#this has been stewing in my mind all the live long DAY!

[pulsedmaggot]

hear me out: munky's brain being scrambled (eggstyle) seeing jd in a skirt for the first time. quite literally the first time because its sexart era jd in exceptionally weird-looking drag and munky is just. in awe. he didnt think someone could be so different, look so different, so off-putting and discombobulated and striking and scary and mesmerizing and wrong, just wrong, and so pretty, all at once. he'd want to let him know, too, but the words wouldnt come out right. not in the right order, maybe. he wouldnt tell him the first time he saw him but he will. eventually. once he gets the words right

#yuck.mouth #jd/munky #this has been stewing in my mind all the live long DAY! #munky having a faggot meltdown over the prettiest guy he thinks hes ever seen #all that 'burgundy' hair and dark makeup and twitchy behavior would not only have him choked up. but bricked up as well #who said that .... #yuck.txt #jdunky to me but yall call them #munkathan

[euphoricfilter]

HIIII GIRLY. I saw your drabble game anddd how about

"How could we ever just be friends" + yoongi djskskjs

just friends:

pairing: yoongi x gn! reader

genre: fluff || mild hurt with a lot of comfort || non-idol au

summary: maybe you were never just friends

word count: 1.2k

tags/ warnings: feelings, fluff, the smallest hint of hurt, they’re actually just really in love and the m/c is slightly oblivious but yoon is a big old sweetheart

notes: OMG HEY!!!!! you didn’t ask for a specific au so i did indulge slightly and made it fluffy and soft, hope you like it :D

drabble masterlist || all my other works

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

There had always been something utterly unique about Yoongi’s existence in your eyes. He had been the first, and only person whose life had meant anything to you.

You’d spent most of your life aimlessly wandering, taking each day as it came and only hoped it would get better the more you trudged through. Fingers letting go of the ropes of friendships you’d made and lost—people you didn’t pay any mind to now that they weren’t in your life.

You didn’t miss them. Never thought of them unless they were right in front of you, if they never made themselves known.

But Yoongi had been different.

It didn’t take his physical presence for you to wonder how he was doing. He didn’t need to message first for you to ask how his day was. Dreams filled with another reality, what the two of you would be doing the next time you met, how sweet your name sounded from his lips. Or that sweet smile he would give you every time you stumbled over your words, too caught up in his eyes your brain malfunctions and you forget how to speak.

Thoughts consumed by him, feelings wrapping around the idea of his existence, soul dancing around his in this weird push and pull, not quite just friends but not really anything more.

Special, precious, perfect, Yoongi.

In all your years alive you’d never had a crush until that first moment you met. Never once thought of another human being in any other way that wasn’t platonic. It felt as though part of your world had started to crumble to moment, you’d acknowledged how you truly felt about him, stuck in this endless dilemma. Because who were you meant to tell him about your feelings when he was your closest friend? What if he asked who it was? He knew you rarely went out, and you sure as hell would have told him if you’d gone on any dates. So, you’d been stewing in your own feelings for as long as you can remember, too scared to utter a word about what was really happening between the two of you.

Because, sure his touches lingered, warm skin pressed against one another until the heat has travelled to your cheeks and you refuse to look at him, too scared he’d see how flustered you were. And sure there was the nicknames, though that was something he’d started early on, and you had doubts he fell in love just as quickly as you did.

Sometimes it felt like he only smiled at you, and yet you could only assume it was because you were his best friend, a safety net for him as much as he was one for you.

But not once had he made it obvious he liked you any more than a friend. A fact you’d slowly decided you could live with.

Just like yourself, it wasn’t very often Yoongi went on dates, you don’t think he’s been on one in the time you’d been friends. Which makes this whole dilemma slightly easier to swallow, because at this moment in time you were probably the most important person in his life.

You got to live out your secret little fantasy, and he got a low maintenance friendship. The perfect exchange.

And truly you believed it would be like this forever, until that little dream in the forefront of your mind was shattered by someone else coming into his life, and the two of you slowly drifting apart.

That was until tonight.

It wasn’t often you drank, never indulged in the fine whiskeys Yoongi would bring over to your place, stashed away in the cupboard when he wanted a little something before bed. However, Yoongi had come over with a cocktail making kit, saying he’d done some research because he knew how much you liked sweeter drinks.

And maybe you’d had a few too many, eagerly asking him to make you different drinks from the little book he had, excited as you watched him mix everything together. Utterly amazed by how good everything he made tasted.

You can’t remember what you’d said, words tumbling out your mouth quicker than you could swallow them back down. The small, sane part of your brain slowly catching up to what was happening as you watch Yoongi’s face morph into something slightly more surprised.

“How could we ever just be friends?” he shakes his head, scooting closer to you on the couch.

“Because you don’t like m—”

He holds a finger up to your lips, quick to silence you.

“Don’t finish that”

A frown tugs at the corners of your lips, “but Yoongi—”

He takes hold of your hands, thumb running over delicate skin as he looks at your face.

“No” he shakes his head, “listen to me for a moment, yeah?”

He’s calm, voice tender and smooth.

You nod.

“You’re not forcing me into anything” he starts, “I thought I was being too pushy with you”

You swallow.

“Huh?” your eyes widen slightly, “But I could have sworn you didn’t like me more than a best friend”

The low rumble of a laugh vibrates from his chest, “Best friends don’t look at each other the way I look at you. They don’t hold your hand on days out, or wish they could kiss you when you make that sweet little face when you first wake up in the morning”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you murmur, “I really thought—”

“And why didn’t you tell me, hmm?” he smiles, “feelings are weird.”

You nod, outburst having helped you sober up slightly.

“What now?” your legs bounce a little, so far out of your comfort zone.

“Whatever you want” he reassures.

“I’m scared” it spills past your lips before you can think about it.

He tilts his head slightly in question, “About what? Commitment?”  

You shake your head, frantic “I just—I don’t know what to do I’ve never dated a person before”

He gives you a gentle smile, “Just be you. Just like you are now, that’s all I want”

“But what if I want a kiss?” you inch a little closer to him.

“Then I’ll give you a kiss”

“What if I wanted a kiss when we go out to dinner with your friends?”

He laughs, “Doesn’t matter when or where, I’ll always be willing to give you a kiss if that’s what you please”

You chew on your bottom lip.

“I’ve never actually kissed anyone before” you say, shoulders losing their tension, because now this felt normal. Like how it always was with Yoongi, where you didn’t need to have secrets or be scared about what he thought. Because for all the time you’d known him, he had always been by your side, and you hope it will stay like that for the rest of time.

“Then I’ll teach you” he hums, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, “Try not to worry your pretty little head too much, I know what you’re like”

“But—” you worry.

“Nope” he laughs, “We’ll work through this together like we do everything else, I’m always here for you, you know that right?”

Your eyes flicker between his for a moment, words settling into your soul as you nod.

“And I’ll always be here for you too, just so you know” the corners of your lips curl up into a smile.

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts #yoongi #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi imagine #yoongi scenarios #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi fic #min yoongi imagine #bts non idol au #bts drabble

[nocofamilyau]

Out of curiosity, Do you think Cody would still keep in contact with Gwen? And is Ezekiel doing better now atleast?

(me shamelessly asking a random question before asking abt my favorite character to not look suspicious /j)

like in canon (or, at least taking Christine Thompson's word for it..), Cody's attraction to Gwen fizzled out after World tour ended. sure, they kept in contact for a little while after but eventually that came to an end as they naturally moved on with their lives

this was from another ask that's now invisible in my inbox (probably due to the account that asked being deactivated - its pretty much on me for not answering what's in my inbox sooner/being put off trying to put each ask into a coherent order, deepest apologies for that), but it's mainly Cody that constantly wonders how the other TDI contestants (except the ones that he already still sees personally) are going, I guess more as like a passing thought.

(also, yet another retcon, hopefully the last one for a while - I mentioned in an earlier post that Cody was close friends with Sierra, who co-writes for his celeb gossip blog.. well the blog is still a thing, but has long since been abandoned. it was more of a side project Cody did during his 20's, with Sierra occasionally writing some stuff for it here and there. one day however, something clicked in Cody's mind - something that should have clicked long ago, and he stopped spending as much time with Sierra. hell, he probably hasn't seen her in years at this point, probably for the better..)

as for the Ezekiel question... oh man, I was sort of dreading when I would bring this up, since this idea has been stewing in my mind for a good while now, and admittedly, from one Zeke enjoyer to another, this will not a pleasant thing to reveal, but there needed to be a reason for Total Drama to be cancelled in this au, other than to needlessly justify why all newer generations of TD cast members are much younger than they are in canon

Ezekiel's dead. when he fell into that volcano in the World Tour finale, he didn't end up making it out (I mean, dude was submerged in BOILING LAVA - I get its a cartoon but its far from believable that someone could survive that). some say he was put out of his misery, others think it was a perfect example of how greed could ruin a person, but all in all, it was fucked. it was not a pretty death, and the fact that Chris and the TD production crew still had the AUDACITY to keep footage of and broadcast someone's death on international TV was enough to get the show cancelled immediately and get the shit sued out of Chris. at least now he can't terrorise anymore teens, sucks to be him...

#noco family au #noco lore #yea this is kinda dark but I mean.. it makes the most sense to me #sorry for the drastic tonal shift #we'll be back to our regular scheduled programming shortly

[jo-harrington]

Freaky Friday - A Stranger Things Story (Part 5)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Word Count: 14.1k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader, Eddie and Steve (Enemies to Friends)

Summary: Eddie thinks that Steve has everything in life handed to him on a silver platter (including his new girlfriend who Eddie has a crush on). And Steve just can't believe that the kids look up to Eddie the Freak, or that he lives his life without giving a single fuck.

Must be nice. But you know what they say, the grass is always greener.

Warnings/Themes: AU with no Upside Down. Angst, body swapping, dark magic/alchemy, fluff, love, smut, mutual pining, Character development, manipulation/deception, Things That Require Communication (Hey Guess What) , Reader gets a nickname (Honey), no Y/N if I can help it, self hatred, loss of identity, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, dry humping

Note: Ok guys, here we are. Only 4 hours late and with no PiV because I'm a lying bitch but I will write a oneshot if we want it. Holy shit, but can I say that this is the first "series" that I have finished writing. I talk a big fucking game about writing fics for so long, but man those were LONG FICS that I abandoned hundreds of thousands of words in, or they were all oneshots that now only live on my old computer. The ending, I hope, is not disappointing, but I literally didn't want it to be left up to interpretation. Thank you @ghost-proofbaby for tamping my insecurities down with this one. If I am the brains of this series, you for sure are the heart. And let's not forget @shiftingtherain once again for inspiring this whole thing to begin with.

This chapter is unedited...but I am tired and sweaty and happy. So have fun.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

"You're lucky I don't have to--shit!" Robin's eyes went as Steve opened the door to the trailer and she got a view of his--Eddie's--face. She reached out, as if to touch the swollen bruising, but second guessed herself and her hands immediately found the straps of her backpack. "What happened to you?"

"Eddie happened," Steve grumbled miserably.

"Eddie?!" Robin shrieked and Steve immediately shushed her and swatted her into the trailer. He pointed to Wayne, who was--thankfully--dead asleep and snoring on the fold-out bed, then ushered her back towards Eddie's room.

He'd felt...somewhat guilty early on when he realized that Wayne slept out there on the uncomfortable fold-out while "Eddie" had a room and a bed, and had tried to offer to swap, but Wayne grumbled something along the lines of "if I told you once, I told you a thousand times."

"Eddie did this?" Robin asked once the bedroom door was shut behind her. "Did he lose his mind?! Why would he punch you? You two are supposed to be...seeing through one another's eyes and all that shit. Working together to get back into your own bodies."

Steve felt his stomach drop.

He had stewed on it all night Friday and all day Saturday as he hid in Eddie's room and wallowed in shame. The sick sort of triumph he felt when he got that response from Eddie--as impulsive and fueled by anger as his own words had been--had faded and as the mottled colors began stitching together and spreading across his skin, the realization of just what he had said had settled in. And with every moment that the ache in his face became more pronounced, his guilt grew.

"I...I might have...fucked up," he admitted. Robin's expression went from one of shock to one of annoyance, and Steve immediately launched into a recap of Friday night. Hell...of everything that he'd been keeping from her.

Because, truth be told, he had been.

Steve knew that Robin was more in touch with her emotions, or rather...acknowledged them at the very least instead of simply ignoring them. She was smart as a whip and when she made you face the truth, it stung just as badly. He had told her that he'd been getting tutoring sessions...just not from who. Every time he brought up Nancy...well...Robin wasn't her biggest fan. Really not because of anything that she had done...except break Steve's heart...but because he couldn't get over her no matter how hard he tried.

And if he was being honest with himself, he hadn't...really tried too hard.

Steve hoped Robin would see things from his perspective, though. Her expression remained stony as he explained everything, but her emotions shone through her eyes as he poured his heart out. As he admitted to all the mistakes he made.

"I don't...I don't really believe those things," Steve explained truthfully. "But when I get hurt? When I'm desperate and overwhelmed? I just...lash out. You know this. And there's so much I've had to keep inside and this whole experience.

"Rob...you've gotta believe me, it's been shit. Eddie's right, his life is hard...I really don't know how he does it but...damn my life sucks too alright? So I figured, if I could have one thing, just one thing, to make it all worth it...this might be it.

"But I don't know why...why he wouldn't just let me have this," he concluded and ran a hand over his face, wincing as he pressed into his black eye.

"Alright, you're not just a dingus, you're a real bonehead," Robin rolled her eyes. "You and Eddie both! This whole situation isn't some treat for either of you, it's supposed to be a lesson."

"I know that!" Steve threw his hands out to gesture at himself. "But I'm still Eddie and Eddie's still me. So what lesson? What is selfless love?"

"Because you haven't...you haven't..." Robin sighed and ran her hands through her bangs. "Maybe we're working backwards? We're trying to find...selfless love. But...but the spell said there was a prize reflected in each other's eyes. What about self love? Gotta love yourself before you love someone else right? Or whatever bullshit those self help people say on the Oprah show."

"That's bullshit Rob, I don't love myself," Steve grumbled. "In fact, I hate myself...a lot."

"Ok ok," she pointed at him. "See and you thought Eddie had it all, that he loved his life. You told me so yourself. You were jealous because he had it all."

"But he doesn't."

"And he thought you had it all? But now he's realizing you don't," she reasoned.

The more Robin talked and rambled, the more she made sense. She snapped her fingers and waved her hands around, as though willing the solution into her head.

"Ok," Steve sighed. "We've figured out that no...we don't actually like being one another...so what gives? Why haven't we switched back?"

Robin gasped and grabbed Steve by the shoulders to shake him.

"It's Nancy! You idiot!" she hissed.

"Nancy?" Steve frowned. "Nancy's not stuck in someone else's body, I am."

"No!" Robin groaned. "You were on the right track but you started thinking with your dick when you thought that you could get back with Nancy!"

Steve began to fidget.

Was it...could that have been the answer all along?

He refused to believe it.

"We loved each other!"

"But you loved her more than she loved you," Robin explained, mirroring words he had once confided in her right back to him. "And you refused to let her go. And now you would quite literally be someone else entirely to get her back."

"She doesn't love Steve," he signed. "But she might love Eddie."

"Are you hearing yourself right now?" Robin stared at him, dumbfounded. "You are not Eddie Munson. You have to let her go. You have to accept yourself, and if that means letting Nancy go, then it's the right thing to do. You need to apologize to Eddie...and you need to fix this."

Steve's mind raced; he knew, deep down, it was all true but...he just couldn't accept that it was just that easy.

"Ok, ok, b-but there has to be another way," Steve attempted to deflect and Robin groaned and rolled her eyes. "No, wait, hear me out here. I...I could...help him get a job at the dealership--"

"Not gonna help when you are still Eddie and you don't know shit about cars," Robin reasoned.

Steve pushed past her and dug through the pile of notebooks and textbooks on Eddie's dresser.

"I could get him to graduate," Steve bargained.

"I think you need to give it up," Robin rolled her eyes. "You know what you need to do."

"No, I can do other selfless things, I can, I can..."

Steve and Robin went back and forth, verbally jousting with excuses and explanations, as he flipped through Eddie's school notebooks. He glanced over half-finished essay drafts and barely legible chemistry equations. As though there would be some great solution to this problem amongst the countless algebra equations and--

"Hang on," Steve held his hand out to silence Robin. He turned and showed her the notebook. "Look at this."

"What is it?" She took the notebook from him and they flipped through the notebook together.

Your name. Over and over. Your initials and Eddie's. Little heart drawings and daggers and--what Steve assumed to be--princesses and knights. And then towards the end...a bunch of pen scribbles obscuring the little fantasies with the oh-so-familiar sigil drawn beneath.

It had been a notebook that Steve had scooped into his arms along with piles of Eddie's laundry and other knick knacks in an attempt to tidy up the trailer a little bit for his own sanity Wayne. To clear away some of the clutter. Especially after he and Eddie had torn the trailer apart looking for the occult book that one night, something that felt like ages ago now.

Steve felt a kind of triumph at this. Justification.

What a fucking hypocrite.

So it wasn't just him that was holding up their inevitable switch back, it was Eddie too. Eddie had a crush on you, and now he had gotten exactly what he wanted by dating you for Steve.

Except...

Except Eddie sort of always seemed to be worried about you. Worried about you finding out the truth, wondered how upset you might be if you did.

"Shit..." Steve sighed.

"Ok so maybe Eddie is as much to blame here as you are," Robin rationalized. "I told him...he needed to tell her the truth, that she would be heartbroken. I didn't realize that he..."

"No...it's..." Steve struggled. "Shit...shit."

Because it all made sense. Steve hadn't thought about the details, really, but he knew how it felt to have feelings for someone who you couldn't have...who didn't like you back. And while he happily planned to try Nancy back...Eddie...and you...

"Shit!"

He had to talk to Eddie.

"Hey Steve. Uhh..." You twirled the phone cord around your finger as you stammered into the receiver; the speech that you had practiced in your head was completely forgotten as you got the Harrington's answering machine.

"Listen, you left pretty quickly last night and I was just wondering if everything was alright? Or...or maybe I did something to upset you? B-because...we are having a good day, I just...if I did something...I'm sorry. Anyway...uhm...I'll try calling back later...or I'll...yeah...bye."

You slammed the phone as you hung up and covered your face with a groan.

You were up all night--heartbroken and embarrassed.

Steve left...he ran out of your house. One minute...he was...well he was...

You'd had a wonderful date and you had been...so focused, so in the moment as he...gave you the most intense pleasure you'd ever felt...and he just left.

You had been shocked. Barely clothed, legs made of jelly--whole body made of jelly--stunned into silence as he pushed himself away from you and pulled his clothes back on. When you called his name, he looked sick to his stomach.

His eyes clamped shut, shook his head, and then ran.

You'd pushed yourself out of bed, stumbled after him while calling his name, but he was gone. You could practically hear the tires screeching as he tore down the street.

Something happened. You must have done something. It was the only explanation that made sense. Everything had been going great and then it wasn't, and he looked so...disgusted.

So it must have been you. You wracked your brain for some idea...

Did you...did you make a weird noise? Did you...moan too loud or something?

...until a sense of dread overcame you.

Had you said Eddie's name? And not Steve's?

No...no...you couldn't have. Because as much as Eddie kept popping up in your thoughts...you knew that you were with Steve. Your entire head and heart were filled with Steve Harrington.

So why did something still feel wrong when you thought about it now?

Your mom got home late and had trudged off to bed; she barely glanced into your room to make sure you were asleep, and you had half the urge to stop her before she scuttled off. But you knew she would grill you if she saw the tear tracks reflecting the streetlight outside of your room.

You couldn't tell her about this.

And of course, you didn't tell your mom everything but...you really could have used a little bit of comfort. Her occasional words of wisdom that seemed to make everything better.

It was as you lay in your bed that you thought about the other times you'd gone to her, the times you'd cry after a mishap that your child brain couldn't quite comprehend. All the hurt in the world because of a doll that wasn't shared, or some painful words that were thrown around haphazardly.

"I'm sure it's all a misunderstanding," she always said. "You can talk in the morning, and it'll all be ok."

Except it wasn't ok. And Steve hadn't picked up. And you felt...sick.

You would have gone over to the Harrington's house or Family Video if you didn't have to get to work...to apologize in person and...

And what? What if he never wants to see you again? What if this just pushes him right back into the arms of Nancy Wheeler?

You knew that the insidious little voice in your head was just...just praying on your insecurities. It was irrational, but a fear was a fear. And you didn't want to lose someone you loved as wonderful as Steve.

You took a calming breath and made a plan...you had work today and class all day tomorrow, which meant if Steve didn't call back by the time you got out of work...you might not even going to see him until Tuesday night at the earliest if he was going to hang out with Eddie and the--

Eddie.

Your stomach lurched with nerves.

He and Eddie were friends, it was a fact that you were trying to move past. And as much as it anguished you to see Eddie...you couldn't lose Steve. So maybe...just maybe if Eddie didn't already know what happened and refused to look at you, he would know how to fix this.

You couldn't wait for Tuesday night.

You needed to fix this today.

"There you go sweetie," Mary cooed as she placed a mug of chicken soup on the bedside table and then brushed the hair out of "Steve's" face. "And I ran out and got crackers and ginger ale if you're not feeling up to soup."

"Uh-huh. Great. Thanks mom," Eddie muttered and stared numbly at the plaid-papered walls. If he didn't look at her, if he focused on the tense whooshing sound in his ears instead of her voice, he could pretend that it was his mom taking care of him.

Truthfully, he didn't want to be here, pretending to be sick. After he'd made his escape from your house, he realized he had nowhere to go where he could ground himself in...well...in himself. The one place he wanted--his stupid, ramshackle trailer in Forest Hills...home--was still inaccessible to him. So was his other home, you, as he had just...left you. Ran. Like a coward.

While he didn't want to be stuck in the Harrington's house with Mary up his ass for hours, he knew it was the only place he could really let himself become numb without interference from the outside world. So Eddie resigned himself to another day of being Steve Harrington and allowed Steve's mother to coddle him. The cold reception he had been receiving from Mary was immediately replaced with gentle care that made Eddie feel like a kid again, in those carefree days between his father's incarceration and his mother's death.

Knowing how deceitful she was, though...how willing she was to manipulate her son...well, needless to say that Eddie wasn't really buying the sincerity of Mary's behavior. He wished that it was genuine--for Steve's sake, even though he was still pissed at Steve--but in the case that it wasn't, he was not letting up on his demands.

Chicken soup from the deli, snacks from the grocery store, and some time in the house alone so he could smoke a joint in peace and let the high calm his troubles for a little while.

"You know," Mary sat down on the edge of the bed and Eddie groaned, which immediately got her to change her mind and remain standing. "I called the video store to let them know you were having a sick day, and that manager. Kevin? Keith? He was incredibly rude."

"Yeah," Eddie responded as Mary continued, disinterested in making a conversation now that he had started to come down from his high.

"And speaking of rude," she scoffed. "There's this...rude girl who's called twice this morning already while I was out; she left messages. Is this the girl who you've been going out with Stevie?"

Eddie's interest piqued and his spirits lifted just the slightest, then fell again, when he realized it must have been you.

Now, after the panic had subsided, he knew that he had messed up. That he shouldn't have run. Fuck...he couldn't finish what he started but at the very least he could have...stayed and told you the truth. Told you everything. But hindsight was 20-20, or so they said, and in the heat of the moment...running from the reality that he wasn't himself and that you would never love him seemed like the only thing he could do.

Eddie didn't quite know how to feel about the fact that you were calling him now. It wasn't that he didn't want to see you. No, he...he only wanted to fix what he had messed up. But...he just couldn't stand to see you look at Steve with that look in your eyes. Hear you say his name, when all Eddie wanted was for you to want him.

"...sounded so unsure of herself. That's not the kind of girl you want to attach yourself to; you need someone who knows what they want and will go after it. Not to mention that she apologized. Said she hurt your feelings. Is this why you're sick? What did she do? I'll have a talk with her mother and make sure she never calls you aga--"

Mary's heated speech was interrupted by the rapid ringing of the doorbell. She tried to ignore it but it kept ringing.

"My God, if we're not answering it means we're busy," she groused under her breath and turned on her heel. "Will some people never learn patience."

Eddie said a quick thank you to whatever deities he could think of for getting Mary away from him, and he closed his eyes.

Back to the rest, back to his wallowing. Back to the...sound of rocks hitting the window, what the hell?

Eddie's eyes shot open and he rolled over to stare at the window, and sure enough, tiny rocks kept hitting the glass. Over and over.

Eddie pushed himself out of bed and crossed the distance. He briefly wondered if you might be out there, if you had tried calling with no answer. But he had negotiated with Benny to give you a day off yesterday, so he knew there was no way you weren't at work today.

He opened the window and leaned out, only to find the surprise of his life when he "Eddie" himself...or rather...the real Steve was standing in the backyard, staring up at him.

Eddie felt a strange sense of satisfaction seeing the swollen black eye on his own face. Much more than the memory of him giving it to himself conjured. That he gave to Steve?

Fuck this wasn't getting any easier to sort out in his head. And there was no way that it was gonna be fixed any time soon.

"What do you want?" Eddie called down to Steve. "Come to rub it in my face that you have a real date with Nancy tomorrow night and that I was wrong?"

"I came to apologize," Steve called back. Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes. "No, I'm serious. I fucked up. I said some nasty things and I regret it. I shouldn't have said them. I was angry."

"A lot of true things are said in anger," Eddie sneered at him. "And that wasn't the first time you said some shit like that."

"I know, and I'm sorry," Steve sighed. "You don't have to forgive me, but...fuck I have to make this right because--"

"Save your breath," Eddie rolled his eyes. "I don't wanna hear it."

He could only imagine what happened that would get Steve to change his tune so quickly.

He tried to make a move on Nancy and she told him to get lost because she had a boyfriend already, regardless of what Harrington Charm Steve thought he possessed.

Or she just laughed in his face because who in the world would ever want to date Eddie Munson.

He winced, knowing it was a little too harsh, but his insecurities would win for another day or two. As eager as he was to get back into his own body, to go home, Steve could stand to deal with the fallout of whatever mess he made. Eddie would just stay in bed until Steve was as tired of this shit as he was. Then maybe they can try to work together and fix this again.

He was about to tell Steve to fuck off, when the patio door opened and Mary's voice echoed across the yard.

"Excuse me, this is trespassing!"

Steve was frozen, like a deer in the headlights, at the appearance of his mother.

Steve loved his mom, don't get him wrong, but sometimes...

Sometimes he just didn't understand how she could be sweet and loving one moment, and then an absolute misery the next.

It had been a recent discovery, this sharpness to her. In fact, for the longest time, he never considered that she was anything other than a happy and loving PTA mom, well-respected by friends and neighbors.

Growing up, she did everything Steve thought moms were happy to do. Go to PTA meetings, plan summer barbecues, come to all of the games for the sports he played, and cook elaborate dinners for the whole family to enjoy. But as his dad stayed later and later at the dealership, he was less present at family dinners or available for family outings on the weekends, creating Mommy and Stevie time. And as Steve got older, he preferred to hang out with his friends and run around Hawkins then stay at home alone with his mom.

He saw the light start to disappear in her eyes and he just...thought nothing about it. Didn't realize that he was also one to contribute to it.

Tommy H. had made a joke once about his dad having an affair, and Steve just...figured that must be the case for his dad too. He must have been, which is why...why he and mom didn't smile at each other much any more, why birthday gifts had become more elaborate and expensive, why both of his parents traveled together when his dad had conventions and auto shows.

And Steve defended her, always. She was an active member of the community, she went out with friends, and volunteered at the church. She did her best to take care of anything and everything the family needed. Protected them.

Until she didn't.

Until the one afternoon that the strip mall had lost power and Family Video closed early, and Steve came home to find his mom and Mayor Kline together.

All of the care and the sweetness and the motherly love vanished. Steve had suggested she talk to dad, if she was so unhappy...so lonely...but she had spat and swore and cursed his father, claimed that he was the one who ruined things. Ruined her happiness. Ruined their family. But once she saw the hurt expression on Steve's face, she begged him to let it go, to forget about what he saw. Promised that she would do better, she would talk to dad and fix it. For him.

But it happened again, and again. Steve hadn't seen the mayor in their house but he saw the evidence of him. The tie pin left in the bowl that they dropped their car keys in, an extra wine glass next to his mother's on the coffee table. Everything she did felt...forced. Every time he would notice something off, the evidence of all the things she did around the house, for him, for the family, became more noticable. As though she tried to buy his forgiveness rather than actually fix the problems with their family.

He tried to confront her about it again, ask if she had talked to dad. She had yelled and complained and blamed him for wanting to hurt the family. And that was when she offered to give him his allowance back.

Blood Money. Judas. The words echoed in his head, some remnant of some Sunday school lesson that had faded over the years, as he tucked the stack of bills into his wallet.

He didn't know who it was that he betrayed by making this deal...his father, himself, maybe even his mother...but he knew it wasn't right.

So he kept it all inside. Ignored it and let it fester. Kept his mouth shut.

Until now.

Steve looked around the yard, at the big house and the pool, at "Steve" leant out of the window with his good looks and expensive pajamas. He thought about his dad at the dealership, working hard to give this all to them. And finally looked at his mother, who made sure everything looked pristine, only for it all to be festering and rotten just below the surface.

He might have towered over her but couldn't feel any smaller as she glared at him. Glared at "Eddie."

"I, uh," Steve cleared his throat and held his hands out to show that he wasn't doing any harm. "I just came by to talk to Ed--Steve! To talk to Steve."

"So you ding dong ditch and then you trespass into my yard?" Her brow raised in disbelief.

"It's cuz I knew you weren't gonna let me in," he explained.

"If I won't let you in, that means you shouldn't be on my property. Period." his mom sneered at him. "I know you, Eddie Munson; you spray painted my car a few months ago."

Steve glanced up at Eddie, and Eddie simply shrugged as though he hadn't been the one to do it. Which was funny, because in actuality...it had been Steve who maybe had gotten a bit too creative after one too many beers at Heather Holloway's Back to School kegger.

"So what if I did!" Steve shrugged, technically owning up to it.

"That's enough for me to call Chief Hopper right now!" she shrieked, and Steve could see her practically vibrating.

Steve knew that calling the police was sort of his mom's MO. But he wasn't phased.

Probably because he was in Eddie's body and not his own. But maybe it was because he was in Eddie's body that he also felt a bit of courage building.

"You're really going to call the cops on your son's friend?" Steve laughed at her.

"My son wouldn't hang around someone like you."

"Oh yeah? Tell her about Hellfire Club, Stevie! Or how you've been coming to Corroded Coffin shows!" Steve called up to Eddie, whose eyes went wide as he was put on the spot.

"Steven!" his mother turned and glared at Eddie now. "Is this true?"

Eddie stammered and glared at Steve, who didn't give him the chance to respond.

"What? You're surprised that your precious son would want to spend time with a drug dealing, no good, piece of trailer trash?" He practically quoted his mother word for word, having recalled the few times she had encountered Eddie out in Hawkins.

His mom spun around to face him, but he continued.

"Come on, Mare, you don't think that I could be a worse influence on him than you are. With your lying and canoodling with Larry." His voice went falsetto. "Oh Larry, you know how to make a girl feel like she's 20 again. Barf."

"How do you know about that?"

"You're bribing and manipulating your son, you're ruining your family, and on top of that, you're a huge bitch."

Steve felt the weight on his shoulders get lighter with each word that escaped his mouth. He also saw his mother's anger start manifesting physically. She was turning red, shaking, breathing heavily. He knew that he needed to make his escape before she really did call the cops. Or hit him with a shovel or something.

"Wayne's sick," Steve called up to Eddie and Eddie's eyes went wide.

"Who's Wayne? Is that another one of your little drug dealer friends? Get out of my yard. Get off my property!"

As Steve ran from his parents' backyard and away from his screaming mother, his mind raced. He knew he shouldn't lie to Eddie but...desperate times called for desperate measures. He needed to get Eddie alone so they could talk, reconcile what happened. So he could convince him that this...that this was exactly what they needed.

He knew that he needed to rally the troops if he was going to fix what he broke.

It took hours for Eddie to get out of the house.

As soon as Wayne's name had left Steve's mouth, he felt like he was doused in ice water. Every nerve was on fire, his body itched to leave and it was unfair that he had to be subjected to Mary's tirade as soon as Steve had run and Mary returned to the house.

All he wanted was to get into the car and race to Forest Hills to see his uncle, but instead, he had to listen to her speech about dangerous criminals and vandals and making better life choices. She even tried to lecture him about taking classes at the community college to get away from the deadbeats who hung around Family Video.

Jesus Christ, lady, way to kick a man while he's down.

Once she was done with her lecture, she marched him straight back to bed so he could get the rest he needed.

Eddie knew he'd have to make a miraculous escape and he waited and waited for Mary to settle in the living room or get on the phone or something. His mind raced in the meantime as he thought of all the ways that Wayne might be sick.

Was he sick sick? He'd been sick a grand total of once in Eddie's life, in 79, when a nasty flu bug swept through the whole town. He remembered wishing that he knew how to make soup other than from the can, but when he'd brought Wayne the bowl of microwaved Campbell's, the look of pride on his uncle's face was enough to relieve him of his guilt.

Maybe he'd gotten hurt at the plant? He always made fun of his uncle's age, calling him old timer and geezer and whatnot, but he was getting older and he needed better glasses than the readers he got off the little revolving rack in Melvalds. Maybe he cut himself...or needed stitches. Or threw his back out?

Eddie thought back to his initial idea of getting him a job at the Harrington's dealership, something he never acted on and suddenly felt dread that whatever fate had befallen Wayne had only happened because he hadn't acted fast enough.

Hours passed by and he waited. Mary had brought him a grilled cheese with the crusts cut off, she'd done several loads of laundry, and even ushered him into the bathroom to take a shower. But before he knew it, she had ducked her head into his room.

"Stevie, are you feeling ok?" she asked gently. "I need to run out for a little while. Run a few errands."

Eddie glanced out the window, at the way the sky darkened, and then back at Mary who was dressed a little too nicely for errands.

Nice to know she's going to knock boots with Mayor Douchebag while her son is sick.

"Ok mom," Eddie forced a smile. "Be...safe."

"There's more soup in the fridge, if you want any more while I'm gone."

"Sure."

She turned and left without so much as an I love you, and as soon as Eddie heard her car peel out of the driveway, he was on his feet. He threw on a pair of jeans and one of the t-shirts he had gotten with you the day before, and then ran down the stairs.

"Fuck, she took my keys?" he groaned as he noticed the little bowl on the table in the hallway was conspicuously empty. "Well, bad news that her son is actually a criminal drug dealer deadbeat vandal who knows how to Hotwire a car."

Eddie found tools in the dusty toolbox in the garage, and then strolled out to Steve's BMW. It was a shame that he would cause damage to the vehicle--it had been a nice change from his van, even though he missed the van immensely--but desperate times. He struggled for a moment, the imported car a little trickier than the clunkier Chevys and Fords his dad had taught him on, but he got it in the end.

For the first time in his life, he was a little thankful to his father for giving him some kind of skill, as unsavory as it might have been. Because if he didn't have it, there would be no way for him to see Wayne right now.

Maybe being Eddie Munson wasn't such a bad thing after all.

He pulled into the trailer park and the car skidded to a stop beside the van. Even Wayne's car wasn't here, which meant that Steve probably had to pick Wayne up from the plant.

Or the hospital.

He jogged up the steps and threw open the door...

"What the fuck?" Eddie exclaimed.

...only to find Steve, Robin, Lucas, Dustin, and Will sitting around the living room with notebooks and homework and DnD mini figs. The TV was on, the volume down low, with a stack of videos piled in front of it, and there were cans of soda on every available surface.

"Took you long enough," Dustin announced and rolled his eyes. The other kids started chiming in.

"We started working on homework when you didn't show up right away."

"And Mike's birthday campaign."

"It's been hours!" Robin exclaimed. "Keith is gonna have my ass too, I called off, and you called off too. Which means he's working open to close. And you know how he hates that. Er...um...well one of you knows." Robin glanced back and forth between Eddie and Steve.

Eddie looked around again. The trailer was cleaned, he could hear a load of laundry clunking around in the washing machine, there was a stack of frozen pizzas laid out on the counter in the kitchen, one in the oven making the trailer smell enticing.

But no Wayne.

They tricked him.

"Alright, what the fuck is going on here?" Eddie asked, then zeroed in on Steve. "You lied to me. You used my uncle as bait and you lied to me."

"I'm sorry, I had to," Steve got to his feet and sighed. "You weren't listening to me...and then my mom..."

"You lied to me to get me to come over for some kind of pizza party? I didn't know you were that desperate for friends, Harrington," Eddie asked incredulously.

"No!" Robin interjected. "He lied because the two of you need to settle this once and for all. You haven't been entirely truthful about this whole situation either, Eddie."

"What do you mean? I've told you everything."

"Not everything." Steve pulled a spiral notebook off the coffee table and threw it at him. Eddie's stomach dropped as he realized what he caught. "Open it."

"I don't have to do shit," Eddie feigned anger and threw the notebook over his shoulder.

"No, because you already know what's in it," Steve jeered. "You have a crush on my girlfriend and you've been using this to your advantage this whole time. Don't look at the kids, they already know. I told them." Eddie had glanced at Dustin, Lucas, and Will, half expecting to see betrayal or deception in their eyes, but they looked sympathetic.

"Listen," Steve went on. "I know how it feels to have a crush on someone and think that you don't stand a chance with them. We all do." He gestured at the others, and they all nodded.

Eddie felt uncomfortable under their heavy stares, and it sent his skin crawling.

He knew that he wasn't alone in having a crush on someone; unrequited love had a definition for a reason. He didn't understand why they wanted him here? Why were they confronting him like this? Did they blame him for the spell? He already knew it was his fault.

"So what? Why am I here, Harrington?" Eddie finally asked.

"To work it out once and for all!" Will explained. "There's only two options here."

"There was more to the riddle," Lucas elaborated. "More than just the translation."

"You both want to be with someone that...otherwise wouldn't want to be with you," Robin continued. "The real you."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better about myself, Buckley?" Eddie sneered at her.

"Leave Robin alone," Steve sighed. "She's the one who figured this all out. The prize...reflected in another's eyes...when I saw that notebook I thought that it was...something tangible. Popularity, or...or...friends...or a girl. But the real thing is love."

"Yeah, Selfless Love," Eddie shrugged. "Selfless love will change you back. What about it?"

"But in order to love selflessly, you have to love yourself first. And even if you find it hard to believe, both you and Steve...struggled with that. You thought...you couldn't be loved by the person you wanted the most. You didn't have the kind of life the other had. The love you thought the other had," Robin offered.

"So...there's really only two ways about this." She continued. "We all work together to help you two to learn to love yourselves. It's gonna take some time, because you clearly still hate yourself Eddie, and Steve...yeah he's not gonna admit to it because he's shallow--sorry Steve--but...he struggles to love himself because everyone else leaves him. Shut up Steve, you know I'm right.

"Or... you suck it up and deal with it. Steve stays Eddie, and he shoots his shot with Nancy. And you stay Steve, and you get to keep your honey. And honestly, this needs to be the outcome if we can't get you to change back with the self love thing.

"But it means that the two of you need to work together," Robin concluded. "Because it isn't gonna be easy."

"I'm willing to try if you are." Steve held out his hand to shake. "I mean...it's a win win no matter how you slice it."

Eddie stared at Steve's offered hand and then at all the others' open faces.

He was...touched that they were all here and willing to help. He truly was. And he knew that it was a gesture of good faith from Steve, trying to work together. They'd almost become friends the past few weeks, trying to solve this situation...what he had told Mary earlier had been true. Hell...Eddie was almost proud of Steve for standing up to her the way he did.

But to accept that offer meant that there was nothing to lose. And Eddie had already lost himself.

"Fuck you," he swatted Steve's hand away with his own. "I'm not shaking to that."

There was a collective commotion of "what's" and "why's" from everyone and Steve looked lost.

"What's your deal?" Steve asked.

"What's my deal? What's your deal?" Eddie laughed. "You think I'm gonna believe that you want to help me love myself, when just the other night you listed off every reason under the sun that I'm not worthy of love or friends, and that I would live and die alone. Yeah, real great act there, Harrington."

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Eddie.

"So you don't want to be me and you don't want to be you, then who do you want to be?"

"I didn't say I didn't want to be me, I just said you're fooling yourself if you think I'm gonna let you help me want to be me. Besides, don't you think it's still a little too convenient that it's only a win-win for you?"

"How is it not also a win for you?" Steve questioned. "You either get your life back or you get the girl of your dreams. Same for me."

"What if I want both."

"Then I say you're the one being selfish here."

"Come on guys," Dustin sighed. "Fighting isn't going to solve anything. You need to come to an agreement and--"

"No, th-th-there's...there's nothing to agree on!" Eddie stammered. "Except the only thing there is to agree on. You can't always get what you want, right? Isn't that the way the song goes? Rolling Stones? We're trying to make a deal to find a way to make the best of either situation, but neither of us is gonna be fully happy in any scenario. I learn to love myself and what? The girl I love doesn't love me either, so what's the point? You get the girl you want, but you need to live with the fact that she doesn't love you.

"But could you live with yourself day in and day out if she looked at you with love in her eyes and didn't see you for who you truly were? If she believed you were someone else. Could you live with that Steve? Could you live with Nancy Wheeler screaming out my name as you make love to her?"

Robin and the kids all started groaning and making gagging noises at the last sentence, but Eddie knew he hit a nerve in Steve as he had the decency to look a little sad.

"Don't you see I love her, but she doesn't love me. And she never will. So if I had to choose, no...I don't want to be Steve Harrington anymore, I want to be Eddie Munson again, because even if she never loved me, I wouldn't have to be face to face with the fact that she loved someone else, every day, for the rest of my life."

Eddie finished his shouting and his shoulders heaved with his labored breath, and as he realized what he just said, he turned on his heel to get to the door.

He didn't want to run away from this, but he felt like he had no choice but to run. This had been a mistake. He should have left as soon as he realized that Wayne wasn't sick. Back to the Harrington's where he could suffer in silence until he was ready to face the reality of being stuck in Steve's body.

"Eddie, wait!" Steve shouted and jumped across the living room to stop him, as Eddie's hand turned the knob. "You can't just lea--"

Eddie was about to turn and start yelling at Steve--he couldn't tell him what he could and couldn't do--but as the door to the trailer swung open, both he and Steve realized that someone was there.

You were standing on the other side and they didn't know how much you had heard.

It really was the longest Sunday at work that you had ever faced. Each minute was an eternity, and each break that you had went by too fast. You sat by the kitchen door to call home, and Benny would watch you with a critical eye as you asked your mother if there were any messages for you--there weren't.

Your mom knew there was something wrong by the tone of your voice...but she knew your breaks were precious and not to take them up with her questions.

"I'll be home a little late tonight," you warned her.

"You ok?" she asked.

"Yeah...just...going over by Steve's for a little, I think."

"Ok Honey. Have fun. Tell him I said hi."

But you wouldn't...at least...you thought you wouldn't as you drove your car towards Forest Hills Trailer park after work so you could talk to Eddie.

Imagine your surprise as you pulled up to the trailer with the obvious green and white van out front...only to also find Steve's burgundy BMW parked next to it.

Fear gripped you, and you debated...well, you debated just leaving. Cut your losses and run, because they had to be in there...obviously talking about you.

But looking further past the two vehicles you saw a handful of bicycles leant against the side of the trailer.

So maybe it would be safe...if they were having a Hellfire meeting or something.

You parked your car and slapped your face, gave yourself the pep talk of the century.

He's in there and Eddie's also in there and their friends. And you're gonna walk up there and act completely normal, say that you came by to see Eddie but...oh, Steve what a surprise, you were trying to call him but he must have been here all day.

Yeah that was it. Perfect. You just had to get out of the car and say it.

The air was thick with the sludge of your nervousness, and its viscosity grabbed and pulled at you with each step toward the door you took.

You could hear the voices even before you got to the door, the variations in the timber of Steve and Eddie's voices vibrated through the wooden walls and vinyl siding. And it wasn't until you pulled open the storm door to knock that you really heard what they said.

"The girl I love doesn't love me either, so what's the point? You get the girl you want, but you need to live with the fact that she doesn't love you." The sound of Steve's voice made your heart plummet.

Nancy. They had to be talking about Nancy. He still loved her.

No wonder he was so quick to run when you said his name. He pretended you were Nancy all the way up until then.

"But could you live with yourself day in and day out," Steve continued. "If she looked at you with love in her eyes and didn't see you for who you truly were? If she believed you were someone else. Could you live with that Steve?"

Wait...Steve? But...but that was Steve who was talking. What...what was happening.

You kept listening and as Steve kept talking, as you heard other voices chime in to try and stop him, and as he got louder and closer, you got more and more confused,

"So if I had to choose, no...I don't want to be Steve Harrington anymore, I want to be Eddie Munson again." Again. "Because even if she never loved me, I wouldn't have to be face to face with the fact that she loved someone else, every day, for the rest of my life."

"Eddie, wait!" And that was Eddie's voice.

Eddie called Steve...Eddie, just like he did that day way back when...the day he showed up at Family Video. The day that you had that date with Steve, when he changed your mind about breaking up with him.

And Steve was claiming...that he didn't want to be Steve anymore...that he wanted to be Eddie again. But if he wanted to be Eddie again...that meant he had to be Eddie at some point in the past...right?

Time slowed down and you got dizzy as you tried to make heads or tails of it all.

The dates and the kisses and the cologne and the chewing gum.

All of the times that you wished you knew what it was like to be with Eddie, when you were held so tenderly in Steve's arms.

The music and the declarations and the...the Nancy of it all.

You had thought vaguely last night that it almost seemed like they had traded places...but that was impossible.

"You're not...what I expected Steve Harrington to be like," you muttered. "You're so much better."

"Of course I'm better, it's because I'm..." He faltered for a moment.

It's because Steve was Ed--

The door to the trailer swung open and you stood in wide-eyed shock as you came face to face with Steve and Eddie.

Or...Eddie and Steve.

"Honey," they muttered simultaneously and you couldn't help the step you took back, the way your foot faltered on the steps of the small porch. You tumbled down the few steps and caught yourself on your hands, only for them and your knees to get ripped up by the gravel of the drive.

"Shit!"

"Is she ok?"

Two sets of footsteps came thundering down the porch steps and hands grasped at your arms to get you back to your feet.

"Honey, look at me, are you ok?" Steve--Eddie--cupped your face in his hands and turned you to him. He looked down at your hands and winced at the scratches. "Shit, we need to clean you up."

Meanwhile Eddie--Steve--talked over him.

"What did you hear? How much? You can't say anything, you can't tell anybody. They wouldn't believe you. They'd think you're nuts."

"Good job Harrington, can't you see she's hurt."

"She heard everything, Munson. God. We need to be proactive about this."

"Guys!" A voice came from the trailer door and you looked over to see Robin and a bunch of Steve's...Eddie's...someone's freshman friends standing behind her. Both of the boys continued bickering back and forth until Robin yelled again. "Shut the fuck up!"

Everything went silent except for the ringing in your ears.

You did the only thing you could do...

Your thoughts went a mile a minute as you revisited the epiphany you just had. And you couldn't believe how much sense it made. That it was Steve who touched you and kissed you and loved you. But underneath it all was Eddie.

...you turned on your heel and ran.

Eddie's heart clenched as you pushed his hands away from you, and you ran.

Well...ran was a generous term. You hobbled and skipped, the deep scratches and cuts on your skinned knees prevented you from gaining the speed you probably wanted. And it was all he could do not to go after you.

You heard. How much of it? Everything? How long had you been out there? You had to know now. You'd never look at him again.

It hurt, cut him so deep that it practically stopped his heart in his chest.

He knew that this was inevitable, had come to this conclusion that he would lose you...shit before he even had you. Everything in between then and now would just be a beautiful memory that he could take with him for the rest of his days.

"Well aren't you gonna go after her?" Robin called from her place at the door.

Eddie looked over at Steve, who looked right back at him.

"She means you," they said in tandem.

"Me?" Steve exclaimed. "Why me?"

"That's your girlfriend," Eddie said, as though it was the most obvious thing on earth.

"No," Steve laughed. "That's your girlfriend. And on top of that, you love her, so you need to fix this."

Eddie was speechless as Steve went and sat on one of the steps. He fished a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his vest and lit one up. Eddie rolled his eyes and looked back up at Robin and the kids.

"Go!" They all yelled at him. Eddie scrambled and started in the direction you ran, shaking his head softly as he heard them all turn on Steve with an "are you an idiot?"

He knew the way you ran. This was his home turf, even if he hadn't been here for a few weeks. He would always know this worn, dirt footpath that led to the gazebo out beyond the last trailer in the park. There used to be a jungle gym and swings out there...he had sat on those swings for hours after he heard news of his mom's death.

It was a good place to cry.

And Eddie half-expected you to be there crying, especially as he saw you, perched up on the bench with your face in your hands.

"Honey?" Your shoulders went rigid as he spoke, and he stopped in his tracks. "Hey it's me. Are you...ok? Can we talk?"

"Me who?" you asked softly, the fragility in your tone enough to make him pause. "Please...I need an answer, who am I talking to? Steve? Or Eddie?"

"Eddie," he said, clearly and confidently, knowing that this was it.

Your shoulders started shaking and he could hear vague whimpers coming from you. He couldn't hold himself back, he shuffled over to you, stood directly in front of you with his hands on your shoulders as you cried.

"I'm sorry," he began. The words flooded his mind: apologies, excuses, declarations of his emotions. He could barely contain one leak before another sprung. "I'm sorry I lied to you, I'm sorry I kept it a secret. It's just that it was so...unbelievable, so impossible, that I knew there was no way I could tell you without you thinking I was crazy.

"And before I knew it, it was too late, and we were dating. I was dating you for Steve but I was also...I was dating you for me because I've...I've had this stupid crush on you for years. Can you believe it? Years! And I never...I never thought I was good enough for you. But I was so...so angry because Steve wasn't good enough for you either. He's an idiot. Imagine my surprise, my luck the day I woke up and I was Steve...and I got to take you out on some date and finally...finally get to show you how much I cared. How I felt...

"But it wasn't right to have lied to you. To...to touch you and kiss you when you didn't know it was me. We all kept it a secret. Me, Steve, the kids, Robin. We all could have come clean at any time, but we figured we could fix it before then and now...now we might be stuck this way forever so please, please, I need...

"I don't need anything actually. There's nothing I can do to make this right. I can't ask anything of you, except to listen to me and believe that I never meant to hurt you throughout any of this. There were no tricks, no...well I guess there were lies. But I never pretended to care for you. Everything I said and did...it was real. And I don't blame you if you hate me, or if you never want to see me again, I just need to know...I need to know that you're alright.

"So please Honey," he ran his thumbs soothingly back and forth over your shoulders. "Please look at me and tell me...tell me you're at least ok and if you want me to leave you alone, I'll leave you alone forever. Just please. I need to know you're ok."

Your shoulders kept shaking and although Eddie's heart practically disintegrated in his chest, he felt...lighter. Something had shifted. Everything was out there, the truth. He didn't have to hide from you anymore, pretend that he was something he wasn't. All that was left was for you to tell him to fuck off...

When you peeled your hands away from your face and looked at him, though, you had tears of laughter in your eyes and a manic smile on your face.

"You..." you hiccuped through a giggle. "You're...you're Eddie Munson and you love me?"

"What?" he asked in disbelief, not entirely sure that he heard you right.

"You...you're Eddie Munson," you poked a finger into his chest. "In Steve Harrington's body."

"Yes."

"And you, Eddie Munson, love me?" you questioned. Eddie froze and you continued. "Don't act like I didn't hear....everything you said. You said...you said...you loved me but I would never love you back. But..."

You grabbed onto the front of his shirt and shook him, wincing as the rough fabric scraped against your torn up palms.

"I told Eddie...I told Steve...that I had a crush on you, Eddie Munson," you shook him and looked up into his eyes with a smile. You had...a crush on him and you told...Steve? "And he just said--"

"When?" Eddie interrupted you.

"In High school."

"No, when did you tell Steve?"

"Uh...last week? I don't...the...the night you came in with Corroded Coffin," you closed your eyes and shook your head. "And Steve...you...I'm sorry, it's really confusing."

"I know, imagine how I feel," Eddie chuckled.

"I told 'Eddie' that I had a crush on him in high school," you explained. "I told him and he acted like it wasn't anything to blink at. Like he didn't even remember I existed. And I felt so crazy, so hurt, that I went home and I tore up my diary because I never even thought you...that he...that..."

You rambled about thinking about him and smelling his cologne, noticing his chewing gum, and thinking about him when you kissed Steve--when you kissed him--and Eddie felt all the pain that he had, all the insecurity he had for the past 24 hours, melt away.

All the light in the universe--the burning of an infinity of stars--couldn't compare to the way his heart was shining right at that moment.

You didn't want Steve. You wanted Eddie.

"...and you ran away and I thought...but you..."

Eddie didn't let you finish your thoughts, he smashed his lips to yours and kissed you with bruising intensity.

The way he felt outdid any high he'd ever had.

He kissed you until you both needed air, then dropped little pecks around your face until you directed him back to your lips.

"You love me," you muttered against his lips.

"I love you," he nodded.

And then you said the one thing that he had wished to hear come from your lips for weeks, months, years.

"I love you too."

As soon as Eddie was out of sight, Robin and the kids were on top of Steve, yelling at him and swatting at him.

"Are you kidding me?" Robin shrieked.

"What?" Steve howled.

"You need to go after them too," Dustin tried to reason with him. "She's hurt and she's crying. This entire thing is a disaster."

"She's not my girlfriend! OW!" Robin had slugged him hard in the shoulder. First a black eye now a bruised shoulder. Great. "Ok, why do I need to go?"

"Because whether or not she's your girlfriend, you and Eddie both dragged her into this mess. So you both need to explain it to her," Will explained.

Steve sighed.

"Fine," he grumbled and threw the cigarette to the ground.

As he followed after you and Eddie, he sighed and wondered how this was all gonna play out. Why you hadn't just gotten into your car and driven away if you knew the truth. If you thought they were insane.

You could have made a fortune, told the newspaper.

If you told the newspaper though...that meant Nancy would find out eventually.

Nancy...

Steve reflected on everything that Eddie had said. He knew, now, that it was all in the context of you. That Eddie loved you...

So then why didn't he say anything? Steve...would have understood...or tried to at the very least. Right? And what Eddie had said made some sense to Steve.

"Could you live with yourself day in and day out if she looked at you with love in her eyes and didn't see you for who you truly were?"

But who was he? He was just...Steve. He could talk about his parents and his time at Hawkins High...all the sports he played and friends he made. Nancy hadn't wanted Steve anymore, hadn't wanted that life.

But was that even his life anymore? He had less now than he had before. His parents were broken, their family in shambles. His friends had left him and laughed at him. Hell, even the admissions essay Nancy had helped him write once upon a time hadn't gotten him into a college; he just...worked at family video.

What could he offer her as Steve? Shit, did he even have anything to offer himself?

"If she believed you were someone else. Could you live with that Steve?"

What did Eddie have though? He had a band and friends and carefree fun.

But Steve learned over the last few weeks that it wasn't as carefree as he thought.

Shit, even Eddie living his life wasn't as carefree as one would assume. What could Eddie give to Nancy? What could Steve as Eddie give to Nancy? Yeah he enjoyed nights out with Corroded Coffin but...he didn't even play his own guitar. Eddie did. And he was enjoying Hellfire Club but...well, the kids and Eddie really helped him with the DM role. Maybe he would like it better if he was one of the players instead of the leader of the whole show.

What the hell was Steve? But no one? Would anyone even care if he was gone?

But he loved Robin, she was his best friend. And he loved the kids as though they were his own siblings. They all had done so much for Eddie...and for him the last few weeks. They put themselves at risk of being accused of...witchcraft and hysteria...they subjected themselves to his and Eddie's anger when they were at each other's throats.

They had plenty of opportunity to leave them both behind--to leave Steve behind--but they didn't.

"Could you live with Nancy Wheeler screaming out my name as you make love to her?"

Make Love. Love. That was really all Steve had to give Nancy anymore. And all he really wanted in return. Could he be happy knowing that she loved someone else and not him? Not Steve Harrington?

Fuck, she was doing that now with Jonathan Byers.

Steve saw you and Eddie huddled together at the gazebo, and as he got closer he heard what Eddie said to you. He felt those desperate words floating in the air.

"...But I never pretended to care for you. Everything I said and did...it was real. And I don't blame you if you hate me, or if you never want to see me again, I just need to know...I need to know that you're alright. So please Honey. Please look at me and tell me...tell me you're at least ok and if you want me to leave you alone, I'll leave you alone forever. Just please. I need to know."

Steve...froze in his tracks, and it was like a lightbulb switched on.

For as much as Eddie had just declared his love for you back at the trailer. He was willing to let it all go, let you go, as long as you were alright.

Eddie had done all of this, had caused this entire fiasco...because...because he thought that nobody loved him--because you didn't love him--just like Steve struggled to find people in his life who loved him. And Eddie was willing to walk away without love, so long as you were ok.

Steve thought about Nancy and Jonathan. About how happy they were...how they were alright, and making plans for the future together. More than Steve had ever really done with Nancy. He had his plans and she hers. He had his father's expectation to live up to and she had...ambition.

As much as it hurt...Steve knew...weedled and pushed deep down inside of his being that Nancy would never have been happy with him as she was with Jonathan. And sure...it hurt to see them together but...her smile. Her happiness. It still warmed his heart.

Because he loved her. He always would.

Steve watched as the two of you rambled and laughed and verbally tousled back and forth and he felt...lighter somehow. More awake and aware than he had been for weeks.

He didn't feel so stuck.

Selfless love.

Huh...so that's what it was.

Steve would have gotten closer, would have helped explain the situation to Eddie, but he knew Eddie had it under control.

Because despite their troubles and differences, despite all the shit that they had been through...something new was forming between Eddie and Steve. Friendship was a kind of love, and Steve wouldn't go and stick his foot in it to save his own face.

Steve turned on his heel and walked back to the trailer. Maybe not with...a new head on his shoulders, but definitely a new perspective.

Selfless love.

Steve woke up feeling...like he was sleeping on a cloud...although there was a heavy weight on his chest and his arm felt numb.

Was this Heaven? Was he dead? Had the stress of the past few weeks finally killed him?

He had returned to the trailer, to Robin and the kids, the night before, and shortly after, you and Eddie had trailed in after them looking...happier than you had been when you'd run off. Steve had been glad, if a little confused.

He'd put two and two together when he caught a glimpse of a soft kiss Eddie had pecked on your lips when you left...and he felt...embarassed for a second. To think that Eddie would have kept you warm for him for as long as you were in each other's bodies.

Man, maybe I am a douchebag.

The group of you had gone over plans to help Steve and Eddie achieve some self love, to help them get back in their bodies.

But now...well, if Steve was dead there was really no way that he was going to be able to enact those plans were there?

He briefly wondered, as he opened his eyes to a brilliant bright light, if Eddie would be able to get back into his body if he had died. Or if he would be stuck as Steve Harrington forever.

Steve blinked the cobwebs out of his eyes and frowned at the sight before him.

Plaid-papered walls and matching curtains that were thrown open and letting in all the early morning sunlight. A too soft bed that he had missed and you tucked into his side with the weight of you numbing his shoulder and his arm.

Huh? This didn't make any sense.

You groaned beside him and nuzzled your face into his shoulder. You muttered a quiet "guh morning Eddie" and scrunched up your face as you opened one bleary eye.

"Eddie?" he asked. And then it hit him. "Eddie!"

Steve jumped and pushed you off of him. He got to his feet and started running his hands over his body. Fluffy hair, toned chest, stubbly arms--ok so Eddie hadn't been shaving like he promised.

"What's wrong?" you asked, confused. "Is everything ok?"

"It's...it's me, I'm back!" Steve exclaimed. "I'm back!"

"Back?"

"It's me, it's Steve," he cheered and knelt on the bed. He grabbed your hand and pressed it into his hair, as though touching it would convince you somehow.

"What do you mean? I..." Recognition sparked in your eyes and you pushed him away from you. "If you're...does that mean he..." You scrambled to your feet, shoved your shoes on, and ran out of his bedroom.

Steve could hear a commotion outside the room between you and his mom, then the front door of the house squeaked open and slammed shut. Before long, his mom poked her head inside his room and tutted disapprovingly.

"Did that girl stay here all night Steven?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "That's not the girl from the answering machine is it? I can't believe you--"

"Mom!" Steve stopped her and crossed the space between them. He looked down at her, truly for the first time in his life, and spoke clearly for the first time too. "You're so full of shit."

Eddie stirred awake and felt at peace.

Truly everything was working out in his favor.

He had a plan to get back in his own body, he had you, he had...something sharp digging into his shoulder, what the fuck?

He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face, his fingers dug into his eyes and as he pulled them back...strands of hair came away with them. Long, tangled strands...unfamiliar...but familiar all the same.

But Steve didn't have...

Eddie really looked at his hands then, at the ring-clad fingers and the tattooed skin. His familiar bats and his puppet master that he had gotten last summer. He turned his head and saw the glowing red lights of his shitty K-mart alarm clock.

6:45

The screech of tires and a spray of gravel outside really made him aware of the world around him. The room was still somewhat dark... but bright sunlight shone in from the makeshift curtain. He stared at band posters and the Corroded Coffin banner he made back in 9th grade, and slowly the recognition set in.

He was home.

He was home, he was home, he was home. He pushed the hair out of his face and looked at his arms, his body, his bed. He pulled the half-worn copy of Lord of the Rings out from under his pillow where it was sort of jutting into his shoulder and he kissed it.

"I'm Eddie Munson," he spoke out loud in his voice. He tried to lower the register, achieve his DM voice. "Eddie Munson."

There was a knock on a frantic door somewhere.

Wayne. No wait, it was still too early to be Wayne. He wouldn't be home until 8 when Eddie was already at school.

More recognition hit him.

"Fuck I have to go to scho--"

"Eddie I swear to god, if you don't open this door right now," your voice was faint, shouted from somewhere outside.

You. Your voice. He had fallen asleep beside you in Steve's bed...and now he was in his bed, in his body, and you were outside his door.

He kicked the blankets off of him, wincing as he saw that he was only in his boxers--thank fuck he was getting sick of tighty whiteys--and ran out to the door.

He stared at the living room, at the remnants of everyone being here the night before. Tidier than he would have left it, but Steve had promised to clean up. He vaguely wondered what else Steve had cleaned during his stay at Casa Munson.

"Eddie!"

"Shit," Eddie cursed and threw the door open, fully intent on being suave with his greeting, since he was back in his body. This would be his first chance to charm you as himself, after all. But as soon as you had your eyes on him, you threw your arms around his neck and planted a kiss right on his lips.

It was an entirely different sensation, kissing you as himself and not as Steve. You tasted...pretty much the same...maybe a little different. Tangier. Maybe a little...earthy but it wasn't even 7am yet and he doubted you brushed your teeth at Steve's.

Shit he hadn't brushed his teeth yet either.

But his nerves were immediately alight in a way that they never really got when he was Steve. And his blood rushed to mutually desired places much faster than it had in Steve's body too.

That was going to be weird, going through life comparing things to Steve again...in a different way. But...

"You're too busy thinking," you pulled away and smiled. "And not busy kissing me."

"Sorry Sweetheart," he chuckled. "Mystical body swapping does a whole lot on the mind. I got distracted."

"I'll forgive you," you pecked down his cheek to his neck and bit playfully. "Just this once."

"Your teeth feel sharper like this," Eddie noted aloud.

"It's because I'm biting you harder," you grinned against his skin. "Because I know you like me now so I'm not afraid to mess up."

"Not distracted thinking of someone else now either," he offered and felt you tense in his arms. The confidence in him faltered. "I'm sorry, Honey, I didn't mean--"

"No it's..." you pulled back from him and looked into his eyes. There was a glee there, one he hadn't expected to see. "I don't know. I guess it's all been wild and unexpected and 24 hours ago...I thought I was gonna lose...you forever...and now I have you."

"You have me," Eddie promised. "For as long as you want me."

"Never gonna stop."

"No?" he asked in a tease. "Not even if I...swapped bodies with old Ted Wheeler or something."

"Uh..." you wrinkled your nose and glared at him. "Eddie I don't know if you're intentionally killing the mood here but...I mean if you're trying to ask me if I would fuck Mr. Wheeler even if he was actually you, the answer is a hard no."

"But you'd fuck me?" he asked smugly.

"I'm sincerely trying to," you laughed. "I don't think you were this chatty as Steve."

"I am pretty talkative. Don't worry, I have other uses for my mouth, but first things first, I need your clothes off Honey."

He ushered you back to his room and his fingers pinched and plucked at your work uniform as you went. You still had it on from your shift the day before, and it was now wrinkled from sleep, and Eddie vaguely wondered how comfortable it was, but you eagerly pulled it off you as you set foot into his room and he slammed the door shut behind him.

"Not sure how clean the sheets are," he stepped close to you and cupped your face in his hands.

"It's ok."

"But I'm gonna take care of you Honey."

"As long as you don't run away again."

"I won't. I promise." He took your hand in his and pressed it against the bulge in his boxers, groaning at the spark of tension and pleasure. This was what he had been missing, the pleasure he felt in his own body, so familar and long-since-felt. "Feel how hard I am for you? Feel how much I love you?"

"You love me?" You asked.

"Are you always gonna ask if I love you?"

"I just gotta check. Make sure you didn't change your mind...or that...I don't know...that Steve didn't jump back into your body or something."

"Oh," he pushed you down onto his mattress and slid between your legs. He ground himself against you, the friction of your underwear making you both hiss in want. "I'll make you forget all about Steve Harrington by the time I'm done with you. You'll only remember my name."

He didn't play games, didn't waste time luxuriating in the details of you, when all he wanted was to take you to paradise again and again, and follow you, as quickly as possible.

Also because even if he did skip class with you today, his uncle would be home soon and he did not want this to be the way the two of you met.

He kissed down the length of your body and rid you of your underwear. He inhaled the heady scent of you, put his tongue on you the way he had on Saturday, and noted again that the taste of you was different. Better.

He could feel you holding back and he looked up at you smugly, resting his chin on the crest of your sex.

"What did I tell you? I want to hear you," he teased, and inched his fingers along the inside of your thighs. "You're beautiful you know...your pussy's so pretty. I didn't get to tell you that the other day. All of you, you're so...gorgeous and I can't believe you're all mine."

"Yeah?"

"You're all mine right?" He asked, kissing back down as his fingers spread your lips and he teased your clit with his middle finger. You whined. "Louder honey, you're all mine right."

"Yes." He sunk his fingers into you and he laved at you, lapping up whatever you gave him. The complex, sweet taste exploded on his tongue, and he pressed in further, further, crooked his fingers till you were panting. "Eddie."

He smirked and backed away slightly, looked up at you with hooded eyes. "Say it again. Give me what I want and I'll give you what you want."

"E-Eddie," you keened.

"Again," he sped up and started shifting against the bed, as he chased his own pleasure. "One more. I'll get you there sweetheart. I'll get you there you just have to ask."

"Eddie please!" He stroked with skilled fingers and used his thumb to rub your clit firmly. He watched as you came. Awed in the beauty of you as you twitched and leaked, luxuriated in the flutter of your cunt around his fingers, and basked in the crescendo of your moans.

All while he rutted quickly and wildly against the bed. He wasn't gonna last--he'd barely touched himself in Steve's body, and he knew Steve wasn't doing any routine upkeep in his--and before long his release spilled as he grunted and groaned. He couldn't help himself, he bit into the plush of your thigh, enough to earn another high pitched whine from you.

You both panted and came down from your highs. He'd kissed back up your body to your mouth, letting you take the affection that you needed with your arms wrapped around his neck and your fingers threaded through his hair. He felt a tingle in his spine as your nails scratched against his scalp, and he knew it was a promise of more to come later, but he knew he needed to clean you up now.

He whispered sweet apologies as he left your side to get a washcloth from the bathroom, and then he cleaned you up first--paying close attention to the scrapes on your hands and knees, then the mix of his spit and your release between your legs. Then he took care of himself, slightly embarrassed as he rid himself of his stained boxers and revealed his rapidly softening cock to your curious gaze.

"Shit," he laughed and looked down himself and then back up into your eyes, so filled with affection. "You know something?"

"What?" you grinned at him, clearly feeding off his joy.

"Steve definitely has a weirder dick than me." You covered your face in your hands and cackled.

"I hate you!" you shouted, voice muffled.

"Noooo," he quickly flopped on the bed and pulled you to him. He peeled your hands back from your face and pressed a kiss to your lips. "You love me.

June 1986

This was it.

Eddie had never been so nervous in his life. Not the first time he performed with Corroded Coffin, or the first time he was the DM for Hellfire, not even the first time he kissed you.

This was the minute that his future would finally begin.

"Edward Munson," Principal Higgins' voice echoed across the football field. Eddie climbed the makeshift stage accompanied by a mix of cheers and applause (and boos from the douchebag jocks who had made his life miserable for the past 6 years).

He shook Higgins' hand and took his diploma, smiling nicely for the photographer that had set up right at the edge of the stage, and when he got a mischievous look on his face, Higgins sighed.

"I wouldn't do that if I was you Eddie," he warned.

"Come on, it's not like you can fail me now!" Eddie snarked and tucked the diploma under his arm, before flashing double birds at the older man. The sounds of the crowd grew louder--parents outraged, students amused--and as Eddie turned to extend the gesture to the crowd, he saw his little audience get to their feet and cheer harder.

Wayne who shook his head, forever amused at his boy's antics. Rick who, quite frankly, looked high as a kite. Gareth and Dave and Jeff's parents, who were there for him and Jeff. Steve and Dustin and Lucas--who had cheered for Robin, Jonathan, now for Eddie, and soon enough for Nancy. Will and Mike were with their families, but Eddie could still see them clapping enthusiastically.

And front and center, next to Wayne with the brightest smile and the loudest cheers, was you.

It was still weird, even after months of getting to be with you as Eddie instead of as Steve. Not bad weird. Better weird.

This was a moment he never imagined he would get to experience. Graduating high school, getting to know you and love you the way you did.

It still felt surreal, but as he ran off the stage amidst hooting and hollering of his classmates and the audience, he knew it was where he was meant to be.

Hours later, Eddie was surrounded by friends, family, and classmates in the Wheeler's backyard, celebrating the momentous occasion of high school graduation.

Wayne chatted with Ted Wheeler and Thomas Harrington, who had in fact offered Wayne a job at the dealership. Their kids newfound and unexpected friendship was a chance to actually talk with one another and Tom quickly realized that his new acquaintance was actually a skilled mechanic. While it took a little convincing on Eddie's part for Wayne to actually take the job, Wayne was actually grateful that it paid a little more and offered better hours than the plant.

Eddie's eyes narrowed as he watched Tom rub his ring finger nervously, the missing wedding ring obvious and awkward, especially amongst a big crowd like this. But no one dared say anything about the divorce or the fact that Mary had been seen around town with Mayor Kline. They didn't even ask Steve how his mother was doing. Everyone welcomed the Harringtons, glad they could make it to the celebration.

Guests milled about, the kids all chased each other around with water balloons, and too many overcooked hamburgers and hot dogs were consumed.

Eddie had his arm around you as you chatted with Nancy and Jonathan about plans for the future. You and Nancy had become fast friends, especially after Eddie returned back to his body and actually took advantage of Nancy's tutoring sessions.

There had been a moment, early on after the swap back into their own bodies, that Nancy had commented on the fact that you were dating Eddie...when she thought you had just been seeing Steve for weeks.

"I'm just worried about him," she confided in Eddie. "We didn't break up on the best terms. He'll always be my friend."

"I think he'll be ok," Eddie assured her. "The two of them are just friends. He doesn't have that many of those in Hawkins. You know, she convinced him to sign up for classes at the Tri County College in the fall?"

"No way," Nancy exclaimed. "I thought he was just gonna be stuck at Family Video for the rest of his life."

Eddie chuckled in recollection, remembering Nancy's disgusted face.

No, Steve wouldn't be stuck in Family Video forever, because Eddie had recently take a job there as an assistant manager to kill the extra time he had now that school was over and supplement that money from the additional gigs Corroded Coffin had earned over the summer.

It wasn't a record deal or a tour...just some local carnivals and fests...but it was a start.

And of course, there was you. With your unending affection and support and bright, shining personality. The you he got to know between high school and his...foray into Steve Harrington-ness only bloomed further under the gentle attentions of him and his love.

You told him things that you had never told him as Steve. You confided in him about your worries for the future, about your struggle balancing school and work, about your ideas and insecurities. And he did the same with you. It was a mutually fulfilling relationship, and one that was full of trust.

And the sex was one of the highpoint of his entire life so far. Not even his Warlock ranked quite as high on the list.

"Hey Eddie!" Dustin called to him and Eddie turned only to get hit in the face and doused with water from a rogue water balloon. He ran a hand over his eyes and did a dog-like shake to get the water from his hair. He glared at Dustin and Steve, who had thrown the precision shot and laughed heartily at his expense.

Douchebag.

Eddie sighed and looked around the party, at friends and family, at the kids, and you, and finally at Steve, who nodded in amicable understanding.

If he never saw Steve Harrington again...what would Eddie do? They'd experienced one of the...weirdest of things they'd ever experience in their lives. And it was something that inexplicably tied them together.

They were friends now.

Who'd have thought.

But, Stranger Things could've happened.

Thank you for reading. <3

#freaky friday au #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson angst #Eddie Munson smut #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington angst #Eddie Munson fluff #stranger things fic #Eddie Munson stranger things #Steve Harrington stranger things

[borom1r]

WAILING @theshakespearetrash sent me 2 ask memes for Boromir asks (who is very much Not my OC skfhshfjjs but I will Always do character analysis I love character analysis so much. rotating him so fast in my brain. microwaving him on high)

+ not to be a kinnie on main (voice of a man who is always a kinnie on main) but I will be answering these all w/ a sort of Boromir-lives scenario in mind -w-

anyways ask meme 1 + ask meme 2

1. What memory would your OC rather just forget?

ok I feel like it’s the cop-out answer to say “his fall to the ring” but I feel like Boromir is the sort of person to.. not like stew on things but very much takes the stance of “good or bad, all my choices got me to the current moment and made me who I am.” + I feel like there’s so much tangled up in his fall completely beyond his control where that’s the only memory that he’d like. actively want to erase from his mind

2. What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

HM. good with kids. I think unless you’d seen him with Faramir/his cousins when they were younger you wouldn’t guess (he’s a soldier and a very plain man when he’s not putting on a show for his father), but he’s just genuinely great with kids

3. What is your OC's fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw?

loves too much + quick to lose hope. painfully aware of this

4. When scared, does your OC fight, flee, freeze or fawn?

fight response. 100% the kind of man who gets kicked out of a haunted house for punching a scareactor even though he knew a scare was coming. Faramir and Aragorn have both almost gotten throttled bc they unintentionally snuck up on him

5. How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?

OOO. When He Is Of Sound Mind, not actually very far. he was raised with the knowledge he would be giving his life to Gondor, whether he died in battle or sat on the throne as steward. add to that the act he puts on for Denethor, everything he does to protect Faramir— he’s a man born to serve. his own wants come last

6. How easily could your OC be convinced to do something that goes against their moral compass?

it would take. a DESPERATELY long time and an almost complete degradation of his mental state. Boromir arrives in Rivendell in October 3018, and the very next day is the Council, at which point he sees the ring and is IMMEDIATELY influenced by it. yet he doesn’t fully fall to it until the end of February 3019. he’d been fighting its pull for almost four whole months by the time he does anything malicious. resisting the One Ring for FOUR MONTHS. <- reasons why if I see someone call Boromir weak for falling to it I will see red.

7. What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

teehee obviously again Boromir is not my OC so I will take this as an excuse to Be A Kinnie + say, I do remember Boromir being returned to us sometime after my coronation. so that’s one way my memories differ from canon, which is sort of an answer to this prompt snfjsjfj

8. Would your OC ostensibly be able to get away with murder?

OH YEAH. I mean yeah if we’re talking like actual criminal murder and not just Slaying People On A Battlefield like. yeah 100% he would IF he was within Minas Tirith. you know Denethor would do everything in his power to cover that up lmfao

9. Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

YEAH YAYYYY I GET TO MAKE MORE PPL LISTEN TO CROM AND BARONESS!!!!

anyways “have you ever seen a man so strong have you ever seen a man so great when he fights time stands still and everything seems so unreal but deep inside of him this man is torn” what if I bit things about this song

+ also listening to Magnolia and Shock Me by Baroness with Aragorn/Boromir in mind makes me ill. im Unwell.

10. What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC?

HMMMMM The Frankenstein Chronicles gave me brain worms so I might write a Frankenstein-inspired thing at some point. sth sth consequences of divine resurrection

11. What is your OC's weapon of choice? Have they ever actually used it?

RAAAAGH. AUTISM TIMEEEEE.

Boromir uses a hand-and-a-half arming sword (meaning it’s balanced for single or double-handed use, with a crossguard). it’s a really elegant sword, very simple and utilitarian. speaks to an adaptable combat style as well. but, interestingly? Boromir carries a Rohirric shield, and if you notice Rohirric swords don’t actually HAVE crossguards the way Gondorian blades do. this tracks, and was common with Roman and early Germanic swords— BECAUSE these cultures were Also relying on shields for blocking.

and an additional note, Faramir’s sword is single-handed. so we’ve got a ranger who prefers the use of a bow and hasn’t experimented much with his sword combat, and his brother who prefers a sword and carries a very versatile blade with 1) a Rohirric shield and 2) a ranger’s vambraces designed to protect his arms from a (nonexistent) bowstring. I just find Boromir’s mix of protective gear so interesting, esp if you consider he and Théodred as at LEAST friends. like Boromir carries so much of the people he cares for with him into strange lands even when he (arguably) has little need for such gear

12. Is your OC self-destructive? In what ways?

yes and no. I think, not consciously? but he absolutely values himself lower than the people he cares for. he goes to Rivendell to keep Faramir out of danger, he takes multiple arrows to the chest and keeps fighting to defend Merry and Pippin. I think if there’s a risk of someone he loves getting hurt, all self-preservation goes out the window

13. If you met your OC, would the two of you get along?

oh I would be staring at him like a predatory animal and trying to psychically convince him to lay on me in full armor

14. How does your OC want to be seen by other characters?

HGH. ok I don’t think he necessarily. does?? and this is generally a Silly Little Headcanon bc of a comment a Most Beloved Friend made abt how everyone gets their autism from their dad (real+true) + now in my head “haha Faramir got his autism from Boromir instead” BUT. like genuinely I don’t think Boromir has an actual image of himself in his head or like processes that ppl perceive him, necessarily. and particularly when his father is holding him up as this aspirational figurehead for Gondor, like… I think he’s just himself, in his head. idk how to describe it well for the neurotypical ppl in the room snfskfjs sorry. like I don’t process myself as having Traits so ppl tell me they think I’m cool or funny or they enjoy being around me and it’s always like “!!! oh!” + I think Boromir is the same way. I think Faramir could describe Boromir to him + Boromir would just be like. “huh.”

15. Does your OC have a faceclaim? If so, who?

it’s Sean Bean + it will always be Sean Bean. sorry other Boromirs you simply pale in comparison

16. What is your OC's pain tolerance like?

VERY high by necessity. he’s a soldier he’s absolutely patched up his own injuries before, at least to hold over until he could see an actual healer

17. What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise?

ahh. I wrote a very personal fic exploring self harm urges w/ Boromir, so I suppose that

18. Is your OC more cold and detached or up close and personal?

very personable, when he’s of sound mind sndnsj

19. How does your OC behave when enraged?

oh he’s a silent anger type for sure. just seethes quietly. hello, consequences of spending time in an environment where you have no actual outlet for your anger + must simply sit there and Stew.

20. Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest?

again, When He’s Of Sound Mind, no. the man’s got a big heart and life’s too short to be petty

21. Does your OC have any illnesses or disorders? How do they handle it?

hitting him with the autism beam bc I can. I do also think he’s lost at least partial use of his arm in a Boromir Lives scenario, considering where the first arrow struck him

22. What character alignment would you consider your OC to be?

HMMM neutral good. he’s not chaotic enough to be.. chaotic (lol), and I think he’s too willing to go against Gondorian Popular Opinion to be lawful.

23. What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

HMMMMM pain, actually. or “weakness.” I think if he can quantify it in his head as “showing weakness” then it’s getting stuffed in a mental box and Not Addressed

24. What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

ok well. None. I think with his circumstances he had zero choice in his path. HOWEVER. I am deeply DEEPLY fond of Boromir learning how to play an instrument after the war ends. I STILL struggle to blow my wassail horn that shit takes SKILL that I do not currently have and Boromir was the BEST at blowing his horn?????? I think he deserves to learn how to play an instrument, esp bc Aragorn, Merry and Pippin would ALL be delighted to have Boromir play while they sing. Boromir learning hobbit folk songs????? Rohirric songs, to honor Théodred?? yeagh.

25. What is your favorite thing about your OC?

HES SO. FUNDAMENTALLY LOVING. love is such a core aspect of his character he is so wholly loving that the ring has NO CHOICE but to try to twist that love. bc it’s all Boromir has. love. im going to throw up abt him.

AAAAAAAAAND:

alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?

has he ever BEEN completely alone? mm, no. has he ever felt that isolated? I think absolutely, by the time the fellowship leaves Caras Galadhon. obviously he doesn’t deal with it well el oh el.

as for how he acts when no one’s around to see him… I don’t think much changes, tbh. he’s not the kind of man to Perform for anyone except his father, and then with the express purpose of placating the man and keeping his ire towards Faramir to a minimum

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

been betrayed? hm. truthfully, no, though I’m certain he felt betrayed by Aragorn’s reluctance to be anything resembling a king.

has He betrayed someone? Technically Yes, though again, if we apply the qualifier of “When He’s Of Sound Mind” the answer is no. his betrayal comes under the influence of a Malicious Magical Artifact Which Has Been Fucking With His Mind For Months, so.

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

ooo, hm. I think not, actually, though it is a fun little idea for angst

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

gestures wildly at canon. I mean that’s his lowest. we’ve all seen it.

desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?

again, canon— to see his people safe. he’s very open with that desire, lol

failure: What's your OC's greatest failure? Have they been able to move past it? Does anyone else know about it?

AH. canon again. though what he does to move past it… mm. quite a lot of atonement, I think. perhaps of the self-destructive, working-himself-too-hard variety. I do think speaking with Faramir about *his* experience with the ring would help, because Boromir is the first to hold Faramir up as this sort of paragon of Goodness. so I think to know *Faramir* was tempted would help him better ground his experiences as, like…. Not A Deep Moral Failure Exclusive To Himself

fear: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

ehehe. this is one thing I’ve touched on in a Faramir-centric fic, but the idea that the ring showed Boromir visions of Faramir dying at Denethor’s hand should he fail to return with the ring.

had Boromir lived to discover Denethor had nearly burned Faramir alive…… Mmmm. mmmmmmmm.

future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?

worst possible? if he’d actually managed to claim the ring. I shan’t elaborate -_-

ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

MM. his own actions. dead friends, dead loved ones. though if you mean literally, haunts him, I do like to think that Théodred’s Oðr pays Boromir a visit every now and again

guilt: What is your OC guilty about? How do they handle their guilt? Do they try to avoid guilt, or do they accept it?

see above. handles it?? mm. atonement, again. direct action. he accepts it and does what he can to make it right

hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

HATE? Orcs, probably. Sauron. that tentacle motherfucker outside Moria. he’s not a hateful man, so. shrugs.

heartbreak: Have they ever had a relationship that ended badly? Experienced some other kind of heartbreak? What happened?

that ended badly in the interpersonal sense? mm, unlikely. more ended badly in the “somebody fucking died” sense.

I do think he had One (1) fledgling romance in Dol Amroth that ended with the other squire dying and that was sort of the catalyst for “ah. If I love people they’ll Probably Die, so maybe I won’t do that” baggage that he didn’t really unpack until, I think, Théodred. add the additional layers of Denethor Being Denethor and Boromir having such great standards to live up to…. with all the love in my heart, that relationship only happened bc Théodred saw Boromir, went “I need to fuck that Gondorian so bad it makes me look stupid” and proceeded to work his way through 1700 layers of gondorian mental bullshit just so he could suck some dick (me too bestie)

hide: What does your OC hide? Why do they hide it?

hm. my first instinct is to say “not much” but ultimately I think he’d hide anything he can quantify as “weakness.” his own distress, any physical pain if he needs to be up and moving, etc. he’s only able to share that earnest moment with Aragorn in Caras Galadhon bc of Galadriel’s influence. he’s not used to being seen. so, if there is sth that would hold him back from fulfilling his duty as a soldier it is absolutely getting hidden/ignored.

hunt: Who or what is your OC hunted by? A person, a feeling, a past mistake? Is your OC able to let their guard down, or are they constantly alert?

hm. not necessarily Hunted, but I do think he is followed by Denethor’s expectations. it’s sth I’ve talked abt in another ask + that I go into in the costuming doc but such a key element of Denethor’s design is his son’s motifs but Richer, Grander. so… I do think Boromir is constantly alert of, like, how his father will perceive him, bc there is this very insidious sort of competition, this need for Denethor to show his sons up (whether a conscious need or not). and I do think that would weigh on Boromir quite heavily

mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?

mm again I think he only really wears a mask/performs for Denethor. anyone else would be too much effort for too little reward. at least if he plays Golden Son for his father, it keeps Faramir from being harassed as much

however, as for who gets to see him when he’s.. not just unmasked but actually RELAXED… Faramir, his uncle and cousins, Théodred, Aragorn, the others in the fellowship but particularly Merry and Pippin

midnight: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

does he have nightmares? oh definitely. what he does in the small hours of the night? depends. if he’s on campaign/traveling/otherwise away from Minas Tirith he will either lay there in his bedroll and Think (bad) or get up and write letters. depends entirely on where he’s stationed/who he’s with. if he Is at home in Minas Tirith, I expect he just goes for a walk + looks at the sky

mistake: What's the worst mistake your OC ever made? What led to them making it? Have they been able to fix it? How have they moved on?

I think I’ve pretty much answered all of this above, so skfjsjdh

monster: Is your OC monstrous in any way? Is there something that makes them monstrous? Are they aware of their own monstrosity? Do they accept it or reject it?

nah, he’s not ❤️‍🩹

nightmare: What does your OC have nightmares about? How do they deal with their nightmares? Do they tell people, or keep it to themself?

answered w midnight for the most part— I’ll just add that no, he wouldn’t really talk about his nightmares. that requires showing vulnerability lol. I think Théodred and Aragorn are the only two who could coax him into speaking about his nightmares/fears (he wouldn’t want to burden Faramir with such nonsense)

pain: What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?

answered sorta (yes he has a high pain tolerance) but worst pain? gonna go with three orc arrows to the chest

secret: What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?

HMMMM again I don’t think there are many secrets. I do think if Denethor found out he liked men it would be disastrous

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

hm. I think he’s generally at ease with himself, or at least content with Not Thinking About These Things. I think, had he directly survived the arrows, he would have to grapple with like. the idea that he did prove Aragorn’s fears about men correct (whether Aragorn would agree with him or not)

torture: Has your OC ever been tortured? Would your OC ever torture someone else?

Four Months Of Slow Mental Degradation Due To An Accursed Magical Artifact!!!!! 🎉🎉🎉

(no he wouldn’t torture anyone else)

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

hm. He would say mostly physical wounds. I’d argue a mix of both. he’ll accept as much care as he needs to stay on his feet and fighting. worst wound is definitely still arrows lol

#THANK UUUUUUUU THIS WAS SO FUN #I love character analysis sooooooooooo much snfjsjfjhd

[k-dokja]

Summary: There are concerns which can't be put into words.

You have long hair.

It often cascades down the side of your face whenever you lean down. He always thinks you look pretty like that, even back before he faced the truth that he likes you. Your long hair makes you keep hair ties on you often, “It gets in the way,” you say one day when he looks at you for too long and you mistake it for curiosity. It isn’t, he simply likes to look at you.

Not that he’d be honest about it, “Just cut it,” he comments absentmindedly, “less hassle that way.”

You only laugh, paying no mind to his comment. You shouldn’t anyway. He wasn’t thinking when he said that. He has nothing against the the length of your hair either.

In fact, Taehoon likes it. He has no preference for whatever length you go with, really. Whatever you go with, he knows that you’ll look good in it because you’d never look anything but beautiful in his eyes. He’d never admit that to you without some grumbling either, because he’s a stupid fool who can’t be honest with his feeling. He loves you. You know that. It’s enough.

You had long hair.

All it took is him messing with the wrong type of people and a knife that strays too close. You escaped with your life intact, but the slice has taken with it a huge chunk of your hair. He should be happy that you’re safe, it was a cheap trade—your vanity for your life. But when he looks at you, it’s not easy to accept the truth. You shouldn’t have to trade at all.

Him staring at you is nothing new. You always catch him in the act and whenever you do, you’d smile in a way that warms his chest and go on with your day. He feels nothing close to that warmth when your eyes catch his this time. You’ve trimmed even shorter than where your hair got cut in the incident. He doesn’t know what to make of it.

“What is it?” You smile teasingly. “You’ve been gawking at me more than usual. Is it that bad?”

He doesn’t miss the note of self-consciousness in your question. He wants to tell that it doesn’t look bad at all, that you’ll never stop being anything but beautiful in his eyes. Yet, all he does is clicking his tongue and casting his eyes to the nearby wall. “It looks fine,” he grunts, “just strange, that’s all.”

“Strange?”

“Not used to it,” he says, “but it suits you, maybe.”

That might have been the wrong thing to say because you turn to face him now, your hands on your hip but your smile is an amused one. “Does it suit me or not?”

He shrugs, noncommittal. “As long as you like it.”

“But do you like it?” You ask again. He’s annoyed because he doesn’t know what’s the correct answer.

“I like you,” he frowns, “doesn’t matter how you look.”

He can’t understand your reaction. You’re taken aback, not perplexed but simply… befuddled. All the better because he can stew in silence now, at least until you decide to speak up again.

“Well, I like you better without the mullet,” you say, “even the bowl-cut is an improvement.”

“Hey! Keep my hair out of this!” Taehoon bristles. “This isn’t about me, this is about you.”

You take the initiative to get closer to him, your gaze beckons him to continue, “And what is it about me?”

He sighs. His irritation flares up, but mainly because of him. You are to blame, too, for cornering him into the wall and expecting him to comply. The stupid thing is that he does. “You shouldn’t have to cut your hair to begin with,” he grumbles. That’s the closest to a confession he will make. If you’re unhappy with it then fine, whatever, live with it. He won’t budge another inch.

You don’t reply right away and it’s the silence following that makes him uncomfortable. Taehoon itches with the urge to cross his arms, but he won’t, shutting down further won’t help. His foot taps impatiently on the floor to subjugate that urge.

“I didn’t have to,” you say finally, “but I want to.”

He doesn’t know what to say. At times like these, he hates the stark difference between you and him. You always know the correct words to pick, the correct feeling to express. All the while he’s stuck here with a jumbled mess of emotions that he can’t figure out where it starts and ends. He doesn’t have to, you continue on anyway, somehow understanding his own turmoil better than he does.

“So stop making that face,” you take hold of his face and turn him to meet you in the eyes.

Your thumbs brush on his cheeks and he has to resist the urge to nuzzle into your palm. He doesn’t hate how weak you make him feel, because you never give him a reason to worry about it. Not when he can see your affection clearly in your eyes, clear as the sky on a cloudless day. “I chose this, okay?”

You have to be on your tiptoe to meet his lips, he makes it easier by leaning down to you. The kiss is short and chaste, but it tempers the storm inside him all the same. Not completely, it’d take a miracle to snuffle that out of existence. But you’ve given him peace, even if it’s only for a little while.

He only grunts in answer, unwilling to answer that. You take his response with a smile anyway, because his easy surrender is enough to pacify you.

His eyes remain glued on you when you walk away, leaving him to his own device again. He lingers on your back, a bit too long, but before that line of thought came become coherent, he snuffles it out of the existence.

You’ve reassured him time and time again, doubting that now would only undermine your words.

No, he wouldn’t be that type of guy.

Not today, at least.

#seong taehoon x reader #seong taehoon #fics #viral hit #how to fight

[ghoulsgraveyard]

Head Pusher

Movie William Afton x reader

Summary: William is an assertive man, he takes what he wants, when he wants, how he wants. He’ll push

Warnings: oral sex m receiving, size kink (nothing about reader’s body size other than being shorter than him), ball play, rimming, coercion kind of? Its consensual but i mean, look at the title. Dirty talk, daddy kink, extremely controlling behavior, impact play, aftercare, reader is gender neutral and no use of y/n because I do not like it <3

This is smut. 18+ only minors please don’t interact. You are responsible for the content you consume, if the warnings i have provided are not sufficient, please feel free to dm me and let me know how i can have better warnings in the future

a/n: hey guys. Back from the dead. I’m currently crazy about william afton. 

William had always been an assertive man, you don’t start a business by being a pushover he’d say. In life he’d found that if he wanted something, really wanted something, you’re going to have to push some people out of the way to get it. 

William has found that his desire for control has expanded to all parts of his life. He chose a cover up job where he controls other’s careers and opportunities, he controls eight foot tall beasts he created and tamed, he even controls who lives and dies, but by far his favorite thing to control was you. You were like a sweet little doll to him, he’d dress you up in the clothes he bought and had tailored just for you, standing in front of the closet in the mornings deciding what you should wear that day while you softly dozed in bed. He tells you the things he’d like done around the house, sometimes even writing a list for you. He loved thinking of you scurrying around throughout the day, doing everything to please him. 

Tonight he’s in a mood, unexpected circumstances had dampened his plans throwing him off schedule he decides to go home early only to find that his darling isn’t there. You had gone out for the dry cleaning. He sat on the couch, stewing over his frustrations over the day, nothing had gone to plan, he felt out of control which he so desperately needed, and his favorite toy wasn’t home to play with. He thinks of you, how your body feels against him when he holds you, how small you are in comparison to him. In his mind he sees himself holding your face in his hand, he sees how his long fingers wrap around your head and watches as his hands smooth back your hair into a handful, he yanks your hair and you let out a delicious whimper.

The sound of keys in the door snap him back to reality where his pants are now considerably tighter and you’re walking through the front door. “You’re home early” you say as you hang up your coat and William’s jackets in the closet. You were happy to see his car in the driveway at first until you realized that William was home early for a reason “did something happen at work?” you ask, stepping down into the conversation pit in your home. William was a sight to behold, his tie extremely loose, his shirt mostly unbuttoned revealing his wife beater and a sprinkle of chest hair. Big powerful thighs spread dominating the couch, his pants straining to contain his erection. “I’m not talking about work with you.” his voice rumbles out, you walk over to him concerned “well why not? Maybe I could help-” he cuts you off “the only way you’re going to help me right now is getting the fuck over here and doing exactly what I say. Starting with stripping right now and then taking off my pants. Understood slut?” you stand, dumbfounded at the outburst, a pit of arousal forms in your stomach and before you brain has caught up your body has already started taking off your clothes as you walk over to him. 

Now nude you kneel at his feet, you hands shake as you unbutton his pants and slide the zipper down, you lean down and press a kiss to his clothed cock when he grabs your hair and forces you to look up at him “I don’t have the patience for this right now, I told you to take off my pants. I expect you to listen to me whore.” you nod desperately up at him, tears prick in your eyes, he releases your hair and leans back, he looks huge above you, you feel small and insignificant. He loves it. 

You pull his pants down, his hard cock springing out he lets out a sigh of relief as he grabs it and lightly begins stroking himself, you try and remain focused on your task to please him, you slide his pants the rest of the way off and look up at him for your next instruction, eyes flicking back down to the movement of his hand but forcing yourself to look at him. He snaps at you then points to the spot directly between his legs. You scramble to kneel right where he wants you. Your head is surrounded by his hairy thighs, you nearly go cross eyed watching him touch himself right in front of you. Your mouth begins to water at the sight and smell of him. He dominates your senses and you look to him like one might look up to a god in a time of prayer. He is your god, this is your prayer. His long thick cock was so hard it looked beyond angry, bordering on painful. When his hand is at his base, he pulls back then slaps his cock onto your face, you gasp at the sensation, his hot length now resting on your face, his tip leaks precum into your hairline as he chuckles at your face. 

He grabs the back of your head and roughly shoves your face into his crotch, he begins to roughly hump and grind into your face, you sputter and attempt to push back but he keeps you there, now pushing your head down further, he laughs at your pathetic attempts to free yourself. As he holds you there you have no choice but to breathe in the undeniable smell of man, you stop fighting, going limp in his hold. William is elated “you like how I bury your face in my cock huh baby? you like breathing in my filthy fucking cock? yeah. yeah I know you do." he groans as you look up at him from under his cock. “Open up baby, cmon open up your mouth for daddy” you do, and instead of pulling you up so you could suck his cock, he positions you so that his heavy, full balls fill your mouth “put your mouth to good use, suck and lick me slut” burying your face further into his groin you suckle and lap desperately at his sack, flicking the seam with your tongue while he moans. When he grows bored he pushes you further down, surely he cant want you to- “did I fucking tell you to stop licking? Keep moving that hungry little tongue around.” 

Cockdrunk and dizzy from his smell you lick further down pressing your lips to the patch of skin separating his balls from his hole you hum, the vibrations cause him to let out a noise you didn’t think he was capable of making. His thighs squeeze around your head and you rub your tongue further and further down “you’re such a nasty fucking slut” he grits out “sucking my balls is one thing but you really are a depraved filthy little whore for eating my ass” you whimper, causing him to groan “I bet you fucking like it, don’t you bitch? I’ll bet you love eating daddy’s ass” he releases your head, you gasp for air. “Say it” he spits at you “say ‘I’m a filthy slut who loves eating daddy’s ass’” you whimper and heave for him “I’m a f-filthy sslut who loves” your voice shakes and you pull in a deep breath “I’m a filthy slut who loves eating daddy’s ass” William laughs at your submission, wide bloodshot watery eyes looking up at him, hair sticking up and out, mouth glazed in your own spit, you look pathetic. You look perfect. 

“Then you’re really gonna love letting daddy fuck your throat then” without anymore warning he grabs your hair and shoves you down onto his cock “if I feel any teeth, I’ll knock em out.” he reaches the back of your throat, he pulls back and shoves you back onto his cock again, and again and again until he manages to bully his way down into your throat. You choke and gag and try and push him away but that only sets him off and he pushes you down further and further on his dick all the while muttering and demanding that you “Take it. Fucking take it. That’s right, open up that throat for daddy”. 

Your nose is flattened against his pubic mound, his heavy balls, slick with your spit, lay mockingly on your chin. He pats your cheek “good cocksleeve. You fit me all the way down honey” you gurgle pathetically as a response, he just smiles condescendingly and runs his hand down your throat, feeling himself through you “I’m really in there aren’t I baby? Stuffed one of my fuckholes really full huh?” he pulls out halfway and for a moment you think he’s giving you a moment of reprieve, one second to get a good breath out of your mouth rather than shallow sniffles that get harder and harder as your sinuses fill in response to your gagging, but he doesn’t pull out. He shoves you back down and he thrusts forward causing a crude wet ‘slap’ as his balls hit your chin. He does it again and again and again, he moans and groans and grits out curse words, you garble and choke and gag, your throat schlucks and spit pours out of your mouth all the while his balls mercilessly slap slap slap against your chin. 

You start to go limp in his hold, lack of oxygen getting to you “Is my cumbucket getting a little drowsy down there?” he slows down and slaps at your face “stay awake slut I know how much you must love suffocating on my fucking dick. Probably like it more than air anyways you cockhungry little thing” you get enough air to keep you conscious but dizzy, and William starts back up again.

Soon his thrusts get shaky and erratic, “Fuck, bunny I’m about to cum” he grits out fucking harder into your throat “I’m about to fucking cum and you’re, you’re gonna swallow all of it” he lets out a breath “not that you’ll have much of a choice, I’m practically in your stomach, just gonna pump you full with it baby. I’m gonna fill your tummy with daddy’s seed, you'd like that wouldn't you?” his voice gets shakier “fuck your little throat is gonna make me cum, and you’re gonna take it all like a good little cum rag aren’t you?” his sack continues to slam into your chin “my fucking cum bucket, holding all of daddy’s seed all nice for him, and you fucking love it.” he nods to himself “you love being full of daddy’s cum so fucking take it!” he yells out “Take it take it! Fucking take it!” Rope after rope shoot straight down your throat into your stomach, you could practically feel the warm thick liquid fill your stomach, his hips twitched as he rode out his orgasm, everytime he seemed finished another shot would rush out until eventually he released your head and his limp wet cock fell from you lips. 

You coughed and rasped while air rushed back into your lungs. Your jaw ached, your throat was demolished, your scalp stung, even your nose felt smashed from how roughly he held you there. 

William moved to you, gathering you in his arms, breathing heavily, he rubbed your back soothingly, and smiled at you gently as he wiped away your mascara tracks. You looked so vulnerable, so fragile, so delicate and breakable. “You were so good baby” he pets your hair “my sweet thing did so well, made daddy feel so good.” he coos at you “love you so much baby, so so good for me” You give him a wobbly smile to let him know you're okay. “Let me get you some water huh sweetheart?” he wraps you up with a blanket when he runs to the kitchen to grab you some water, rushing back as quickly as he could not wanting to be separated. 

You are so small at this moment and he loves how powerful he feels. Taking you apart is delightful, but putting you back together was good for him too. The way you cling to him and need him is intoxicating.

That night William makes dinner and serves it to you. He sits next to you, never across and basks in your presence. He bathes you, and tucks you in, and when you curl in next to him and he wraps his arms around you he can only look at you with adoration, you’re his most prized possession, he’s enamored with you, crazy about you. And after pressing a kiss to your head, his last thoughts before drifting off were of you and how maybe this is all he’ll ever need.

tags: @gh0stsp1d3r @dilfity @kawikami

#william afton #william afton x reader #steve raglan #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan smut #william afton smut #matthew lillard x reader #fnaf movie #fnaf x reader

[darknight3904]

Like We Used To

Masterlist / Main Masterlist

This marks the beginning of Part Two of This Love. 

Warnings: Slight references to male masturbation and dirty dreams. Nothing wild.

Asgard 2013

   "Are you sure you want this?" 

   "Hush, Fandral, she can make her own decisions." 

   "Yeah,  I can make my own decisions, and I  have decided to change it to blue." 

   "HA! You're such an idiot!" Volstagg cheered, slamming his final card to the table which erupted into loud groans 

Astri and her friends had been playing a Midgardian game Thor had brought back from New York, it was called Uno and Astri was inherently terrible at it.

   "He can not keep winning like this," Hogun said tossing his hand into the middle of the table. 

   "He has to be cheating," Sif whispered  

   "We could always rig the cards against him," Fandral suggested 

   "But then, is it a fair victory when one of us wins?" Astri asked 

   "It is if he hasn't been winning fairly this whole time." Sif pointed out

   "Pass the cards out, I plan to win again." Volstagg declared

   "Cheater," Fandral whispered as he dealt the cards again.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Loki didn't realize how mind-numbing his time in the dungeons would end up being. The first few weeks had been a blur, Frigga had sent furniture and books to him and he spent time rearranging and figuring out the best angle for his bed. Now, he was out of furniture to rearrange and the endless books were becoming boring. He had begun to stew over his loss on Midgard but felt his mind slipping away from his humiliation. As he lay there, he realized he missed the feel of the sun on his face and the way the wind would slightly blow through his chambers when he left the balcony doors open. Loki missed horseback riding through the dense forests of Asgard and the way the stars looked down at him at night when he couldn't sleep. Most of all though, he missed Astri and everything that came with her. He missed the way her laughter would carry through the castle when he made a bad joke. He could imagine the way her long hair would shine whenever the sun streamed into the huge library windows. Loki swore he could smell the soft scent of Astri's fruit-smelling perfume as he lay in his cell.

He couldn't believe she hadn't visited him yet. At first, he had presumed Odin had banned visitors but after asking Frigga who said Astri was free to visit him as much as she wished, he was saddened by her absence. Every day when his meals arrived he swore he heard the soft clicking of her shoes, instead he was met with the same guard over and over again. Loki tried to imagine what she could possibly be doing without him. They had spent nearly every waking moment together as they grew up. Was she with Thor or Sif? Was she rotting away in the library, learning a million different spells? Or perhaps she was with the Aesir fellow she had met in the damn markets? Loki had felt jealousy swirl in his stomach at the idea of the last one. Aesir wasn't necessarily terrible but he just seemed so droll. The way he just mindlessly complimented Astri whenever he saw her, it was like he was grovelling for her when they barely even knew each other. Loki doubted he even remembered what Astri wore each time they saw each other. Did Aesir know Astri's favorite foods and that she hated red flowers? Clearly not since he brought her bunches of them all the time and brought almond cakes when Atri clearly liked lemon better.

By the time his supper had arrived, he had decided that Aesir was possibly the most boring Asgardian who ever lived. Beyond his flat personality, he has terrible style. Loki had peered into Astri's mind the other night and found the most recent memories of Aesir. He had been dressed in the worst possible outfit. The way the silver in his armor contrasted against his skin made him look rather yellow. He felt Astri's embarrassment as they had strolled through the gardens when multiple handmaids had passed and giggled at Aesir.

   "What's on your mind?" A soft voice asked

Loki swore he had never sat up quicker than in this moment.

   "What's wrong, you look like you've seen a ghost." Astri asked, "Is there something on my face?"

   "I didn't think you'd ever visit," Loki admitted crossing the cell to where the golden barrier separated them

   "I wasn't planning on visiting today. I was going to make you sweat it out for a few more weeks but Volstagg was driving me insane and I needed a break." She explained

   "What did he do that's annoying you so much?" Loki asked

   "He keeps beating me at this Midgardian game Thor showed all of us." Astri sighed

Loki felt his mouth twitch slightly into a smile. Even though he wanted to be mad at her for not seeing him sooner, he was, as usual, finding it to be impossible to be angry with her.

   "I also brought this..." Astri said pushing a tray of food through a designated spot in the barrier.

   "Aren't you hungry?" Loki asked

   "No, Thor and I have been eating our suppers together for the past year and I swear spending time around him has fattened me up. It's like his huge stomach is affecting me too." Astri admitted

   "I think you look great." Loki complimented, he felt jealousy roar in his chest at the idea of Astri sitting across from Thor in her chambers, laughing at jokes and eating her favorite cakes.

   "Aesir said that a few days ago. I'm sure you already knew that though. You know you're not entirely undetected going through my mind like that at night. You show up in my dreams and that's how I know you're searching my memories, seeing what I've been doing with my days." Astri said

   "Anyone has a right to know what their best friend is up to. And how else would I know when I thought you had resolved to never see me again." Loki countered, surprised that she was able to sense him.

   "Oh please, you never thought that. You knew I'd show eventually." Astri knowingly said

Damn, she knew him well.

   "Has it occurred to you that maybe I missed you?" Loki asked honestly

   "It's crossed my mind. Although I'd like to think that you don't since then I'd feel guilty about not spending my every moment with you." Astri said

   "Like we used to?" He asked

   "Like we used to." Astri parroted with a soft smile that made Loki's heart beat just a little quicker.

Silence fell as he stared at the girl across from him. While she claimed to be fattening up with his "brother", he swore she had lost weight. Perhaps it was the lighting or maybe her dress was ill-fitting? No. Astri was definitely smaller than usual, her arms were normally more defined with muscle than they were now, exposed by a soft yellow gown she wore.

   "You're staring again," Astri said

   "I haven't seen you since the cage on Midgard." He reminded "Forgive me if I'm trying to commit your face to memory. I don't know when you'll visit again."

   "Maybe I will, maybe I won't," Astri said wistfully

She seemed sadder. As if someone had snuffed out her firey spirit Loki had come to love over the years.

   "Would you be able to come tomorrow?" He asked

   "What's in it for me?" She coyly asked

   "I'll read to you for as long as you'd like." Loki promised.

   "You're just tired of being bored in there," Astri said

   "Oh, quite the opposite I'm having a wonderful time here." Loki lied

   "You're not the only one going through their best friend's minds when they sleep" Astri smirked

When in the Nine Realms had she been doing that? Loki felt his smile falter as Astri laughed

   "By the way, beyond your obvious boredom, your dreams of me undressing and then bathing are quite erotic. I feel bad for your hand, and the other prisoners." Astri laughed

That explains the dream he'd been having for the past week.

   "You should not be going through my mind like that." He scolded, feeling his face redden

   "Oh, and that gives you permission to go through mine?" She questioned

   "What you saw is personal." He hissed, embarrassed at her knowledge of him

   "Whatever you say, Loki." She laughed

God he missed that sound, it warmed the air around him and sent a smile to his face.

   "I'll see you tomorrow. I hope whatever book you have is worth my time." Astri said standing

   "You're leaving already?" Loki asked following her as she walked.

    "It's getting late, I had a long day of losing to Volstagg. Plus I'm sure you need some alone time with your dreams of me." She teased

Loki felt his face go red, he was so embarrassed he bet even his ears were red.

   "What a nice color on you, Loki!" Astri complimented before walking away

Loki sighed and watched Astri walk off, she was going to kill him one day. The funny thing was he'd be perfectly fine with it, dying for her no matter how ridiculous the reason.

Astri had barely closed the door to her chambers before Thor had her jumping out of her skin.

   "How is he?" Thor asked

   "Don't scare me like that ever again."  Astri glared looking at Thor who was reclined on her bed

   "Why? It's so fun." Thor smiled

    "He's fine. He's bored and just as Loki as he has ever been." Astri said

Thor nodded as Astri walked to her vanity and began removing her jewelry and pulling pins from her hair.

   "Aesir came calling when you were with Loki." He said

   "Really? What did he want? I just saw him two days ago." She said

   "Well, he left these." Thor gestured to a large red vase of flowers "I put them in water, no need to thank me."

Astri rolled her eyes, she definitely wasn't going to thank him.

   "He say anything to go along with them?" She asked

   "Well, he said his mother was going to make the almond cakes you liked last time and he said he wanted to take a horse ride through the forest in a few days time." Thor said

   "How nice, I'll have to tell him I accept," Astri said picking her brush up

   "Don't you hate red flowers, and you don't even like almond cakes, everyone knows you prefer lemon." Thor pointed out

   "Maybe I've changed," Astri said

She looked at Thor through the mirror who gave her a 'Are you serious?' stare.

   "Okay, you got me, maybe I didn't tell him those things." She groaned

   "They seem like important things," Thor said

   "Pfft.... no." Astri laughed nervously, when did Thor become so observant?

   Silence fell over the pair as Astri brushed through her hair and every few seconds glanced at Thor who seemed to be admiring her patterned bedspread.

   "Did Loki ask about me?" Thor asked

Astri thought about lying to him to make him feel better. But what good were feelings if they came from lies that would just hurt later down the road?

   "He didn't. Our conversation was rather trivial today." Astri admitted

   "Ah. Okay." Thor said

   "I'm going back tomorrow night. Maybe he'll ask about you. If he does I'll tell him all good things." She said truthfully

   "You better." Thor smiled

   "I should really get ready to sleep so if you could you know...leave," Astri said, a bit rudely

   "I came to you to talk about something more important than Loki and Aesir," Thor said ignoring her request.

   "And that is?" Astri asked turning to him

   "My father has said that I am too taken with Jane. He's pointed out that I'm better served with what is in front me me here." Thor started

   "He better not be suggesting we court," Astri interjected, worriedly

Thor's silence was her answer.

   "We are not getting married. I would rather die." Astri groaned

   "That was rather rude." Thor pointed out "You don't have to worry I'm not telling you this because I want to court you. I'm telling you because I don't think he's right, I want to be with Jane but I also want to do my duty to Asgard."

   "You know you're not king yet," Astri said, relieved that Thor wasn't interested in her.

   "What does that have to do with Jane?" He asked

   "It means that you should go out and live. Who cares what Odin thinks is best?" Astri smiled

   "It's irresponsible." Thor pointed out

   "When has Thor Odinson ever cared about responsibility?" Astri laughed

   "Well there was that time I brought my brother back because he tried to take over Midgard." Thor pointed out

Okay he had her there.

   "I am sure whatever is meant to happen will happen. If you end up with Jane, great! If not...well we aren't getting married but there's lots of other eligible maidens!" Astri said

   "I suppose you are right..." Thor said

   "I'm always right." She smiled "Now, get off my bed and leave so I can sleep, Volstaggs victories and Loki's silver tongue have worn me out."

Thor's eyebrow raised at the last statement from Astri.

"Astri! You don't want to court me yet you sneak around with my brother while he is locked away under the castle?! I ought to tell the whole kingdom!" He gasped, feigning a scandalized face.

   "I didn't mean it like that, you idiot! I meant his wordy conversation is exhausting! Just go to your own room!" She blushed trying to pull him out of the bed.

Thor laughed and continued to laugh at her reddened face as Astri shoved him out the door and proceeded to slam it in his face. The Odinson brothers were surely going to drive Astri insane one of these days and hopefully, it wouldn't be for another thousand years.

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes movie has changed my entire life. Suzanne Collins cooked again.

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[lorimnnn]

hey babez :3 could u possibly write about how michael feels for a hyperfemme bimbo gf? like he never sees her without heels and lashes on X3 this is shamelessly a self insert lol

i have no excuses. this has been sitting in my inbox and stewing in my mind for way too long but here it is!!! i was so excited to put it out I have no idea what happened lol

hope you enjoy my love!!

p.s. remember to reblog and comment!!!

cw: swearing, canon-typical violence, suggestive themes

~

i feel like a lot of the people who say he wouldn't care because he's literally a psychopathic serial killer forget he was born in 1957. He was literally raised in the sixties--- he won't care BUT HE'S GOING TO NOTICE.

michael is a watcher. long before he approached you he has memorised your routine, developed favourites from your closet, salivated over the doe-eyed batting of your long lashes when something doesn't quite go your way. you will later learn that your missing makeup products and fraying clothes is because of this fucker playing with you.

he's intrigued by you. the way you prance around without a care in the world, legs exposed, everything exposed. it's so scandalous. it feels like a sin to look at you alone.

the confidence that you carry yourself with only arouses him even more. he can't even fully objectify you because you know your worth and have standards and therefore he finds himself wondering what you're like. your personality. everything in between.

it becomes obsessive

when he approaches you, it's to extinguish his desire over your body. over you.

if he lets it go any further he'll---

are you... are you flirting with him?

he doesn't know how to feel with you looking directly at him, flinging comments his way despite knowing, KNOWING who he is. you're not even mistaken, you're just going for it even though he still has a knife in his hand

he already can't resist you

when you start running your hands down his body, he's done. just done.

if you're a bimbo in the 1960s (idfk you time travelled), you're going to be an outsider yourself and it makes him feel closer to you. you're practically a power couple--- two outsiders doing whatever the fuck you want with your lives? marriage. now.

you make him feel like a filthy old man. michael was raised with ideas of a white-picket fence and a busy 9-5 with a pretty wife to come home to. all that jazz. while he isn't that traditional you're going to be uprooting everything he once thought he knew and you best believe that when he looks at you, there is not one clean thought in his head

he becomes possessive tenfold. it doesn't help that you're dead gorgeous. will try stop you from leaving the house. will lock you and isolate you in there if he knew it wouldn't draw attention. why the fuck did you have to be so popular?

so many guys asking after you are now dead. and they keep popping up like flies--- Michael gets annoyed by this really easily. it's probably the only part of your getup and lifestyle that he doesn't really like. since he's a pretty independent killer and likes to go and do his own thing, it sets him on edge knowing he can't leave you alone for a minute without having like, 500 men pile up on his hit list

you get a free scary dog now at least. yay! privileges! feel free to walk wherever you want at whatever time of day or night. Michael will take care of you and castrate any man dumbass enough to even look your way

michael is so obsessed it's not okay

his favourite part about this though is watching you get ready. then tearing it all off you and watching you have to start again. you'll be doing your makeup and his hands will just be running up and down your legs, squeezing your thighs and waist, bruises left in his wake.

you'll be constantly swatting him away because he can't help himself. his hand is always on an exposed part of your skin

he just thinks you're so gorgeous and not in a loving way, but an inquisitive way. he's genuinely affronted by how good you look and he doesn't understand it, that explosive, sensual vitality of yours that can never be snuffed out and is so, uniquely you. he wants to pull you apart and understand you because just like him, you're an anomaly of your time

he already has a staring problem... can you imagine him now? he's not looking away once. it'll quickly get uncomfortable because he just won't stop. doesn't even wanna close his eyes when you're sleeping. everything you do to him is just provoking him. push his face away? he's going to steel himself and lean into your touch. shove him? he's a brick wall and thinks you're feeling him up. yell at him about it? he's unimpressed--- don't you get it? you're literally the centre of his world. why would he look away?

michael is literally feral for you i don't make the rules

tell him you've got nothing to wear and he will go and pick an outfit he's lowkey been fantasising about for a good month, waiting for the opportunity. and it's actually pretty good. depending on how you react, this will become his love language for you--- acts of service.

definitely starts targeting other bimbos and stealing from their closet to give you clothes.

i have a very clear image in my head of The Shape himself, prowling down the streets of Haddonfield and surveying the empty streets of the night, utterly ferocious as he hunts his next kill---

completely softening when his bimbo s/o, previously clinging to his arm like they're on a nightly stroll, trips over nothing.

if your feet ever start to hurt from the heels, he will happily carry you. but not in a cute way. as in a 'I want you around but you're holding me up. I'm going to sweep you off your feet now. Don't fall."

decorate his mask with lip prints

I dare you

you'd think he would hate it but it's been like a few weeks and the lip prints are still there. you know he loves it. he knows he loves it. he will always pretend to be indifferent though and it will surprise you every time. michael can care less about how scary he looks. even with his s/o making him look like a besotten college boyfriend, looking scary is the last of his worries when he's literally a famed killer.

since he's following you anyway, use his pockets. mechanics overalls have so many pockets. and he'll encourage you. if you ever end up walking around at night with him and start complaining that you forgot your lipgloss at home, he's going to suddenly be holding out his hand--- he's a walking, non-talking, portable storage bin and be grateful because this is his only way of showing non-physical affection lmao. i fully suggest you take advantage of this. he doesn't need his pockets anyway, he holds his knife. so feel free to stock him up and rummage around as much as you like

but be warned. if you touch him in the slightest when retrieving your lipgloss from one of his pockets, he's going to think you're sending signals.

holds all your specialists at knife point so you can get your stuff done for free. if you don't like that, just tell him. but he thinks he's helping you lmfao. your poor nail girl is pissing herself trying to glue on your acrylics

just give him lots of kisses to fuel up for the day and he's good (he will stand there and act unresponsive and neutral, but if you don't give him his daily dose of affection he's going to continue to stand there, blocking your path until you do)

and don't be fooled, either. Michael may be soft on you but he is not a soft man

definitely takes sick pleasure in seeing his bruises peeking out of your skimpy clothes, his marks on full display on your neck. it's just so territorial and it's one of the few things that is able to send a rush through him--- knowing that everyone wants you and that you're walking prey, but you've already been claimed

is like an animal around you. give him one signal and you will definitely be devoured--- i hope you don't spend a lot of money on clothes because you're going to find a lot of it destroyed. better learn how to sew

just think of him as your pet rabid dog. full stop.

otherwise i actually think Michael loves his hyperfemme bimbo gf. not that he'll admit it, but you know. he's horrible at hiding it but it has a lot to do with the fact he doesn't try. just stay out of trouble and he won't wreck havoc on your life <3

Michael has always been an outsider.

It had nothing to do with the fact that he'd become a killer as a kid, although that was the first and most obvious sign. Growing up in the sanitarium had only conditioned him into believing he could never be anything else and that his only mercy would be embracing it. Funny. Now he was rumoured to be the devil incarnate: the ultimate outsider.

But that wasn't the point.

Even if Michael weren't a killer, he'd always been different. A flimsy grasp on emotions and even clumsier responses to things that were supposed to inspire sympathy. Sadness. Pity. The in-between emotions that weren't quite happy but weren't quite sad or angry or scared. But he'd just been slow in development, right? One day it would end and he would wake up and be like the rest of them. It had been a naive thought--- it had gotten Judith killed.

The sanitarium also taught Michael other things, other than the fact that he would never belong in society as anything more than a menace and disruption. He learned that he was a rarity. Some sort of unexplainable anomaly that they had to contain because they couldn't understand, and because he didn't care about changing that, he would never be free. The sanitarium had taught Michael that people feared him because there weren't many of him. So he gave them something real to fear.

He never really came across someone like him. It wouldn't have really changed things, but it would have added bredth to perspective. But Michael would soon find out that anomalies like him came in all shapes and sizes. Anomalies, like you, were just as strange, even if you fit in much better than he did.

You.

He didn't know what to make of you.

"Hey sexy!" A drunkard's voice floated over the heads over the bar and stabbed right into your back. You only wrinkled your nose.

"Um, ew!"

"Aw, don't be like that. You don't mean that." His eyes raked over you. "Looking for anybody, hey? I can save you the time you spend searching."

You look like you're about to gag. "No. Like, never. In a kajillion years."

"Bitch."

"What's the word again?" You frowned. "The men with no dicks?"

"... Eunuchs?"

"Yeah!" You beamed. "That's you. 'Cause you have no balls."

His friends roared in laughter as red crawled over the man's face. You were satisfied enough by then to move on. You knew he wasn't done. He'd probably try follow you home. That made you smirk.

You had a little magic trick up your sleeve for little diseases like them. A magic trick you weren't even sure knew that you knew he existed: Michael fucking Myers.

Michael didn't understand what it was about you that stuck out so much. You were here at the bar for what every other person was there for. Talk. Drink. Fuck, maybe, if you got lucky that was. You were all dolled up like every other woman in the room but it was like the spotlight was naturally attracted to you and he couldn't look away. Was it that tiny little skirt? Your tits pressed up towards your chin by a tight little top? You were so scandalously dressed and hid nothing. Your intentions were clear and yet somehow that repelled people the same way it drew them in.

Michael could tell you were like him. You couldn't relate to the conversations. The difference was that you tried to. They'd just laugh at you and walk away--- another dead tonight.

How long has it been, now? Since he'd started stalking you? A few days? Weeks? Months?

It had never occurred to him that you could be doing it on purpose. Changing with your blinds wide open, bending over when you caught a glimpse of him standing there in your mirror. But the obsession had gripped him. There was no escaping.

And it was distracting him horribly.

You would die tonight, he decided. These... Feelings would die with you.

It all happens in moments.

Him, following you home.

Him, raising the knife above his head.

You, turning before it could meet home, pressing your body against his.

"I knew you'd say hi one day."

Michael stops. Tilts his head.

"Not like this, though." You pout. You run your finger down the cheek of his mask and along the zipper of his mechanic's overalls. Your touch is electric and he can nearly feel it against his skin, the thrills exploding at the slightest pressure. "I'm honestly kind of hurt."

He could kill you now.

Maybe give you a chance to run?

Having you see him and speak directly to him, though, is a dizzying feeling he can't quite seem to recover from. But from the outside he looks stoic. He looks like he's humouring you before your inevitable death, which you inwardly frantically hope against.

"Michael, right?" You taste the word, curiously finding your way around it. "Mikey."

He stares at you impassively.

"I thought you had a crush on me." You draw circles into his chest with your finger and tilt your head back to look at him. "Did I get it wrong?"

Er... Not really.

You were either really dumb or maybe just---

Maybe a little weird like him.

Michael slowly lowers the knife. You take it as an olive branch and push yourself further against him, hard enough to feel the contours of his toned stomach and the rippling valleys of his body. Muscular. Well, he was a serial killer. You could put that thought away for now, though.

"I've been dying for you to talk to me all week. What took you so long?" You bite your lip. "I almost went and talked to you myself. Oh. Oooh. Maybe I should have. I think you're more excited than I am that we're finally talking."

Experimentally, his hand comes up to take hold of your throat. He inspects you--- your long, fake lashes framing filthy doe eyes, the sparkling smear of eyeshadow across your lid that matches your abnormally long and sharp nails. The confidence in which you hold yourself despite being at the mercy of The Shape himself. Genuine.

You're being genuine.

And Michael is... Feeling things. A lot of things. It's almost overwhelming, the onslaught of arousal, the heightened obsession, the near-desperate desire to possess you right there and then---

Mine, he thinks, and he almost says it out loud. Mine.

#slasher x reader #slashers #michael myers #michael myers x reader #slasher #slasher x y/n #michael myers x y/n #halloween #michael myers x you #why tf does tumblr have a word limit on bullet points i hate this i wanted to include so much more what the fuck

[eddies-house]

Whatever She Wants; I Will Do Anything - E.M.

Eddie x fem reader

2.9K Words

Inspired by the song Graceland Too by Phoebe Bridgers. 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.

Warnings - angsty, depictions of mental illness, dark thoughts

A/N - This shit is emotional and this song has been stuck in my head for days so I had to do something with it. Any feedback is appreciated 🥹

Masterlist

— I would do anything you want me to

I would do anything for you

I would do anything, I would do anything

Whatever you want me to do, I will do

—

If you could pick the scenery to describe your own brain, it wouldn’t be a field of daisies, fresh and heavenly, or rainbows after a light summer rain, sticky but romanticized.  It wouldn’t be angelic beach views with sunsets marbling the sky or even the starry night with the moon soaking the earth in its celestial light.   No, these things were magnificent, pleasing to look at, easy to take in.  Very unlike your brain.  

Your idea would be more of a tsunami ripping everything apart, having no mercy on anything in its wake—destroying everything it touches.  Emotions receding into the sea quietly before ultimately coming back in a massive wave and disrupting the quaint living of those around.  Murky skies and shattered hope.  People running, and running far just to avoid the disaster—the impending doom that was you.  That is exactly how you’d describe your brain. 

Sometimes if you were lucky there were a select few weeks in between the storms of your mind where you’d feel a sliver of relief, a drought in the ever flowing thoughts that dismantled your life.  Times where there would be a glimmer of ambition and an inkling of motivation.  It never lasted long, fleeing as soon as you were starting to get better.  A colossal wave consuming you once again, and people would go running as they always did—the commotion of the storm too turbulent for them to brave.  

And the agonizing thoughts would begin to stew at the very core of your brain.  Simmering until they boiled over at random.  

Too hard to love.

Useless.

Worthless.

Barely a person, a walking corpse devoid of emotion due to the burnout.

Not worthy of love.

Not worthy of anything.

I should have never even made it this far, sixteen years was my limit.

I don’t want to do this anymore, please don’t make me do this anymore.

It was all so daunting, so intimidating and heavy.  It truly felt like you did not belong on this earth and there was absolutely no way to combat it other than merely surviving.  Days passed and you were trapped in the endless cycle that was existing without purpose.  

Your boyfriend, Eddie, sweet Eddie had a life to live and you couldn’t bear to burden him with the sorrows of your aching soul.  Eventually he’d realize what a nuisance you were, how crippling your state of mind could be.  He didn’t deserve to be detained by the relationship you so thought was out of pity.  Ever so generous, kind, enamoring, handsome, loving, gentle, loud, assertive—everything Eddie was made of, was something you believed you never once deserved.  You dreaded the day he would glance at you and come to his senses.  She is too broken for me, I can’t love her.

The convincing mask you were able to automatically put on was all too familiar.  Being able to physically front that you were happy when the reality of it all was that demons swam through your bloodstream and never left, only lying dormant every once in a blue moon only to come back at full force.  It felt like poison, the way you would be okay one moment and suddenly in seconds you were grasping onto your sanity, clinging onto any bits of reality—of your mortal self only to be swallowed up by harsh accusations toward yourself that would have you sinking back into your bed for as long as it required.  And that’s how you got so good with the mask, forcing yourself to conform to the world around you when you absolutely couldn’t rot in bed, other obligations taking priority despite the poison coursing through your body.  A smile on your face, a compliment here, a joke there, sprinkled with some stupid story from the other day that always seemed to appease your audience.  It was all fake and no one could sniff it out.

Until Eddie came along and he was able to detect even the slightest shift in your demeanor.  Though you could throw the mask on, it didn’t always work with him and he would encourage you to take it off.  You never did.  Insisting I’m fine, just a little tired.  Lying through your teeth.  You couldn’t help it, you’d never let your guard down with anyone ever.  How were you supposed to when it didn’t even feel like an option?  A people pleaser to your core, you’d take your feelings with you to the grave.  

The first time Eddie stumbled upon you crying, he was at a loss, not knowing how to approach the situation.  Do I hug her?  No, what if she doesn’t want me to?  Do I hold her hand?  Does she want me to leave?  Did I do something?  What if I made her cry?  Does she want to break up?  Every thought flew at him at lightning speed, practically slapping him in the face.  Before any decision could be made, you sucked back the tears and used your sleeves to aggressively clear your under eyes.  I’m fine, I just watched an emotional movie.  Lies.  Not wanting to push you further, he nodded and held you close.  But he knew.  You were suffering, drowning in your own fucked up world and he had no idea how to pull you out.  When his own mind started suffocating him he could at least voice that he wasn’t having the best day, also being the type to never burden others with his invading thoughts.  He’d leave it at that and sulk in his room but you would always sit with him, if he allowed.  If not, that was okay too and he was eternally grateful.  

The more he studied your behavior when you just felt off, the more he gathered the way you would often go blank during a conversation, eyes becoming void of a human and turning into a shell of yourself as you picked yourself apart internally.  Anxiety looming in your eyes and hands the slightest bit shaky, he would touch his fingertips to yours in the smallest touch hoping to lure you back, praying that he didn’t overstep because god he was so scared.  And when you did return, you still weren’t fully there although you claimed you were just tired.  Again.  He just wanted you to be happy.  And you wanted to be happy.  

It took almost a year into the relationship for you to even be able to ask him to come over when you wanted to just be with him.  Before that it just felt like you were pestering him for attention even though that was far from the truth.  You could call him just to complain about how your lunch tasted and he would savor every moment.  Even still, you had your doubts about calling him or texting him, the nasty demons lurking within you telling you he didn’t care.  Eddie picked up on your patterns from the very beginning and learned that the way you worded things really indicated your mood, if you were genuinely doing well or if things were bad again.  A simple phrase popping up on his phone and he would bolt to you if he had the slightest inclination that you were in a pool of your own self deprecating thoughts.  

Are you home?  Really meant, I need you, I need you and I’m too afraid to outright say it.

Are you busy?  Either meant that you wanted to go on a gas station run with him or that you wanted to vent about your family.  

Want to come over?  Generally translated to I’m in a good space right now and would love to spend time with you.

I love you.  Told him I’m thinking about you.

Love you.  Was an indicator that you were on edge, it could be because of him depending on the nature of the situation or it could just be a bad day. 

Food?  Was the phrase used to tell him I’m hangry and we better be getting Mexican food otherwise you better suggest something that sounds yummier.

I’m fine.  Was as clear as day.  I’m the opposite of fine.

So when it’s ten o’ clock at night and the cicadas are chirping outside his trailer, his fingers dancing along the neck of his guitar to a new riff he recently learned and he sees his phone light up with your name, he eagerly reaches over to pick it up and read.  His eyes scan over three key words.

Are you home?

Immediately he’s setting his guitar on top of his mattress, calling you as he scrambles around his room searching for his car keys, finally locating them underneath his copy of Lord of the Rings he had been rereading earlier, tossing the book aside.  The dial tone rings through his ears a few times, heart beating fast.  On the other end, a meek little hey is heard along with a sniffle that you swore you would hide.  

“Baby, what’s wrong?”  His voice is laced with concern while he makes his way out to the living room to collect his leather jacket.  

“I-I-nothing.  I just—wanted to hear your voice.”  Part of it is a lie.  Everything is wrong and your world is crumbling as you stare out the window lifelessly.  Panic is taking over while you endure thoughts about your past, present, and future.  Why did I say that one thing that one time?  I’m such a bad person.  I should have never been born, that way I could save everyone the embarrassment.  You’re instigating yourself and there’s no sign of stopping.  Eddie would be happier without you, he’s too good for you, good things don’t happen to you without a price.  Bullet after bullet hits your soul.  

“I’m coming over.”  He tells you without giving you the option to say no, the line going silent as he hangs up.  This only coaxes more humiliating things out from the depths of your brain.  See what you did?  You ruined his night, now he’s on his way over and he’s probably so mad.  He has so many better things to be doing than sitting with a cry baby.  

The sobs rack your body, chest heaving and vision completely blurred with hot tears traveling down your face.  You’re shaking, the words assaulting you over and over.  Even if you wanted to stop crying you couldn’t, the dam was flooded.  It was an oversight on your part, you didn’t need to text Eddie but you did it out of impulse.  Everything suddenly becomes so overstimulating, so gross and uncomfortable.  The way your clothes hug your body makes you wince, rubbing your arms to somewhat soothe yourself but it only does so much.  The clutter on your bedside table aggravates you all of the sudden but there’s not any energy to straighten it up, leaving you sitting on the bed in full on breakdown mode.  You’re now way too aware of your own body, yearning to immediately cease existing.  A blanket once thrown over your legs is now tossed across the room, the material now disgusting you.  Everything becomes unbearable.

So unbearable that you don’t even hear Eddie using his key in your front door, the hinges squeaking as he enters, or the click of the lock as he locks it again before rushing upstairs, his boots stomping on every other step.  You don’t hear the bedroom door creak open as he carefully approaches, toeing off his boots near the door and then speaking to you.  

“Sweetheart, what’s goin’ on?”  His tone is gentle enough to soothe a baby.  Shrugging his jacket off and tossing it on a nearby chair, he slowly strides closer to the bed but still keeps his distance.  

All you can do is cover your face in your pathetic palms, attempting to hide away the misery you have become.  A wet and whimpered I don’t know is made out from you muffling the words into your hands.  His heart shatters.  All he wants to do is hold you but only if you’ll allow him to.  The last thing he wants to do is make it worse.  The last time he saw you cry was also the first time and you’d sucked it up and brushed it off like it never happened.  This was drastically different, you were a puddle of tears and snot, sobbing uncontrollably and unable to hold back any longer.

“Baby.  Look at me.  Just for a minute, okay?”  He’s trying to convince you but you shake your head, palms still gathering tears.  “Please?  Please?”  He begs, voice hoarse as he tries to map out a gameplan in his head.  It still falls upon deaf ears.  “I need you to look at me.  If I’m going to help you, you need to look at me.”  He leans over the bed attempting to catch your eyes.  “I need you.”  He speaks desperately, his own eyes becoming wet.  For some reason, the phrase makes you stop for a second, makes you freeze.  If he needed you, then you were going to give him anything he wanted, anything he needed.  It was some type of reverse psychology that he hadn’t even realized he performed.  You were falling apart but the moment he begged for help you stopped everything to be by his side.

Shock written in his features, he looks at you while you look at him, big doe eyes full of anxiety and worry.  The atmosphere was stagnant at that moment.  Hiccups erupted out of you but your full undivided attention was on him.  He pondered his next moves carefully, not wanting to scare you off or chase you back into your corner.  His next words were spoken with the utmost care.

“Tell me what you need me to do.”  His voice was shaky and his eyes blinked rapidly.  “I—I’ve never done this before.  Please tell me what you need.”  His voice wobbled on the last few words as you tried to process everything.  “Whatever you want me to do, I will do.”  The way his tone wavered broke you, choking out a sob before stopping yourself.  You did this to him.  So you force yourself to provide an answer, it’s the least you could do.  

Voice cracking, you reply “Hold me.”  The dam continues flooding, sending a river down your cheeks.  He’s quick to crawl across the bed and gather you in his arms like the most fragile thing he’s ever held.  Arms wrap around your middle to pull you in between his legs, pulling your back flush against his chest as you then maneuver your body to curl into him like he’s your bunker, face buried in his chest and trembling hands fisting his shirt.  

“I’m right here, I’ve got you.  I’m here.”  Whispered reassurances against the top of your head as you soak his shirt in a mixture of tears and snot.  He lets you cry for as long as you need, as long as you want.  

“I’m always here for you.  Okay?  I would do anything for you.”  He promises, stroking your back soothingly, placing a kiss to your temple.  Everything about you is so ugly in the moment and yet, he’s so patient and warm.  So attentive and loving.  His gestures begin to chip at the walls you built around yourself so long ago.  It would take time but he’s made the first cracks in those sturdy walls and he would spend forever helping you tear them down.  

The sobs and hiccups begin to settle down, not completely but enough that you have some composure.  Your wide eyes stare into his kind ones.  You’re forced to recognize the unconditional love swimming in his eyes.  The genuine concern for your well being and his necessity for your comfort and happiness.  

“I love you.”  An offer through your tears of that same love on a silver platter that he would gladly indulge in.  Hand brushing against the bottom of your chin, tilting it ever so slightly while the other rests on the small of your back, he delivers a nudge of his nose against yours, a piece of his heart.  

“I love you.  I will always love you.”  His words have a greater meaning, an oath that even through the bad times, the times where you were isolated and hated yourself, kicking yourself to the curb,  he would be right there to help you back up.  A brush of his thumb against a rogue tear on your cheek has you hanging onto his every action.  The way he continues to use his thumbs to clean up any remnants  of sadness that had been acquired over the last hour or so.  How his lips curl up in fondness when you brush your fingertips along his stubbly cheek.  A whispered thank you against his skin.  When he lays back and pulls you onto his chest, his breathing lulling you into a post cry sleep that you very well needed, one hand running up and down your back and the other tracing shapes into your arm—calloused fingers providing every bit of comfort needed.  How his lips press a kiss to your forehead.  The scary thoughts were at bay for now and Eddie would without a doubt help you to battle them the next time they invaded your mind, whether it be tomorrow or next week.  His words have you melting, insides gooey and sticky when he thinks you’re fast asleep but you’re really still clinging onto these last waking moments as you mold into each other.   

“You’re everything I could ever ask for.  I would do anything for you.”

~end~

Masterlist

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #vics blurbs #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader

[nucleo-bang-tan]

The Uisa's Daughter | Chapter 1: Her First Love

Pairing/s: Kim Taehyung X Reader (Future Jeon Jungkook X Reader and Slight Min Yoongi X Reader)

Genre: Medieval Korea AU, Mystery, Strangers to Lovers, Angst, Smut

Rating/s: 18+ Mature Themes

Word Count: 7K

Warning/s (Don't read this if you want some suspense): Age gap (6 years, reader is younger), segregation based on caste, physical and emotional abuse, some pedophilia (an older man harasses reader since she was young), love at first sight kinda?, both of them are too horny, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), loss of virginity, loss of innocence, some manipulation, they both say 'I love you' too soon.

Summary: In the 1700s, the Jeon Dynasty spread all across the Korean peninsula.  Happiness quadrupled with the founder Emperor's presence, or so it seemed. Secrets scattered over the palace in the capital city, Hanseong were known to none except a few.

Chapter Summary: It feels like you have met your match; for life even. But your father can never stand seeing you happy.

A/n: Hey there, don't be a silent reader, do comment under my post and spread some love.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Prologue Teaser Chapter I Chapter II

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Father always said, "Great power comes when you attain control over your desires and cravings."

He used to say that to stop your cravings over sweets. His lesser knowledge didn't tell him, you were not of the type to gain such control. You could never gain this....this great power how much ever you wanted to.

Your reasoning was that you were simply curious but in actuality it was the deprevation that halted you. Deprived of sensation, deprived of freedom, deprived of being included, deprived of living, deprived of loving...

No one, in that city full of aristocratic, snob-heads found what some may describe as the utmost form of desire and craving.

Love; love is still hidden from the rich and noble, from the uptight and small-minded

You've always wanted to feel this so-called feeling of love. Was it just a myth made by someone with an oppressed mind like yours? Hopefully not. You didn't know what love was but it certainly wasn't what your father gave you, not what he gave your mother either.

"You must be the uisa's daughter." A slightly aged, wrinkly woman opened the sliding door to the tremulous, raw house you had just knocked upon. "Come on in, girl. My husband has been sick for the past 5 days."

Your father had work with the King so he sent your 19-year-old self on a teeth-chattering cold night to attend to one of his patients. He may not have been a good father but he was one of the greatest doctors to ever walk the streets of Hanseong.

Winds flurried across the empty farmlands in the surrounding making you rush inside the compact yet warm house.

Sacks full of what seemed like potatoes welcomed you by the doorstep followed by sacks of other vegetables. The stove was occupied by a pot of stew. The sick man and his family sold vegetables at the local market.

You realized that your father didn't want to attend to this patient because he was a Kim of the lowest caste, Cheonmin.

Your trail of sight landed upon a person, supposedly Mr. Kim, wrapped up in torn sheets. "Please take a look at him." His poor wife asked.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"He seems to have caught cholera. It's nothing to worry about, he'll be fine in no time." You gave out your diagnose along with a few medicines from your bundle.

Mrs. Kim seemed to be panicking, "Oh dear, it seems I can't find my money." She smiled nervously. "Would it b-"

"Mother, I heard the doctor arrived." The door hastily slid open revealing a disheveled man.

It was him, the man who was going to change your life for good. The man whom you didn't know would be the reason for both of your ruination. He was nothing you'd seen before.

His forehead shiny with sweat, long hair, all messed up, probably because of him rushing over, yet he looked like the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Molded to perfection, his face was something you get framed.

His eyes were full of concern and disturbance. His lips were slightly parted and he stood there silently and your eyes met.

You could feel something between you two, as if you were two magnets attracting each other. You couldn't help but stare at him. He was so handsome that it took your breath away. You had to resist an urge to get up and reach out to him then and there, touch him and feel his skin under your fingertips.

"Taehyung, yes! Where were you?! Dear, did you take my money kept near the cupboard?" Mrs. Kim was infuriated at the man named Taehyung. "Please give the uisa 2 silver coins, I'll have a talk with you later." She scurried to him while you still stared at each other, his eyes boring holes into yours and face being almost excited to see you.

"I see, and what might be your name?" He asked you.

"Y/n." You replied, "As for the money, I don't mind providing free treatment. I basically did nothing-"

"I insist; that's all we can give you." The man standing at the doorstep walked over to where you were sitting on the ground.

"Oh, it's fine." You smiled despite the growing tension between the both of you.

Taehyung, the obscure man in front of me smiled and sat down to bow. "I promise I'll keep your favor in mind and help you." His formal words seemed unnecessary between the two of you.

"Thank you... Taehyung." He could easily say his ears were blessed.

He dropped you home that night. Awkward was the least proper word to describe you two. You couldn't help but talk naturally and freely to him. You both talked about how beautiful the night was before you arrived at your destination and you asked him to leave you a few houses before your own so as to not raise any suspicions from your family.

His moonlighten face looked mesmerizing as he looked down at you and smiled. "It was an honor meeting you, Kim Y/n." He bowed.

"Same here, Kim Taehyung." You took a step closer to him. "I hope to see you again." You wrapped your arms around his neck tightly for a quick second and let go. The urge to touch him had been running through you this entire night. Though you wanted more, this was more than enough for now. Luckily there wasn't a single soul around at this time of the night.

He stood speechless for some seconds, looking straight into your eyes, making you blush. It's not like a woman hadn't hugged him before, it was different with you for some reason.

You looked off into a different direction, "I-I know we have met just an hour ago. But I can't-" You were cut off by him encasing your waist with one of his arms. The other one held you gently by your chin.

"I know, this may be going too fast, but I fairly do not care." Saying this, his lips ghosted over yours, waiting for your permission. Not hesitant at all, you gladly accepted and closed the minute gap between your lips.

It was merely a few seconds before you two pulled away simultaneously.

"Thank you..." You whispered for some reason. It wasn't Taehyung's first time, but it was clearly the weirdest and the most memorable one.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Isn't that lovely? The vermins owe us a favor." He laughed as you trembled.

"Father, t-they were necessitous. I couldn't possibly ask them for mon-"

"And how would I pay for your expensive clothings, dear? For your food? For our servants?" He scoffed.

"Father..."

"No excuses!" He shouted making you flinch "You need a good whipping."

"I'm so sorry, father. It's just two silver coins." Your trembling knew no bound as you tried to back away from his resting place. You used your hands to drag yourself backwards away from your seat as he stood up with a mud tea cup in his hands.

A fairly loud crash was heard besides you and drops of hot liquid splattered across the floor as well as on you. It was his cup that he threw at you with anger.

"Just two silver coins? I see." His words held no anger, they were just words, heavy words. Words scaring you more than the cold, chilly night because you knew he could hurt you anytime.

"Father I promise, I'll do anything. Please, father." You joined your hands.

"Look at you, so desperate... I'll let you off with a warning this time. You're lucky today, no whipping for you." He spoke as if he didn't nearly kill you.

You thanked your stars, or whatever guardian angel you had for he was in a good mood.

"If you dare to disobey my rules again."

"I know..." You whispered loud enough for him to hear. Ofcourse you knew, this was not the first time.

He smiled like a saint and spread out his arms, "Now give your father a hug, honey. I love you."

Slowly and being disgusted in the sorry excuse of what's supposed to be a man, you hugged him. He was still your father. "I love you too."

He slimy hands gradually went to your head to pat you as you tried to stop your tears from falling. "You are to come with me tomorrow to King Jeon." You nodded.

You were usuals to the King's courtroom even when you were a kid. Your father was his closest advisor. However you never felt comfortable when the King wanted to meet you outside of public's eye.

Unnecessary touches, and even more unnecessary things he made you do. He insisted he loved your cooking, your treatments and meeting you in general. You were honoured indeed but felt repelled since it was a 50 year old man you were talking about.

What was this life you were living?

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"And about Y/n..." You were snapped back to reality by the mention of your name. You were deep in your own thoughts, skimming your eyes over each title of the books held by the shelves. The shelves along with their inked treasures adored the quiet room. Quiet with the only exception being the voices of King Jeon and your father.

You thought about the poor farmer's son. Would he like to read, or rather, would he know how to read the Chinese scriptures? You had no idea why he clouded your mind like so, but you certainly weren't against it.

You had never had a love interest, you never found one brave enough to even talk to you. Giving up on love, you had always assumed you'd have an arranged marriage until the man you had kissed a few days ago came into your life.

"What about her?" Your pretentious father asked.

Both of you along with King Jeon were sitting in the castle's study talking about something that you didn't even bother sparing your attention to.

You preferred being in your own thoughts rather than listening to the elders' talks about the world. They surely knew more than you, and it wasn't bothersome.

"I expect a gift from you Y/n-ssi" King Jeon stated clearly.

"A g-gift? I don't understand."

Both of the older men laughed at your naivety and King Jeon placed a hand around your shoulder which distinctly made you uncomfortable.

"You weren't listening, were you?" He asked. "What were you thinking about girl?"

You thought of the only thing that interested you here, "The books here, in the study. I've never even heard about them." Books especially related to medicine interested you. You played the part of a cliché doctor in training.

"Jeon's birthday gift, dear."

"I expect a really special dish from you in a few months." He smirked, "Cook for me."

You had no idea what the smirk signified, but it clearly didn't mean good luck to you. You smiled nervously which the King found extremely endearing, extremely enchanting. Oh, how he wished he could kill your measly father and make you his personal concubine, maybe even his Queen.

The King's first wife died around 4 years ago and ever since then, the King couldn't have been happier. He could sleep with all the women he wanted without being pointed fingers at. The kingdom's people, who thought richly of the King, supposed he was drowning himself in other women to ease the pain of his loss.

What no one, except his Chief advisor, Eunuch Kang, didn't know was his eyes were set on a much bigger and harder-to-catch fish. The metaphoric fish being you. One fine day, before the time of his Queen's death, you along with your father had come to visit him. Seeing how well you had matured through the years, he couldn't keep his eyes or hands off of you. Making you sit on his lap was just an excuse to feel you better.

People in his courtroom saw and objected after you went back home. But those who did, found their heads laying on the floor. They committed treason, hence they died; was what he told their families.

Your father however never dared to speak up. He wanted to be in people's good books more than he cared for you. This helped you more than you could think. He had a good reputation and in return, the King could not kill him without a proper reason.

Ever since that day the King has secretly tried to find reasons to execute him. Eunuch Kang who was in charge of this failed to find any such reason for more than 5 straight years.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Ms Y/n!" Your cook called out to you. You were headed outside the mansion lands to a place only you knew about.

"Yes, Mr. Jung?" You smiled. You knew such formalities were only for others' eyes.

Jung Hoseok, a young yet talented cook, had been with you since you were born. He worked meticulously from his childhood.

Being around a decade older than you, he was given the responsibility to look after you as well as head the staff of Kim household. He was appointed by your father's friend, the King.

"Are you headed out?" He asked and you nodded cheekily.

"I'm going to that placeee."

He showed clear distaste towards your act of cuteness even though he possibly found it adorable. "Find yourself some use. Go and bring some vegetables for the kitchen. You are to cook for the king remember?"

"But I don't want to..." You pouted, "The King should have better cooks than me, I am no one compared to them."

"It's what the King decides, not you. Now go."

"Hoseok-ssi."

"What is it?"

"I don't like the King." His face contorted into a disappointed look. He looked around to make sure no one heard you and was glad no one did.

"Y/n, you are a grown woman, stop jesting around."

"I'm serious, Hoseok-ssi. The King seems far too friendly for my liking."

"Aish- Shut up, Y/n. I will not hear of it. King Jeon is a very kind man and he has saved us from many external and internal forces. I will not hear anything against him." He said, "Neither will anyone else, so make sure you don't tell this to anyone."

You nodded, poking your tongue out, still not changing your thinking about him. He turned around to leave after shaking his head.

"Hobi is mean." You muttered.

"I heard that, kid!"

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"I'm not sure if I have anything special." The vegetable seller smiled nervously. "You can take back some eggplants for the special meal but I'm not sure where you might find them."

This was the first time you heard about them. Being an educated person, it hurt your ego and now you were determined to find them.

"It's alright, sir. I'll search for them." You smiled and headed deeper into the market. The crowd grew denser and the shops became more heavily loaded. Asking every vendor about these 'eggplants'.

"Take a right after about 20 steps, dear." An old female vendor advised. And you followed.

The shop was revealed to be of the Cheonmin Kim's, the one you had treated a few days ago. How will they, out of all people have such an advanced (it's new to her) vegetable?

You gulped, it was the son, Taehyung chewing away at some dried sea weed, and his healthy father talking to another seller nearby. Their shop looked as if it hadn't been visited by anyone all morning, the vegetables still fresh in their places, the man fooling around on his seat.

You slowly walked over, Taehyung still being oblivious to your presence until you cleared your throat. Before seeing who it was and stumbling to stand up straight, he almost looked uninterested. He dropped a few tomatoes by such shuffling.

He held a bright smile on his face and bowed almost hitting his head on the table full of produce. You followed suit giggling at his display of clumsiness.

Still bright as ever and still as handsome as the first day you saw him, he greeted, "H-Hello, how are you holding up, Ms. Kim?" He shook his head and corrected himself, "Sorry, Y/n."

"I am doing just fine, Taehyung-ssi." You turned your head towards his father, "I see your old man is doing good."

He nodded, "All thanks to you. I still have that favor to return."

It was unshrouded, the chemistry between you two was almost visible to the naked eye. Was it just an attraction that you had towards this perfect example of a man or was it something else? You'll admit it, it was the second time you barely met him, and you want more of him, so much more.

You both stared at each other for a good minute before you spoke, "I-uh- wanted some vegetables." You even forgot the name of the exquisite one, the seller had told you about.

"Sure, anything you want." He gestured his hands over the produce lying on the cart table.

"Eggplant I suppose?" You asked innocently. "I wanted an eggplant, a big one."

Taehyung was sure your virgin words didn't insinuate something else. He looked around his stall and said, "Y/n, I don't believe I have any eggplants here. We'll have to go back to my house to look for some. Would you mind?"

You didn't have any patients to look after today neither did anyone care where you went during the day, plus you get to spend time with Taehyung, you don't see a downside to this. So you agree.

As soon as you do, the cheerful man in front of you took your hand and lead you across the puzzled roads of the market.

"Taehyung-ssi! Don't hold my hand like that!" You exclaimed as he dragged you with him. The people looked at the young couple as if they might pop out fangs anytime.

"People are just looking, they won't do anything. Trust me." and you did for no apparent reason. You trusted him with everything you had. But a part of you called out and asked you how he knew all this, how he was so confident when he kissed you. Had he done this before?

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"I thought your mother would be home." You enquired as you looked at the 25 year old trying to close the heavy wooden door after you asked him to. He barely had any neighbors but the ones he had, you didn't want them snooping around in your business.

"She's at the farm." He replied brightly. There was this thing about him, he looked so stern when he didn't talk to you but when he did, he was the most fun person you had ever seen.

As soon as he closed the door, he hugged you and you dropped your little bag of groceries at his actions. "I've missed you." Yes, you did too.

"Why?" You asked even though you knew better than anyone else. He had kissed you, an act hardly performed by actual lovers. There was no way to get him out of your mind after that.

If anyone knew you had did something of sorts you'd be ridiculed for your entire lifetime. But you didn't regret it at all.

"Maybe because I have never seen someone as beautiful as you." Softly touching your face like you were a raw sculpture, "And I think my mind is heading to a sinful place with you and there's no stop in sight."

You smiled softly, "We don't even know each other..."

"But you trust me right?" He whispered.

"Unfortunately, I do." Making you both laugh softly.

"Let me court you then." He said biting his lip, indicating his nervousness.

What was this man talking about? A woman of your status and a man of his caste shouldn't even mingle with each other, let alone do what you two did that night.

Your father, the public, the Emperor would all prefer you both dead over that happening.

However, Taehyung didn't care. He hated the caste system. 'Only the insecure and afraid would make such a thing up.' He often said.

You wanted Taehyung to love you, you wanted him to know how much you craved for someone, him to be precise, to come into your life and destroy you completely with their love.

You were thinking clearly when you said, "I would love that."

To say Taehyung was happy, would be an understatement. He wanted you; call it lust, call it desire, but it was a form of his love.

"Then you wouldn't mind if I did this..." He said before swiftly untying the front of your hanbok making you gasp and pull out of his embrace.

"What are you doing?" You scrambled trying to re-tie the knot.

"I thought you said you trust me." He smirked, pushing the outer layer of coat off of your shoulders before you could react.

"Taehyung!"

"You trust me right? Let me help you." His words struck you. Help you? How?

"Help me with what?" You stand still as he pulls you out of the coat and discards it onto the ground.

"I know what it's like being a 19 year old. Heck, I still know what it feels like. Being so alone, everyone hates you, you hate everyone. I know how you crave love. Let me give it to you."

How could he possibly know? "I don't wish for love." You state.

"Tsk, you can lie all you want, but I can see it written boldly in your eyes, those beautiful eyes."

You could say no and put a stop to his madness. But the look he gave you, that look that made you want to let loose and give in to his madness. He clearly wanted your body and this was his way of getting it, but how could you possibly deny it when you wanted the same at some point.

You gulped, "If I agree to whatever you're doing? Will you promise no one, not even your parents or your friends, find out?"

You weren't afraid of giving him anything, you were only afraid of what your father might do if he found out. He would beat you, whip you for sure but he would hire men to kill Taehyung.

"It's sex, so call it that, baby. And I am willing to promise the world to you if you just say yes."

"Taehyung, I don't care what happens to me, but I would rather be dead than have anything happen to you."

"Take risks, live a little uisa-nim."

You never took risks. When your father let you out of the house, you never lost your track, always going the way he asked you to go. You never dared to look at a man how much ever you wanted to.

Taehyung though, lured you in. He was a mere Cheonmin but yet he had more life than an upper class man. He had more potential, more everything.

At this moment, you couldn't help but agree. You would never do this if it were anyone else, but it was Taehyung, the man who kissed you on the first day you met.

"My body is what you want, and my body is what you shall get." You take a deep breath and pull him by his hanbok before he could reply and plant a kiss on his lips.

Taehyung wasn't the one to stop kissing your soft lips and correct you that he, in fact didn't wish for your body. He wished for your love, he wished that you craved him the same way he craved you.

You clearly had no experience nor had you ever seen how to kiss someone properly so you didn't move at all expecting this was all you needed to do to kiss.

This turned him on however. Having to teach you everything and molding you into whatever he pleased from a girl.

He pulled back, "That's not how you do it." He let out an arrogant chuckle. "Just go with your instincts and fight with my lips, devour them."

Saying that he placed his lips on yours once again this time meeting with a much warmer welcome from your mouth.

"You're a- fast learner-" He said between the kisses.

It was when he brought in his tongue, you were surprised. However you decided to fight with yours as well.

Your hands entangled into his long hair. He tapped your thigh and signalled you to jump. You trusted him and did as he asked and clinged onto him for dear life.

Oh, how you yearned for more. Conflicting your tongues wasn't enough, you needed his entire body.

Both of you were moaning, Taehyung's deep voice getting you wetter by the second.

Taehyung couldn't possibly get harder than how he was now. He tasted every last inch of your mouth while moving both of your intertwined selves to a room.

Breaking the kiss, he said, "Let me place a blanket here, it's going to get messy. Wouldn't want the floor to get all dirtied up by you." That made you blush more than any suitor ever had.

He gently let you down and arranged the blanket. Adjusting it's corners, he patted on it for you to lay.

"I'm scared." You finally said as he was removing his clothings.

Pausing slightly, he smiled, "You don't have to do this. I won't be upset."

"I'm scared but I want this. I want you."

"Are you sure about that, princess?" He pulled down his pants revealing a very hard dick, almost slapping onto his abdomen.

"Th-that's..." Big, was the right word for it.

Now, you were a doctor in training and you knew how sex worked and how certain body parts looked like. But you had never in your years of study seen or imagined a penis so big.

"Do you not like it?" He mocked wiggling it around a bit making you snicker.

"No, it's just- it's big..." He was almost estatic at your words.

Taehyung was completely naked at this point while you still had your undergarments on. He helped you remove the one surrounding your breasts.

Your boobs fell into his hands with a bounce. It was like he malfunctioned, staring at them for a quick minute before licking his lips and diving in.

You had never felt this before. Your fingers found their way into his hair once again.

"You're so fucking perfect." He said licking one of your nipples and softly biting onto it.

"T-Tae..." You practically shed tears at the feeling.

He moved between your neck and your breasts, kissing and marking up wherever he felt like it. It was a vice, you were a vice to him.

It felt so good, however you needed friction somewhere else as well.

You started rubbing your legs together and it didn't go unnoticed by him.

"Mmm, I know baby, you need me there?"

You replied with a shaky yes.

Leaving your boobs, his hand travelled downwards and into your lower undergarment.

As soon as his cold, long fingers pressed onto your clit, you let out a high pitched moan.

"Have you ever touched yourself?" He asked.

"I've tried it sometimes but never finished." You said weakly.

Taehyung was beyond the limit of hardness at the moment. He had no idea he would be so turned on by a girl so inexperienced. The things he would do to you in the future were boundless.

His hand worked on your clit while his mouth worked on your boobs. You were a moaning mess at this point. Taehyung gave you what you wanted and more.

He licked a long strip from your chest to your lips, kissing you with utmost passion. You were so addictive, all he wanted was to taste every single part of you.

He finally discarded your lower undergarment.

Dragging his fingers from your clit to your core, he slowly entered one finger. You let out a loud whimper.

"It's so tight, baby. How am I going to fit in there? I can't even fit my fingers." He showed fake concern.

You didn't even care at this point, you wanted him deeper in you.

He added another finger that stretched you out. Trying his best to loosen you up for his big dick, he started a scissoring motion with his fingers.

You tried your best to hold back your moans but his fingers felt so good, you're sure the neighbours heard you. He didn't care, it only added to his ego.

He shuffled down and dragged his lips along your body, down your clit all the way to your core. He wanted, needed to taste you so bad, he couldn't resist anymore.

He licked the slick dripping down your thighs because he didn't want any to go to waste.

He was extremely skillful with his tongue, delving expertly within your folds, bringing you near to the edge as soon as he begun. Holding your hips down, he continued.

"Tae, I think- I'm coming"

"Come on, you can do it." Taehyung could hardly believe he was the one to experience your first orgasm.

His hands reached up to twist and fondle your boobs.

Seeing his head of hair digging into your cunt for a taste had you coming in just seconds.

He licked every last drop of your wetness. When he finished, his head popped up with a smug look on his face.

"You have no idea how heavenly you taste." He said locking lips with you once again making you taste yourself. You did taste nice.

"I want to make you feel good too." You said.

"Not today" He said dragging his tip across your folds. "Today I wish to be directly inside you."

His little action made your cunt gush with juices.

"Are you scared, baby?"

"Yeah, but go ahead."

"This is going to hurt a lot. But you'll take it right? For me?" You nod as he leaned down and placed his lips on your forehead. A very intimate gesture that had you falling for him right in the moment.

Now you were very scared. Did you fall for a man you met a few days ago? Not to mention you're in a very vulnerable position with him as well.

Your innocent mind didn't know any better. What you thought was love, was just mere attraction at the moment which turned to love eventually.

"Tae- fuck" He pushed his tip inside.

"Are you okay?"

"Just go- slow" you squirmed.

He pulled out and pushed in once again this time going halfway in.

"It hurts..." You started sheding tears. Taehyung hated seeing you like this. Ofcourse he would have loved to see you cry, but from pleasure.

"We can sto-"

"You can go deeper now..."

He did as you said and bottomed out. Taehyung blamed his stupidly huge dick for making you cry.

He wiped your tears and placed his forehead against yours.

"You can tell me when to move, I'll be still until you tell me to."

It took you at least a minute or two to adjust and accommodate his length. The man on top of you aided by kissing you deeply through every second of it. You began to move the slightest bit on your own making Taehyung hiss.

"Shall I?" He was still patient, waiting for you to utter the words.

"Please, move." You let out.

Taehyung finally let go of the breath he didn't know he was retaining. He had to remind himself multiple times that he was your first, it pained you.

'Not yet.' He said to himself, referring to the fact that he couldn't fuck you as roughly as a pleased.

His thrusts were unhurried yet firm. So firm that it made your back arch at how deep his cock went.

You couldn't help but moan, in fact that was all you could do. Pleasure overtook your senses and you were at Taehyung's mercy.

He intertwined his fingers with yours on either side of your head, "So good for me, so tight."

"Faster!"

"Yeah? Want me to go faster? Such a little slut."

You were surprised at what you heard. You wanted to defend yourself, you were far from a slut and you were sure Taehyung knew that. Oh, but it turned you on so good. Him degrading you like that, him making you feel humiliated.

Taehyung must have sensed the effect it had on you, how could he not? You moaned the loudest when he said that.

"So wet, baby. I bet all the guys would love your little pussy, wouldn't they?"

"Want- only you." You somehow vocalised.

He loved it so much, the effect he had on you.

"Need to train you to become my personal sleeve, am I right?"

"Fuck, I can't-" You knew this feeling, you were coming.

He picked up the pace, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly. The scene itself was too explicit. Had anyone seen it, it would have been too entralling.

"Come on." He punctuated his words with his thrusts.

You let out a moan of his name and reached your high.

Taehyung's pace stuttered, an indication of him reaching his high as well. He realised, much to his dismay, he couldn't cum inside of you. He halted to pull out.

"No! You can let go inside of me."

"But, you'll-"

"I am a doctor in training, I have some herbs that can work." You smirked.

He chuckled, "Someone's being a little too smart."

He resumed his thrusts. After a few of them, he came. The feeling was really euphoric. Having the one you had feelings for, let his semen coat your insides.

He pulled out and laid beside you. Both of you faced each other; low on energy but high on love.

Taehyung lifted his hand up, tracing the apple of your cheek ever so slightly making you smile.

He spoke first, "That was..."

"I know, I don't have words for it either."

"Can I tell you something crazy?" He asked pulling you to lay on top of him.

"Ofcourse, what is it?"

"I think I am madly in love with you."

You looked into his eyes, slightly glossy from the overwhelming feelings he had for you.

"What do you mean?" You ask in almost a whisper.

"I know it's been just a few days, but I feel like I have known you for years. Like, your favourite colour is probably blue."

You giggle, "It's not, but go on."

"Then I want to know you better, Kim Y/N. What do you say?"

"Thank you for making me feel, Kim Taehyung." You bury your face into his chest. "This is the first time anyone has had feelings for me, let alone loved me. I never had feelings either, but you are something else."

You look up at him, "I think I'm in love with you too."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He had become your only beacon of hope. Your only little support while you were drowning. What happens when a human is given that? He clings onto it as fast as he can, as tightly as he can.

It had been 5 months since you first met Taehyung. 5 months full of exploring and adventures. It would be proper to say that you never would have guessed you got this close to someone.

You'd spend hours on end with him, until it was finally time to go home before the sunset.

You had introduced him to your special spot. A small, secluded clearing in a forest beside a lake. You had stumbled upon it when you were barely a teenager. No one except Hoseok and now Taehyung knew about it.

"What are you thinking about?" The man whose arms engulfed you asked.

Taehyung was leaning against a tree while you sat between his legs leaned against his chest.

"About the day when the Emperor was practically fuming when I said I couldn't prepare a dish for him on his birthday."

Taehyung twirled a strand of your hair with his index finger and laughed, "I wish I were there to see it."

"I hate him so, so much."

"Yeah, I hope to punch him in the face someday for what he did to you all these years."

"I love you..." You cozied yourself deeper into his arms.

"Love you too."

The talks from the noble and humble alike were spreading. No one fancied the way you, an unmarried aristocrat girl, spent time with a Cheonmin. Certainly, they couldn't see what you did behind closed doors, but you found yourself afraid of what they might do if they did.

Taehyung didn't care and asked you to do so as well. But how could you? When your father continued to beat the life out of you, even more so now that the talks flew around.

You couldn't mention it to your lover because it would have very obvious yet perilous consequences. So you had to feign that everything was alright.

That is why, whenever he asked you where you got a certain bruise from, you would reply with a simple, 'Oh, this? I fell.' or any other falsified answer you could think of.

Every day Taehyung walked you home, or sometimes even carried you just to the edge of the forest. And you were once again back to your oppressive household without anyone to share your sorrows with.

But this day was different. He walked with you till you were a few houses away from your own, you parted ways and you walked back alone to your house, or rather, you thought you'd be alone.

A voice came from behind you, "Good evening, young lady." You almost jumped at how close the man was to your ear and how you didn't hear him coming to this proximity.

The man in question looked much older than you, almost as old as Hoseok. This person was certainly here to bother you and you definitely weren't down for it.

You let out a nervous laughter, "Oh, good evening." And walked forward without sparing him a second glance.

"Don't be so rude now, I am here to speak with you." He caught up to your hurried pace.

"I am sorry but I don't suppose I would be of any use to you." A myriad of questions arose in your mind. Who was he? Was he here to have his way with you? You had heard from Taehyung, what men possibly thought of you; and it certainly wasn't pure.

"Ah, see that's where you are wrong." He said in a false vile tone, "You are very useful to me."

You turned around completely appalled, "That is no way to talk to someone, a lady in particular. I could be of use to you after you have spoken with my father."

"Who is the lady here? I see a girl, no, a kitten."

Not having much time to spare, as your father would quite literally kill you for being outside after dark, you said, "Sir, I am no kitten, but I am not one to argue with you. Good day." Saying this hopefully deterred him enough to not pursue you anymore.

And it did work, he didn't follow you after that, or rather, again, you thought he wouldn't follow you.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"How was your day, father?" You asked setting his footwear aside and welcoming him.

"Well, the funniest thing happened today. A master brought in his slave for treatment." He laughed. Ofcourse, he wouldn't give his services to anyone lower than the nobles and the occasional palace workers.

Your mother reciprocated his laughter with her own, "You should have told your assistant to not let them in." The two of them joked further while the kitchen staff served them dinner. You sat down on the floor beside your father fidgeting and looking down at your fingers on your lap.

It annoyed you, like something that constantly pricked you deep within. It was the way not just your parents, but the majority of people spoke about the lower and less fortunate.

"Isn't it funny, my daughter? Why are you not laughing?" He asked. You had been over this before. You would ask him not to speak about the lower castes this way and in return he would starve you for the night.

"It's just that..."

"What is it?" He asked in a stern voice. "Speak up!"

"I-I don't like your words. I don't like the way you talk about them." You shut your eyes fully expecting a smack right across your face.

But it never came. Neither did your father's anger.

Instead he laughed.

"Is that so? My dear, do you know what that slave said to me?" He asked. You were stunned and confused to say anything.

"He said, 'You don't mind your daughter sleeping with that Kim boy, but you refuse to treat me?'"

You began to grow even more confused as you looked at the servants setting up another plate of food on a small table similar to yours and your parents'.

"You know Jeon called me to his palace today. He has heard the rumours as well."

A man with cold feline eyes and his forehead covered with his messy yet well-maintained bangs walked into the room. He held a scowl on his face as he sat down at the table in front of yours.

Your eyes widened. It was the same person who had bothered you earlier that day.

"Father, what's going on?" You asked partially getting up from your little table.

But your father simply completed his previous statement, "So, he sent his finest to keep an eye on you."

"What do you mean?"

"Meet Min Yoongi."

#bts smut #bts fic #kim taehyung #new writer boost #bts #bts taehyung #bts jungkook #bts jungguk #bts fics #bts fanfic #bts ff #fanfic #fiction #historical au #park jimin #pop music #nucleo-bang-tan #jeon jungkook #jeongguk

[daydream-cement]

Heavenly Aether Ch. 5

Miranda Hilmarson x Reader

Betrayal and bonding.

Sorry this update has taken forever! Thank you for the beta my dear husband @bri-sonat.

Miranda must have apologized a dozen times by the time she walked you into an empty jail cell, but each and every time you left her without a response, staring off into space as you fumed about her betrayal. You had placed your trust in her in a matter of days - yet here she was, quickly breaking that trust for reasons unbeknownst to you. 

“You will only be here for a few hours. I promise. I can take you straight home in the morning. I’m so sorry.” The constable towered above you as she removed your handcuffs, her hands grasping your wrists carefully once the metal had fallen away from your skin. Her thumbs gently rubbed against where the cuffs had been, massaging away any soreness. 

Finally, you turned your gaze upwards to meet her eyes and you watched her posture slouch ever so slightly when she saw the coldness in your eyes. You hadn’t yanked your hands away from Miranda’s grasp as an invisible force kept your feet pinned to the floor directly before her.

Miranda ducked her head low as she spoke in a harsh whisper. Her hands pulled on your wrists, tugging you closer to avoid having to speak too loud, “Please, Y/n… I’m doing everything in my power to move this case forward. This was out of my control. I can’t help you if I get demoted or removed from the force…”

You gazed into her eyes defiantly and tried to ignore the fact that Miranda’s face was inches from yours. Why did she have to be so endearing when you were trying to be angry with her?

“I’ll bring you something for dinner. I’m sorry again…” 

The constable gave you a final remorseful glance before backing away and leaving you alone in the holding cell. You couldn’t be more furious with Miranda or the situation you found yourself in. This was beyond a waste of time. 

For a long while, you sat glaring at the painted cinder block wall, stewing on the betrayal from the woman you had begun to repose such trust in. Miranda dropped off dinner and you continued giving her the cold shoulder, not interested in letting her off so easily.

She left you alone after a long while of trying to explain herself once again. Her reasoning for betraying you was built on a solid foundation of not wanting to lose her job, but you were filled with righteous justice for all the lives that had been lost so far. 

Eventually, the anger subsided to be replaced with anxiety and panic when you reached to absentmindedly play with the flash drive that hung around your neck only to find it missing. No one had taken it when you had to hand over all your belongings before you were placed in lock-up. It must be in your apartment. 

Your mind began racing at all the possibilities: Were they going through your apartment as you sat here in this cell? Would they find the flash drive that was sitting on your nightstand? 

If the wrong corrupted individual were to get their hands on that flash drive, your decades of research would disappear without a trace and an additional few would be fated to die.

Miranda hadn’t returned to the cell to see you until the next morning. You had slept in short spurts throughout the night and when she entered, her voice accompanied by a gentle shake of your shoulder pulled you from your sleep. “Y/n… Wake up…”

Immediately as you were roused from your slumber, you shot up as you were reminded of the severity of your missing flash drive. Your hands gripped her forearms as you searched her eyes - your tone as frantic as your gaze. “Miranda. The flash drive. Where is the flash drive? I left it- They might have it. I-”

“Shh… It’s gonna be okay. Let’s get you out of here.” Miranda retracted her arms so she could take you by your hands, giving you a soft pull so you would shift into a standing position. Once standing, she wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you from the cell, hushing your concerned chatter as she retrieved your belongings from the lock-up desk. 

“Miranda, what is-” 

The Aussie cut you off, her tone loud and overzealous so as to prevent others from thinking she was plotting something with you. “I’ll give you a ride, ma’am.” 

“Ma’am? What are you talking about?” You furrow your brow at the strangely formal title she had given you. 

“You have had a long night. I’m sure you are ready to get home, huh?” She guided you through the police station with a hand at the small of your back, pushing you towards the back entrance you had arrived through. Once out in the parking garage, your line of questioning continued as you couldn’t understand why she could be behaving so erratically. 

“Mira- Stop. What are you-”

“No need for any fuss. Get on in and I will drive you home.” Miranda repeated as she helped you into the passenger seat. You were growing increasingly frustrated with the lack of communication from the constable. The least she could do was clue you into the reason she was acting so strangely. 

“Mir-” As you struggled to get a word in edgewise, the blonde shut the car door in your face, leading your anger to bubble to the surface. When she rounded the car and climbed into the driver’s seat, you laid in on her. “What is it you think you are doing? Is this kidnapping? You haven’t told me where we are going! You just up and take me from the holding cell like a madwoman!”

“Shh! I am getting you out of there! They searched your apartment last night.” Miranda lost all of her timid kindness as she launched her own verbal attack back at you. She shifted the car into reverse and pulled from the parking place, needing to get away from the station as quickly as possible. “They were looking for that little flash drive of yours, but…” 

The constable reached inside her jacket pocket and pulled out your flash drive on a chain, sending an automatic jolt of relief through your body. The feeling of relief was soon replaced with a wave of nausea at the fact you had treated her so poorly over the past 12 hours. “Miranda, I’m- I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way. I- I should have listened…” 

“It’s okay, Y/n. We need to get you home.” Instead of handing over the flash drive, Miranda leaned over in her seat and looped the necklace over your head. The act felt extremely intimate, especially when her hands came back around your neck and moved your hair out of the way so the chain could lay comfortably around your neck. “Do you need anything to eat? You didn’t have much of your dinner last night.”

“Uhm, yeah. Sure.” Your breath hitched and a blush spread on your cheeks when her fingertips graced the back of your neck. Her touch was brief and left you wondering why you craved more. You finally felt like you could breathe again when Miranda pulled away - her focus shifting to driving you home and potentially grabbing a coffee.

“I shouldn’t be telling you any of this, but they found a computer and some documents in your home. It will take time for the non-corrupt higher-ups to figure it out, but it was an illegal search. They wanted that flash drive. I was thinking, if you are okay with it, that I could sleep on your couch tonight. Just in case they send anyone again…” 

Your fingers twiddled with the flash drive that hung from your neck, mind swirling with what may be the potential state of your apartment when you return. She had already been making you nervous through her lingering touches and kind eyes, and now she wanted to stay in your apartment with you?

As Miranda parked her car in the parking garage near your home, she began filling you in on the plan she had formulated with Robin while you were locked up. “So we have been looking into the organization a bit more and it seems as though there is a recruitment event coming up. I’m thinking we could go undercover and see what we can learn about the church. Robin says she would be willing to run ground interference if you and I pose as potential members, although we might have to put you in a wig or something. They may recognize you.”

“Undercover? With me?”

The blonde seemed delighted with the prospect of going undercover with you, immediately making you feel more at ease with the idea. You couldn’t help but watch the sweet little grin that grew on her face as she explained her desire to go undercover with you. “Uh, yeah! We could gain plenty of valuable information and…. It might be a little fun.” 

You listened carefully as Miranda parked the car, saving your reply for when you walked side by side. “Don’t you need approval from your superiors for that kind of thing? It doesn’t seem as though they are really on our team here.” 

“Robin worked an in she had at the courts. She explained our predicament and they approved the undercover work and said getting a search warrant wouldn’t be too hard either if we went through them.” Miranda followed your lead as you guided her down a staircase and over to your building. From there you began walking her through a side door and up a floor to your apartment. “So I’m thinking you get your best dress and you and I can be some affluent lesbian couple or something?”

“A couple?” You giggle as you unlock your front door, unable to believe your ears. 

“Or something?” Miranda laughed in return, but her attention was soon taken up by the messy apartment before her. The constables who had been in your apartment left objects strewn everywhere as they sought out your technological belongings. Before you were able to express your frustrations with the state of your apartment, Miranda’s soft voice rang in your ear, “I’m so sorry. I can help you clean a bit, but I’ll need a little direction from you.”

It took you a few minutes to calm down and comprehend the possessions broken and damaged by the carelessness of Miranda’s peers. The constable helped you shelve books and put the cushions and pillows back on the sofa.

The conversation slowly shifted from the case at hand to personal stories surrounding your knick-knacks and photographs. Next thing you knew, the two of you were giggling on your sofa, a few empty bottles of beer littering the table before you and a half-full bottle in both of your hands. The two of you had started your conversation at separate ends of the couch and now you had met in the middle, the back of Miranda’s knuckles gently rubbing your shin.

“There is no way!” You shouted, arms reaching out to grasp Miranda’s knee to shake her back and forth. The laughs you had begun to share were endless as Miranda’s joy was simply contagious. The worries of the case at hand and your recent arrest were all but a distant memory for the time being.

“I really did! Look for yourself.” The blonde lifted her shirt to display a few-year-old healed wound on her chest. At first, you assumed her ‘life-threatening wound’ was just her being hyperbolic, but now that you saw it with your own eyes, you had no choice but to believe her.

You couldn’t help yourself when you reached forward and pressed your fingertips against the scar. Lingering your touch against her soft skin, you tenderly began stroking your fingers back and forth. You only stopped when Miranda’s hand caught your wrist, sending your gaze up to meet hers to see she had gone serious.

“You are very beautiful…” Miranda’s voice was barely a whisper when she pulled your wrist to her mouth, her lips coming to place a gentle kiss along your skin. 

You found yourself creeping closer, your spare hand resting on her thigh as your faces drifted closer together. “We should be careful…” 

Her lips ghosted over yours - the soft breath of her words could be felt across your lips. “I agree… We should stop before this goes too far…”

The alcohol in your system certainly wasn’t helping your decision-making process. You knew you wanted Miranda regardless, but you had been keeping yourself from it for the sake of the case. The two of you seemed to be growing closer in spite of your anger from earlier today which only made your adoration for her stronger. 

Now that you were a lips distance away, you could smell the sweetness of her shampoo. Her fingers against your thigh were making you feel delirious, but it was her beautiful eyes that drove you mad.

Miranda’s usual kindness had disappeared, and been replaced with a hunger you hadn’t witnessed before. There was no going back from what you both wanted, and the repercussions were minuscule in comparison to the way you began to ache for one another

“Yeah…” You mumbled before closing the gap between your lips and hers.

Taglist: @charymobile, @bri-sonat, @weemswife, @smutuniversesblog, @opheliauniverse, @renravens, @whenyouhaveanobsession, @shyladyfan, @rubberduckiesbathing, @mcufanisme, @peanutbutterprincess, @Alexthefavgay, @ladylarissaweems, @lvinhs, @myzzjolanda, @principal-weems09, @imlike-so-gaydude, @emilynissangtr, @xuukoo, @brienneswife, @kay-liah-scope, @oculusalien, @kimiinou, @sweetderacine, @giogwensversion, @milciak, @gela123, @maximoffslovergirl, @thevillagegay, @katiemcgrathsbitch1, @naomi-m3ndez, @mysaviorfalsegod, @salems-spaghettios, @imgayforwoman69, @bychrissi, @fyrecatz, @bitchr-mkay

#miranda hilmarson #miranda hilmarson x reader #top of the lake #gwendoline christie #fanfic #gwen christie #heavenly aether

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#340

“Boy where are you going?  And who told you that you may wear clothes again?  Certainly not me.  Get naked, your work has just begun.  What? You thought that you would have the honor of being a urinal to me and my friends at one of my parties and that was it?  Fuck that.  You were brought here for the needs of the party, and you got paid with piss.  Come with me in the house.  Leave the mess for tomorrow….

“…So did you have a good time drinking our piss?  You sure as hell stink of it.  You’ve been wearing it all night, so you are probably used to it.  It’s fucking giving me a raging boner.  Nothing gets me more than walking into a rest stop shithouse or a locker room and it reeking of piss.  Add my cigar smoke to the mix, and I am so boned up.

“This way.  Oh look, Bevins and Dewey are passed out over there.  They are going to be hung over when they wake up.  One of your jobs is to give them a good breakfast, some strong coffee, and your holes to use.  Bevins will probably fuck you.  I have never seen one man fuck so much; you’d swear that he spent more time hard than he was soft. 

“Oh my god, Dewey pissed his pants.  Look at that….  Get down there and suck some of the piss out of it.  He’s passed out.  If he was awake, he would be demanding you do just that.  The only difference is that his piss is probably ice cold.  Get down there….

“Fuck yeah.  Grind your face in there.  Feel his dick?  It’s fucking huge, isn’t it?  And keep in mind, that’s soft.  It’s one of the fattest cocks I have ever seen.  You certainly drank from it tonight.  I don’t know if that’s when we had funnels in your holes, or after we took them out and drained your ass.  I don’t think he would have fucked you when we converted your ass from urinal duty into a working cunt.  He would have ripped you up good.

“Wanna see?  Go on, take his cock out….  Go on.  He would love it.  I have ridden with this man for fifteen years.  He, Bevins, and I have a long, long history of using faggots.  Trust me, if he woke up with your mouth around his dick, he would belch and fart and then think of it as a start of a good day….

“Let’s get his jeans around his ankles.  You take that side, and on the count of three.  One, two,… three!  Again!...  Hell yeah!  If he wasn’t wearing his boots, we could take them off.  I would love to shove his skanky piss-soaked skid marked underwear in your mouth when I fuck you.

“Told you he was big.  Those balls are legendary, as is that dick.  Go on skin him back; let’s see what you get to clean under that hood….  Jesus fuck!  That’s nasty.

“Go on.  Don’t hesitate now.  You have done an amazing job tonight drinking all that piss, then taking load after load in your cunt.  This is nothing.  You do this, I will be inviting you back.  Hell, Dewey will probably claim you as his when he sees what good of a job you do.  Not many faggots can meet his nasty expectations.  Atta fag! 

“Keep sucking on that limp dick of his.  This is so damned hot.  Spread your legs.  This is not going to take long.  Don’t let him slip out no matter how hard I slam your cunt.

“Damn you are sloppy back here.  There’s easily a dozen loads in here.  Fuck, it feels so good.  That’s it!  Moan into his dick.  You fucking whore.  You goddamned piss-drinking whore.  You live to be two fucking holes for men to use.  And we are going to do that.  You will take nut after nut.  Just like a whore.  Oh man, keep moaning like a bitch.  Daddy is going to dump in you real good.  I bet you want to be owned.  Don’t you, you slut? 

“Did you just moan your yes?...  Faggot, cunt!  I own you now.  Every aspect of your life now belongs to me.  I’m so close.  And the one thing I do to every cunt I own, I brand them with my cigar. 

“Scream!  Scream into his dick.  Ahhhhh! Ahhhhh!  Fuck!  Fuck!  Damn!  Fuck, you almost snapped my dick off when you clamped down.  You got my load to add to your cunt stew.  Hold still.  I need to drain my bladder.

“Oh fuck.  What a night.  Ahhhh.  There it goes.  When we get to bed, I will plug you so you can have this load in you until morning….  That doesn’t look like I went deep at all to give you a proper brand.  After we get you installed in your new role in life, we’ll make sure you are branded the way that owned toilet faggot cunts should be.

“Clamp down; I’m pulling out.  Good boy.  With all that action back there, I am amazed you have such control over your muscles back here. 

“Pull off Dewey and stand up.  Come here give me a kiss….  Yup, just like kissing a sewer.  You did good tonight….  Fuck, I don’t even know your name.  Don’t need to either.  Let’s go to bed.  I need a good night’s sleep.  Your job is not over.  You are going to rim me to sleep.  Let’s go.

“Oh fuck.  You are dripping down your leg.  Let’s get that plugged up.”

[iprobablyshipit91]

Twenty Minutes or Less

Genre: fluff / smut

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 900

Warnings: mostly just smut and a few swears! Please only read if you’re of age and comfortable.

I read a similar idea to this once for another fandom that has since been deleted. It was one of my fav drabbles and always makes me sad it’s gone. I know I won’t do it justice but it felt appropriate for Dean and I was in the mood to write something almost Valentine-y so I thought I’d give it a shot. Not exactly romantic but I hope you enjoy anyway!

SPN Masterlist

You flop on to the couch with a sigh and you just feel numb. It says a lot, you think ruefully, that you aren’t particularly sad about the fact your boyfriend of just over a year has dumped you the day before Valentine’s. You’re more annoyed about the fact you got him a fucking amazing present that cost more than you wanted to pay but it was too perfect to pass up. And if you’re truly being honest with yourself you’re also annoyed that he beat you to something that had been niggling in the back of your mind lately anyway.

A groan leaves you involuntary as you press your hands over your eyes hard. You feel like such a fool.

Before you can stew too long, you hear keys jingle in the door followed by a loud slam and heavy footfalls down the small hallway.

“I have the pizza, a fuck ton of chocolate and plenty of alcohol as requested. Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong, Sweetheart?” Deans gravelly voice reaches your ears before he finally appears, dumping his bags on the kitchen counter along with his keys and making his way around to you. “Why the S.O.S?”

Dean Winchester was a lot of things; handsome, protective and loyal to a fault to those lucky few he considered family and you found yourself firmly in that category. You’d been best friends as teens and when you’d both found yourself looking for a roommate a few years ago it made logical sense for you to move in together. He was a dream to live with too; just tidy enough to not be annoying, cooking plenty of mouthwatering meals for the two of you and always ready with the junk food and alcohol on occasions such as this.

And maybe, just maybe, you had a teeny tiny crush on him. Who wouldn’t? The man looked like a Greek god. The point was it had been years now and nothing had ever happened between you, so you were pretty sure it never would.

“Mick dumped me,” you sigh heavily, seeing the look of annoyance twitch across Deans face at the mention of your boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. They had never got on somehow.

Within minutes the little coffee table is full of your evening feast and you have your legs propped up on Deans lap as he listens to you lament about the last few hours while munching your way through the food.

Three beers later and you accidentally reveal to him that you have never actually had an orgasm.

Dean nearly chokes on his beer at that and you find your cheeks getting hot, wishing you could take the words back immediately.

To his credit, Dean recovers quickly, placing the bottle aside and gently questioning you until you confess that your now ex-boyfriend has never gotten you there. And, since you'd never been able to get yourself there either, you were starting to think that there was something wrong with you.

"First of all,” Dean says with a grin, his emerald eyes glinting mischievously "There's nothing wrong with you. Second of all, stop saying there like it's a geographical location."

"Yeah well it may as well be," you snap back, still feeling embarrassed and crossing your arms over your chest, "And nobody gave me the damn map to get there."

Dean raises an eyebrow at you, cocky smile firmly in place. "I bet I could get you there in twenty minutes or less.”

So here you were, stretched out on your best friend's bed, a little distracted by your own thoughts as Dean slides your jeans down your legs. You’re still worrying that you're going to end up embarrassing the both of you if this doesn’t happen, but Dean insisted that if he couldn't do it he'd do all your laundry for an entire month and fuck passing up an opportunity as golden as that.

“Hey,” you feel Deans hands on your thighs gently, as he looks up at you with concern. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want.”

“No, I want to,” you say firmly. “I’m just…”

“Stop worrying,” Dean smiles, already reading your mind. “You’re either about to get a mind-blowing orgasm, or your laundry done for the next month. I’m pretty sure that’s a win win for you.”

A laugh bursts out of you before you can help it and you find yourself completely relaxed as Dean pulls your knees up over his shoulders and puts his face between your thighs, effectively stopping your giggle with an “Oh!”

Dean works quickly, his fingers finding your core and slipping inside you while his tongue locates your clit and starts to draw teasing figure of eights on the sensitive nub before gently sucking it.

Every so often your back arches off the bed and you feel him smirk smugly against your centre. The symphony of your low moans and his fingers slipping through your wetness seems to spur him on and you feel your grip tightening on his bedsheets.

The coil in your stomach winds tighter and tighter until it finally, finally snaps and you scream, your whole body convulsing as your core clenches and your thighs shake and your toes curl.

Dean pulls his fingers out of you and you immediately feel the emptiness, whimpering at the loss. His face appears from between your legs, mouth wet with your juices. He licks his lips with a huge grin and eyes dancing with amusement.

"By my watch, that was twelve minutes," he smirks, "But let me do it again and I'll throw in the laundry for the hell of it?”

#dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #Dean Winchester smut #dean winchester x female reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #smut #room mates au #spn #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #iprobablyshipit91 writes #Twenty Minutes or Less

[officialfoxsquadron]

this rough magic / i here abjure

nearly 2.6k words | my ao3

rating: mature

cw: depression, suicidal ideation

summary: Luke Skywalker cuts himself off from the Force.

His eyes are closed as he submerges his X-Wing below the water. It will be the last great display of Luke Skywalker’s Force ability, and he will not see it. He can sense it, feel the water filling the ship’s lungs and choking its engines. 

Better this way, he reckons. His X-Wing is a relic of a younger time, a younger man. It ferried him across the stars, survived countless scrapes with TIE fighters.

The galaxy has fallen apart, and a new generation will be sitting in the cockpits of X-Wings, watching as friends and comrades die, laughing as they narrowly escape death themselves. Poe Dameron, who Luke had once held in his arms on Echo Base, a tiny, red thing with jet-black hair, was apparently leading a squadron himself.

He felt like vomiting.

He opened his eyes. There it was, the drowned corpse of his ship. Even from this height, he could still see the slot where mechanics used to lower in Artoo. He closed his eyes again, took a deep breath.

Artoo. The droid would forgive Luke. Eventually. He had left Artoo with part of a map, some half-crazed fantasy that the galaxy may still have need of him. The fantasy had left him as he navigated alone to Ahch-To.

He was not a young man, as his body so often reminded him. In all his travels, he had not yet found a Force ability that could fully stop the slow, methodical march of time. Once, he could have made the long journey with ease, and still find energy to spare. Once, the thought of flying into the Unknown Regions, to the first Jedi temple, a place he had only visited in visions, would have thrilled him.

There was only one thing left to do now. Cut himself off from the Force, and wait for death to finally claim him. It would take constant effort to maintain. Ahch-To was a place teeming with the Force, an isle of strange music and strange creatures. The planet had twin suns-an irony he may have laughed at once. He found no joy in it now. The planet was too far away from its suns for any dry heat or sandy dunes, things that could have offered him some nostalgic comfort. Rather, it was a wet planet. Cold, and wet, with salt sprays and mossy, craggy rocks. The kind of weather that chilled your very bones, that offered you no escape from its dreariness.

He sat on a rocky outcropping, watching the little birds as they squawked closer to his X-Wing, curiosity overtaking their fear. The Lanai, the nuns who had been guarding this place for millenia, hardly took notice of his presence. They seemed to know his intentions, and left him to it.

Hmph. Better for it , he thought. He wondered how long the creatures lived. Time worked differently here. It was a place that had aged thousands of years, and yet not at all, where one could live thirty lifetimes in a day, where one could remain the same until the end of time. There was one person, maybe, who could have figured out how it really worked, how the island’s clock ticked, who could sync themselves to its beating heart. But she was long gone.

He took a bite of his ration bar, one of his last. Food seemed ample enough, thankfully. Not like the marshes of Dagobah, where he learned to be grateful for slimy frog stew. He didn’t mind fish. He could survive on fish.

He finished the bar, set it aside, and closed his eyes, steadied himself.

Yes, this work would take constant maintenance. Truthfully, though, the act itself would be the easiest thing in the world.

“Don’t do this.”

He opened his eyes. A noise escaped his throat, part laughter, part groan. “Go away.”

“Son.”

What a sight they must make. His father always appeared to him as younger. Not the old man he had died as, bitter and sad, but during the Clone Wars; young, handsome. He understood why. He doesn’t want to remember Darth Vader either. He wondered if the Lanai could see the twenty-something war hero lecturing his son, a man now in his forties. 

“Father, please. I’m not changing my mind.”

Luke had forgiven his father, yes. He would always fight for his goodness, yes. But it was in moments like these he wished desperately to speak to his mother, to be comforted by her. He had always respected his father. He even liked his father, sometimes. But he did not want to hear Anakin Skywalker’s thoughts on this matter.

“Then at least let me spend these last few moments with my son.”

Luke blinked. His father’s face may never have aged, but his eyes had. He looked tired, like he had on the Death Star.

They shared that, at least.

Anakin sat next to him. Luke glanced again at his submerged X-Wing.

He left Artoo behind. Artoo, who was the only one left who had known his father during the Clone Wars. Who would recognize the ghost seated next to him.

“This is drastic, Luke,” Anakin said, after a moment. “Cutting yourself off from the Force-”

“I see no other way forward.” This was not something he took lightly. It had come to him during meditation. He had plenty of time on the long flight from Ossus, and even before he was Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master, legend , he found the vast expanses of hyperspace comforting. It was easy to ruminate on the universe when the stars streaked around you.

The names of his dead students beat against his heart, dark and foreboding.

Hennix. Tai. Voe. Each syllable a bass drum, each name another failure.

“Do you know their names? The children from the Temple?” He did not need to specify which ones. 

Anakin nodded. “There was one. Reva. She came after you when you were a child. Otherwise, no. I can’t remember their names. Only their faces.”

He saw his student’s faces too, bloody, half-charred, smoking. And the smell. Yes, he had warned his students against violence; had told them their lightsabers were only to be used in self-defense. Truthfully, his warnings were a desperate plea. He had hoped they would never have to smell it, the smoking, putrid, sickly-sweet smell of burning flesh. It was the smell of Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru, burning on Tatooine. It was the smell of his right hand being ripped from his body, seconds away from when his father first revealed his true self. It was the smell of his father’s corpse, burning as the rest of the galaxy celebrated. Now, it was the smell of his greatest failure. 

Ben had accompanied him on enough adventures to know his weaknesses. When he called down the lightning storm, it triggered that rising feeling in his belly, a dreadful familiarity. He could do nothing but submit to the pounding in his head as his body convulsed involuntarily, as his legs gave way and he fell to the ground. His nephew’s lip curled in victory, and Ben started down his dark path.

When his seizure broke, he was greeted by that smell, the sight of ash and smoke, his life’s work razed to the ground, and the burning corpses of children, the only children he ever had. Rage narrowed his vision, and all he could think of was driving a lightsaber through his nephew’s heart.

His nephew. Leia’s son. That was who he wanted to kill.

He thought of her as he studied his father’s face. Leia, his sister, Anakin’s daughter, who he had tortured mercilessly, never sensing the shared blood between them. He couldn’t see his daughter, but he could commit genocide in her name.

He was disgusted. He was angry. He was confused, in a way he hadn’t been for a long time. He felt half a child again, wondering why tears pricked at his aunt’s eyes when she spoke of his mother, or why his uncle grumbled with distaste at his father’s name.

Of course his father appeared to him now. His anger was his father’s anger. And his father had a way of opening old wounds, of cutting through scar tissue. No wonder Leia never forgave him. Even now, he was a hard man to forgive.

There was only one way forward.

He had to make it stop. He couldn’t trust himself anymore. His mind wasn’t what it was.

Not for the first time, he envied the dead. His father did not have to endure a human body any longer. 

“Did you ever speak to Ben?”

“You know I didn’t.” Anakin rarely appeared to anyone besides Luke. His father paused. Then-

“Do you think it would have changed things?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. It seems he idolized Darth Vader. And I missed it.”

“It’s not your fault,” Anakin insisted.

“My seizures have been getting worse.” Easier to speak facts, rather than stories. “I tried to contain his darkness. I thought I could. It wasn’t enough.”

“It was enough for me.”

“And it wasn’t for him.”

“You place too much on yourself.”

“Because too much has been expected of me!” Luke’s voice thundered against the rocks. “Luke Skywalker, the great Jedi Master. Your son.” He hissed out the word, the great burden of his life. “Truthfully, Father, what would you do? If it was your apprentice?” He barked out a laugh. I wish Ben was here. How many times would he think that same sentence in his life?

“I don’t know,” Anakin answered honestly.

“Of course not.” He held his head in his hands, felt tears well in his eyes, more from frustration than anything. “I am glad you’re here, Father. But you will not sway me from this path.”

His father blinked, nodded. “I am proud of you. Both of you.”

“Thanks,” Luke grumbled half-heartedly. He felt too old and too young all at once.

What was there left to say to his father? It had been twenty years since he last saw him in life, and they had plenty of time to speak to one another. He had yelled at his father, raged at him for all of the hurt he caused. He cried to his father, about the ones he had lost.

What a curse our blood is . He could call down the heavens, commune with a thousand generations of Jedi masters, but he couldn’t speak to the ones he needed most. His mother, his aunt, his uncle, his wife, they were all lost to him, sand slipping through his fingers.

Feelings came in flashes-guilt, anger, sadness-but they left just as quickly. He struck his nephew down, but he couldn’t kill him. Not because he didn’t want to. Because when he saw Ben Solo trembling beneath him, bleeding, clutching to his weapon, he didn’t feel anything at all.

He walked away from his nephew and his band of fanatics, leaving them to their smoking wasteland. He left behind the droid who had been his closest friend. He left behind his twin, the woman he shared a womb with. He left behind Han, his brother.

He looked at his father, who was gazing out across the sea, at the twin suns setting. He understood why, as Darth Vader, his father wore a mask. Like his son, he had never perfected the ability of hiding his emotions. His father wasn’t Obi-Wan, the great diplomat, as comfortable in a seedy bar as a grand stateroom. And he certainly wasn’t Padmé Amidala. He had never seen a picture of his mother where her smile reached her eyes. All that was left of her was stiff formality.

A ghost with tears in his eyes was a strange thing.

“I always loved the water,” Anakin said. His voice sounded like an old man’s, rickety, weary. “It seemed so inviting.”

He knew his father was thinking of Varykino Villa, where he and his mother had married. He had been there himself-like his father, he visited Varykino as a young man, idealistic and in love. When he and Lottie were smuggled into Naboo, intent on liberating the planet, they landed on Varykino’s secluded shores. They were greeted with a palace in disrepair, a haunted house masquerading as an insurgent base. He too, had spent long hours gazing at the water, dreaming of a life he could have lived without war.

Luke followed his father’s eyes. The suns had finished their journey below the horizon, and Ahch-To’s waters had turned black and blue.

How easy would it be, to slip into the blackness, dash his head against the rocks, let his mighty Skywalker blood mingle with the water, return to the primordial place where his father was conceived. Perhaps he could be young again, like his father. Perhaps he could see his wife again. Perhaps he could meet his mother.

“It’s time,” Luke said, voice clear despite the howling wind. “Goodbye, Father.”

“Goodbye, son.” His father’s eyes met his. Tears fell down Luke’s cheeks.

Luke closed his eyes.

This will be the hardest part, he lied. After this, things will be easier.

He saw stars whizzing before him, lines of spacetime burning blue against the darkness. His physical body dissolved, and he was nothing and everything all at once. A golden cord of light unspooled from his core. It wove itself into the very fabric of the galaxy, light and darkness in equal measure.

He reached out. The island roared, a great and terrible sound. Images flashed before him, too many to count, too many lives, too many memories. Rocks began to tumble off of the cliff. His father’s apparition is nothing more than another star blowing past.

Luke Skywalker inhaled creation and exhaled destruction. Stars and golden light and terrible darkness danced around him. He touched the part of the cord attached to himself.

For one last moment, he allowed himself to feel.

A young student smiles as the rock next to them begins to lift. Luke looks on in pride. His nephew looks on in envy, unable to lift his own.

There aren’t enough painkillers on Echo Base. When Shara Bey gives birth, Luke can hear her screams from the hangar bay. When Poe Dameron enters the galaxy, crying as passionately as his mother, an entire army sighs in relief.

The cords of light shook, as if plucked, the strings of a harp. He watches his wife’s skirts twirl around her as she dances to the music of the universe, a tune which only she seems to hear. They are on a planet called Ossus. She is nineteen. He is twenty. Time slows. It speeds up. It stays the same. It does not matter. Lottie hikes up her skirts, and begins to run towards the house, her beaming, lopsided smile sharp and comforting as moonlight. They are half-wild here, letting their hair grow long and their touches linger. They have never been happier.

A wizard drops off a boy in the desert. The man and woman promise to love him, and they will. The wizard nods. For the first time since Polis Massa, Luke’s cries soften when Beru holds him. He knows he is safe.

The Jedi have ripped a family apart, but what choice did they have?

They could only make the best of what they were given.

“Luke.” Leia’s voice was raspy, tired.

“Leia,” he said, breath trembling. “I’m sorry.” You deserve better. Better than all of this.

He reached for the weapon at his belt, ignited its green flame. He grasped hold of the cord, and cut.

#my writing #luke skywalker fanfiction #luke skywalker one-shot #happy dilf!luke friday everyone. here is my gloomy sad contribution #eowyn speaks #luke skywalker

[telomeke]

THE SIGN EPISODE 4 – MUCHNESS IN THE MIX (BUT THE NAGA AND GARUDA STILL PEEK THROUGH THE MUDDLE)

This episode of The Sign somehow managed to be a LOT and yet not quite enough (for me) at the same time.

After the languid pacing of Ep.3, set in far-off, semi-rural Nong Khai and punctuated only sporadically with moments of drama and foreboding, Ep.4 took a jarring tonal leap back into the darker, sleeker world of modern Bangkok as the boys got stuck into their day jobs as newbie investigators for a mysterious crime involving rape, abduction, torture, murder and media manipulation. 👀

Maybe it's just me, but the show is starting to show signs of having bitten off more than it can chew – with aspirations to being a fantasy, a procedural crime drama, a supernatural thriller, a comedy and a love story. Is it some of the above? All of it? At the same time? It's early days, but there are hints it may be going down the same meandering path trod by KinnPorsche, flailing in several directions on a whim. (At least KinnPorsche flailed with style, but I'm not sure The Sign has quite the luxury of a Romsaithong budget to ladle on the bucketloads of sugary gloss needed to make a ramshackle raft of uncohesive elements at least superficially appealing to the palate, if not exactly good for your soul.)

Don't get me wrong though. I think there is a place for the mixing and even blending of genres in media, and there is a long history of this in the Asian cinematic universe (what's coming to mind are Bollywood/Kollywood films in which a mafia tale can also be a love story and musical for example – echoes of KinnPorsche here, though most of KP's musical bits were tacked on in the after-concerts – and also Hong Kong movies of decades past where a martial arts movie could also be a slapstick comedy and nobody would bat an eyelid).

A culinary metaphor might be the easiest (laziest) way of making my point: the mile-long ingredient list and complex spicing of a curry may seem like you're inviting nothing but clashing and competition in the claypot, but careful dosing can stew them up into a sumptuous, unified result. And the myriad of ingredients in East and Southeast Asian noodle soups and flash stir-fries not only foreground contrasting textures and flavors in a single dish but actually celebrate them. Both approaches assert that artful assemblage and the right dosage can bring together disparate components (that might seem uneasy companions in their raw and uncombined state) to finish up with a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts.

I'm no media expert (necessary caveat inserted here) but I think The Sign needs quite a lot more finessing with all that it's taken on, and getting the proportions, mixing and balance correct will be the tricky bit given the wildly contrasting ingredients they've already added to the pot. I'm not convinced KinnPorsche got it right and I have concerns The Sign may slide down that slope too (if Ep.4 is anything to go by).

Even the acting is starting to betray the fact that Kruu A's assured directorial hand, so evident in the first three episodes, is possibly losing its grip on all the disparate threads and themes. (It's not too late for him to pull it back though, so I think the next two episodes or so will be critical to see if The Sign can live up to the promise of its first three episodes.)

I think this loss of control is especially noticeable in Billy's acting for Ep.4 – his thespian chops had been confident and dependable enough in Episodes 1 to 3 (even during the high tension fight scenes and especially during the quieter emotional interludes with Babe). But in Ep.4 he crossed the line repeatedly and was visibly overacting in almost every take. I'm guessing they needed to amp up the energy level of his portrayal since Phaya is supposed to be a hot-headed garuda after all. But I think the actorly resources currently at Billy's disposal don't quite allow him to pull off the bigger emotions and scenes with authenticity, not just yet anyway. (Babe showed characteristic restraint throughout though, and I thought he consistently did a good job.)

Unfortunately Billy wasn't the only one falling short in the acting department; the extras and bit players were also allowed to ham it up no end (yes, I'm sorry for the kid who was sexually assaulted, but the hysteria on display was jarringly and completely inauthentic, and drew more mockery to the predicament rather than sympathy, which is such a shame). 🤷‍♂️

Special mention also for the OTT expressions of the investigative group during each team meeting – they all appeared to be reacting exactly in unison to every turn of events, whether it was exaggerated focus on new findings, flinching in collective disappointment whenever their leads were thwarted, or looking around suspiciously and suddenly when it was suggested the murderer might be one in their midst. It looked far too much like a group of actors responding to instructions from outside in, rather than a team of individuals reacting from inside out, each with their own agency but choosing to align themselves as one. And this should have been weeded out by the director, since we know this team was largely able to deliver on the acting front in the first three episodes.

I stand with Inspector Akk whose confused expression in most of the group scenes seemed to be saying "What the hell is going on here?" 🤣

(above) "Inspector" Akk Akarat Nimitchai: "What is going on? Why am I here? Why did I listen to my agent? I am an Actor!"

Although this is probably just The Sign telling us that Akk knows more than he's letting on, and the newbies he's assigned are doing a far better job than he thought they would (and which is maybe not the desired outcome?). 🤔

Anyway the writers dialled back somewhat on the naga/garuda mythology in Episode 4 to shine more light on the NCIS-style criminal investigation, and this isn't doing The Sign any favors because the mythological themes roiling beneath the surface were what set this series apart in the first place and made it such a fascinating watch.

We still got to see some of it though. Whenever the naga and garuda's inner energies are especially stoked, the lighting often plays along (e.g., the brightly sparkling lights that accompany garuda Phaya charging up his batteries at Ep.1 [4/4] 14.20 and Ep.3 [2/4] 19.07, PhayaTharn's toilet encounter at Ep.2 [4/4] 9.12, the Mekong rescue at Ep.3 [2/4] 19.18, and Tharn's erotic dream of him and Phaya having shower sex at Ep.4 [2/4] 5.52). When it's fiery garuda Phaya and watery naga Tharn experiencing this together, the lighting dances between warm tones (suggesting the flames of the garuda) and cooler blues (suggesting the watery world of the naga).

I think that's why they made such a big deal with the blue and red lighting in this scene:

Phaya and Tharn have just survived an encounter with an armed and possibly insane killer. The flashing lights (blue for the marine naga, red for the fiery garuda) quite literally signal them recouping their respective beast energies after their near-death experience. (I also like that in the screenshot above, the light on Phaya is blue while the light on Tharn is red – each seems to be reflecting what the other is giving off. 👍)

There are also a few other examples of the naga and garuda dynamics in Episode 4, if we look a bit more closely.

Naga Tharn really had to fight to overcome his aversion to the flames in the abandoned mental facility (the Molotov cocktail is also I think a callback to the naga fireballs of the previous episode); garuda Phaya on the other hand breached the fire without a second thought.

But in hand-to-hand combat with the masked Molotov man (an agent of the malevolent naga out to get him and Tharn I suppose) Phaya is swiftly overcome – take a look at where they're fighting though (at Ep.4 [3‌/4] 12.25); it's a forest clearing right at the water's edge (with water being the nagas' stronghold, while it seems to weaken garuda Phaya's abilities).

When Phaya insists he and Tharn have dinner, it's at a hot-pot place (a culinary experience of both fire and boiling water at the table, another metaphor for the coming together of the naga and garuda). And the red and blue lighting of the restaurant also pays homage to the mythological pairing:

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When Tharn is cooking breakfast for him and Phaya, it seems the sizzling on the stove is all it takes to remind him of his sex dream with hot-as-fire Phaya (although that is likely an induction hob though, not an open flame 🤣):

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And when offered the breakfast, Phaya lets us know in no uncertain terms he prefers the more liquid option (just as his garuda self has chosen a waterworld naga):

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OK so on to the most direct reference yet to the fantasy world-building in Episode 4 of The Sign – the visitation from the mysterious old woman spouting warnings and exhortations to Tharn and Phaya:

Her serpent bracelet and subsequent physical transformation show that she is most likely a nagini from Tharn's past life, come to warn the pair that the vengeful naga whom Tharn betrayed previously (see Heng Asavarid's interview spoiler here) is nearby and out to get them (remembering also that at least some of the nagas have the power to shapeshift).

My guess is her golden eyes and general coloration at Ep.4 [1‌/4] 15.40 are signaling that she's Wanwisa, Tharn's sister in his previous life as a naga:

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Going off-tangent just a little, the mysterious gran/golden dragon lady is another example of a wise and mysterious elder popping into a Thai drama to dispense life-saving wisdom.

Not sure if it's enough to be a trope, but The Sign's psychic gran calls to mind a couple of other almost deus-ex-machina plot-helpers:

the loong with the time-portal crystal ball in Be My Favorite; and

the wise monk at the end of Nang Nak (the Sine Inthira version).

There are surely others (but I just can't recall them at the moment). I also can't help but think Uncle Tong in Bad Buddy fits this mold as well, because his wise, unworldly advice helped PatPran re-think and re-chart their lives (except that Director Aof had the good sense not to spring this sage and magical loong on us at the very last minute, and introduced him to us earlier in BBS Ep.6).

Anyway, on to Ep.5 of The Sign. I can't wait to see what's in store, and hope they can get the series back on track! 💖

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#the sign #the sign the series #the sign episode 4 #naga and garuda #billy patchanon #babe tanatat #phayatharn #billybabe