you x corey cunningham #michael myers x corey cunningham #corey cunningham x y/n #michael myers x y/n #corey cunningham #michael myers #bisexual!corey cunningham #bisexual!michael myers #sluttified!corey cunningham #sluttifier!michael myers #sluttified!y/n #michael myers x you #corey cunningham x you #halloween #rock bottom fic ☠️

[feekins]

ah, ch 5 - a short one, with less weird translation shenanigans than I've come to expect, but anyway! here are some of those, along with my thoughts and things as I'm re-reading Trigun vol 2!

(NOTE: I'm reading the Dark Horse [physical] and the Overhaul [online] translations side-by-side)

I do so love this particular title page =u=

...but lemme tell u, when I remembered which chapter this is...

....oof. that's all I'll say. oof.

☹️

and on the next page, we have this interesting translation discrepancy - not a big one, but again, the Overhaul's is more informative. when describing Jeneora Rock, Dark Horse tells us "Naturally...from time to time, the hot winds...summon visitors to this small country town." meanwhile, the Overhaul puts it this way: "From time to time...the arid desert winds...bear visitors bringing destruction to this peaceful suburb."

o o f.

(Dark Horse on top, Overhaul on bottom)

I'm sorry - organ harvesters??? o_o

I mean, I'm not surprised - just not sure why that tidbit of info isn't in Dark Horse. but for me, knowing it now adds a little more dimension, another layer of horror to these slavers. their whole deal seems uglier and more complicated (with a better glimpse into the more lawless corners of this 'verse) - than just...idk, toxic masculinity alone :/

this one's more baffling. I think I remember hearing Dark Horse's bit in the '98 anime? in any case, the Overhaul makes more sense to me here, and it fits better =u=

oh Dark Horse, u so silly~

(the Overhaul correctly says "fork")

(Dark Horse on left, Overhaul on right)

sure, sweaty :) of course you will :) just you :) all by yourself :)

(I was gonna be like [[KNIVES SIDE-EYEING IN THE DISTANCE]] but lbr - humans killing each other means less work for him, so 🤷 )

#trigunbookclub #text postan 2k23 #iykyk #squirming in my seat trying to keep spoilers to myself xjgdgj I have SO MANY THOUGHTS I WANNA SHARE #hopefully I'm being vague enough for this post to be okay tho? #jchjgxdjggjd

[eddies-house]

eddies-house Masterlist (18+ Only)

*Current WIP*

Smoke Signals - Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

1989 (Eddie's Version) *Coming Soon*

Series (Unfinished)

California Dreamin' (Modern!Eddie AU) - Eddie travels to California searching for something more out of life. And then he meets you.

Friends to Lovers, Eddie x fem reader

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 |

The Under-Ground (Modern!Barista!Eddie AU) - In which you work at the local Hawkins coffee shop where you thought you'd be able to escape the horrors that were high school a few years after graduating. Until one of those horrors lands a job in the closing shift with you...and you have to train him.

Enemies to Lovers, Eddie x fem reader

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 |

Blurbs - * = Smut, ~ = Fluff, ^ = Angst

^~ Eddie x reader with social anxiety - The sudden pressure of being out in public starts to suffocate you, luckily Eddie is really good at reading you.

^~Eddie x reader with bad eating habits

^~ Lost Like a Kid In a Supermarket - Eddie comforts you and does what he can when he sees that you’re doing bad again.

*^~So Here I Am, I’m Trying - Eddie throws a few punches to defend your honor and gets caught up with the law in the process, causing you to be upset with him. He swears he would never end up like his dad however he now sees the parallels and is scared to lose you.

*Control - Eddie finds you needy and pent up and sees how far he can push it.

^~Whatever She Wants; I Will Do Anything - Or where you’re very good at keeping your guard up and not letting others in only to crumble under the pressure. And Eddie is there to help you put the pieces back together.

~Rhiannon - Eddie being a girl dad and he names his daughter Rhiannon. She's five years old and is his entire world, she's got him wrapped around her little finger.

^~Rock Bottom - A Rhiannon Story - Eddie is feeling run down and invalidates himself as a dad but you’re there to mend him back together.

~Cheese Dust - Bus Driver!Eddie x Teacher!Reader

^Til Death Do Us Apart - The Upside Down crumbles around you and Eddie.

*~Tender - Eddie comforts you in the middle of the night when your period wreaks havoc.

^~Rockstar!Eddie

#eddie munson masterlist #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie x fem reader #eddie x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem reader #masterlist #eddies-house masterlist #eddie munson fic

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey, Steph! Hope you’re well today. Was wondering if you had any really long, slow-burn case fics? Thanks for helping me feed my recently developed sherlock obsession lol <3

Hey Nonny!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh see I'm DUMB and I don't think ahead on if people with specifically want two genres of fics together, LOL. Sooooooooo I'm going to use your ask as an excuse to post up the next part of my Case Fics list that I've had drafted for months, but if you want some longer fics, start at the bottom and work your way up, since I put things in ascending word count order, LOL. On this and all my other lists!! I hope you'll still enjoy what I've selected for you, and will check out my other lists :)

And as always, friends, feel free to add more!!

CASE FICS Pt. 4

See also:

Case Fics || [MOBILE]

Case Fics Pt 2

Case Fics Pt 3

Serial Killer Case Fics/ Serial Killer AU

For a Case Trope

Fake Relationship / For a Case Part 2

For a Case Pt 3

Fake Relationship / For a Case Pt. 4

Fake Relationship / For a Case Pt. 5

Fake Relationship / For a Case Pt. 6

The 3x John Carried Sherlock, and Once ViceVersa by ShinkonoKokoro  (K+, 1,673 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Friendship, Three and One, BAMF John, Sherlock Whump, Worried Sherlock, John Gets Shot) – It happens more than he suspects.

When Your Belly's in the Trench by Morgan_Stuart (T, 4,743 w., 1 Ch. || PTSD, Character Study, Rescue, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Torture, Trauma, Danger, Drama, Kidnapping/Captivity) – The next time that door opens, John Watson will kill the person on the other side.

Cadet Holmes: A Detective Undercover by Talizora (E, 6,388 w., 1 Ch. || Military Kink, Public Sex, Homophobia, Captain John, Gay Sherlock, PWP, Case Fic) – Sherlock took a deep breath and reached out to lightly brush his fingers across the heavy fabric of the uniform. The shudder that rocked through his whole body was entirely involuntary and hateful. He needed to get over this reaction fast because if he was this affected by an empty uniform on a bed how would he deal with being surrounded by fit men wearing the uniforms while they got hot and sweaty. Part 4 of the My Tumblr Ficlets and Drabbles series

On The Fence by BeautifulFiction (T, 13,770 w., 1 Ch. || Fencing, Case Fic, First Kiss, Insecure John, Pining John, Hug, Greg Finds Out) – The murder of the King's College fencing champion leads to revelations about Sherlock's past. Will it be the point that tips them from friends to lovers, or will they remain on the fence?

How To Unfold a Heart by elwinglyre (E, 25,477 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, BAMF John, Mentioned Eurus, POV First Person Sherlock, Case Fic, Fluff, Slow Burn Topping from the Bottom, 3 Yr Old Rosie, Introspection, Sexual Fantasies, John Worship, Ogling, Hand Holding, Kidnapping, Domesticity, Sherlock Whump, First Kiss/Time, Doctor John, Caring John, Soft Sherlock, Sensuality, Touching, Crying, Love Confessions, Anxious Sherlock, Rimming, Toplock, Fingering, Bossy Bottom John) – To Sherlock’s dismay, John’s return to Baker Street with Rosie is only temporary. Sherlock’s daily visits to Regent Park with John and Rosie illuminate his lost childhood memories and missed opportunities. But with each trip to the park, Sherlock also feels a growing sense of hope. That is until the past horrors return unexpectedly in a cryptic note folded in the shape of a heart. To decipher the message, Sherlock must uncover the nature of the hearts around him, including his own.

Rupert Street by WritingOutLoud (M, 27,262 w., 9 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Case Fic, Sexuality, Demisexual Sherlock, Drugging, Smart John, Sherlock Has Internalized Biphobia, Fluff, Angst with Happy Ending, Gay Bar, Flirting, John Manipulates Sherlock to Eat, John Deduces, Arguments, Kidnapping/Torture, Hospitalization, John Whump) – Discharged from the war with nothing but the clothes on his back and a realisation of his bisexuality, John Watson has to learn who he’s become. He can’t afford London on an army pension, but the city is the only friend he has. In an effort to understand his newfound queer identity, he heads to a bar one night, where he stumbles across a mysterious stranger who turns his life upside down. ‘I dug around inside myself, and I'm not quite sure what I found, but it was beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.’

Lucifer's Gardens by ampersand_ch (E, 32,679 w., 12 Ch. || GERMAN VERSION || Romance, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Murder, Poison / Drugging, Mystery, John Undercover, Academic Club, Therapy, Rituals, Jungian Archetypes, Doctors & Physicians, Grief/Mourning, Esotericism, Hospitals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, John Falls In Love With Another Man, Jealous Sherlock, Crying, Doctor John, Hand Holding, First Kiss/Time, Mysticism, Hugging, Touching) – John goes undercover for an investigation as a favour to Lestrade in a village in Suffolk. The events surrounding the case awaken deep-seated fears in Sherlock. While John begins to come to a realisation of what he needs in Lucifer's Gardens, Sherlock tries to find a way to reach John – in more ways than one.

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

A Goose Quill Dipped in Venom by Polyphony (M, 52,748 w., 16 Ch. || Celebrity John AU || Alternate First Meeting, TV Host John, Supermodel Mary, Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Case Fic, First Kiss/Time, Meddling Mycroft, Drug Abuse, Doctor John, PDA, Deductions, POV Sherlock, Toplock, Sexual Tension, Angry/Rough Sex, Hopeful Ending, Asperger’s Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, is called in to a very ordinary although brutal murder. Something is badly out of tune with the whole scenario and Sherlock finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with the crime - and also with the victim.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

You Might Just as Well Be Blind by ArwaMachine (E, 56,625 w., 12 Ch. || Fake Relationship, For a Case, Bed Sharing, Platonic Cuddling, Jealous Sherlock, Oblivious John, BAMF Hudders, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Anal Sex, Happy Ending, Case Fic, Flirting, Pining John, POV John, Toplock, Possessive Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Infidelity) – When a serial killer starts targeting couples, Sherlock and John must do what they have to do in order to get to the bottom of things. Unfortunately, John already has a girlfriend. Surely pretending to be in a relationship with Sherlock won't pose any problems with his relationship, will it?

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns. 

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #slow burn fics #case fics #my fic recs

[toldyaimaslut759110101698901kk]

Bed with myself? Nothing but Undressed #groundzero KKK 3rd state of mind && also "Try With Me"

The KW job in a master lock galla or however it's spelled.! No question about it...the rumor continues. No, to remember. That's tricky and I'm only a U GAY HOLE because of a "dick" "🤥" is that what it looks like in the light? 👖 Jail house rock THE BLOODS 🔗 lame while Twitter goes crypt or just HOLLA

"🙈" a present in the making as we "try to figure out what to do with me" flyleaf sound clairvoyant wave from JB"L" bat for me? Drillers screw 🪛🧨💌 divine feminist ways at last 3rd = soccer° Anwar Hadid an et. They said Evan's mom has my Paris Hilton clutch apply pattern and for that her clone gave me $1 and George Washington is Victoria. I get 5$ and 100$ Pocahontas and iggyJLOsnaking last night's dream 🤡 magnet 🧲💞 cops Anna Medium night #ghettoness Playboy Speech in the Yu-Gi-Oh m $10$m itro Tyler Henderson and BKsliced bread 🥪, what's in the middle? A casting, right. Hocus Pocahontas center is sacred in Adriana's Pandora's Box imagination Dragons Apocalypse hula hopping, Levesque Google. 1 2 🍋step🍋method{fml conceited}CANNED123÷πEWQ uest ch'onion be like a debate that steals then knows 8484💞 the right group. Be ready to talk to scarecrow at the hospital then after Zac Efron's _found it OMISSION. just needed dick in my life #she #will do it for the realest fefeii War e"l"#peDigree piece@autoBond👹bugs bunny 🖍️ for uncle David's easy 🧱 4 given 🔴 co win sin d ent s = straight CHear §ex... Chloe's interference

Sara Sara Sara Sara CNN episode. 👿 Ch' il d LEST. mow, they did. Office affair 💪😛🏢 🥂 33$ ⭕ e 👁️ e 👁️ oooooo 🌈 go for a w.a.c. back to school? Did that HOOP LOVERS METHOD 😇 maintain walking in beauty video as my angelic voice. All girl power to make everyone feel worth it. Briefly SARY just got her mushroom 🍄 tree 🌴🪞 richardsNDN and ease more el duh. So what's the trip? Mom and Adam, going to the next WWE show 2022

As for dancing with the stars? #gotmilk semi closer 333 at RARE MOST RECENT 333 right men 🗝️ will sir or Sir fit in "blank space"? That's my name faded, extending the bad wish with power to Miss USA was so lost but now we had nuu nuu because I saw the light from Kenya. Now who wants to buy me a drink for the best love song? Ch' hung lee (TA) slave 🥈🪙 underwear 🩲 my gay hole ⛳ he reached. A coral attire for the match #leftovers thug plex test BET congrats day from the enforcement team extremely played tho by W.W.E. through this so why am I okay in a debate? The movie trauma and ALL GOOD PEOPLE 🍋toxic🍋metal. #crystalLight dates counted BEYONCE CONCERT 🥅 #INDOORS vs 🪛🧨 outdoors sock her "" my fate is in their hands. Remixed for the stars and studs by bARbie boY BoTtoM mE common ground as Kelly Kelly 'material' to be 'come correct' is the la fortune golf course so I'll be thankful again. Stayed on track being mindful. Soul is trauma and events are Body. But what's that? I've heard traumatic events before thank you ,, the boys 💗 btw Bad Things done 5 gun tweet. I'm also being hacked lead in top secret. Is my family Kardashian strong? Tbc

#60 #40 #milena rouka sp? #Real Crabs? #the 5 senses #eyes on the back of your head #96 #movie trauma #all time lows #Rosa Mendes #high five #2kk2☑️🎁 #political ryans 96 #kaysea barless cartoon mov trip #Hideaway Pizza #im not outta it yet #RIGHT TO FIN SOR• #rital in sew to u KW #art #Jasmine Bear #people i love #to susan and Trish and... #nun dr.Jones #all important UNFORGIVING KURT ANGLE SPINNER sarah poindexter #crystal torrie sarah #me itorrie ariel TAG #tornado delete with Melanie on my life #Con #FinN #dem shall

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators Ch 5: First Blood

Rated M for swearing and violence. Y'all meet a murder hobbit. You handle it poorly.

Link on AO3.

None of this is your fault. Literally no one can fault you (maybe some of them can fault you). You’ve never been in a fight in your entire life. Not a physical one, anyway. Of course you have a reaction.

Mumu is up ahead. He spots the building and leads your gaggle to it. Where you’d stopped dead at the sight of the…that’s a hobbit. He wears boots, so you can see if he’s got foot hair, but those little stompers look very large proportionally. He’s even got the Elijah Wood eyes. And some knives!

A fucking hobbit. You’re not in Narnia, you’re in goddamn Middle Earth and Mumu must be Gandalf what the fuck.

But voices turn sharp, and then loud. And then a woman on a crumbling staircase—these are ruins, not a building, buildings need a roof—raises a bow. Mumu tries to deescalate, you can tell. Goth Girl has her hand on her mace, though, and you can’t see what Fancy Pants is doing behind you, but you don’t imagine it’s standing there quietly.

You don’t know who fires first. Everything just goes to shit in the span of a second. There’s screaming and running and a clang. Mumu’s voice goes all ~mystical echo~ and you’re too busy diving for cover.

Fancy Pants darts past you to charge up the stairs, a knife in his hand. Someone—the woman with the bow, you realize—screams and then a heavy, meaty thud as her body comes crashing down. Meanwhile, Goth Girl clubs the brains out of a guy, twirls, and brings her mace down on the arm of another. Even across the skirmish, you catch the nasty crack of bone snapping.

You don’t know how to fight. You don’t even have any weapons. You can barely muster up a short jog now and then when you catch the sound of the city bus turning onto your road a minute too early in the morning.

You scramble over to the statue of some lady and duck behind it as Mumu unleashes a fucking firebolt at someone. That is not tech. That is magic.

In that instant, Hobbit spots you. He’s been pecking around Mumu. But when Mumu goes after a lady who shouts and shoots a bolt of fire back, it leaves Hobbit unchecked. So he decides to come after you.

You don’t make a decision. There’s no cerebral processing of any kind. You’re crouched there, and then you’re sprinting. Around the statue, across an open space, out into the trees. Running flat out feels strange. You’re wildly out of practice; your body barely remembers this. Impact lances up your shins, jolts through your skull. You’re already gasping. The air claws the inside of your throat.

You don’t even know where you’re running. Only that you can’t stop, you have to stop, if you stop you die, you can’t keep this up.

Something hits the back of your knee. The leg buckles. You eat dirt.

Everything sort of slows. Maybe that’s just you. The ground is hard beneath you. There’s a rock digging into your knee. When you raise yourself up, you find your hands scraped with small rocks embedded in the skin. Your chin hurts and there’s something wrong with your lip. Something stuck in it. At first, you think it’s another rock. Until you try to wipe it and you feel the edge and it’s your bottom teeth. You’ve bitten through your own lip.

And no antiseptic, you think. Do the hospitals here even take medical insurance?

Your knees are fucked through the pants you just got. And there’s a goddamn knife buried in the back of your knee.

Noise behind you and the small man slams into you. He grabs for your hair. A hand rakes over the side of your face and catches on your right ear. You think you scream. You thrash and flail, but the little fucker is a fighter where you aren’t. He grapples you around, manages to pin you halfway onto your side. And that’s when the sun glints on his hand. On the other knife he holds.

He’s going to kill you. For no reason you can decipher. Plucked from your bed in the middle of the night by aliens, and crashed into Middle Narnia, and a hobbit is going to stab you in the eye.

It’s not fair. You’re survived everything before, dragged yourself out, broke down all the conditioning and made a whole fucking person from what they left and this motherfucker is going to just take that from you like it’s nothing.

You couldn’t stop the aliens. You couldn’t stop anyone before. It was always run, hide, heal. Run, hide, heal. Be the better person, take the higher road. There’s nothing you can do. You have to move on. But you can’t run now, and you can’t hide, and he’s going to kill you.

“no” some part of you says. It’s cold. It’s certain. And the entire world goes icicle sharp around you.

This isn’t earth. This place will eat you and crunch your bones without even the courtesy of a gaslight. There’s no one here to blame you for the gnashing, hissing, raging thing at the heart of you. Not fit for society. Not fit for healing and forgiveness and easing everyone else’s feelings. Being the Good One, always understanding because you can’t get mad. You can’t be violent. You can’t be the Bad Example. You have to take the fucking high road knowing full well it never benefits you. It wasn’t designed to and you’re so, so tired.

Here, in this fraction of a moment, you don’t have to keep that part of yourself chained tight and buried deep in the dark.

All of this flashes through your mind in less than a millisecond. Less an active thought, than a surfacing instinct. One your body latches onto, wraps itself tight around, and squeezes.

 You can see in that second of instinct a possibility, a clean and clear line between now and surviving, and you reach for it with no thought. No morals. There’s no judgment in your mind, only the ancient lizard brain your rodent, mammalian ancestors eventually evolved from. The one that remembers basking on the riverbank, waiting for the prey to come. What it sees is a threat. And what it knows:

End the threat.

So you do.

You pull the knife out of your own leg. Swing. A miss, and Hobbit reels back defensively. You give him no time and surge up after him. Use your greater weight to bare down on him.

The next strike does not miss. Neither does the one after that. Again. Climb on top of him and again. End the threat. You’re not going to die here. Not if you end him first.

The handle is slick. The weapon flies out of your hand.

You don’t notice.

Strike. Strike. End the threat. End him. Make him disappear.

Then a scent flutters into your consciousness. Some kind of spicy herb scent. A shock of white.

You look up. Fancy Pants stands right there. You’re on your knees over a very, very dead hobbit, gore up to your wrists, warm on your face, with your curled fist hovering midair.

“Uh,” you say. You’re not sure what you meant to follow that with. You look to the (dead) man—hobbit. His face is beat to hell. Blood slicks his front, covers his face, pools in the dirt. You did that. The memory is hazy, but you did that.

This is illegal. It’s immoral. It’s everything your mother and the others always said, the devil in you resurfacing, the outward manifestation of your sin splayed out for Fancy Pants and all the others to see and know and judge.

But when you look up. When you looks at Fancy Pants.

The man seems absolutely delighted. Eyes sparkling in what you can only describe as glee. A rather amused smile stretching his lips. And when he talks, his smooth voice is all lilts and good humor. Then he seems to remember the whole language barrier, huffs, and settles for light applause.

“Um,” you say.

He walks past you—still sitting on dead Hobbit, good god you’re too fucking exhausted to move—to pluck up the knife from several feet behind you. You have no idea how it got there. You stare at your hands like they’ll confess, but they don’t, because they’re hands. Your right palm has split open somehow. Fancy Pants wipes the blood—oh fuck—off the knife with a part of the hobbit’s tunic, and starts to hold the handle out to you: the one who just went berserker on some random guy.

And then a voice pipes up. Goth Girl, distant enough, but still way too close to your literal crime scene.

Terror washes through you. Your skin prickles from scalp to toes. She’ll come here. She’ll see. It was self-defense. If you didn’t kill him, he was going to kill you. You still stabbed him multiple times, and then beat his corpse with your bare fists afterwards for you’re not sure how long. That’s not a normal reaction. Sitting here now isn’t a normal reaction. You’re supposed to be crying or throwing up somewhere, right?

Fancy Pants cocks his head. A small movement, his eyes narrow and…weirdly evaluating. He looks from the shout, to you. You gulp.

He nods once. Straightens. Reaches out, and you think he’s going to give you a hand up, but then he shoves you hard, sends you toppling over. Before you can recover he hoists Hobbit up by the back of the shirt, grabs his head—

And slits his fucking throat. Just opens it. And Hobbit is dead, but there’s still enough blood for it to spray out all over you.

“What the f—” you start to say. Before Fancy Pants drops the dead body onto you.

You scream just as Goth Girl and Mumu appear through the brush.

They shout. At Fancy Pants or at you, you’re not sure. It’s Goth Girl who reaches you first. She pulls the dead guy off, checks you over, and you’ve never seen someone express, “I’m so disappointed in you” with only their face that well before. It’s probably the blood that isn’t yours. Or it’s the blood that is, along with the scraped to shit hands and knees and your poor mouth—your teeth are still stuck in your lip.

She says something all ~mystical~ and great, there’s two wizards. Only it’s not her eyes that glow, it’s her entire body, hazing around the edges in blue that focuses into her hands as she touches you.

“In the name of jesus” your bastard brain says quietly.

Warm tingles blast through you. It’s a nice kind of blast; less “drunken fireworks oops” and more “gentle wave at a pretty beach.”

When you sit up, your chin doesn’t hurt anymore. Your hands are smooth and pink. Even the knife wound in your knee is gone.

You look up at her and wonder if she’d marry another woman.

She regards Hobbit’s body, and her nose wrinkles. But none of that seems directed at you. She helps you up (again). Turns to say something to where Mumu appears to be lecturing Fancy Pants. Mumu gestures to the dead guy, over to you, and while Fancy Pants isn’t actually buffing his nails, he’s doing so in spirit.

They notice you stand; Fancy Pants gives you a once over and makes some point to Mumu. Who sighs, examines you, and has a short conversation with Goth Girl. You amble past them. There’s a bench tucked underneath some trees, and your legs are pudding. You’re done for the day. Or for the next two hours, at least. That bastard looks napable.

But as you pass Fancy Pants, he clears his throat. He’s watching the discussion behind you, but turns just enough for you to catch the wink and the smirk.

Fatigue is rapidly dragging your few remaining brain cells down into the abyss. But there’s enough in that expression to give you pause. You can’t name what it is. Something dangerous. But also something…

Fuck. You can’t do this right now. It’s all Problem Three. All of it. Fuck all of this, you’re taking a damn nap and your body hits the power switch before you remember actually sitting down.

#baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #astarion #it's a goddamn isekai #i'm not sorry #no betas we die like men #astarion x tav #feeding alligators #slow burn #demisexual tav

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Code Blue - Ch. 6 "Rock Bottom"

Summary: Party of three at Lee's. He is in a bad way. Orlando confronts him which sets off a volatile chain reaction of events. Lee takes a hard blow, literally. Orlando helps Josie. Lee makes a sacrifice and gives up the best thing that had ever happened to him.

*Warning* Very dark, language, angst, drug/alcohol use, drug induced violence, mentions of death and child loss, anxiety

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

Salem, Massachusetts

February 4, 2023- 3 pm

Chapter characters: Lee, Josie, Orlando

"Miss March?"

"Dr. Bloom?"

You and your previous attending physician both stared at each other in shock.

It really wasn't that big of a surprise to you though considering he and Lee worked in the same hospital, but it certainly was to Orlando to see you in Lee's orbit, let alone his house, the one thing he hoped would not happen and had even tried to simply alter.

"What...what are you doing here?" Orlando stuttered, wearing a half grin. Part of it was happiness to see you and the other part was confusion.

"I....came to check on Lee."

Orlando nodded at you, then looked at Lee, immediately knowing this was the girl his best friend would not talk about and was head over heels for.

"Lee huh. You're on a first name basis. Interesting."

The looks between the two doctors was undeniably a light bulb moment, as Lee realized Orlando had put two and two together about his prior deflecting and coyness of you.

"Umm, well...yeah.." Lee uttered as he wobbled against the wall and fidgeted with the ball in his hand.

"And...just how do you know Jo?" Lee then asked in an heedful and somewhat green tone.

"I know....Jo...is it alright that I call you that?" Orlando said your name in a teasing way towards Lee and then glanced at you with an innocent smile. "From the hospital. She was my patient."

"Uh...sure...I guess....or Josie would be just fine actually."

Orlando took note of the fact you only preferred Lee to call you Jo as Lee silently reveled in the privilege you had given to only him.

"Apologies, Josie. You may also call me Orlando...that is if you'd like. I don't mind."

"Well!" Lee sarcastically cheered. "Now that we're all on a first name basis, how about we all celebrate this fun little threesome."

He staggered off into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

"Excuse me." Orlando politely whispered to you and followed Lee.

You could hear their bickering as Lee made no effort to lower his voice.

"What the hell are you doing? You're supposed to be recuperating from your drunken stupor. You asked me to bring you back food and I did so, and here you are sucking down grandpa's cough medicine again."

"You took too long and I was thirsty so I'm having a liquid lunch. What's the big deal banana?"

"Really Lee? The big deal is you drank yourself into a state of unconscious oblivion last night, woke up feeling like death and puking. That's the big deal. I merely left you alone for two hours and this is what I come back to?"

"What are you, my father now? I have one thanks, although he don't know who the fuck I am half the time."

"Well I do know who you are and this...this is not you.....and...what the hell is this?"

Orlando reached around him and picked up an open prescription bottle off the counter.

"This is not Tylenol that I asked you to take? These are narcotics. Did you take these?? and with booze???" Orlando fiercely asked as he held the bottle up to Lee's face.

"Uh yeah?? My head was fucking pounding. Tylenol don't help that shit." Lee barked and aggressively snatched the bottle from Orlando's hand.

"How many?? How many did you take??!!"

You were now worried as you heard this reveal, and crept up enough to see what was happening.

"One...damn! Idk, maybe two, three. Get out of my face man."

"I will not. You're a doctor! You know what can happen by taking these with alcohol. What the hell is wrong with you??"

"What is wrong with me? Gee, where shall I begin. My 5 year old son is dead, who would be 9 now...BUT you knew this. Oh and let's not forget he isn't my son and that his psycho mother made sure that I knew that on the day of his funeral...then there's the fact Jacob may be alive today if Lizzy had buckled his fucking seatbelt, but...she didn't and she also made sure I knew that on that same exact day."

Lee took a swig of his drink and began pacing around the kitchen.

"And then there's my father who is oblivious as to who I am one minute and the next he recalls everything. EVERY single time I go, it's groundhog day all over again, you know, the day I buried Jake? It's a never ending repetition of him bringing up Jacob and Liz as if he is alive and were are still some happy little family...in which were not! Do you have any idea what this is like?? Of course you don't! So don't stand here and lecture me in my own house of how I should be handling things. Speaking of this house, I'm selling it. If I could burn it to the ground instead, I would....and the shit at work, man. Britt's, sorry I mean Dr. Westbourne...she didn't give me permission to call her by her first name."

Lee glanced at you snidely and then carried on about Britt.

You couldn't even respond from the disbelief of what you were witnessing.

"She's always up my ass about these things too as if it's any of her fucking business. You know that song, "I'm a bitch, I'm a boss? That's her alright and she certainly don't shine like gloss. Oh...and Jo...there's your brother. You should know I was the one attending to him and I couldn't save him, so there's that and just hours before that, another patient of mine died that shouldn't have. Yeah, yeah, it's all part of the medical field blah blah....that was Britt's words."

Lee turned and tripped over the leg of the table and fell onto a flimsy wooden chair breaking it into pieces, then laid upon his back, laughing hysterically on the floor.

"I bet you're sorry you ever came here huh Jo?" Lee gaped up at you and he continued laughing, but his eyes weren't. They were consumed with emotional turmoil and it made your heart hurt.

"Lee, let me help you up. Just like before, Ok?" You reached down to him and he chucked your hand away.

Orlando quickly came to you, pulling you to the side while Lee sat up, watching him and you skeptically.

"Like before?? and...are you alright? I am so sorry about all this. I've seen him sauced before from his drinking binges but this...this has never happened. He took some pain killers, like, the strong kind and he's having a bad reaction from mixing them with booze which is a common side effect. Maybe you should go for now, ok? I would feel much better."

"No, I don't want to leave him like this, even if you're here. I saw him in a similar way yesterday morning. I found him unconscious and the front door wide open. I stayed with him most of the day. He did collapse once, but he was never like this."

"Yeah, it's the pills and liquor. Lee is far from a violent person. I've known him since high school. He's a good guy."

"God...how many did he take?"

"Hard to say but my guess is at least 3. Are you sure you don't want to go?"

He placed his hand on your arm and Lee saw it.

"Hello?? I'm right here. I can hear you two assholes over there speaking as if I'm not even in the room."

Lee's vision began to blur and he suddenly began to hallucinate, thinking you were Elizabeth.

"Why are you here?" he asked ominously. "And why are you hanging all over my best friend?"

Lee stumbled his way up to stand and then waddled over to you and Orlando, who swiftly stepped in between you and him.

"Lee, back off. Please. Go sit down and have some more to drink. She was just leaving."

Orlando wasn't sure what Lee was doing as his eyes held darkness in them while he looked at you, so he was attempting to deter his attention elsewhere.

"Don't tell me what to do." Lee snapped and gave Orlando a hard shove to his shoulder.

Orlando tried to be graceful about it. "Come on man, don't do this. You don't need to get angry. You're scaring her."

Orlando placed his arm out over you and gently forced you behind him. Instinctively, you held onto his arm in fear as you didn't know what was going to happen.

"Well now, would you look at that. She don't look very scared to me. Are you fucking him Lizzy?"

"Lee...it's me...Jo?"

You let go of Orlando's arm and slowly walked up to Lee which was by far not the smartest thing to do.

"You always were a great liar Liz. So how long have you been screwing my best friend?"

Lee's lips were pursed and his eyes were like daggers.

"Josie, come on. I'll walk you to your car."

Orlando laid his hand on our arm and tried to guide you towards the door.

"Get your hands off of her!" Lee bellowed and yanked Orlando's hand free from you.

"Lee, stop this. This is not Elizabeth!" Dr. Bloom shouted.

You walked back up to him. "Lee...look at me. Really look at me. I'm Jo...you know, Miss Massachusetts?" you lightly smiled and placed your hand on his bicep.

"Oh I am looking at you alright...trash. I bet you've fucked all of Massachusetts." He growled as he snatched your wrist in his hand.

Gasping you tried to pull away, but his grip was unbreakable and unbearably tight as well.

"Lee! Let her go!" Orlando shouted and tried prying his fingers loose, but couldn't.

A pop was all you heard as Lee sucker punched Orlando square in the mouth with his free hand and then yanked you up against him while Orlando laid stunned on the ground.

"Lee stop! You're hurting me. It's me Jo, I am not your ex! Please Lee."

"I can see perfectly who you are you lying witch." Lee snarled and harshly jerked your wrist to the side, simultaneously releasing it. In doing so, your ankle gave out in those cursed heels and down you went, diving onto your stomach.

You began to whimper as you stared up at him with wide frightened eyes.

Lee tilted his head like a confused puppy as he peered down at you with his mouth dropped open, suddenly seeing who you really were as his vision cleared.

"J...J.Jo?" Lee was aghast as he stammered you name.

"Stay away...don't come near me Lee." you squeaked in panic as you scooted away from him.

Orlando finally was able to stand and came right to you to help you up while Lee watched in his own panic of what he had done. The way you leered at him...afraid...caused his heart to explode.

"Jo...Jo please..my god...I...I..I don't...I didn't mean..."

Lee slowly reached out to touch you as his hand shook profusely but you smacked it away, just as he had done to you, except yours was far from gently.

"Don't you touch me! Don't you ever come near me again!" you cried.

He gasped and gazed at you in a disoriented way.

You stormed out the front door and he quickly followed you.

"Jo wait! Please! That wasn't me in...."

Lee didn't even get to finish his sentence as you spun around and socked him right in the jaw.

Lee literally saw stars as pain and blood filled his mouth.

"You're sick Lee. You need help!" you shouted as you got in your car and slammed the door shut. Orlando came jogging up to your window.

"Josie...can you open up?"

He tapped on the glass for you to roll the window down. You did but only half way as you watched Lee like a hawk, who stood holding his mouth in astonishment.

"Are you alright, are you hurt? You shouldn't drive in this condition. Let me take you home. You can get your car later."

"No...I will be fine. I just want to be alone." you sniffled and angrily wiped the tears off your face. "I would rather you stay here with him so he don't do anything else detrimental or hurt himself....or even worse."

"Alright...but...can you at least text me when you get home so I know you made it there ok? Let me give you my number."

"I already have it from when you called and left a voicemail...but yes...I will. I need to go now ok?" you said as the tears were welling up. You absolutely hated crying in front of anyone.

"Ok. Please try to drive carefully....and...I am so sorry about all this."

"Don't be. You did nothing wrong....I hope your jaw is Ok. He jabbed you pretty hard..."

"Oh that? That was just a love tap. He's hit me a lot harder before. Now yours on the other hand...ouch."

Well that certainly didn't make you feel better. You hated that you hurt him, you hated it something awful, but someone had to snap him the fuck out of his delusions.

"Thank you..Orlando...for trying to help."

You rolled the window up and squealed your tires as you took off.

Lee turned around to go back inside as he spit out a decent amount of blood. He had been struck before by a woman but not like that.

Dazed and confused, he slammed the door behind him and went straight up to his room.

Orlando soon came up and knocked on his door.

"Lee. It's me. Can I come in?"

"No. Go away." he muttered.

"Sorry, I cannot do that. I will leave your phone outside your door and then I will be downstairs heating up your soup. I'll bring it up and leave it at your door also unless you want to come down and eat it. You gotta try to...."

"I said go the fuck away!"

Orlando sighed and walked away, but only long enough for Lee to pass out and the Orlando would go sit by his side to monitor him.

Lee laid on his back in a trance, staring at the ceiling for about five minutes and then brought his hands up to cover his face and quietly sobbed.

As you had cried all the way there, you had cried all the way home. You turned the car off and just sat there in silence in your driveway staring off into space. What the hell had just happened? The sweet caring man you had come to care for had turned into something out of a horror movie in the blink of an eye. His remorse hadn't fazed you in the least. You wanted to understand as you knew it wasn't him like he pleaded with you to believe, but you just couldn't. To you, this was your wake up call to stick to your guns about getting involved with anyone, especially someone as lost as Lee was. You were barely surviving as it was with all that was happening in your life and weren't up for trying to save someone when you couldn't even save yourself....and it seemed Lee didn't want to be saved anyways. After this, he seemed not capable of it to you.

You got your phone out and texted Orlando like you promised.

"It's Josie...I am home. Talk later."

February 5, 2023

Sleep was non-existent as you tossed and turned all night. Any time that you did close your eyes, you were immediately startled awake in a breathless panic by the sound of an explosion. Suffering in silence you chose to do because you just wanted to be alone, yet you still yearned for Lee and it pissed you off. You knew he didn't mean to hurt you...but the fact of the matter was....he did.

Your hand was screaming in agony just as the blue hour of dawn had came. You knew you had heard a crack or snap when you had hit him, but it didn't hurt then, so you blew it off. Now, you didn't know what to do as your wrist was also turning shades of blue and purple from where Lee had squeezed it. If you went to the hospital, Britt and Dave would find out and you sure as hell did not want them to know about this. It irked you as to why you were protecting the man that did this. Was it because your subconscious truly knew it was an accident? You were just too pissed off and hurt to acknowledge that. So you texted the only person you felt you could trust right now. Orlando.

"Hey. R u busy?"

About ten minutes went by with no response, so you figured he must be at work today. There you were, assuming the worst. Was Lee alright? Did Orlando stay with him like he said he would? Surely Orlando would have told you if something was wrong, at least you believed he would have. Now what were you going to do? You absolutely could not go to the ER and you didn't have anything for pain.

Then your phone buzzed, making you jump. It was Orlando.

"Hey you, you alright? No, I'm not busy at the moment. What's up?"

Since you were right handed and that was the hand that was injured, you had to use voice text, which was better than calling so he couldn't hear your shaky panicked voice.

"R u at work?"

"No hun, I am home right now."

"Can...can I come over?"

Orlando was caught off guard by that. Of course he wanted you there, more than anything, but this didn't seem like it was for a pleasure visit considering it was 7 am.

"Sure, of course you can. Any time, well as long as I am here lol."

"Ok, thank u. Send me ur addy and I'll b right over."

"Go figure" you chuckled as you pulled up to his place. Orlando lived in a long strip of beach condos on the Massachusetts Bay, not that there was anything wrong with that because you loved the ocean, it was just that all that fancy stuff didn't seem to match his personality. Even his white car was one of those kinds that looked as if it belonged in outer space. But then again, what did you really know, you had only met him twice. What you did know was that he was a good friend to Lee. He could have got up and tackled Lee after Lee had hit him, but he didn't. Ok, maybe not tackle, because Lee was a whole lotta boy, but maybe fight back. He did none of those and just tried to talk him down while protecting you.

Orlando had fallen asleep on his futon in the foyer after you texted. It had been a long day and night at Lee's with little to no rest while keeping a close eye on his friend. Orlando had just gotten home only an hour before you contacted him.

Your soft knock echoed through his practically empty living space, awaking him from his slumber.

"Hey..Josie. Come on in. You look upset."

You huffed as you plopped down in his couch, fighting back the urge to just break down.

"I...I need your help. I didn't know where else to go."

He saw you massaging your wrist and all the rainbow colors it held.

"Jesus, Josie...please, let me look at that."

Orlando scooted up close to you and gently took your hand into his. Slowly, he turned it back and forth to examine every angle."

"How badly does it hurt? Can you move it, bend it?"

"The throbbing woke me up this morning, among other things. I can't even sleep after all this....I heard a tiny pop or something when it hit him. But yeah, I can move it some. So am I going to need like a cast or something? I cannot go to the hospital for this...Britt, Dave...they can't know. It's the last thing Lee needs....How....how is he? I assume better since you are not with him now?"

"No. It appears to be a sprain as I've seen many of these injuries but it should be wrapped and limit your use. It should heal up just fine.....I have some bandaging. I'll wrap it for you.....Lee is fine, for the most part...You're worried about him after what he did to you?"

"Well yeah? How could I not be? Aren't you? You're his best friend right? He clearly needs some help. I know he did not mean to hurt me...and besides...I am the one who fucked my hand up. I should never have struck him."

"No, I'm sure he didn't, and yes he is my best friend and I am extremely worried about him, but I am not the one he hurt...well except for the punch he gave me but I'll live. Didn't even bruise. But...I can see it is a lot different for you. You....care for him."

"Not by choice." you snarked and then became agitated. "I mean...I feel like this is my fault and I...I can't do this!"

"How in the world is this your fault Josie? He's the one who combined alcohol with pills which caused his meltdown and hallucinations...not you."

"Because I should have just left him alone and kept my mouth shut. I think I triggered something in him, I don't know! I should have never even went over but I was worried about him when he didn't answer my texts. I was scared he had hurt himself again....are you sure he's alright???"

"Yes..or I would not have left him. I actually just got home shortly before you texted me. I stayed ever since you left yesterday. He had went up to his room and crashed. Wouldn't let me in or talk to me. After he had fallen asleep, I went in his room and laid in the recliner to watch over him. Later, about 3 am, he got up and I made him the soup I had brought. He ate it without saying a word and went back to bed. I then left about 6 am after I checked on him once more. He was sound asleep so I felt it was safe to go."

You thought you would feel better knowing that Lee was alright, but you didn't, because he clearly was not alright, not emotionally...and Orlando said he wouldn't even speak, and you hadn't heard from him either, but you figured he was humiliated and felt awful for what he had done. He certainly was yesterday when he realized it...and you were even feeling terrible for striking him. Not to mention, you told him to stay away from you and never come near you again.

"God...I don't even know what to do Orlando! Part of me wants to reach out to him and the other part of me is screaming not to. I..I don't even know how I got myself into this mess..." You let out a heavy sigh. "I....like taking risks...I like to feel adrenaline once in awhile. That's all because of Jason. We were so close and ...now he's gone and I don't know what to do with myself."

"But I don't feel that's why I am so drawn to Lee. I mean, When I met him in the hospital, I had no way of knowing what he was dealing with and I was still...sucked right in...and.."

You could feel the pressure in the back of your throat and the burn in your eyes of an oncoming breakdown. Orlando certainly didn't need this but you had no one else to talk to about Lee. It would have been Jason. You both told each other everything about stuff like this. Everyone else worked with Lee, including Nurse Amy who was also your friend. Your childhood best friend, Emily, from Galway, was always there for you even through all the distance as you both kept in touch constantly and went to visit each other when it was permittable with yours and her schedules. She would be here for Jason's funeral but that was 4 days away yet.

"I like taking risks too sometimes. I think everyone does once in awhile." Orlando said in an attempt to make you feel better about your choices.

"Yeah...but...I tend to run from it too. I mean, maybe I'm a little gun shy anymore because of things I have been through...and us March's are well known for running away from the things that are supposed to be good for them...and maybe that means I'm better off alone."

Here it came...the dreaded tears and spaz out moment as your anxiety took over. These were things you did in private as you were so uncomfortable crying in front of anyone. You had to protect yourself from that vulnerability side because it had been taken advantage of one too many times...you kept your walls of brick so high, that not even the golly green giant could climb over them....but Lee did...a beautiful giant he was.

Orlando tried to comfort you as he laid his hand on your back, but you panicked at his touch.

"I am just terrible at anything anymore! I drive myself and others crazy with my expectations! I tried it for awhile with Lee, thinking this could be different, that he was different but it just isn't! I'm scared as fuck of him and not physically! I don't know what to do because I can't stop what I am feeling for him! What is wrong with me??"

Orlando was taken aback at how much you truly cared for his best friend. he knew that you did, but not to such an extent...and it crushed him because he knew he would never have a chance with you now.

Ok...ok...come one, try to breathe. Just breathe."

His words flooded your mind in Lee's voice from when you first met him...and now you felt even worse, if that were at all possible.

Orlando got up and brought you a glass of water.

"Well...so you know, there is nothing wrong with you...and you pack quite the punch. Remind me to never piss you off."

He smiled and went to get the bandage for your hand, then wrapped you all up as gently as he could. All you could envision was Lee wrapping your burnt hand which was now almost healed.

"There. I hope this helps...and for the record...I will keep all this to myself.....Are you ok now? You know...it is alright to cry sometimes. We all need to release those emotions. If we don't, it only makes things worse."

"Yeah...judging from my meltdown just now, you should know. God..I am sorry Orlando, for laying all of this on you. I swear it was not my intentions."

"All is forgiven...just don't ever let it happen again."

He joked and smiled the sweetest smile.

And there you were...smiling too. He had helped you through an almost anxiety attack, something that wasn't easy for people to do.

"Thank you...so much...for listening to my rants, and for taking care of my hand...and...and just for helping me in general...being willing to conceal all of this without me even asking you to. I..I am really glad I met you Dr. Bloom. I like you. You're good man."

"Thank you...I...ummm. I like you too miss March. Very much."

"I gotta get going or I would stay longer...I mean if you had wanted me too...but...I can see you desperately need sleep and I have errands to take care of for the funeral. Text me later?"

That made Orlando's day. "Sure...absolutely. Go...get your stuff done and get some rest."

You gave him a light peck on the cheek and left.

Lee went into his living room with a beer and a bag of weed. He knew neither were any better for him, but he was trying to stay away from the hard stuff and pills, if not for his sake, at least for yours.

He stood talking out loud to you.

"I'm violent, barbaric and probably even toxic, but...all that seems really stupid now so..."

Lee popped open the beer and continued on.

"So...here's to you Jo...sweet angelic Jo....Run. Run as far as you can from me. Save yourself."

@redeemer46

#lee pace #lee pace fanfiction #love stories #dark stories #slow burn #slow build #orlando bloom

[gwcocktailfriday]

This Week in Gundam Wing 23-29 October 2022

Here’s the last week’s roundup! October 23rd - October 29th!

Remember to give your content creators some love! Be sure to join in on the events at the bottom! And remember to send in any new works you see or make next week!

~Mod Hel

Fanfiction/Ideas/Snippets:

@doctormegalomania

Dirty Computer (Ch.27) https://archiveofourown.org/works/28577022/chapters/107195529

Multi, Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy, Chang Wufei/Original Female Character(s), Trowa Barton/Quatre Raberba Winner

Duo Maxwell, Heero Yuy, Quatre Raberba Winner, Trowa Barton, Chang Wufei

Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags Contain Spoilers, Minor Violence, Espionage, Unreliable Narrator, Post-War, Reference To Past Injury, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Original Character(s), Disassociation, Intrigue

There's a bittersweet moment when you realise that you've lost more than you know.

@fallenwingzero

Frozen Teardrop Translation https://fallenwingzero.tumblr.com/post/699238683453407232/frozen-teardrop-volume-3-afterword-translation?_branch_match_id=1114665355087882401&utm_medium=Share&_branch_referrer=H4sIAAAAAAAAAwXBUQ5AMAwA0BNVw%2F7cpuhY0rVSneH03jsizmtGpBii1UV8WK1iJhHWXnT%2F2A2z28cKweSb2wm3SasMCSgHezffIJz0Eopiii1NLGOrqs%2F7AzPSSXNgAAAA

Frozen Teardrop Volume 3 Afterword Translation.

https://fallenwingzero.tumblr.com/post/699224940467159040/a-frozen-capsule-for-artificial-hibernation-where?_branch_match_id=1114665355087882401&utm_medium=Share&_branch_referrer=H4sIAAAAAAAAAwXBUQqAMAgA0BOZ9BV0Gxuu2UyHGUWn772WOa4VkXLK%2B9w0puInVlJle8T2j8ORoIZ%2FbFBoXLcyVA%2BgSKlShBSabBxGKW7wNA7G2d63H30%2FFhs%2Fi%2FZkQmMAAAA%3D

"Star Prince" Translation and picture.

https://fallenwingzero.tumblr.com/post/699329700891361280/frozen-capsule-for-artificial-hibernation-cold?_branch_match_id=1114665355087882401&utm_medium=Share&_branch_referrer=H4sIAAAAAAAAAw3KSQ6AIAwAwBdB48nE31Qs0lipKcXt9TrnKe5HmwDQo%2Fd9FotJd8goQvXiur5kCtn0pRoSHq0LhawW0JwzJ0YJhWeyis76F5UF2ijbOazluR%2F9APM03blgAAAA

"Princess Aurora" translation and picture.

@miyurinq

Heart (Ch.12) https://archiveofourown.org/works/40914714/chapters/106999410

M/M, Trowa Barton/Quatre Raberba Winner

Quatre Raberba Winner, Trowa Barton, Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Chang Wufei

Not Rated, No Archive Warnings Apply, Post-Gundam Wing: Endless Waltz, Minor Violence, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Now it had happened. The thing Quatre had been most afraid of. He would lose Trowa because of it. Just like he had lost everyone because of it. Trowa wasn't the miracle, the golden exception.

Trowa didn’t want to be vulnerable. Especially around Quatre. In softness was a kind of strength that he couldn’t afford. He could only be strong in his indifference. For him it was easier being strong in that way than being vulnerable. And he wanted to be strong around Quatre. A solid rock.

Arts/Crafts/Photo Manips:

@vegalume

https://vegalume.tumblr.com/post/698415800740085760/oh-this-drawing-bugged-the-hell-out-of-me-i-dont

Heero Yuy, fanart

Calendar Events:

@gwcocktailfriday

Cocktail Fridays!

Post responses on Friday, during Happy Hour between 3 & 5 pm in your own timezone.

Here’s the prompt for Friday, November 4th! https://gwcocktailfriday.tumblr.com/post/699565690809696256/cocktail-friday-post-responses-on-friday-november

In need of prompts!

@thisweekingundamevents

Events Calendar https://thisweekingundamevents.tumblr.com/post/644080386309275648/events-calendar-update

If you are hosting an event currently, or are planning on one, hit us up with links and dates! We’ll add them to the Calendar and reblog your notices to get the word out!

GW Holiday Gift Exchange 2022

Rules https://thisweekingundamevents.tumblr.com/giftexchange

First Check-in will be sent out November 6th!

GW Hallows 2022!

Prompts! https://thisweekingundamevents.tumblr.com/post/696899170227896320/gw-hallows-2022-heres-the-prompt-list-for-this

#Gundam Wing #This Week in Gundam Wing #Weekly Roundup #23-29 October 2022