#We're sort of getting on track though! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 3 months

Text

Datura Pt 2

Author's Note: I initially wrote Part I and 2 as one piece but it was too long, so here's the next part :) Not sure how long this fic will be, but buckle up 'cause it'll be a good ol' enemies to lovers, political intrigue fic for however long it takes for me to figure out an ending.

Summary: Something has been hunting you for your powers and it's finally caught up with you. A Rhysand x Reader UTM What If.

Content Warnings: Suggestiveness, a little NSFW near the end, before we get to the ANGST (we're gonna suffer but we're gonna like it); that red headed bitch makes her first appearance; bit of cursing; canon typical violence.

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

All attempts at speaking fail, your mouth opening and closing without any sounds coming out. Your head spins, mind reeling. This can’t be real, can’t be happening. That tonic from the priestesses had to have something weird in it. This was a hallucination.

Yes. Hallucination, that had to be it.

“We can’t stay here,” says the male, his large hands still tight on your shoulders. There’s a coppery scent on him, something damp on the edge of his shirt sleeve, brushing against the exposed skin of your shoulder. Blood. He’d been the thing those other guys were screaming at.

Your stomach twists, heart slamming in yours ears, sounding like drum beats again. No. No that wasn’t your heartbeat at all, that was the drums outside. Great, while the Spring Court was having a giant orgy you were lost in some sort of cave with… what even was this male?

Was he even fae? You still can’t see a thing in the dark.

You recover yourself enough to step out of his grip. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” your voice trembles as you speak, hands shaking at your sides. You’re defenseless out here, even with your own magic, you've never managed to control it enough to use it. “I can’t even see you.”

A mistake. You shouldn’t have admitted to it.

A flicker of light flares, glittering and spinning like…

Stars. There are actual, tiny, glittering stars swirling around his fingertips. The glittering light illuminates the walls, much higher overhead than you’d thought initially. There is much more room to move around in general, but the darkness had been so thick you’d mistaken it for rocks. The light doesn’t pierce all the way through though, only the space between the two of you, the darkness beyond still moving and shifting like a wall. Your eyes track it back to the towering male ahead of you, the darkness drifting off him like a mist. Not the darkness of the cave at all, but one of his own making. It moves on his whim around the two of you, a bit of it still caressing your spine, your bare legs, while the rest hovers like some sort of bubble. A shield perhaps, you know the High Fae can make them, but it is just as likely to be a cage.

You try to summon claws, focusing your thoughts into getting your hands to change, shift, but nothing happens. Nothing but a slight twinge of pain in your skull.

As if he knows it, feels it, the stranger reaches a star flecked hand out to brush a tendril of hair off your forehead, his callused hands warm against your flushed skin. You shiver despite yourself.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he says. That voice is rich, low, a lover’s purr.

He is fae, not the monster you had initially suspected. You aren’t sure what people usually wear on Calanmai, but the dark pants, the loose fitting shirt, half unbuttoned to reveal a swirl of dark ink across his bronze chest, and boots seems out of place. As if he’s over-dressed. Half a dozen rings glitter in the starlight spinning between his slender fingers, but you cannot ignore the blood that’s dusted over them.

“What happened to the others that came into the cave?”

A shadow passes over his face, dark brows furrowing. He’s a gorgeous male, by far the most handsome male you’d ever seen in your life, but that look, as the glow in his eyes dims, pupils expanding so there was nothing but endless darkness… it's like looking at the paintings of the Death Gods you’ve seen in your books. The shadow at your back writhes as if agitated, only settling once the look has passed and the violet returns to his eyes.

“They wanted to hurt you,” a low growl.

You shiver. “Why’d you call me out here then, if it’s unsafe?”

He tilts his head, a predator assessing prey, only cold calculations in that gaze. It’s an effort not to squirm under the scrutiny. “It’s not safe there either.”

“In my home?” You counter.

“In Spring,” he returns.

“Spring is perfectly safe, it’s practically the only place that-”

He moves faster than you can blink, clamping a hand over your mouth. “Don’t speak things like that in places like this!” He hisses. It’s not anger on his face, though, it is fear. You feel the chill of it seep through the bubble of darkness he’s created. His whole body shakes with it.

What do males with this kind of power fear?

It makes you nervous, wondering, but not as much as having a stranger put their hands on you. You sink your teeth into the flesh of his palm so hard you draw blood, and as he yanks his hand back, you move to run. Only to find the shadows blocking your path, no longer wisps, but solid, like adamant. You practically bounce off it.

“Let me out,” you order.

He stares down at his hand with a smirk, amused. “That was cheap.”

“I don’t like being touched by strangers,” you hiss. “Now let me out or I’ll really fucking bite you.”

He chuckles and the sound of it skitters over your bones, makes a whole other type of shiver run across your skin. Perhaps that’s part of the magic of Calanmai, the ability to remove the usual inhibitions and allow the souls to merge as the magic of the land demands. You quietly curse yourself for being so powerless against it. With enough training you should have been able to shield from it, but there’s no time for it now.

“What if I like being bitten, hm?” He teases.

“Then you’ll love when I rip your fucking throat out with my teeth.”

He takes a step closer and tilts his chin up, baring the full expanse of his throat to you. “I’ll let you, but then, how would your find a way out of the cave?”

“Bastard,” you snarl, but you can’t stop yourself from watching the way his throat works when he swallows, the way he grins at the roof, watching you, calculating what your next move will be. He knows he has you right where he wants you, it’s like watching a cat play with a mouse.

He slowly lowers his chin, still grinning. “It’s this way,” he gestures with a hand and the wall of shadows moves further into the cave.

You stare after it, than at him. “Isn’t the entrance the other way?”

“Trust me.”

“I don’t even know your name, why would I trust you?”

He reaches out and grabs your hand, but before you can pull away from him again, he’s pressing your knuckles to his lips. They’re surprisingly soft against your skin; electricity shooting through you, as he says in a voice made for the bedroom, “Rhys.”

Rhys, Darkness Incarnate, apparently. His name was an answer to a question you’d been asking yourself the last couple of years. Strange as the circumstance are, he fits exactly what you’d imagined the voice that had hounded you would sound like. Putting a face to the voice was strangely comforting, like there was no longer some strange threat hanging around your head every year anymore.

“I’m Y/N.”

You’re sure you’re an idiot for telling him. It’s not like he’s dropping the shield and letting your run out, it’s still there, caging you in as you move through the cave, side by side. Just because he’s leading you somewhere doesn’t mean it’s somewhere good, this very well could be a trap. Your head hurts trying to figure out what’s real, what’s likely. You’re not entirely convinced this still isn’t a hallucination.

He tries your name out on his tongue, nodding to himself, like he’d been looking for the answer to a question too.

Your heart clenches in your chest at the sight. There is something lonely about him you can’t quite place.

“Has it really been you, calling me these last couple years?” You ask softly; you’re trapped down here with him, might as well pass the time until you get to whatever bitter end awaits you.

He nods as you take a sharp left and descend down further at a slopping angle that has you holding onto the walls for support. It’s colder the deeper you go, despite the budding summer heat the rest of the court is feeling outside. You’re trembling as the path goes from soft sand to smooth, icy stone, the rock seeping all heat from your body on contact.

“Yes,” Rhys confesses. He stops for a moment, head tilted to the side like he’s listening for something, more shadows leaking from him, slipping through the shield to do Mother knows what.

When he looks back at you, his eyes are dark, sad. “It’s not safe.” He repeats. “I was trying to warn you.”

You run your hands over your arms, trying to get some heat back. Without a thought he’s unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it over your shoulders. The move if effortless, gentle, so at odds with what’s happening you can’t do anything other than slide your arms into the too big sleeves and pull it tight around you on sheer muscle memory. Its warm; the scent of jasmine and citrus and the sea all over it. You strangely want to bury yourself in it, until that scent is burned into your skin, your lungs, until it’s the only thing you breath. Calanmai at work, you can only assume.

With a hand on your back he prompts you forward again, even as he continues. “I didn’t know what else to do, it was my only chance to reach you.” His palm takes up the expanse of your lower back, you are so small next to him.

“But why me?”

The swirling tattoos cross over his chest and back, leaving a small gap between his shoulders, like there’s something supposed to be there, some small piece of him missing in those gaps between the ink. The urge to run your fingers over them is almost overwhelming, you have to pull your hands into his shirtsleeves to stop yourself.

“You’re-” he pauses and you swear you hear claws scratching somewhere above you.

Instinctively, before you can stop and think about what you’re doing, you press yourself closer to him. It’s the most natural thing in the world for him to slide an arm around your shoulders and pull you against his side. He’s all sleek muscle, a warrior’s build, though he carries no visible weapons. Perhaps, with powers like these he doesn’t need any.

The shield shudders around the two of you as he draws it in so close there is no room to move away from him.

You don’t dare speak again, the stillness he radiates tells you enough.

Several long minutes pass before the shield moves outward again and he gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze signaling that the two of you should press on.

“What do you know of your parents?” He says finally, loosing a sigh of relief.

“I don’t even remember them,” you say. “What do you know of them?”

“I fought against your father in the War,” he replies .

Your father was a soldier?

“He’s a very powerful male,” he continues but all you can focus on the choice of words, the current tense, as if your father is still alive. “As was your mother.”

Your head spins; he grips you a little tighter like he knows it.

“There are a lot of powerful people who would like to get their hands on your power,” he says.

Its an effort to swallow. “I don’t even know how to use them,” you whisper.

He winces. “You have no training?” It almost sounds like horror in his voice.

You stare down at your hands, like their the source of all your problems. “My uncle said they would just… click.”

“Cauldron boil me,” he curses.

“I take it that’s not what you were hoping to hear?”

The cave split into four directions, one way covered with stalagmites dripping a strange glowing liquid, another bursting with flowers, a third full of rubble, the fourth the only clear path out. You go to that one, cautiously, Rhys keeping his head tilted, listening to what dangers might lay ahead.

“You’re vulnerable, is all,” Rhys says softly. “And there’s not enough time to change that now.”

A sense of foreboding lands in the pit of your stomach. “How much time do we have?”

“I have to be gone by sunrise,” he answers.

Gone, the foreboding turns into outright anxiety, stomach now twisting in knots. You resist the urge to reach out and take his hand. It’s nice having him here, you’re not ready to give this up just yet. “So there’s a reason you only call to me on Calanmai?”

He only nods.

“What happens if you’re still here by sunrise?”

He runs his tongue over his full lower lip, thinking.

“Are you like a vampire or something? Do you go poof?” You make an exploding gesture with your hands and he laughs, the echo bouncing off the shield. You’re not sure why it’s the laugh that makes you decide to trust him fully. Maybe some naïve part of you thinks if he meant you harm he wouldn’t be laughing at your stupid jokes.

“No,” he says, hand on his stomach as he fights to catch his breath. “Nothing like that.”

You watch the way his muscles shift as he catches his breath, the way his chest rises and falls. You’d like nothing more than to run your tongue along the sharp planes of him. You can’t stop yourself from wondering if you’d be able to taste the jasmine and citrus on his skin if you did.

“You’re sure? Let me see your teeth?”

He flashes you a grin that makes your stomach do flips. “See? No fangs.”

You turn towards him, pressing in closer, teasingly assessing, like you’re unsure. Calanmai has made you bold, you have to admit. Even with the new time limit closing down on you, you can’t help but stop for just a minute to enjoy this side of the male before you.

“So what are you then? If you have to work under the moon?”

“I’ve been many things,” he says, his eyes drifting down to your lips.

“And right now, what are you?” You press.

“Right now…” he places a hand on your hip and pulls you flush against him. “Right now I’m all yours, Darling.”

You must be somewhere close to where the party is happening above, because you can hear the drums again, as if the music is beating from within the rocks of the cave walls, the reverberations vibrating under your skin. It’s too much, too loud, pushing you closer to him, the silence that fills your head when he touches you the only way to make the noise stop.

Perhaps this was the plan the whole time: Get you away from the crowds, somewhere secluded, get you to trust him, to embrace him, but you can’t stop yourself from stretching up on your toes to kiss him. Did it matter in the end? He groans as he deepens the kiss, one star flecked hand sliding into the strands of your hair, angling your head for him to easily swipe his tongue into your mouth. The kiss is demanding, but soft somehow, like he’s desperate for it, you, but not holding so tight that you can’t pull away from him if you want.

The shadows return, dancing over your skin, skittering higher and higher up your thighs, across your waist, your chest. You let your own hands explore the broad expanse of his chest, skin silky and warm beneath your fingertips.

If this was the plan all along, you don’t care. This is good.

He tastes like starlight, like the night chilled wind across a calming sea. It conjures one in your mind, gentle waves lapping at a moonlight shore; there’s music floating across the water, the sounds faint and distant but much more soothing than the demand of the drums above you.

All too soon he’s pulling away from you, gentle kisses placed against the corners of your lips, your chin, the underside of your jaw. “Wish we had more time,” he whispers into your skin. “Want to take my time with you.”

You’re absolutely molten, very aware of how soaked your panties are, just barely covered by your thin shift. Any other night you might have had more presence of mind to be mortified that you were so wet just from kissing someone, but not tonight. Tonight it makes sense, is the only thing that makes sense.

He brushes his nose along the column of your throat, scenting you. “We really should keep moving,” but his hand trails down your front, tracing the valley between your breasts, sliding lower.

You tilt and kiss him again, hand tangling in his onyx hair. Nothing has ever felt as good as kissing him, you doubt anything else could ever compare. Unfair that you only have one night, one moment, you’re sure he’d ruin anyone else for you given the right amount of time.

He indulges you, just as hungry as before, hand still sliding lower, until he finds the hem of your panties through your shift.

You ache between your legs, have half a mind to beg and plead for him to touch you. Your feelings about Calanmai be damned, you want him to keep going, to kiss you, touch you, ruin you until the time he has left is spent.

Deft fingers find the hem of your shift, pulling it slowly upwards until he can bunch it up in his hand.

“Rhys,” you whimper into his lips.

His pupils are lust blown, lips kiss swollen and pink. “I know, I feel it too.”

You are used to the feeling of your power prowling beneath your skin, a caged animal begging to be released, this is not entirely different, but instead that power is replaced with him. You want, need, him everywhere. Need him to keep kissing, touching.

He slides his hand under your waistband, movements slow, precise, letting you indulge in the scrape of his callused hands over your soft skin. The movement alone is almost too much, your breath rasping out of you, trying not to squirm. He’s so close to where you need him…

“Rhysand!”

A female voice shakes the cave, the shield. Rhys jerks away from you like the voice hit him, eyes wide.

You grab onto the edges of his shirt and snap it closed around you like it will hide what you’ve been doing.

Footsteps echo, the cave shaking.

Rhys glances at you, eyes wide. “Stay quiet.” He says it in your mind, as easily as he has done for all these years. You don’t have time to ask how he can do it, or why, as he runs a hand through his hair, fixing it, before sliding out of the shield. It swallows you, tightening so you can’t run, can’t see what’s happening.

You barely dare to breath, as the footsteps stop not far from where you are. “Busy are we?” The shield can’t keep out the voice.

“Hunting as you asked, My Queen,” he says smoothly, casually.

Queen?

Whoever she is, she gives a mirthless laugh. “You call what you’re doing hunting now?”

“You said to use the caves-”

“I didn’t say fuck some whore in them,” she snarls. “I can smell her on you.”

You’re mortified enough to wonder if your powers could let you somehow dissolve into goo and melt into the floor.

“All part of the plan,” Rhys answers and your heart sinks as his words hit home.

“So you know where she is?”

“Of course,” Rhys says and the shield suddenly vanishes, the cold absence of it hitting you in a rush.

You give a little squeak of surprise, tightening his shirt around your exposed body as your eyes adjust to the soft gray light of the cave. You spent two much time here, the sun now rising outside.

The woman before you was tall, slender, eyes dark, mouth a cruel, pinched line. The blood red hair only serves to make her all the more pale and as she takes you in, her teeth flashing in a grin, you get the feeling that this what a wolf looks like when it sees a lamb.

“This little thing?” She stalks towards you and you take a step back, some instinctive, primal part of you recognizing that the more space between the two of you the better. You can still turn heal and run if she’s far enough away.

“Don’t worry, little one,” she coos at you, reaching out a claw tipped hand. Her blood red nails are sharpened to spikes, bit it’s the ring, with a swiveling, life like eye in the center that makes every muscle in your body tense up. “I’m here to help you.”

“Fuck off!” You hiss. There’s only one exit, the way she came, slopping upward, the floor clearly damp with morning dew. You’d need a good head start to make it up there first.

Rhys is watching you with the same intensity he’d kissed you with and you wish you had something to hurl at his head. You should have known better than to trust him.

“Quite the mouth on you,” she purrs. “I hope Rhysand put it to good use.”

Something in you chest cracks, a lump forming in your throat. You need to get out of his shirt, get the taste of him out of your mouth; he played you like a fiddle and if whoever this lady is hadn’t shown up, would have used you for his own amusement. And you would have let him.

“What do you want?” You bite out, inching closer to the exit.

“As I said,” she says slowly, like you’re too dumb to understand. “I’m here to help.”

“I don’t need help,” you throw a withering glance at the male. “From either of you.”

“Oh but that’s just not true, is it, little one?” She doesn’t move, but something feels wrong. You don’t know why, but your whole body suddenly freezes, heart slamming in your chest.

No not frozen, you’d move if you could, but you can’t. It’s as if something grabbed hold of you, held you in place.

“There are a lot of people looking for your, Princess.”

Princess? This is a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake.

“Oh she doesn’t know, does she?” She smirks at Rhys, who shakes his head in conformation.

“Imagine that, the daughter of the King of Hybern, raised a simple little farm hand,” she grins like she knows she’s won, even as your head spins.

Hybern. You knew the name from your history books, the King a ruthless tyrant who nearly destroyed Prythian to get back his human slaves. Your mouth is dry, your hands might have shook, could you move your body.

She curls her fingers in a come here motion and as if someone has you on strings like a puppet, you take two steps towards her. You try to dig your heels in, fight it, but the hold over you won’t budge. You walk until your close enough for her to graze the tips of her claws under your chin.

“There are a lot of bad people trying to find you, little one.”

The only thing you have full control over is your mouth, so you snarl and flash your teeth, wishing you had the ability to grow fangs, “I’m pretty sure you are the bad people, bitch!”

She smirks but the grip she takes on your chin is anything but kind, your jaw groaning under the crushing weight of her grip. Her nails draw blood, crimson trickling down your jaw. “Poor, delusional little thing. Don’t you worry, we’re going to take good care of you, aren’t we, Rhysand.”

He grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “Of course!”

“Your father will be very pleased to hear you’re alive,” she says to you.

To Rhys she says, “Bind her, I don’t want her trying to run again.”

You still can’t move, can’t flee. Some small piece of you wants to beg, plead for him to let you go, to prove you wrong about him, but you’re pride won’t let you. Not as more wisps of shadow curl around his wrists and hands like snakes, no more stars to be seen.

“I should have ripped out your throat,” you snarl.

The shadows jump from him, twining around your wrists and ankles, not the gentle caresses from earlier, tightening until you can barely move your fingers and toes.

Rhys grins at you, shrugs, but it’s in your mind that you hear the same quip from earlier, “I would have let you.” It’s not teasing this time though, it’s sad, haunted.

Doesn’t matter, he’s still checking your hands, tossing you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. You tell yourself you won’t cry here, won’t give either of these bastards the satisfaction, there will be a time for that later.

It’s not much farther before sunlight blinds you, only a few steps of Rhys’ long legs before you’re out of the cave. You’d been so close. It had been right there this whole time! Had you not been so distracted, had those stupid drums not been so loud you might have made it. Might have gotten to go home.

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader smut #utm!rhys x reader #rhysand fic #acotar fic #acotar smut #acotar series #my fanfic #my writing

296 notes · View notes

chlorinecake · 8 months

Text

ｃｏｎｖｅｎｉｅｎｔｃｈａｎｃｅｓ II

🎱 pairing: yandere!stalker!enhypen x fem!reader

🎱 cw: language, non-con kissing and touching, reader gets tortured-ish, slight dumbification, use of the nickname "doll"

🎱 wc: 3k — read part one and three here

YOU AWOKE TO the feeling of the once running vehicle coming to a complete stop, doors unlocking at every which side.

Niki nudged your exhausted body, “Rise and shine, sleepy head.” Meanwhile, Heeseung hooked his arms under your armpits, guiding you out of the car. Your legs hit the ground, drawing your attention to your surroundings. From what you could tell, it was still fairly late in the night, and you were in the middle of the woods. Not too unfamiliar of a scene to you, but still a good ways away from civilization.

Jake ran over to hold your feet, Heeseung and him now holding you in a hammock position. They carried you past a campfire to a ledge on the cliff where the rest of the boys were standing ominously, Sunoo deciding to stay back in the car.

“Now look. We're not gonna hurt you unless we have to, so consider this all an unruly warning. A reminder of who you belong to,” Jay slithered, grabbing a stick from the ground to trail your frightened features. “You're not making any sense, Jay! If this was all apart of your plan to get my attention, why’d you have to kill Mandy?”

The six boys exchanged looks, laughing hysterically at your pitiful state.

“We didn’t kill her, jackass,” Sunghoon spat.

“What do you think life is? Some sort of simulation where people do the same things every single day?”

“She got the night off,” Jake finished, “so I covered for her shift.”

You internally sighed in relief, "Great, so you’re just trying to scare me, then?”

Heeseung peered at you from above, “Are you scared?”

You spat in his face, causing him to snicker in amusement. He dropped one of your arms to wipe your spit from his face, holding you up by one arm. “I like her," he grinned, reached down to squeeze your cheek harshly.

Jay stuck the stick he held in the fire before sealing the red hot edge at the side of your waist.

“Ahhgg,” you groaned in pain, provoking Jay to dig the burning stick even further into your skin, “Don’t fuck this up for me, love. I'm trying to be nice here, and you're only making things more difficult.”

“Alright, ladies, let’s stay on track, please,” Jungwon complained, impatiently nudging Jay’s shoulder.

“Right. We’re gonna ask you a question. Though, there’s only one right answer.”

“W-wha-what?"

“Slow down, dummy. Let him finish,” Niki retorted at your stuttering.

“Fuck this, walk her to the ledge,” Sunghoon directed, Heeseung and Jake guiding your frame to the cliff, their grips tightening around your wrists and ankles the more you struggled against them.

“It’s like you want us to punish you,” Heeseung smirked, swinging you back in forth dangerously close to the edge, Jake chuckled at your trembling. You screwed your eyes shut, preferring not to see whether they’d actually throw you over the cliff or not.

Jay stood in the background, observing your terror before speaking.

“There are two ways this night can end, ____. One, you fight back and my boys will do with you as they please.”

Jungwon and Niki snickered to each other.

Your lower lip quivered at the sound of their devilish tone's, feeling your arms and legs go numb from the awkward position you hung at.

“Two, you and I continue our relationship as if nothing ever changed and you swear your loyalty to me.”

“Booooo,” Sunghoon whined sarcastically, “I like the first option better.”

“The choice is yours, love. So choose wisely.”

“Fuck," you groaned exhaustedly, "fine! I’ll go with you! Just please make them put me down!”

“Tsk tsk tsk. You were so close, love, but I’m not sure if I favor the delivery of your answer. Try again, sweetheart, I know you can do it.”

“J-Jay,” your voice cracked with frustration, feeling the two rascals starting to swing you again.

You hated that he persisted on making this a difficult situation for you, even though you had already complied. You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking away the moisture in your eyes before continuing.

“I’ll go with you, Jay. I swear, I won’t leave you again!”

“And?”

“And my love and loyalty belongs to you, Jay. Always and forever.”

The wilderness fell silent, the sound of your jagged breaths filling the atmosphere.

Jay kneeled down to meet your tired figure that hung in the air, pulling your face to his before kissing the corner of your lips.

“I know, my love. And I’ve worked so hard to make sure you finally know that, too.”

He gave Jake and Heeseung a look before they released your aching limbs from their hostile grasp, your body flopping on the rocky ground.

“Eugh,” you grunted as Jay pulled you into his hold.

“All of you get in the car!” Sunghoon ordered, rounding up the rest of the boys as Jay carried you to the vehicle, dropping his friends off at their places before bringing you back to his house.

Your new “home.”

THE NEXT DAY, you and Jay were at a fancy restaurant just like old times. He bought you the most lovely black dress and stilettos to wear for the evening, complimented with pearl accents that matched his fancy wrist watch. It had been a while since you went out for food other than the convenience store, especially not with your ex-boyfriend.

He pulled your chair out for you before sitting at the other side of the table, analyzing the menu before initiating small talk.

“So, how’s life been? We haven't had many opportunities to catch up in a while.”

You ran a finger over the dish titles under the plastic covering of the menu, “I don’t see the point in discussing my life details with you when I’m sure you’ve already seen everything.”

Jay paused for a moment as if hitting a brick wall, clenching his jaw at your reply.

“Can’t you see I’m trying here, ____?” He pleaded, looking into your frustrated eyes, “I know I can’t take back what I’ve done to you, but this is a start. I already explained that my intentions were noble, I just-“ he paused again.

“You’re just crazy about me, right? Is that it?” You teased, crossing your legs under the table.

Jay snickered, showcasing his cat-like teeth.

“See? I knew you understood me,” he feigned glee, peering in a little closer over the table before whispering, “now stop disrespecting me or I’ll take your ass home and demonstrate just how crazy you make me.” His hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze that didn’t match the cruel nature of his words.

What was wrong with him?

“Good evening, and welcome to The Diamond. What can I start you guys off with? Drinks, appetizers?”

"I'll start with an iced lemon water,” Jay smiled, “and for you, love?”

“Iced water sounds lovely,” you smiled back, fighting the urge to kick him under the table.

“Anything else before we move onto entrées,” the waiter asked. Your eyes were so stuck on a Jay that you hadn’t realized it was Niki dressed as the server. You felt like the ceiling was caving in on you.

“Is everything okay, Miss?” Niki asked sarcastically, tilting a mocking head at your anxious state.

“Y-yes, I’m alright,” you stammered, trying to remain calm.

“I’ll let you know if we need anything else,” Jay finished, Niki bowing before running off to serve other tables.

“You brought back up?” You scoffed, shaking your head at him.

“No, doll, I’ve only ordered water so far. No need to panic, I’m paying anyways,” he chuckled, observing the menu once again.

You hated the nickname doll, as it only added to your circumstances of being his play thing. You watched as a thick bead of water trailed down the side of your glass, a bright yellow lemon floating in the mixture. You stuck your bare hand into the cup, bringing the lemon to your lips to suck on.

The slurping noises you made caught Jay’s attention, “What’re you doing, ____?” He asked in shock at your sudden change in behavior.

A few drops of the lemon dripping on your tits, drawing Jay's attention to your cleavage. You got up from the table, feeling Niki's threatening gaze burn holes into your back. You pushed your chest out, “Can you clean me up, Jay? I’m such a mess,” you pouted getting on your knees for him.

“____, this isn’t funny. You know better than to act out in a place like this.”

“Don’t keep your dumb doll waiting, Jay-Jay,” you ignored him, reaching a hand to stroke his thighs.

He snatched your wrist with such a force that the contact with his skin and yours made a snapping sound.

“That was your last strike, love. You don’t get any more chances to behave.”

For whatever reason, you didn’t feel threatened by his words. You knew that your actions would only lead to the inevitable cycle that Jay planned to evoke on you anyways.

He guided you through the restaurant, a few people observing the event in disgust. “She’s just a little tipsy,” Jay remarked halfheartedly, rushing through the doors before shoving you in the passenger's seat of his truck.

“What the hell was that, Jay?”

“Pfft, you’re asking me that?”

“How am I supposed to trust you when you bring your goons around to watch me? When you threaten my safety over my emotions?”

Jay shook his head at your words, “you're not the victim here, love.”

You scoffed before he continued.

“I may have hurt you physically, but you broke my fucking heart, and that can never be healed. Not until I correct your behavior,” he frowned, pulling into a driveway.

You didn’t bother asking why you were here because you knew this place all too well. It was the same place he’d take you whenever he wanted to “teach you a lesson.”

He called it his classroom.

So here you were, a student smelling of sweet citrus with your aggravated teacher and his hostile cane. You imagined each whack would feel more like a hit to your mind than it’d hurt you physically. Because that was the thing about Jay.

He’d cut you from the surface, but forget that those wounds often travel much deeper.

He held the small of your back as he guided you to the doorstep at the front porch, taking in your nervous frame.

“____,” he began, taking your hands in his but your gaze fell to the ground, fearful tears starting to spill from your eyes. So much for holding it in all this time.

“Save you tears love,” Jay continued, lifting up your face and wiping the moisture from your cheeks, “I’m not gonna hurt you anymore.”

His words delayed your tears mid-stream, staring into his eyes with confusion.

“What are you saying, Jay?” You sniffled.

“I’m saying that I considered your words. 'How can you trust someone who hurts you?' That’s what you said, right?”

You hummed in response, more keen on listening to him than speaking for yourself.

"Well. In that case, I promise that I'll never lift a finger against you in a violent way. From now on, my hands will only be used to love and adore you, my love. Do you understand?"

You felt the tears starting to form at the corners of your eyes again.

This promise of his was almost too good to be true.

"Y-yes, Jay," you hiccuped, face feeling hot from the breath you held, "I understand."

Suddenly, he pulled you close to him, tenderly connecting his lips with yours. You didn’t reject his kiss because for whatever reason, you craved his comforting.

He broke from the embrace, unlocking the door to reveal the oozing black that danced within the structure of the eerily familiar house. He nodded, initiating you to enter without his force. "I'll see you in two hours," he said as you noticed the six pairs of soulless eyes staring back at you. Your legs grew stiff, but Jay pushed you in, locking the door behind you before going about his evening.

You beat on the door like a mad woman, “Fu- ughh! Jay! Please don’t leave me in here with them,” you screamed desperately, shaking at the door knob in terror. You heard footsteps approaching you from behind before Heeseung, the eldest of the bunch, grabbed your shoulder viscously, pinning you against the cold door.

“Nice to see you again, cutie. I’m sure you remember me from our last encounter,” he grinned, leaning in to breathe his hot breath against your neck, “it’s funny how you smiled in my face while I thought about getting you in a position like this,” he bit down on your skin, “vulnerable, and so fucking pretty for me,” he groaned, harshly kissing at your neck.

Sunghoon pushed him out of the way, giving him a fed up expression, "and I’m sure you remember Jay’s rule.”

Heeseung wiped the wetness from his mouth, “yeah? And what rule was that, fun police?”

“That we’re allowed to mess around with her how we please as long as we avoid leaving any obvious bruises,” Jake finished, cringing at the teeth marks Heeseung left on your neck.

“Hmm,” he hummed in thought, “I should’ve went for the tits.”

You felt nauseous in the middle of all this, having to listen to the perverted boys debate on they'd abuse you. Niki made his way around the corner, walking in your direction.

He pouted back at you facetiously, punching you in the stomach and snickering as you fell to the ground, “you’re such a fucking crybaby,” he spat, grabbing you by the hair just to let you go harshly.

You looked around the dark room, noticing Sunoo standing in a corner alone, mirroring your anguish. You got up and ran to him, falling in his lap before weeping. “Sun, I know what I said to you, but-" your words were cut off by him pushing you away, the back of your head clashing with the hard floor.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore,” he bit back, walking over you as if you were a piece of trash, “finish her off, Jungwon. I don’t wanna have to hear her screams once you get started, so I’ll be outside.”

“Me, too,” Jake added, “I don’t have enough energy for the crybaby tonight,” he rolled his eyes, joining Sunoo outside.

“As you wish, hyung,” Jungwon grinned, grabbing you by the hands before dragging you to the center of the room. The four remaining boys huddled around you like kids in a candy store. Jungwon and Niki held your arms and legs down while Sunghoon kept your head in place.

Heeseung walked over with two large buckets of water, placing them down before coming over to straddle your frame. “How about we play a little game. As I'm sure you’ve learned, there's only one right answer,” he slithered, snaking a hand down to pinch the soft skin of your thigh.

"Your body will give me your answer before your mouth does,” he grinned as Sunghoon reached his hand over to cover your mouth. You fought under Niki and Jungwon’s grip, muffled screams rumbling from your throat.

“I’ve heard that most girls scream when they like it,” Sunghoon chuckled. Heeseung removed Sunghoon’s hand before forcing his tongue past your lips, his tongue fighting against yours.

Sunghoon tried holding your head in place, but he lost his grip as you shook away, biting down on Heeseung’s lip, “FUCK,” he grunted, tasting his own blood fill his mouth.

"She's definitely more of a fighter than a lover," Jungwon began amused, "maybe that's why Jay had so much trouble keeping her around."

By now, you had long forgotten about the large buckets of water sitting a few feet away until Heeseung’s weight left your body, grabbing one of the buckets before dumping it over your face in a stream that lasted thirty seconds.

You hiccuped on the water, struggling to fight the agonizingly steady stream.

“Jake, Sunoo!” Heeseung growled, calling the boys back in.

“Yeah, what’s up?” They asked in unison.

“I’m gonna need a lot more water,” Heeseung ordered, watching you pant for breath beneath him. “Any last words before they get back, because I’m afraid from here, you’ll only be able to burp for the next week," he snickered.

You shook your head violently, more so as a cry for help than an answer to his sadistic question. Heeseung grabbed the second bucket of water, cooing at your misery, "I guess you're choosing to end things on a cliff hanger, for now," Niki smirked, swapping places with Sunghoon so he could restrain your head movements.

That's when the second dry-drowning circuit began, Heeseung pouring the chilly water all over your face. This stream lasted longer than the last one, or maybe it just felt that way because you hadn't had the chance to catch your breath.

The devilish boys would continue to do this for another two hours until Jay came back, occasionally playing with your body in between sessions.

You were soaking wet and your skin seemed blue, considering that you actually passed out a few times from the abuse. Goosebumps stained the surface of your skin as if you they were permanent, feeling as though your life had been completely washed out of you.

Jay didn't bother hanging around at the house before guided you to his car, thanking his friends for “handling you" while he was away.

“So,” Jay began, driving you off to God knows where, “how were they?”

You picked at the skin of your nails, failing to get a hold of your nerves. Your dress was still damp from everything that happened, and your hair was a complete mess. You looked a wreck from the outside, but that hardly compared to the agony you were suffering from on the inside.

“Great,” you replied with a pleasant expression and tone, almost sounding genuine.

"You don't have to lie to me, love. You look dreadful," he admitted, resting a hand on the bumpy skin of your thigh.

"To look on the bright side, I'm sure you learned a very valuable lesson. Hmm?"

"Yes, I did," you replied, your eyes fixed on the dark city skyline ahead of you, lost in your pain.

"Lovely. Now let's get you home and cleaned up. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

Ｔｏｂｅｃｏｎｔｉｎｕｅｄ.

☆ ᴀ/ɴ: in no way, shape, or form does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. i simply write for entertainment and creative purposes. thus, reader discretion is always advised.

☆ taglist: @fanficfactoryfoxxx @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @yngwife @03sunoos @kaykay11sworld @gigiramirezsblog @hoonsyo @en-thralled @haechansheart @night-en-shining-armor @cutiejseong @j-wyoung @rickysblkgf @bambangan @wonbyf @4imhry @zhangyi-johee @naddii @valhrts @tinyenha @lisaaannna @valentineluvr @heecries @espyluvsyou @tokusatsutoad @confuse20x @teddursa @riviyw @tamii4 @lovelycassy @addictedtohobi @gardenwons @nikipedia07 @tubatusoobs @03sunoos

491 notes · View notes

unfortunatebrainfarts · 25 days

Text

Cussing out anyone and everyone is fun until you get lasso'd out of bed to do it on behalf of your casual space cowboy co-worker who for some reason knows where you live

Boothill x f!reader

A/n: soort of part 2 to my previous work but can be read seperately‼️

"For the last time — let me go before I literally unscrew your dick off."

"Psh, as if ya got the balls for that lil' missy."

You don't even have to look at Boothill to know he was immensely enjoying himself right now — hell you couldn't even if you wanted to since you were currently getting dragged through the ice cold floors of wherever the hell you were, with a fucking lasso firmly binding your legs and arms.

"It's like 5 a.m. in the morning, what the hell could you even want at this god forsaken hour?!" You righteously grumble, but alas, you were met with nothing more than silence probably because you've asked similar questions before. Yes. This has happened before. Many times before.

For Boothill, tracking down enemies and pinning them down was great. Not being able to curse them out and instead calling them a 'cutie' and blessing their soul? Not so great. But that's where you come in! His lovely fellow galaxy ranger who's been with him long enough to know what he wants to say, and is far too weak(compared to this baby shark looking freak of a cyborg) to refute him. Physically that is — you always make sure that you complain his ear off to at least ensure some sort of mental damage.

"Hey! If you're going to take me somewhere could you at least not drag me all the way there? Ugh these floors are so cold I feel like I'm gonna get hypothermia. If I do and I sue you, don't you have to pay me compensation for that? I'm expecting at least a million credits or so cause I don't think Lan provides health insurance for the galaxy rangers—"

Your pitiable monologue was abrubtly cut short by Boothill firmly gripping the rope which binded you and roughly jerking it upwards so that your body would fall limp directly on his shoulder like a giant worm, your head just centimeters away from his.

Of course to which you responded with automatic aggressive squirming and wiggling only making you look more and more like a worm. But honestly who could blame you? I mean, who just DOES THAT and expects the other party to be calmly subdued?!

"Oh sugar honey iced tea, could ya quit strugglin' for just one moment—" A large, metalic hand was promptly placed around your waist and no amount of wiggling could even get it to so much as budge. "Now that y'r off the darn floor ain'it 'bout time ya shut yer trap? Heh... we're almost there."

Now that you were head to head with Boothill, although not in the most favorable position, you could see his face now — his face with probably the most shit eating grin you have ever seen on it. His sharp teeth making themselves apparent, and unwavering eyes focused on just whatever lied ahead.

And then his feet stood still.

"THERE," he shouted unrestraintedly like a madman, while pointing his free hand at... a random lady in purple?

Without warning, Boothill launched himself forward stopping only inches away from the woman who looked just as confused as you.

"Now, go tell 'er that she's a wonderful ray of sunshine that deserves absoloutely nothin' but the best. Oh Acheron, bless your soul ya lovely imposter, be prepared to go on a playdate and have some teatime with me soon! Until then, you should keep yourself safe."

The sheer passion that Boothill had in his tone made it clear that he had a message to get across. Though you don't think the other woman, or supposedly Acheron, understood a word he said. You exasperatedly sigh, you felt just as bad for this lady as you did for you yourself.

"Well?! What'cha waitin' for," the arm around you tightened just enough for a squeak to involuntarily come out of you and you knew you weren't getting out of this.

You mentally apologise for this poor lady before translating his thoughts into words, "Er... what he means to say is uhm, 'you're a disgusting piece of shit who deserves to die seven times over by my hand. Oh Acheron, you absoloute dumbass fucking imposter, be prepared to meet me and face me off in a showdown soon, but you might as well just kill yourself before that."

"...," Acheron's face remained unchanging and blank throughout the whole spiel, Boothill's however, was characteristicly smug and maniacal.

To others, the three of you looked as if you were frozen in time for at least a minute or so, until Acheron simply tilted her head and monotonously responded,

"Sorry, who are you?"

#I wrote this in like 30 minutes pls help #li actually writes🤯#boothill x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

281 notes · View notes

aetheternity · 2 years

Text

"Hold on, you have something on your cheek." -5wirl +Tighnari

Synopsis: How the 5wirl boys + Tighnari react when you move their hair aside to kiss their cheek. Otherwise known as you shamelessly flirting with them.

Disclaimer: This is some adorable fluff to unscrew up my tired porn ridden brain. No gender/pronouns used. Enjoy!

Venti

It'd been a while since Venti had last invited you out to lunch. Whether the reason had been work related or just a need for space you weren't sure. Though today you felt a surge of confidence. A sort of push like every cell in your body was telling you to finally admit your feelings. As though you'd never get the chance again if you didn't. So you bit the bullet.

"Oh hey, you've got something on your cheek." You stop him in his tracks brushing his braid aside and trying not to physically combust at his cute little hm?

He leans in a little closer, just enough for you to press a quick peck against his cheek. His eyes enlarge for just a quick second and you're almost ready to spurt out some apologetic words when he mutters,

"What's on your lips?" His kiss is soft yet fleeting. Cold from his drink and yet sends heat roaring through your body.

His grin is shitty when he pulls back, a chorus of raucous laughter soon falling off his lips. "You should see your face, it's so cute!" He soon devolves into breathy giggles stopping when he realizes you haven't said a word. Or blinked or.. wait were you even breathing?? "Wait! Name, breathe!"

Your head rests against his knee while he summons calming breezes to your side. "Geez, you kissed me first and yet you could barely handle reciprocation." He tsks teasingly.

"I didn't know you would kiss me back!" You pout

"Ugh the point is we're even now." He retorts with a playful roll of his eyes.

"I guess.."

"So, wanna kiss again?"

Your heartbeat slams against your rib cage. One hand sliding up to your chest entangling your shirt in your fist. "I-I need a minute.."

Heizou

You'd been waiting for what had to have been a full month for Heizou to come back from vacati- his private investigation. And the second you'd heard the rumors that he'd been found and was returning. You knew you had to snag him up before you didn't see him again for another couple months.

"Look at this beautiful view." He cycled on as you rested your face in your palms. "I took this picture the moment I set foot on the island. It truly is a sight to behold. This picture doesn't quite do it justice either because during the night time when the water is bathed with glowing moonlight.. ugh it's quite majestic."

"Hei, you've got a little something on your cheek." You tap your own face with the palm of your index finger.

"Oh." He slides a hand across his face, eyebrows creasing as he looks at his fingers.

"No, right-"

You shift your face to the side, brushing long red strands aside quickly taken aback when your lips are snagged. Pressed against his so suddenly that you nearly snap your head back. But he doesn't allow it, keeping you close with a hand on your cheek. His kiss so firm yet gentle. Before you can even get used to his taste however he's leaving you high and dry.

"There?" He finishes

"Wha-" You ask or well try to as he continues to hold your face. His breath fanning the bridge of your nose as he chuckles.

"I believe your next question is, how long have you known?" He remarks "The definitive answer would be: I've always known. I notice your little lip bites when I make corny jokes. I've noticed the way you absolutely must rub your knee against mine whenever we're sitting close, just as we are now. And I've seen the way your eyes flicker to my lips when you think I'm not watching. I assumed you'd just come out and tell me you like me. I mean I have been waiting for so long, my heart was starting to break." His chuckle is far deeper this time. Far more teasing than the first.

"You're such an annoying little tease." You hiss, shakily entangling his shirt in your grip.

"Come now, you must find some enjoyment from it." He pecks your lips. "Otherwise you wouldn't be clinging to me like this."

Aether

The two of you had finally made plans for the first time since he'd left Inazuma. While you'd always felt like the two of you had a not dating but acts as though you are, kind of relationship today you wanted to take it a step further. Before you'd met up he'd shooed Paimon off to the teapot and prepared a basket of food fit for a banquet. He wanted you to try all his new favorites after all.

"Ae, I think you've got something on your cheek."

He blinks in between bites before leaning closer to your hand. Your thumb slides beneath strands of silky blonde hair brushing them aside before pecking his cheek with a quick kiss. His eyes dart towards yours and without warning he pulls a tissue from the basket bringing it up to his cheek with a quick swipe.

"The wind wiped away your kiss, you have to do it again."

"Why can't you just ask for another kiss like a normal person."

"Lips this time please." He retorts puckering up.

Xiao

Not seeing Xiao for a couple weeks was pretty normal usually but you found yourself missing him these past few days. Which soon lead you to the Wangshu Inn kitchen to prepare a bowl of almond tofu for his return. Once you'd finished and tidied up the space you'd used, you headed back to the balcony. The view swept you away for a moment, quickly entranced by the way the landscape could stretch for miles. Almost so taken in that Xiao's entrance nearly caused you to tip over the bowl in your hands.

"You're here." He greeted simply taking the bowl from your grasp.

"Mhm, How was your patrol?"

He simply huffed heading downstairs to grab a spoon. No surprise there, Xiao never had been ready to conversate after a long patrol.

"Oh hey Xiao, what's that on your cheek?"

You could feel the roll of his eyes despite his back being to you. "I've told you not to dote on me." He stops at the bottom of the staircase, halfway facing you.

"Well you should want to get cleaned up right?" You reply curling a handful of strands around his ear.

"I can do that on my own. Just leave I-" A sound you'd never believed Xiao could make escaped the adeptus in front of you. His face soon hung, the bowl of tofu hanging between shaky fingers. You giggle as you watch his cheeks flush with red, briskly rushing to the tips of his ears.

"Xiao.." You mummer close to his ear unsurprised by the faintest shiver being his only reply. "Thank you for all you do for Liyue." You whisper, without another word you head back upstairs to allow Xiao the space and comfort to eat in peace.

Kazuha

When Kazuha came back to Inazuma he always made sure to spend at least a week at your place. A time in which you'd found that Kazuha took up very little space, he'd always kept his area neat and if he was gone the whole day he'd make sure he'd bring you back some goodies.

This time had been no exception: It was only twelve am when he'd arrived home but he quickly insisted that he whip up a, "thank you for letting him stay" dish. You sat a ways away allowing yourself to become swept up by the intoxicating aroma wafting into the living room.

"It should be ready soon, Name."

Suddenly an idea floated into your head. You stood from your seat softly inching up behind Kazuha. Though it soon proved to be worthless as Kazuha's eyes quickly drifted behind him. A small smile brightening his features.

"Oh, have you come to sneak a taste?"

"Actually, you've got a little-" You smooth his hair back and before you can hesitate further you give his cheek a quick peck leaning back to anxiously take in his expression.

"Hm so that's why you've been so distracted tonight?" He places the spoon in the pan before removing it from the fire. He slowly turns back to you deep crimson eyes filled with adoration. "Is it ok if I kiss you too?" He asks

"Sure.." You're not sure how loud you said it but you soon find Kazuha's lips pressed to yours. The only description you could come up with to describe the way his lips felt against yours being airy, light almost feather-like. As though he had some internal fear he could break you with a single touch.

Before long he's leaning away and you can't help your childish huff. "Don't worry, we can continue once you have dinner." He smiles softly.

"I eat all the time. Kiss me."

Tighnari

Today was kind of special. Tighnari wasn't busy with the usual training of forest rangers and he'd finished his patrol early which meant the two of you had time to take a leisurely stroll. Which for Tighnari meant he could point out random flora and facts about them as you walked. While for you it just meant you could bask in his every word while barely keeping pace because he walks surprisingly fast.

"Are you still listening? I was on a roll there and you missed it."

You trot along till you catch up to his side. "Sorry Nari, hasn't anyone ever told you, you walk super fast?"

"No, I don't believe I've heard that until now actually." He retorts with a small lift of his chin.

"Well anyway for your information I actually was listening. You were explaining the temperatures at which Sumeru roses grow the best in." You reply

"Exactly, excellent!" He perks up, smile broadening "I don't think I'll ever understand why you didn't come with me after we graduated. I don't really need to explain this stuff to you the way I would a rookie forest ranger. Plus you're so skilled with medicinal remedies you'd be such a big help to me and Colliel."

"The akademiya begs for you to come back and you try to talk me into becoming a forest ranger someday. Somethings never change."

His chuckle is dry and you soon realize just how close you're standing. Your elbow resting on his shoulder. The tips of his ear twitching as your breath flutters against them.

"Hey Nari, what's on your cheek?" A small hum leaves his throat as he checks his left cheek with two fingers.

"Huh, did I get it?"

"No I mean this cheek." You whisper, his hair is silkier than you'd thought it would be and when you press a kiss to his cheek you make a mental note of his deep shudder. "There it's off now." You giggle immediately pleased at how quickly his entire face blooms pink.

"Wh-what was that for?"

"Consider it my thank you for a lovely afternoon."

5K notes · View notes

dazai-ritualist · 21 days

Note

Omg ! I didn't think you'd actually respond !! We're gonna fly away from here is easily one of the best ones in the series!! It's so Twisted and disturbing but almost domestic... (Also tysm for including my name idea in your story, Idk where it came from, I just liked it and I appreciate you!) I digress. I've returned with a concept. Al almost always has a plan when he does something. I don't know where you want to go with the second child but this won't be too focused on that one...for now. I really liked how you interpreted Alastor being a weasel and weaseling his way back into the families life and was thinking about how many I wonder about if he has a plan right now, like not a long term one, obviously, but a very specific one for a 'short term'. Women back then, especially in the south weren't allowed to have bank accounts so finicial trapping works well in this case. Also just kinda the ability to turn their kids against her would be enough to terify me. People talk about the 1950's housewife, but oh my god, 1920's housewives were a new kind of depressed. I, personally, don't think Alastor is the type of physically abuse women. No, he's far too classy for that. Instead, like I said, I think he'd either use his status in their house to trap his wife. We were able to run away while we were pregnant and alone, but we have a child now...and would we be willing to leave our child with him? No, I don't think I would, personally. This was just me rambling. K, love u, currently hyperfixated on this au. Byeee !!!! _ Cherry Anon!

DON’T REALLY WANT NO TRUST FUND BABY

[before reading this, read the rest of the story!]

— seems as if alastor found out your little secret

— UR TOO SWEET I SC THIS ON MY IG STORY AND YAPPED TO MY BOY BSF FOR AN HOUR AB IT IM BLUSHING SO HARDDDD!! ABUSE WAS LIT MY LAST SOCIAL STUDIES LESSON FOR THE SCHOOL YEAR MY TCH YAPPED AB FINANCE SO HARD 🤭🤭

being married to alastor, the radio show host is quite the sensation in your town. but, behind the closed curtains, alastor did things that would’ve made lucifer shake in his boots.

no, he didn’t hit you. his mother would kill him if he hit his wife. but, just because alastor never hit you, didn’t mean he didn’t abuse you.

he tormented you in the worst way possible, through noah. and now, emilia.

it’s been 3 years. your little emilia lives up to her name, a cute little girl who’s eager to win. and, little noah is now a big boy, double digits and all.

and, since you’ve returned back to his house, alastor has done nothing but twist your babies’ minds. ‘once upon a time, mama wanted to run away from daddy… so, she ran away and took big brother with her. daddy was sooo worried for mama and big brother though… daddy was able to track mama down, and took her home!’ he cooed to your daughter, bouncing her in his arms— with you right beside him!

you wanted to yell; scream. of course, emilia was too young to understand what alastor was saying. but, still— the fact that he was trying to tell your children that he was some sort of white knight who saved you from yourself. you wanted nothing less, but to snap that neck of his like a twig.

you really shouldn’t act so brashly though. to outsmart alastor, you have to think like him. think of what’s smarter in long run.

alastor was ‘kind’ enough to give you an allowance. $200 every week for groceries and whatever you may need. he’s even so kind as to let you have some ‘private bonding’ with noah and emilia as they accompany you to the farmer’s market.

thankfully, you had a father who wanted to make his little girl survived even without a husband. and so, you had to hear all of his ramblings about finance. saving about 45% each week for 3 years… was about $14,000!

if you saved just a little more, you’d be semi-financially independent until you can get a proper job to take care of your children. it was run-away money, so to speak.

you hid the money in noah’s room. after all, who would expect money there? especially $14,000? and, it worked, for a while. every monday, while you tucked him into bed, you brought the money with you and hid it behind his dresser.

until, what had seemed like a normal tuesday. you came home from the tailor’s, getting back a dress that noah accidentally tore. when you came home, it was only two hours after noon. and despite that, alastor was home.

“a-alastor..! what are you doing home so early? you have a broadcast in 2 hours…” you narrowed your eyes at alastor, on the floor with your children, many new toys surrounding them. “ah, darling! i decided to pick up our children early, and we may have splurged on our little shopping spree…” he smugly grinned. “oh..? where’d you get the money?” you raised your eyebrow, closing the door and laying your bearings on the dining table.

“funniest story ever, my love! there was a random stash of money in noah’s room! seems as if the tooth fairy came early!” he laughed. random stash of money in noah’s room..? “oh. i see.” your breath stopped for a minute, thinking of what kind of consequences could come from it.

“do you have any idea how that money landed there?” he side-eyed you, expecting a lie. “perhaps it was from the old owners? you know this house, there’s so many secrets in here.” you said. “i see… i suppose you are right, darling!” he giggled.

you were back on square one. financially dependent on your husband, if you could even call him ‘husband’. as you climbed up the stairs, you heard alastor whisper to your son. “you see that? momma lied. she got less talkative when papa asked her a question.”

this is what alastor’s been teaching your son. as much as you want to protest, you did lie.

oh, how much you wished for much more simpler times. playing with your baby boy in the kitchen as you make little treats together for his snack at school. and now, the boy alastor’s turning him into— a cunning sociopath, the lord only knows what he will teach your daughter.

this is just a minor setback, it has to be.

#I WORD DUMPED OMFG #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hasbin alastor #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor hc #alastor headcanons #human alastor #alastor the radio demon #yandere alastor #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere

142 notes · View notes

juiceicicles · 10 months

Text

Mean and Scary | Chapter 1: King of Hawkins High

AO3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48053206/chapters/121165750

Pts: 1, 2, 3

As he traipses through the woods, Eddie tries to get a bearing on what is about to happen and what his plan is for when it inevitably goes sideways.

Dealing pot to Hawkins Royalty like King Steve isn’t entirely out of the ordinary, but doing it alone at a picnic table in the middle of the isolated woods? Yeah, not Eddie’s smartest decision for a meeting place.

In his defense, he’s only a hop skip and a jump away from the high school, and he couldn’t be assed to drive any further for what’s likely going to be a one time payment of $20. $25, if he overcharges Steve (which, he absolutely plans to do.)

Eddie finally gets to the clearing and Steve jumps when he notices him, finally looking away from a tree he was seemingly having a very intense staring match with.

“Whoa, hey, hey, hey! Sorry,” Eddie chuckles a bit awkwardly, trying his best to subconsciously communicate that he is not a threat, because he really doesn’t wanna get his lights punched out right now “Didn't mean to scare you.”

Eddie sits down and his metal lunchbox clatters onto the table —Steve flinches again. Boy, Harrington is jumpy— and sits across from him. He opens up his Pail-o’-Drugs and watches as Steve drums his fingers on the table.

“There's, uh... There's nothing to worry about. Okay? No one ever comes out here. We're safe. I promise.” Eddie honestly didn’t expect Steve Harrington to be worried about being caught, considering that Steve apparently used to hold daily house parties.

He still can’t believe it. King Steve goddamn Harrington sitting there, in all his douchey glory. Or at least, that’s what Eddie expected. Instead he sort looks exhausted. His eyes keep flitting around, and he looks like he just saw a ghost.

You see, Harrington was never a dick to Eddie, specifically. However, he sure as hell didn’t treat the freaks of Hawkins High with any sort of sympathy. Hence Eddie’s original plan to act like the biggest asshole he possibly could without scaring off a rich customer. But something about Harrington’s eyes, a sort of dull terror etched into the hazel brown, is making Eddie reconsider that decision.

“So, how does this work, exactly?” Steve sort of mutters. This is so utterly different from everything Eddie heard about him. Steve always roamed the halls with a sick sort of ironclad confidence, with his two jackals Tommy and Carol following his every beck and call. The boy across from Eddie though? He seems so haunted. Like a flickering projection of someone. A puppet with its strings cut.

“Uhh just like any other old sale, except cash only, and for obvious reasons, no receipts,” he gives Harrington what he hopes is a reassuring smile, “I'll do you a half ounce for, uh... 20. What do you say? Plenty of bang for your buck. Should last a while.”

A squirrel skitters up a tree in the background, and Harrington gasps quietly and whips around to track it. And then, finally, it clicks for Eddie.

Steve’s worried about being seen with Eddie the Freak Munson. Figures. He shouldn’t have expected anything less from King Steve.

“Hey, we don’t need to do this. Just give me the word, and I’ll walk away.”

“It’s not that, I don’t want you to go.” Steve starts, tentatively. He’s still looking around, like somethings about to pop out of the woods. “It’s just…Do you ever feel like you’re loosing your mind?”

And, of course Eddie feels like he’s lost his marbles. He’s a super senior with the nickname the Freak. Obviously he sometimes feels a little crazy. He’s a little surprised that notorious cool guy Steve Harrington feels that way, though.

He makes the decision right then and there to see this out, because even if Harrington’s afraid of being caught, there’s something here that Eddie’s missing.

“You know on a daily basis. I feel like I’m loosing my mind right now,” screw it, might as well be honest, go big or go home right? “doing a drug deal with Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High.”

“Ah, well, I haven’t been king for a while…” Steve trails off.

Eddie remembers Billy Hargrove. Remembers how he made him want to beg every god there was for Steve to steal back the crown. Billy Hargrove was mean to Eddie. He was mean to everyone. And he wasn’t highschool-mean either, he was Larry Munson mean. He was a jackass who wasn’t afraid of anyone and wanted you to know it.

Unprompted, Eddie remembers the first time he met Steve. Before he was Hawkins Royalty, before he was a jock and a bully, before Eddie was the freak and not just a freak. Eddie had just gotten to Hawkins, his old man had been put away and the US government dropped lil’ Eddie on Wayne’s doorstep. He’d met some friends and formed a shitty garage band. They’d played at the middle school talent show, and Eddie had lost his guitar pick. A boy about his age had given it back, told him his name was Steve and he had found it underneath his chair in the seats.

“You know, this isn't the first time that we've, um... Hung out.”

“No?”

Eddie lets out a little chuckle. Of course Steve wouldn’t remember. “It’s alright.”

He clutches at his heart like he’s been shot with an arrow and flings himself off the bench and into a pile of leaves behind him. He hears Steve let out a little gasp before he hops back up.

“I wouldn’t remember me either, Harrington!”

Steve looks a little amused, and Eddie catches a light brown blob in his peripheral vision. He combs his fingers through his hair and dislodges a dead leaf.

“Honestly, do I have stuff in my hair?”

Steve lets out a little chuckle as Eddie starts to gets into his story. If there’s one thing Eddie Munson is good at, it’s story telling.

“Middle school, talent show. Carol I think did this cheer thing? You know the thing the,” Eddie mimed some pom poms. Steve was smiling a little bit, so Eddie continued his spiel, “and I- I was with my band.”

Suddenly Steve pipes up “Corroded Coffin! Oh my god!”

Eddie’s bewildered that Steve apparently remembered their weird prepubescent metal show. He claps his hands excitedly and points to Steve. “You do remember!”

“Yes, of course! With a name like that, how could I forget?”

“I dunno. You’re a freak.” Eddie’s pretty pleased with himself when his lack of brain-to-mouth filer apparently doesn’t offend Steve. In fact, Steve breaks out a smile. It’s less Harrington Charm then Eddie expected, more of a dorky toothy grin.

“No you just- you looked so-“

“Different? Yeah. Yeah. Well, uh, my hair was buzzed, and I didn't have these sweet old tatties yet.”

“You played guitar right?”

“Uh-huh. Still do. Still do.” And since Eddie is an impulsive mess and isn’t totally hating this interaction, he does something that totally spits in the face of the tried and true Munson doctrine and invites a preppy jock to a metal concert, “You should come see us. Uh, we play at the Hideout on Tuesdays. It’s pretty cool. We- we actually get a crowd of about five…drunks.”

Steve laughs a bit and clamps a hand over his mouth, like he’s a bit startled by the noise. Eddie doesn’t blame him, he’s a bit caught off guard too.

“It’s not exactly the Garden, but, you gotta start somewhere, right?”

Steve looks at Eddie with a considering gaze for a moment, like he’s trying to figure Eddie out.

“You know, you’re not what I thought you’d be.”

“What, a total freak?”

“No, no. Honestly? I thought you’d be mean. And scary.”

“Me? Steve Harrington thought I’d be scary?”

“Yeah! You’ve got this whole, I dunno, chains and leather vibe. Thought you wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

“Yeah, well, I thought you’d be mean and scary too.”

“Yeah?”

“Terrifying.” Eddie’s hit with the sudden realization that he’s completely forgot about the drug deal he came here for and plops himself back down at the picnic table. “Uh, so, in other good news, flattery works with me, so... Twenty-five percent discount for the half. Fifteen bucks. You're robbing me blind here, you know.”

“…do you have anything maybe stronger?”

462 notes · View notes

lestappenforever · 3 months

Note

So, I’m like a realist, right? Sure, yes, I ship people from time to time but I know it’s just for funsies. So, I saw a lestappen edit last week and was like “hey cute guys, what’s up with these two? I better check it out.” and have fallen into a bit of a rabbit hole it seems. So I’m back in the real world now, where Max is in a long term relationship and Charles has a girlfriend, and am wondering: how does one explain Max’s behaviour? Does he just have a friend-crush on Charles? Has he always wanted to be friends with him since they were young and it was just hard since they’ve been rivals for so long? Does he envy him maybe since his father wasn’t a pos and he still turned into a great driver? Is it a “it’s lonely at the top” kind of situation, where he’s never been able to make many friends his own age? (I’ve seen Charles with a bunch of friends outside of racing, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen Max with any, but that could be on me.) I mean, a blind person could see that Max takes every opportunity to talk to him or be close to him and he knows stuff about him I’d personally be too embarrassed to admit (like getting his “stupid” quote exactly right or knowing about the twitch thing with his girlfriend forgetting her keys, etc.). I guess I’m looking for the actual non-shippy explanation for this behaviour cause it fascinates me. What are your two cents on this?

Hi anon, and welcome to the world of Lestappen! We're happy to have you. ❤️

I will preface this by saying that shipping is solely for fun, and I don't actually believe Max and Charles are in a secret relationship or anything of the sort. The majority of Lestappen shippers on Tumblr are on the same page about this, with some exceptions, but there are exceptions to anything. And a big part of shipping is speculating, being delusional about them, and overanalyzing things.

Now, in terms of a non-shipping explanation as to why these two behave the way they do around each other, I think it's a combination of all the reasons you've already listed. And the thing about Max and Charles is that they have known each other for so many years. They have been in each other's orbit, in one way or another, for the majority of their lives, and there is no denying that they have seen each other as one of — if not the — biggest rival they've had since they were children. Despite the fact that a lot of the current drivers on the grid have raced each other at some point before F1, there doesn’t seem to be any of them that have the same sort of rivalry that Max and Charles have, which goes so far back. And that kind of bond is one that I believe sticks with you forever.

Now this is not a delusional take at all, as this quote by Armando Filini, manager of the Maranello Kart, the first team for which Leclerc raced, proves: “They were always fighting. It didn't matter if they were competing in a tie or in a final, if it was raining or if the track was dry. Once we were in Genk, Belgium, in the first free practice, and they went on track. Charles and Max met, began to push each other and almost hit each other, with the risk of being left out. Jos Verstappen and I were glued to the fence to look at them and he turned around and said to me: 'These two will fight forever. They will fight even in F1′. A prophecy”.

Even though Max and Charles obviously haven’t been best friends for the majority of the time they've known each other, and they've only started building what appears to be a genuine friendship in the last few years, they share a connection that has been evident to people around them since they were little.

Max's comment from last season where he said that he wasn't surprised both him and Charles were sitting in that press conference together because he always thought that if he made it into F1, Charles would too, is just another testament to how tied together they actually are. And Charles' fond recollections of their karting days in the past season shows that it's a mutual thing: that Charles feels that same bond with Max that Max feels with him. And I think this is the whole baseline for why they've never been able to be normal about or around each other: because they go so far back and their lives are so intertwined that I honestly don't think either of them is fully capable of treating the other as just any other colleague or friend, because they don't see each other that way. They're something more, and by that I don't mean they're secretly in love with each other — they just have this bond that goes beyond normal friendship, forged through years of rivalry, envy, conflict, mutual growth and respect, and eventual friendship.

I have a childhood friend sort of like that: obviously not with the rivalry and drama that comes with the surroundings in which Max and Charles met and grew up, but someone that I share a bond with that I don't share with any of my other friends, old or new, and it's honestly my most treasured friendship because it has helped shape me as a person in a profound sort of way. He's not my closest friend and not the friend I talk to the most since we live on different sides of the country and our paths haven’t crossed much in the past few years, as is often the case when you grow up and become an independent adult. But when I do talk to him and hang out with him, it kind of feels like coming home. And to me, it seems like Max and Charles share that same type of bond.

This is just my personal take as I obviously don't know Max or Charles, and this is all based off of watching their interactions and watching their relationship develop over the past few years, as well as deepdiving into their history in the past. But this is the explanation that makes sense to me.

#Asks #Anon asks #Lestappen asks #Lestappen dynamics anons #Lestappen

132 notes · View notes

dykefaggotry · 6 days

Text

[image id: an ask from @harbingerofskulls that reads: "im gonna b real i only knew the jerking off i would love to hear you elaborate more if you want to go on the whole situation" /end id]

answering here so i can save as a draft without risking the ask disappearing bc tumblr's been doing that lately but

oh god </3 for everyone else- it's talking about this post. sooo i'm gonna go through each one bc i've been feeling insane for several weeks. i'll do my best to cite my sources lmao

i don't know (johnny johnny)

this is referring to this unreleased VERY early beatles track from 1960. the audio quality is absolute shit & as such unfortunately people love to put words to it that don't make much sense in either direction (i.e a lot of mclennon fans want to hear "you're in love with me" and a lot of people that hate mclennon will just make up the weirdest lyrics that make 0 sense so it's Not Gay). some of the lyrics that ARE clear make it obvious this song is about the two of them running away together- at one point i'm fairly certain paul says "how am i gonna tell my father that we're leaving town?" probably referring to them leaving to hamburg. which would be fine but some of the other lyrics areeeee..... very..... Hm. like multiple times paul refers to john as "my boy" and there's bits of them talking about not knowing what to tell their friends & wanting to just run off together alone. if i were the other members of the band having to record this i would have killed them with hammers <3 also the entire end is just paul going "oh johnny" like 1 million times. okay. sure. also since the lyrics ARE so garbled i mean i guess people could be right about it saying "how am i gonna tell my father you're in love with me" but i just don't hear it. still, a very gay song about running off together and getting away from everything and everyone, complete with moaning the other's name </3

2. paris

this one is a huge part of McLennon Fandom Lore lmao but for good reason. not citing sources on all this bc it's one of those that's just Fact & can be found in like any beatles biography or thebeatlesbible.com (my savior) but. for john's 21st birthday, he got 100 pounds from a rich relative. instead of taking his girlfriend or any of his other friends, he decided to use the money to take paul to spain. but they stopped in paris on the way and just decided to stay there. which i mean like. taking your best friend over your girlfriend to the city of love is a little weird but it's not THAT weird. it's everything else that makes people want to chew glass about it. including some of the other things on this list. like this audio of john just goofing around singing about paris and paul, with such hits as "my cheri, my pau pau my pau paul." which is :| okay best friend. and paul has this picture hung up in his house that he took of john sleeping in paris. okay. sure. why not. (although ig there's some doubt about if the photo is from paris? either way it's a picture paul took and has framed in his house which is incriminating enough my man). also NOT in the original post but may pang, a woman john had a brief affair with in the 70s, wrote a book called loving john. in it, there's this quote:

After a late lunch, Linda launched into a long paean to the joys of living in England. When she was finished, she turned to John and said, “Don’t you miss England?”

“Frankly,” John replied, “I miss Paris.”

okay! also in an interview once he said:

The thing was all the kissing and the holding that was going on in Paris. And it was so romantic, just to be there and see them, even though I was twenty-one and sort of not romantic. But I really loved it, the way the people would just stand under a tree kissing; and they weren’t mauling at each other, they were just kissing.

(interview with david scheff for playboy in september 1980)

3. if i fell

this one i already made an insane post on that started my spiral into posting about the beatles publicly </3 but, essentially, the song "if i fell" by john is..... well it's most likely about paul. he said it wasn't about his wife but that it was auto-biographical and he never really had any public affairs that weren't flings, certainly not a lover. but most damning is he wrote the complete lyrics for the first time on a valentine's day card addressed "to paul with love" with some hearts and arrows pointing to where the lyrics were written. absolutely insane. made me insane.

4. oh! darling

rawest paul song of all time if i do say so myself lmao. but it's just.... Highly Suspicious, that's what it is. a Lot of beatles fans/historians will admit this song is most likely about john but they won't admit that it's fucking romantic if it is. like.

like that is so blatantly romantic idk what to say other than that. also, in the official recording on abbey road, there's Several points where paul says "darling" that sound more like he's saying "johnny" which is what he called him. people brush it off by saying it's his accent, but there's a very clear difference between when he's saying "darling" and when he's saying "johnny". i mean the Lore behind this is that it was written right when things were splitting up between them (& the rest of the band) so it makes sense and it's why most people are willing to accept it's about john. it's just insane to me that they'll accept it's about john without considering the implications of that.

5. the real life demo

this one made me want to light myself on fire i won't lie to you. but here it is! john had a song called "real love" and this is a very early demo of it. but instead of the lyrics that came to actually be in the song (which are thought to be about yoko but let's not get into the fact that it was on a tape labeled "for paul" but whatever), it includes john fucking crying as he sings saying:

"was i just dreaming or was it only yesterday? i used to hold you in my arms. and now a baby and another on the way... la la la la farm..."

which can quite literally be about no one else but paul, as this demo was recorded when he'd just had two children with his wife linda and linda was pregnant with their third child. they'd moved to a farm in scotland. hearing this audio clip did genuinely make me want to lie down in the dirt for a week. also "i used to hold you in my arms" just... yeah. god. when people think it was unrequited idk what to say, really.

6. If Paul Were A Woman-

shoving these two together but. in april of 85, paul said in an interview about john and yoko's relationship:

"I mean, I couldn’t stand in the way of someone who’d fallen in love. You can’t say, 'Who’s this?' You can’t really do that. If I was a girl, maybe I could go out and…"

okay bestie <3 and what would make your relationship different if you were a woman? interesting! and yoko had something similar to say. in this audio, she says:

"I’m sure that if he had been a woman or something, he would have been a great threat – because there’s something definitely very strong between John and Paul."

just reminds me of being a kid and telling my best friends "if i were a boy i'd date you" lol. incredible. does anyone here know about bisexuality.

7. stuart!

not much to say here except that john had a best friend, stu sutcliffe, who died young & before that had been the bassist in the band. paul fucking hated him sooo much oh he SEETHED. a lot has been written on that relationship but it was.... very interesting to say the least. it could have just been about the band, or just jealousy over john's friendship, but take that with a lot of john biographers suspecting john had feelings/even a sexual relationship with stuart and it paints a very Interesting picture to say the least

8. john's bisexuality

here's a compilation of quotes about it, but john was more than likely bisexual. which has nothing to do w paul, really, but more to do against people that like to claim they were both Heterosexual Men. although an interesting quote in this compilation is him saying he's "had paul" lmfao

9. paul's post-beatles work

there's just.... there is so so so much here i don't even know where to begin. @ringompreg has a good compilation of paul songs here. a lot of them do take a bit of Lore but like..... it comes down to the fact that both him and john have/had admitted many times to using their lyrics during The Breakup Years to talk to/reference each other and sooooo many of these lyrics are insanely blatant. the two i mentioned were tug of war and let me roll it, both of which are acknowledged to be about john by most people WITH NO ONE BOTHERING TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE IMPLICATIONS OF THAT which..... tug of war has this:

we could stand on top of the mountain with our flag unfurled? dancing to a beat played on a different drum? this is what gaylors think gaylor conspiracy is but paul mccartney is really out here saying this shit.

and let me roll it is so fucking blatantly romantic but every reviewer is like haha! what a cool song that's "making fun" of john and clearly in his style! like are straight people stupid genuinely. anyway:

bonus to that but about JOHN'S solo work :)))))) he wrote a song called "watching the wheels" and when you consider he very much responded to MANY of paul's solo stuff it's :)

which as a response to let me roll it would just be... so devestating but it may be a stretch idk if i'm onto anything there it's just worth Mentioning

and there's a lot of others, a lot of them in that post up there. like far too many where paul mentions falling in love with a friend like Alright.

10. paul's first lsd trip with john/"i know" "i know"

this one is less blatantly romantic but it is just insane. here's an article. and a quote from george martin about it. the first time paul tripped on acid w john was bc john accidentally took some and he took him home & then took acid w him bc he didn't want john to be alone on the trip :( but, notably:

"And we looked into each other’s eyes, the eye contact thing we used to do, which is fairly mind-boggling. You dissolve into each other. But that’s what we did, round about that time, that’s what we did a lot," the singer recalled, "And it was amazing. You’re looking into each other’s eyes and you would want to look away, but you wouldn’t, and you could see yourself in the other person. It was a very freaky experience and I was totally blown away."

he also apparently saw john as the, and i quote, "emperor of eternity" during this trip??????? okay

SOMEWHERE i can't find it rn and i'm getting lazy but somewhere they (i think paul?) talk about the fact that they used to just stare into each other's eyes and then say "i know" "i know" which. considering john's song "i know (i know)" makes me crazy

11. in my life/i will

these are really just some devastating songs with lyrics that make you really raise your eyebrows. for in my life, written by john, it's just an incredibly romantic & sweet song that is again, not about his wife. given that the lennon estate is still out here posting pictures of paul to those lyrics i have to say it's a liiiiittle suspicious. and i will is...... it's one that paul insists is not about his girlfriend at the time, jane asher. and when you look at the lyrics vs how him and john met.... like. the song goes:

and the story of how they met was that paul saw john repeatedly before they ever met, when he didn't know who john was other than that he thought he looked cool & admired his sideburns (lmfao). and when they did finally meet, it was when john was singing at a garden fete (party) and paul was in the crowd just Mesmerized. so. well. you can see.... you can see how fitting that is. makes me crazy makes me want to chew glass actually

12. "we were each other's intimates" and other insane quotes

"we were each other's intimates" is a paul quote about john which is just insane but that's not even the tip of the iceberg. here's a ton of quote compilations.

13. "literally everything else"/honorable mentions

some honorable mentions go out to: john going on stage w elton john & playing i saw her standing there and introducing it as "a song by an estranged fiance of mine" okay! the "just like starting over" demos. okay! which isn't even to MENTION the fact that paul locked himself away in the studio listening to "just like starting over" on repeat for DAYS after john died like???? john saying repeatedly that he considered paul & yoko to be his two major partners in life including in an interview the literal day he died. a whole ass rpf movie where they kiss & talk like they're ex-lovers and dance in central park (two of us) made by the same dude that made the let it be movie like. he knew them personally? he worked with them closely? and the only thing paul had to say about it was just essentially that it was what he wished would've happened like???????? i can't find a super reliable source for this so take it w a grain of salt, but apparently paul referred to mclennon fanfiction as "beautiful stories" and doesn't mind them being written. paul also had a cat that had kittens & he named two of the kittens pyramus and thisbe after fictional lovers he and john played and he gave pyramus (the character paul played) to john :|

and literally so much else like all of this and it's not even all of it. it's not even close to all of it. i didn't even get to talk about the way in "get back" the documentary, paul started talking about john leaving the band for yoko and how john would choose her over them and then he got teary eyed, started choke laughing, and then started singing "build me up buttercup" before looking at the cameras and stopping. what the FUCK was that about! IT'S NOT EVEN GETTING INTO THE SONG "TWO OF US" THAT'S SO OBVIOUSLY ABOUT JOHN THAT IT HURTS. it's. it's not even scratching the surface. they were just genuinely insane about each other.

#mclennon #this is long but it had to be to expand on every reference i made in that post FJADJFASDF

118 notes · View notes

jo-harrington · 18 days

Text

Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction - Chapter 3: Lore Dump

Previous Chapter: Out of Character

Summary: After your bombshell revelation, Eddie finds it difficult to wrap his head around what is now his reality to empathize with your shared predicament.

Word Count: 8k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: No-Upside-Down AU, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Lore Dump (literally), Isekai, Mentions of FOI-compliant events and characters, Various References to Movies and Television, Criticism of Fanfiction, Meta Fiction

Note: Ok besties here we are and the chapter, or at least one part of it, is very much as the title says. It's a Lore Dump as we figure out how Reader and Eddie have found themselves in this predicament. Warning everyone that it might be a little mind-fucky but a lot more will be explained in detail in future chapters. We've only just scratched the surface here.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

You'd never run so much in your entire life.

Alright, that might have been a little dramatic.

But that didn't mean it wasn't true.

"Is it always like this?" you panted as you chased after the flopping brown coat of the man a few steps ahead of you. "With the running?"

"Oh yes!" he called out. He looked back at you with a charming, crooked grin and pointed ahead. "You'll get used to it. Allons-y!"

This whole nightmare started when you crashed your car into, what you thought was, an unassuming blue "police box."

And now, several days later, you were running, ducking, diving...surviving all manner of monsters that seemingly popped up out of nowhere in the middle of Texas. With a goofy man with unbrushed hair and a buzzing screwdriver called The Doctor, and his companion--whatever that meant; it sounded suspicious to you--Martha, who kept staring at you like you'd grown another head.

You supposed adventure was the idea when you left the borders of Port Geneva proper, but this kind of adventure wasn't exactly what you had in mind. Static monsters who could literally take the words out of your mouth and a hive-mind controlling overlord whose goal it was to steal knowledge.

You might have been a lover of fantastical stories, but this was something beyond your wildest fantasies, and apparently something Martha and the Doctor encountered regularly, if their cool reaction to some of the atrocities you'd seen was indicator enough.

They both seemed to have it in mind that you were joining them for this type of ordeal from now on, though.

Especially the Doctor, if that "you'll get used to it" was something to go by.

"Come on, faster, faster," Martha called out to you from the threshold of a solid metal door just up ahead. "They can't get in through the iron."

You pumped your legs faster and ignored the burn in your lungs as you passed the Doctor and joined Martha in the safety of the bunker, with the man of the hour himself following shortly after. Martha slammed the door shut and then used the sonic to ensure the lock would hold.

They let you have a moment to catch your breath as they strategized plans for the next steps, which seemed impossible now that you were stuck in a bunker filled with junk and no exit.

"Nothing's impossible," the Doctor exclaimed as though he could read your mind. Maybe he could; you wouldn't put it past him. "And we're not stuck."

He removed the brown trench coat and got to work sorting through the junk in the bunker, while Martha took a seat beside you and patted your knee.

"You should be proud of yourself," she said gently. "It's really hard, dealing with all of this. And I've been with him for almost a year now. All the running, the monsters, all of the...impossible--

"Nothing's impossible Martha," the Doctor interjected.

"--improbable things," she amended. "It doesn't get easier, but you will get used to it. Besides, you'd think you were on the track team like Sam with how fast you've been running. Maybe you should have been the star relay runner instead of her."

Martha might have laughed.

But you didn't.

You felt a cold sense of dread overtake you. You'd told them about your friends back home earlier in the day, when you'd panicked over your impending doom. You cried and told them you wished you were still back there, safe and sound; in hindsight, it was a pathetic moment.

It wasn't what you'd said that gave you pause now, though; it's what you hadn't.

"Martha," you muttered nervously. "How did you know that Sam did relay?"

Martha's eyes went wide and she looked to the doctor in a sudden panic.

"I...I never told you she was on the track team."

It was a standoff.

A staring contest.

You and Eddie watched each other, unblinking, as if to see who would break first.

Eddie knew it would probably be him because his mind was racing, but he would give you the chance to repeat yourself, or elaborate, or maybe yell "surprise" first.

None of those things happened of course, so he was left in stunned silence trying to formulate the words to respond to your groundbreaking revelation.

We are in a fanfiction.

Fanfiction.

He had heard about fanfiction before. Drove the guys out to some comic book shop in Fort Wayne to celebrate Jeff's birthday and the nerds behind the counter were talking about a Star Trek fanfiction they read in some celebratory fan magazine.

He'd honestly never thought about Kirk and Spock like that and he really didn't want to again.

Even though it kind of made sense.

He just wasn’t that big of a Trek guy either.

But damn, even though he and the guys might not have been the popular kids, they were definitely not dorky like that, were they?

Except that they were. He was.

He wrote his favorite characters into his DnD campaigns as NPCs and he fantasized about what it would be like if he was Han Solo instead of Han himself, and tucked away in a drawer at home, there was definitely that story about you...

"Shit," he finally breathed out, blinking and breaking eye contact with you. "Shit, I did this. I mean, I know I did this, but did...did I do this?"

"What?" You frowned at him. "What do you mean, did you do this? Eddie, did you hear what I said?"

"No, yeah, of course I did," he began rambling. "I just...before you showed up in Hawkins, I...I wrote about you. I wrote about you leaving Port Geneva and coming to Hawkins and meeting me and...fuck...that means you know."

You stared at him blankly.

"You know that Port Geneva is a TV show," he clarified and then ran a hand through his hair. "Jesus Christ, how did I...how could I have done this? Shit. Shit."

You crossed the short distance and took a seat on the couch beside him, comforting hand finding his knee instantly.

"Eddie--"

"I'm sorry I did this. I'm sorry I just...you're my...my favorite character and I..."

"--you didn't do this. Someone else did."

He took a few breaths, heart pounding in his chest, and then swallowed hard.

"Who?"

"That's...a little harder to answer. But I think the thing you need to focus on right now--the thing you're missing--is that we are in a fanfiction. You and me. Together. Because I'm not the only one from a TV show. You are too."

Eddie was dumbstruck for a second.

Well, he was pretty dumbstruck about this whole thing. But he only had a second to really process it, because the next thing he knew, you were in his lap, lips pressed to his, hands fisting his jacket, and the door to the greenroom burst open as his friends walked in.

You pulled away from him as the catcalls and whistles and jokes began and glanced over your shoulder at the guys to bite your lip bashfully.

"Ah, looks like the original song worked after all," Jeff teased.

"Good, cuz then we don't have to play it anymore, bleh," Gareth stuck his tongue out. "You know, for everything you preach about metal and only metal Eddie, you sure wrote some sappy Greg Brady shit."

Eddie's ears rang as he answered. Well, as his mouth moved and voice spoke, saying something that got everyone laughing. Something that he had no control over once again. You turned back to him and he widened his eyes in some silent plea but you simply shook your head at him.

Instead you leaned forward and kissed him again, softer this time. Gentler. Different from the unexpected kiss just moments before, this was one of understanding and comfort.

He relaxed under your touch.

"Alright guys," you announced as you pulled away, words and tone of your voice not quite matching the softness of your gaze as you continued to watch him. "Your set's over. You don't have to go home but you can't stay here. Bev wants you out."

"What was all of that?" he demanded as you stepped out of your car.

After driving the guys home, he sat on your porch and waited. Chain smoking and lost in his thoughts until you got back to Forest Hills after your shift.

"Can I at least get inside first?" you asked with a nervous laugh. "Do you want to wake Granny up? Jesus."

He was on your heels as you unlocked your door and stepped inside, almost followed you to your bedroom when you said you'd wanted to change into PJs, and even declined a soda when you got settled back in the living room.

And once you couldn't stall for any more time, sitting next to each other on your couch, he stared at you and begged, "please, I need to know I'm not in a nightmare here. Or dead."

You let out a honk of laughter and then reached over to take his hand in yours, and he felt the slight edge of abject terror start to lessen.

"You're not in a nightmare," you reassured him. "Or dead."

"Then...then what is this?" he whispered desperately. "Is this a trick? A joke? Start from the beginning. Please."

You took a breath and began.

"It's fanfiction." You hummed contemplatively for a moment. "This is...I don't know when it started, actually. For me, that is. For you...well, there's no way we could say for sure; I can only talk about my own experience."

You paused and then said your name, the same way that you had introduced yourself originally. And then Eddie realized that you were introducing yourself again as you squeezed his hand in yours.

"I was born and raised in Port Geneva, and then in 1985 after graduation, I left to start my adventure. And from that moment on--for years--I got to have it. I got to have...a hundred adventures. A thousand. A million maybe? As many adventures as there have been people to imagine them. As many adventures as there have been fans to write them.

"Fans like you, Eddie," you smiled at him. "You said you wrote a story where I came to see you."

"Yeah," he nodded, cheeks hot under your gaze. "I did."

"And I'm your favorite character?"

He thought about you, thought about himself and the countless nights that he watched you on the screen.

"How could you not be my favorite?" he asked gently in return.

Your gaze turned soft and you looked down at his hand, clasped tightly within yours, and then you continued with your story.

"I got to see the world, got to meet so many people, I got to fall in love...except I never realized it. Until...until I met him."

"Him?" Eddie asked sharply, thoughts immediately spiraling.

Love.

You said love.

Who was this Him that you were in love with? Even through Eddie's confusion and panic about the predicament he was currently in, he could still feel a bitter jealousy roiling deep inside his gut.

"The Doctor," you whispered.

"Doctor Who?"

You snorted. "Exactly."

"I don't get it," he shook his head.

"Doctor Who...that's...it's the name of a television show. Been around for a long time, but I'm not sure how popular it is here. If it even exists. You have a lot of media that we didn't have in Port Geneva but there's a few things that...I dunno...that your writers haven't mentioned. Or The Writer hasn't included yet."

You explained it to him, or the gist of it at least.

An immortal time-traveling alien and his usually human companion, all of the adventures and misadventures and danger. Being able to go to different times and timelines and universes.

In any other scenario, it would have sounded cool. Maybe a little scary. But now, all Eddie could think about was this mess you were in.

"And...this Doctor...he's what brought you to Hawkins?" he questioned hesitantly, figuring that it made the most sense. "He thought he was bringing you back to Port Geneva's universe and brought you here instead?"

"Uh, no," you frowned. "That was The Writer. The Author. Whatever you want to call them."

"Because this is a fanfiction."

"Yeah. That was. And this is. I just...didn't know it yet. I didn't realize it was fanfiction until later. But, uh, whoever wrote that crossover story just brought me from my world into Doctor Who, and that was when I realized I was a fictional character from a TV Show. Because they wrote me as a character who jumped from a television show into the 'real world' of the Doctor and his friends."

Just like you were now: a fictional character in his world.

"It's hard to explain, but the Doctor made me aware of it. Made it make sense." You faltered. "Well...not really, but that's when it started. He told me that I wasn't real--"

"Wait,” he interrupted you. “But you said I was from a tv show back at the hideout. So you're telling me I'm not real?"

"Ed--"

"Because you’re from a tv show and so am I and this Doctor is too.”

“I wouldn’t try to think about it so hard.”

“Is that...the Doctor told you that you were a character in a TV show and you weren't real? And that's what you're telling me right now too?"

"It's hard to explain--"

"Because I don't know sweetheart," Eddie chuckled sardonically and shook his hands out of yours so he could run them over his face, through his hair. "I...I feel plenty real. And if there's anyone who isn't real here...well, I have a stack of video tapes back home that can provide enough evidence."

He’d thought about the barebones of it when he’d been outside waiting for you to get home, but faced with the truth of it now, the dominoes were starting to fall.

He was real, he had to be. His whole life, all of his memories, all of his friends, what about th—

"Can you let me fucking finish?" you snapped at him with a sharp clap.

His shoulders heaved and he stared at you with wild eyes.

"You're real," you explained calmly. "I'm real. We're both real. Real people. Real lives. Real memories. For the most part."

Eddie didn't like the sound of that.

"But this world...is your world and I don't belong here. Just like I didn't belong in the Doctor's world either. He explained it to me in some way I didn't quite understand; I'm just a girl from the midwest. I barely graduated high school and suddenly he was telling me there was some cosmic anomaly that pulled me out of my world, my tv show world, and that I was transported into his world. It was wild.

“The important thing though was that he didn't know how to get me home. So, until he could figure it out, I was stuck. And I traveled with him for a while. With him and his friend Martha…and then with another friend Donna. Until somewhere at the end of it all...I died."

Eddie's heart stopped in his chest; you...died?

The question was stuck on his lips, the demand to know more, but he felt himself choke up when he thought about it. Even more when he watched the tears well in your eyes as you remembered your own death.

"I died alone, bleeding out in the middle of an alien planet..." you recalled, wrenching your eyes shut. There was a beat of silence and he let you have a moment to recover. He watched your eyes dart around beneath your eyelids as you gathered your thoughts, as you recalled whatever horror you went through. When you were through, you blinked and looked up at him with the weight of a thousand truths in your gaze. "And then I wasn't dead anymore."

"What?!"

"Well obviously I'm alive,” you motioned down to yourself. “Maybe I’m a little worse for wear inside but I’m fine. Back then though...I was dead. One second I was in oblivion. And then next, I woke up in the driver's seat of my car, outside of a hotel in Odessa, Texas. With a man from the future named Hiro Nakamura, who told me I had to save the cheerleader if I wanted to save the world.

"And it all just started over again," you sighed.

You recounted this next place to him. Places, actually; plural. Names that meant nothing to him but seemed to mean something to you--Hiro, Claire, Peter, Sylar--and it all sounded fantastic. Another unbelievable adventure, but there was still something off.

"I...I tried to ask questions. About where I was, about where the Doctor was. It was always ignored. I tried to control things but it seemed like I couldn't, no matter how hard I tried. Tried to do things that I instinctively knew I wanted to do, but I just couldn't. It seemed like there was something controlling me instead. Like I was a puppet on a string. And everything that happened around me...never seemed to make any sense, no matter how hard I tried to wrap my head around it.

"Sound familiar?" you asked.

Eddie scoffed, thinking about the traumatic, out of control moments he had had the past few days. That hopeless, helpless, sinking feeling he'd had.

"It fucking sucks, sweetheart. You feel like that...all the time?"

"You get used to it." You shook your head. "Get used to playing along. I learned that really quickly; I resigned myself to this life where I was just a passenger in my own body. Until I realized if I just played the part that whatever forces-that-be wanted me to play, I could have a little more control."

There was a tense pause as you let Eddie absorb the information. And absorb it he did. He didn't like it, the idea that he had to play a part; it was something he'd been fighting all his life. But maybe if you said it was something that would make him feel more in control, he could try.

He turned to the next thought ever-present in his mind.

"So," he cleared his throat to start again. "How do you know this is a fanfiction? When did you figure that out? Because...when you showed up, I thought about all the possibilities--a dream, a nightmare, hell, heaven, a portal, a wormhole like in a comic book--and that was never one of them."

"Because of the interviews."

"Interviews..."

"They're fun and silly, I guess," you shrugged apathetically. "You'll be in the middle of your life, middle of your day, middle of a fight...and then the world goes dark and you'll find yourself sitting in a room alongside the people you know...and The Writer. An Interview with the Characters.

"I was already familiar with the fact that I was from a television show and in a world I didn't belong in. But I was the only person aware of that fact; to the Doctor, I was a fictional character, but here Port Geneva the television show...didn't exist. I was just another citizen of planet earth, and my home was a real place on the map, as real as Odessa or New York.

"But suddenly my friends and I were in that room sitting in front of someone. A writer. The Writer--SylaireIsMyOTP117--and they were all aware that they were characters in a television show called Heroes, that I was a character from Port Geneva, and that we were all in some kind of...story in another universe, written by this SylaireismyOTP117. Something they never seemed aware of before.

"And SylaireismyOTP117...she acted like she was our friend too, like she had our best interest in mind and valued our opinions. Everyone laughed along with all of her jokes. Answered all of her questions. Except me, because then it all came into perspective. She was the one playing with our lives--playing with my life--and putting us in danger. She made us travel through time to dangerous places, she created more dangers, she even killed Peter's older brother--something that apparently hadn't happened in the show. Well...not yet anyway."

Your hands clenched and unclenched.

"I thought I figured it out," you said through gritted teeth. "Found the person responsible for this predicament I was in. Because she was so...sure of herself. She even had the audacity to apologize for pulling me out of my world and into Heroes. I asked her why she made me die with the Doctor just so I could be a part of this world instead... but she didn't know what I was talking about.

"Suddenly she had this pink magazine in her hand. Pulled it out of her back pocket and waved it around, saying she found it in her mom's childhood bedroom. Said I must have been thinking about one of the stories from it. The Port Geneva Teen Fanzine. SylaireismyOTP117 told me she was sad that people had written me the way they did. Out of Character. That she wanted to give me something better than than had. A better adventure. Then the interview was over. And that was the end of that. Or just the beginning actually.

"Mystery solved." You held your hands out in front of you like you were presenting the secrets of the universe. Eddie could even imagine a glowing sphere floating there if he tried hard enough.

You started naming names then, of movies and books and television shows. Heroes and Lost and Vampire Diaries and The Dark Knight.

And. And. And.

The list just kept going and going.

It made Eddie's head spin to hear all of the places you had been, all of the lives you had lived, the things that all of these Writers had put you through.

To hear how sometimes you'd wake up in a new world, sometimes you'd seemingly get your happily ever after, sometimes none of the above. Sometimes you were even back home in Port Geneva--relieved--only to get ripped away all over again.

It never seemed to end the same way, but it always started with you in the driver's seat of your car. Chugging along to the next destination. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse.

"And that's how you ended up here in Hawkins?" Eddie asked, then paused. "Do you know...what my show is called?"

"Uh," you winced and folded your hands together in your lap. "Yes. I do. And I know it seems like I know all of these things. I don’t. Rarely, actually. But sometimes the Writers think they're funny and they work the title into the story; that’s how I find out. Because it's out of place.

"But, uh, it’s not the first time I've been here in Hawkins, actually."

It was a record scratch moment for Eddie.

"You...you have?" He smiled and suddenly felt a sense of hope; alright, so his love for you was so undeniable that this wasn't the first time someone had brought you to him. To give him something good in his miserable shit life. "Well so, what happened last time? Why can't I remember? Is that just...well, I guess, what makes this time different? Why am I aware of it all this time?

"Wait! Wait! What's my show about? Is it...is it like...the Misadventures of a Wannabe Rockstar or something? You said that when we had breakfast at Benny's. Is that the title? It has to be."

He rambled for a second, excitedly trying to predict his future, a future where you got to see the ups and downs of his life as he and Corroded Coffin navigated their way to fame.

You let him ramble, let him live in hope for those few moments. Until he realized you weren't chattering excitedly with him.

Until he saw the pain in your eyes.

He deflated, mind suddenly turning to the worst scenarios. At least in his mind.

"We don't make it, do we?" Was the conclusion he could come to. "But it's Wannabe Rockstar, right?. Not Future Rockstar. I'm gonna end up working at Thatcher Tires instead or something. Dead end job, stuck in this town..."

"It isn't your show," you whispered. "Just like Port Geneva...wasn't really mine."

Eddie swallowed hard.

"It's called Stranger Things," you explained. "And it's...I dunno...there are monsters. The first time I was here, I wasn't transported in as someone's favorite TV character. It was 1983, Port Geneva was a real place, and I was a transfer student at Hawkins High. And awful things happened. But there was no Eddie Munson. They must've written you in later in the show."

You continued your own rambling then, as you tried to make him feel better about it all. How he must've been a beloved character for someone to write a story about him. How whatever story they were writing was a good story too, because there didn't seem to be any monsters in Hawkins, not like there were the first time you'd been there.

"And...and The Writer of this story must love you a lot," you concluded. "To bring your favorite tv character in to be your girlfriend. For us to...like each other, love each other--and I do like you Eddie, I want to make that very clear. You make me feel like I'm close to home for the first time in a long time--but it seems like they want to give you a happy ending too. One you deserve."

But your words didn't help. The sinking feeling was back, but this time The Writer didn't have anything to do with it.

It was him, all him. All this misery and he wasn't even the main character of his own show. He should've seen that coming. And yeah he could live with being someone's favorite, enough for them to write a happy ending or something but...

"'s that mean I have a sad ending in the show?" he wondered. "If there are usually monsters here but there aren't, and I get something...something good, does that mean I die or something?"

"Eddie, it's..." you trailed off, but the rest of the sentence was hanging in the air, clear to both of you.

It's better not to think about it that way.

He nodded slowly and pulled his hand away from you to run it over his face.

It was confusing, it was upsetting.

All of it.

The cherry on top of the shit sundae that was his week. His life.

Fuck, but none of it was real, right? Contrary to everything you said. So could he really be upset? Should he? At least he knew he had something good to look forward to. A happy ending.

But how could he look forward to it when he knew that...well, when he knew that he didn't deserve it in the first place. That wasn't what fate had in store for him.

Or the writers of this Stranger Things show.

His happiness was at the whim of The Writer. At the whim of some...loser nerd writing about him in another universe.

A nerd just like him.

Fuck, it was giving him a headache.

"I uh...have a lot to think about," he whispered. You nodded as he stood and crossed towards the door of your trailer so he could leave. He paused at the door, instinctively remembering that he had to kiss you goodbye. Until everything hit him all over again and he decided it was better not to. "I'll, uh, I'll call you. Ok?"

"Yeah," you nodded eagerly. "Call me whenever. Please. It's...it is a lot. And honestly, we only scratched the surface. But we can figure the rest out together. I can help you through it. I promise. I'll be here."

He left without another word.

Denial was the easiest way for Eddie to go about this whole ordeal, or so he thought. How the fuck else was someone supposed to come to terms with the fact that...

Nope he wasn't gonna go there. Not yet.

He knew that he would need to deal with it eventually--need to think it through and talk to you--but until then, he was just going to live his life like he normally would.

So he avoided those feelings, and avoided you.

And it seemed to work.

School, home, trip to Rick's to re-up his inventory on Wednesday, grocery run for Wayne on Thursday, Hellfire on Friday, no date on Saturday.

Dealing at a few parties, band practice where the music was all normal, and then finally back at the Hideout for their gig on Tuesday.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

It was a normal week and aside from the still-obvious markers of this new life he was living, like the mess in the trailer and the fancy renovations at the Hideout, Eddie felt relieved and a little less like he was about to lose his mind.

It was both a blessing and a curse though, because at the end of every day he realized just how much missed you.

You'd rooted yourself solidly in his life--both on tv and now in the flesh--for years. Even when he didn't have new episodes to watch and stories to enjoy, he had his reruns. His tapes. Then you were suddenly there in person and on the phone.

So the you-shaped hole that he punched in his life, when he decided to ignore his predicament, was gaping and obvious.

Yeah, he could tell Wayne about the great battle he'd come up with for Hellfire, or complain to the guys about the bogus chemistry homework. But it wasn't the same. Not anymore.

So he resolved to talk to you on Tuesday after the set, only you weren't there.

"Shouldn't you know Junior? That's your girl," Bev dismissed him with a wave of her hand. She must have taken pity on him at the sight of his sad eyes, and she just sighed and continued. "She called in sick. Took the night off. She seemed fine yesterday; better not be cuz of you, kid."

He feared you might have left town, maybe to spare him or something--how that would work with the fanfiction Gods? Weren't you supposed to stay in Hawkins? He wasn't sure--but your car was in front of your trailer by the time he got home.

Everything was quiet, and all the lights were off, even the porch light which you usually kept on. He debated knocking on your door, waking you up, but decided against it.

If you really were trying to give him space, or simply avoid him like he had avoided you, it was best not to wake you up and piss you off.

"Tomorrow," he told himself. "I'll talk to her after school tomorrow."

Of course, that was the plan and fanfiction or not, sometimes even the best laid plans went awry.

He was still Eddie Munson, after all.

Things never went his way.

Once again, he had Chrissy Cunningham to thank for his plight.

It was on this, the day of his reconciliation with you, that she decided her hunt or conquest or humiliation of him would take place.

Maybe all of the above.

It was raining, he was running late.

He would have cut classes--should have just cut--but despite all odds being against him now more than ever, he promised himself that he was going to try when it came to school.

He had just opened the door to his locker when she appeared, the tips of her pristine white sneakers kissing the sides of his muddied converse.

"Hey Eddie!" Chrissy greeted with a too-big smile and sparkling eyes.

Eddie jumped and looked around the hallway, conveniently lacking its usual amount of students who loitered around before class. Thankfully, no other cheerleaders or jocks in sight either, though; it was either a blessing or a curse, he couldn't tell for sure.

"Hey, uh," he coughed and glanced at Chrissy for a second, before distracting himself with the contents of his locker. Fuck, it was pretty messy in there too; now was as good a time as any to clean it. "What's up?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to talk to you," she beamed.

He felt a bubbling of annoyance build within him, somewhat out of his control.

"You can't want to talk to me and also not want anything Chrissy," he scoffed pretty harshly as he grabbed a handful of papers to sort through. "So do you want to buy weed for a slumber party or something? Or have you suddenly decided to throw your Homecoming crown in the trash so you could join Hellfire ?"

She shuffled her feet and clutched her books to her chest and then took a deep breath.

"I wanted to know if you'd like to hang out some time," she announced loudly, bravely. Eddie froze in shock and then turned to her; her cheeks were red but there was a resolve in her eyes that he'd never seen in her before. "There's a new movie playing at the Hawk. Clue. I don't know if you've heard of it, it looks a little spooky..."

She rambled on and Eddie was left to stare at her, dumbfounded.

Chrissy Cunningham? Asking him out? Ok so Gareth was right?

But was Gareth right? Was she really hot for him or was she just using him for her own amusement? Or was this another little...storytelling mishap that the Writer was putting him through?

Shit, how could he tell?

This kind of shit sort of always, sort of never happened to him before.

Plenty of popular girls thought it was fun to go out with The Freak just to get off or to have a laugh, sure. But everything else in his life was turning upside down thanks to the Writer. So was this just another layer to that absolute shit show?

Gah, what the fuck could it be?

The anger bubbled inside of him again, and he had the vaguest realization that the anger didn't really belong to him. It felt too intense, almost manufactured. He was hit with the sense of deja vu that he'd felt this way before--in the cafeteria before the almost-food-fight and then at Family Video--and he decided to put a stop to it immediately.

"Listen Chrissy," he interrupted her with a cool, indifferent tone. "The movie sounds cool, but I'm really not interested in going out with you." He turned back to shut his locker and get to class when she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"If this is because of Jason," she began softly. "I'm...you don't have to worry. I'd break up with him if we went out."

"It's not about Jason," he snapped, out of control once again. Well and truly out of control. He felt himself shrug her hand away. "I have a girlfriend. A girlfriend who is actually cool and nice and interesting. Who likes the things that I like and doesn't like silly things like magazines and cheer and scrunchies." He watched in horror as he lifted his hand and flicked at her ponytail, and then felt angry at himself, at this situation, at The Writer when Chrissy flinched and dropped her books on the floor.

"It's almost funny that you'd think I'd be interested in someone like you," he spat at her venomously.

He felt the sudden urge to slam the locker, felt the urge to walk away, felt the urge to laugh in Chrissy's face.

But he resisted all of those urges with every fiber of his being.

He just stood there until the puppet strings were cut once again and he felt the rage and anger dissipate.

All the while, Chrissy went from a fearful, trembling mess in front of him, eyes welling with tears, to...nothing.

She just stood there too.

She looked down at her feet, shuffled back and forth for a moment, and then she scuffed her shoes against the floor, nudging the fallen textbooks.

She suddenly didn't look like Queen of Hawkins High Chrissy Cunningham, or someone that was afraid of the Wrath of the Freak, or some lash-batting temptress like she had been just moments ago.

She just looked like the girl who was hiding in the Auditorium at the Hawkins Middle School talent show all those years ago.

A person. Just like him.

Eddie cleared his throat and knelt down to help Chrissy pick up her books.

"Sorry," he muttered when she knelt beside him. "Sorry I--"

"No, it's ok. I guess...I don't know. I guess I just felt a little lost for a while," she explained softly. "And the only thing that seemed like it could fix it was you."

Interesting.

"But not anymore?" he wondered.

"Uh, no," she shook her head. "I don't even know...why I asked you out Eddie. No offense...but you're not really my type."

The two of them laughed for a second as they stood back up.

"You know," Eddie turned Chrissy's books over in his hand, "if you wanna break up with Carver, you can just do that. You don't need to use me as an excuse."

She froze in front of him, cheeks red again, as she hummed nervously.

"Thanks Eddie," she whispered. They both smiled softly, a silent understanding shared between them, and then Chrissy held out her books so he could stack the ones in his hand atop them.

And that's when he saw the book--magazine--at the top of her stack.

A pink-covered, handmade looking thing with a familiar name printed at the top of it.

Port Geneva Teen Fanzine.

His heart stopped.

That was the thing you said your Writer had shown you once upon a time, in your Interview.

For a second he wondered how Chrissy had it, but then he tried to figure out the logic that you were from a TV show and transported here. If he was a fan, there must be other people watching the show and fans of it too. Maybe the magazine transcended universes. Just like the show did.

It honestly made his head hurt trying to think about it.

"You...you like Port Geneva?" he asked, trying to remain as casual as possible.

"Hmm, yeah," Chrissy smiled down at the 'zine. "It's one of my favorite shows. My mom and I used to watch it together. Sam is my favorite character."

Somehow, that didn't surprise him one bit.

"Do you watch?" she questioned, brow quirked curiously. "It doesn't seem like your kind of show."

"I mean, I'm full of surprises," he teased, trying to keep his tone as lighthearted as possible. "But, uh...yeah. I used to."

"It's a bummer that it's over right?"

"Yeah...hey Chrissy, I know you don't owe me any favors or anything but, uh, can I borrow that?"

"Seriously?" she snorted. "It's just got like personality quizzes and little stories and stuff in it. Nothing special."

Little stories? Bingo.

"Yeah, just curious."

"Sure." They traded her textbooks for the magazine, and then with a shrill ring of the bell overhead, they went off to class.

He sat in his room after school, holding the Port Geneva Teen Fanzine like it was some sacred document not meant for the eyes of a mere mortal peasant like him.

The Dead Sea Scrolls or the Magna Carta or The Declaration of Independence.

It had burned a hole in his backpack the whole day, anticipation getting the better of him, but he knew that he didn't want to read the 'zine in front of his friends.

"So stupid," he scoffed at his own antics. "What was gonna happen? Davey wouldn't want to take the 'which character would make the best chemistry lab partner' quiz."

Maybe just in case there was something just inside the pink paper cover that would change his life forever.

"Like what? It's not like your yearbook picture's gonna be on the first page, idiot," he sighed and tightened his grip on the magazine. "Just gotta rip off that bandaid."

He closed his eyes tightly, took a breath, and flipped open the cover.

When he cracked one eye open to take a peek, he sighed in relief.

His face wasn't staring back up at him. No faces, actually. Just a table of contents that looked a little grainy, like it was copied on a Xerox machine and haphazardly thrown together.

There were different headlines just like there would be in a regular magazine--interviews, behind the scenes, quizzes--and then some unique ones--fan art, fan submissions, show theories. At the bottom of the Table of Contents, there was a little slip that could be cut out, filled, and mailed along with a few dollars to some address in California to get the next copy of the 'zine.

Eddie flipped through the pages curiously, and he truly enjoyed some of the pictures of fans visiting the set and getting pictures with a few cast members. Then an interview with the actress who played Sam's mom, who said what a joy it was to see her young co-stars grow up and come into their own, just like their characters.

Then about half-way through, he reached the Fan Submissions.

A section filled with fanfiction stories.

A section where your name was plastered practically everywhere.

Stories of you getting to go to big cities, ones where you finally returned home. A heartbreaking one where you returned in time for Sam and Pat's wedding and you cried because...

Because...you'd actually been in love with Patrick the whole time?

Eddie made a noise of shock as he read the detailed description of your heartbreak and the way that you recalled how sad you had been the day Pat had come to ask for your help with the proposal.

"Were we even watching the same show?" Eddie scoffed.

There were a few fanfiction submissions that characterized you that way, having this unrequited love for him.

But you never really showed any interest in him, other than friendship. Aside from Mark, you never had any romantic feelings in the show.

How had these so-called fans misread your relationship with Pat so terribly?

Or had Eddie's obsession with you clouded his ability to perceive the signs? Maybe he had been watching a different show than everyone else.

He wallowed in that feeling as he waded through the fan stories slowly--although one story about Bonnie and Bill seemed a little interesting: a Bakery/Flower Shop soulmate romance--until he got to one at the very end that caused the hair on his arms to stand on end.

A story about you...and Alex P. Keaton?

It was the only crossover in the fan submission, and it made Eddie nervous once again that he misunderstood your character.

Alex P. Keaton who read the Wall Street Journal for fun?! And you, and artist who followed your heart and went on an adventure to find yourself?! No, there was no way.

"This is a bunch of bullshit," he muttered. He shut the magazine and ran a hand over his face and into his hair.

Eddie wasn't the one who misunderstood you; it was everyone else who did. And if they had written you so wrong in this magazine, he could only dream of how wrongly they'd written you in all of those other stories you told him about. How miserable you must have felt in all of those different worlds.

Shit, and it was not only you who felt miserable, but him now too.

The wild events of the past few weeks had made him feel like he was going crazy. Yeah, at least he had an explanation for it now, but it didn't negate the fact that he suddenly felt like a stranger in his own life.

And if he felt like that, God only knows how you must've felt.

"Shit," he muttered.

He needed to talk to you.

He quickly got up from the bed and raced out of the house, panting as he jogged across the trailer park to get to your door.

He knocked frantically and impatiently waited for you to answer.

His resolve broke when you finally did.

Clothes--pajamas, actually--mussed, eyes bloodshot and puffy, you looked a lot like you had during the episode where Mark had broken your heart and you'd cried to Sam.

Had you thought that he was ending things with you because he had been avoiding you? Because of this whole situation? He ached to think that he'd hurt you like that.

"Sweetheart," Eddie whispered softly. "I should've called. Shit. I'm sorry I--"

"No," you sniffed and shook your head. You were smart enough to put two and two together and realize what he was apologizing for. "No, it's...Eddie this isn't because of you...I mean yeah, actually it is but..."

"I'm sorry," you both said simultaneously.

"I'm sorry that I just left the other night," Eddie elaborated. "I'm sorry that I avoided the whole thing, but I needed...I needed some sense of normalcy in all of this."

When he paused for breath, you immediately swooped in with your own apology and explanation.

"Well I'm sorry I seemed to have brought all of this bullshit with me to Hawkins," you stared at him pathetically. "I've never...no one has ever seemed aware of it before. I've been dealing with this alone for so long. I know I sort of dumped it on you; not only to explain, but maybe because I found some sort of relief that I wouldn't be going through it all alone anymore. I'd have you with me at least.

"And then, after you left, I really had time to think...how long it's been. My show aired in the 80's. And your show...Stranger Things? I mean...between my last time here...someone put me in a modern movie for a short time...and then I guess your season was a few years later maybe? Twenty-twenty-something?"

Eddie's throat tightened. They were still writing stories about the 80's that far in the future? Sure there were war movies and stuff. Man, people must've been really nostalgic and weird otherwise...

"It must be like...a historical documentary at that point," he laughed dryly.

"You calling me old?" you choked on a laugh, and then looked down at your hands. "I guess I am, though. I've lived through all of these different stories for...lifetimes. One story might take...I dunno, a few months for its Writer to finish, but it spans years. Years that I've lived through, one day at a time, with no break."

"Shit...that sounds..."

"Terrible?"

"Yeah."

"It is. I've been dealing with all of this...alone...for hundreds of years at this point I guess. Through stories that still write me as a teenager, or a middle-aged woman. I've lived and died over and over. I've been an artist, a writer, a dancer, a private investigator...I can't even remember the last time I got to go back to Port Geneva.

"And now that you're stuck in this hell too," your voice dropped to a whisper. "It made me sort of dread that for you too. Dread what kind of life that Writers might put you through, especially if your story in your show had a tragic ending like you said. They could give you everything you ever wanted, or they could just kill you again and again, for fun.

"And it's horrible and beautiful and great sometimes, but at the end of it all, it's tiring. Talking through it with you made me realize how much I wished I could be free, that maybe...maybe this Writer who brought me here would just be happy writing a story about the two of us for the rest of their lives or something. Spare us both anymore torture.

"Because at this point...I don't even know who I am anymore."

Your eyes welled with tears again and your shoulders heaved as you held back a sob.

And Eddie wished that he could tell you that he understood.

That his few days experience being aware that he was in a story could compare to everything that you'd seen.

He could tell you he appreciated your concern, that he felt that sense of dread that you felt for him. Assure you that he'd be fine. That it would be alright as long as you were in it together, just like you said.

But truthfully before hearing you say it right now, he hadn't come to that conclusion that he might be stuck in some endless loop of happiness and misery forever.

Because he did what he always did: he avoided the bad things. He ran away from this problem.

So what could say that could help you? That would make you feel better?

He wracked his brain for a moment, coming up with the right words.

But if there was anything Eddie did better than run away, it was say the right thing at the right time.

And he did.

"I know who you are," Eddie finally found his voice.

He took one of your hands in his and then cupped your cheek so you could look into his eyes.

"You might have forgotten who you are, but I know. I've always known. From the first time I saw you on screen, I felt such a connection to you."

He felt nervous, revealing his feelings to you. Confessing his fanatic behavior, his love for you. They were things he never said aloud to anyone and it made him nervous and vulnerable. Made him feel like he needed to run again. But your eyes glittered with unshed tears, and he knew he had to soldier on.

"Meeting you was like...the happiest day of my life. And you weren't anything that I expected, but everything I knew you were, deep down. And you...you've always seen the real me too, which is something very few people have the patience for. You're exactly who I've been waiting for.

"So maybe," he paused and cleared his throat. "Maybe we only have a few weeks together, or a few months, or maybe it'll be a few years for this Writer to give us a Happily Ever After. Maybe they'll put us through hell. But at least we're in it together. And I'll be here to remind you who you are if you ever forget, and to make sure you're not alone for as long as I can. As long as you promise that you'll do the same for me too."

In hindsight, a kiss was probably not the best end to his little declaration, but it felt right, so he did it anyway.

He leaned in and softly kissed your forehead, then the tip of your nose, then caught the softness of your lips between his.

The sound of your sigh, and the feeling of you melting against him, were the sweetest sensations he'd ever felt. It was a relief.

For a moment, right before he pulled away, Eddie felt a smug sense of superiority over everyone. All the writers who had made you question who you were, all of the love interests that they'd written for you--Alex P. Keaton could get fucked--and he resolved to make this a story for the ages, even if it never wound up on some fanfiction writer's page.

"Thank you Eddie," you whispered against his lips when all was said and done.

"We have a deal?"

"Yeah," you bit your lip and grinned at him. "It's a deal."

You backed away and, hands still locked together Eddie looked around the trailer park and sighed.

"So..." he scratched the back of his neck. "What happens now?"

Next Chapter: Reader Suggestions Coming Soon

There is no taglist for this series, please follow the STFF Updates tag or check the series out on AO3.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #stranger than (fan)fiction #stff #stff updates #stranger things fic

104 notes · View notes

cringe-but-proud · 3 months

Note

Can you do a story were you date Sirius so he can actually Date Remus and reg don't know and likes you and gets jealous

If you can thx you <3

I didn't think I'd like writing this as much as I did lol.

Regulus Black x Fem!Reader

Some Warnings: Technically a modern AU, a bit of cursing, mentions of a bad home life, jealous Reg, sort of angsty???

A/n: I made this new Year's themed even though new years has passed 🤗 Cause y'all can't stop me 🤬🤬🤬 This is DEFINITELY my longest fic yet. PLEASE DON'T LET IT FLOP GUYS.... My requests are open btw

Ah, winter break. It was something everyone at Hogwarts looked forward to. Well, almost everyone. There were those who didn't get to go home to their families and some who wished they didn't have to go home to their families.

One of those people was a friend of yours, Sirius Black. He often avoided talking about his home life, but you knew it wasn't good. And you knew going home for the holidays could be hard for him. So, when it was the day before winter break and the two of you had a moment alone, you asked if there was anything you could do to make the break easier for him.

"I need you to be my girlfriend."

Seven words you'd never expected to hear from your best friend. Your best friend who was in a gay relationship, nonetheless.

"What?" You asked in bewilderment. "No!"

"Wait, wait, wait. It's not what you think." Sirius put his hands up as if to show his innocence. "I don't really want you to be my girlfriend. I just need you to pretend. Please."

"Why?!"

"Because," he explained. "My parents have started to get... Suspicious about my total lack of any girlfriend. And I may have told them that I was dating you.... Y'know, to throw them off my track..."

You stared at him. "You told your parents we were dating?!" You repeated, clearly upset at him.

"I know, I know. It was a shitty thing to do, and I'm sorry." He says. "But, if I didn't give them some sort of excuse, they might've found out about me and Remus!"

You were still upset, but you could understand why he did what he did. "So..." You crossed your arms. "You said I need to pretend to date you. What is it exactly that you need me to do?"

"Over the break, I need you to come over for a couple days. My parents will meet you, get to know you, blah, blah, blah. And then, you'll never have to speak with them again. If they ask about you after that, I'll say we broke up."

You really weren't a fan of having to fake date your best friend. You also weren't a fan of having to meet his parents who you'd only heard negative things about. But... You knew how happy he was with Remus and you would hate for his parents to find out about the two. You sighed. "You're lucky we're friends."

"Is that an agreement?" He asked, a grateful smile on his face.

"Yes. But, you'll be forever in debt to me."

"Fine by me."

The next day, while on the train to 9 3/4, you and Sirius mostly just planned for you having to meet his parents. You decided that you'd arrive the day after Christmas, stay for news years eve, and leave new Year's Day.

A lot of the train ride was spent establishing some basic facts about your "relationship". How you'd met, your first date, what your wedding would be like (which was strange, but Sirius assured you that his parents would ask about marriage), and some other details.

Soon enough, the train ride was over. Your winter break was fine. You enjoyed getting to see your family, but you were quite stressed about seeing Sirius' family. Part of you wanted to call the whole thing off, but you knew that was out of the question. You had to do this. For Sirius.

The morning of December 26th was a cold one. You wished you'd had more protection against the cold, but the formal attire you were wearing could only do so much. Sirius had told you to bring nice, formal clothing for the few days you'd be there. You were a bit worried you'd still be underdressed, though.

You took a deep breath and knocked on the door to the literal mansion that Sirius lived in.

After a few moments, the door opened. Regulus black stood on the other side.

Oh.

"Hi." You greeted, trying to politely smile at him. He didn't return the gesture. He did the opposite he gave you a look of... Annoyance?

"You're here for Sirius."

You couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement, so you just gave a nod.

He stepped aside to let you in, his eyes trailing over your attire, making you feel nervous. "He's in the living room with mother and father." Regulus said before walking off.

What a strange interaction. You and Regulus weren't close, by any means. But, you never thought he disliked you. You thought the opposite was true. Whenever the two of you did interact, he was always quite nice.

You tried to shrug off the interaction, but you just couldn't. Even when you were next to Sirius, meeting his parents for the first time, the way he'd acted toward you was on your mind.

The worst part of your day was dinner. You were worried about everything. How you were eating, how you were sitting, the way everyone was looking at you, the way Regulus was looking at you.

"Y/n," You were broken out of your thoughts by Walburga's authoritative voice. "I want to know how you and Sirius began seeing each other."

You nervously glanced over to Sirius who gave you a forced looking smile. You looked back to Walburga. Gods, she scared you. "Well, it wasn't too long ago." You said, trying your hardest not to break eye contact with her. "It was late September. He told me since we'd known each other for so long, he thought we'd be a good match."

Sirius nodded along. "We went on a couple dates, turns out we really like each other." He said.

You glanced over to Regulus. He was glaring at you. You didn't break eye contact and after a moment something else flashed through his eyes. Something softer. Sadness?

"So," Walburga broke your attention away from Regulus as you looked back to her. "Are you serious about your relationship with my son?"

"Very." You replied.

"Do the two of you plan on marrying?"

You swallowed. "As soon as possible."

You heard silverware clatter as Regulus abruptly stood up. "I need to be excused." He said lowly.

Walburga raised an eyebrow. "You've hardly eaten." She stated. There wasn't any concern in her voice like you'd expect. It was a blatant statement.

"I know." He says. "I'm done."

His mother gave him a disapproving look, but didn't object.

Regulus stormed out of the room. You couldn't help but frown as you watched him leave.

The next few days were a bit uneventful. Most of your time was either spent in the guest bedroom you were staying in, or talking with Sirius. You were still confused by Regulus' attitude toward you. You knew his and Sirius' relationship was a rocky one. But, you didn't think that affected what he thought of you. He'd known you and Sirius were friends, and he still treated you kindly. But, now that the two of you were pretending to date, he had a problem with it? It didn't make any sense!

It was December 31st now. You and Sirius were sitting in his room, eating lunch while sitting on the floor.

"I was thinking-"

"Oh, God."

"Shut up, let me finish." Sirius chuckled, playfully hitting your arm. "I was thinking about going to a party tonight."

You furrowed your brows. "Where?"

"James and his family have a new years party every year. I'm sure they wouldn't mind some extra company."

You thought about it. Honestly, you weren't really in the mood for a party. Plus, if his parents caught you sneaking out, your heart would probably stop. "I think I'll sit this one out." You said after a moment.

"You sure?"

You gave a nod. "Yeah, I'd rather stay in. I'm sure you'll have plenty of fun without me."

"Oh, I will."

You smacked his arm.

The clock read 11:39. You were alone in your guest room sitting in your bed. You had your laptop open in front of you as you watched a broadcasting of one of the many new Year's events that were going on tonight. You were absentmindedly looking at the crowded city streets displayed on your screen when-

"I wouldn't be using that while having the door open." Regulus said. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, looking from you, to the laptop, and then back to you.

"Why not?" You asked.

"My mother doesn't approve of us using muggle technology." He said. "And I doubt she'd be okay with her son's girlfriend using it."

You sighed. "Right... Girlfriend."

Regulus raised a brow at how you'd said that. "What are you watching, anyway?" He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

"A new Year's parade."

"... Could I join you?"

You were surprised at that. After how cold he'd been acting toward you over the past few days, you'd assumed the last thing he'd want to do tonight is spend time with you. But, you weren't against the idea of not being alone when the new Year started.

"Sure." You replied as you moved over on the bed to make room for him to sit.

The two of you watched the parade in silence for a few minutes until Regulus spoke. "How come I had no idea you and Sirius were dating?" He asked.

You glanced over at him. "What do you mean?"

"You said the two of you had been together since late September." He said. "How come nobody knew about it?"

You subconsciously began to fiddle with the fabric of your shirt. "I don't know." You shrugged. "Guess we weren't shouting about it from the rooftops."

Regulus didn't break his gaze away from you. After a pause, he spoke. "I never would've guessed you liked him in that way."

You didn't know how to reply to that, so you just shrugged again.

Regulus was still looking at you, even though your gaze was focused on the screen in front of you.

He paused. "What made you fall for him?" He asked.

You thought it was an odd question. When you turned to look at him, he looked sort of sad. "He..." You trailed off.

Regulus looked at you expectantly. You were trying to come up with something, but your mind was blank.

"You do like him don't you?"

You looked away nervously. You began to wonder whether or not he'd even care that your relationship with Sirius was fake. If he really was upset about you dating Sirius, then wouldn't he like to know that it was all just pretend?

"Y/n." He said your name and you were pulled away from your thoughts.

"He's not actually my boyfriend." You blurted out.

Regulus paused. "What?"

"He asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend. He didn't want Walburga finding out about his actual relationship, so-"

"It's all fake?" He asked.

"All of it."

"You don't like him?"

"Not like that."

You swore you saw a sliver of a smile creep on to his face. "That's... Good."

You tilted your head. "Is it?"

"I mean..." He shrugged. "I just... I guess thinking you'd gotten with my brother was making me upset." He said.

"Why?"

"Because..." He hesitated. "I like you, Y/n."

You felt your heart skip a beat. Fuck, that actually explained a lot. You couldn't believe you hadn't realized sooner. You felt your face heat up. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." He sighed. "I was jealous. That's why I was acting so... Weird. Sorry for being such an asshole to you."

"That's alright." You paused. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? About your feelings, I mean."

He shrugged. "I didn't think you'd feel the same."

Honestly, you'd always found Regulus quite attractive. But, you figured there was no way he'd ever like you back, so you let go of that silly crush a while ago. But, this? This was making all of those feelings wash over you again.

It was 11:59 now. You could hear the commentators of the parade excitedly get ready for the countdown.

"I feel the same." You said, watching as a blush creeped on to his cheeks.

"Really?"

"Really."

His eyes seemed to sparkle at your admission. "I..."

You heard the countdown to the new Year begin.

"Can I kiss you?" Regulus asked softly. You nodded.

"Five!"

He leaned closer.

"Four!"

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips.

"Three!"

His hands came up to cup your cheeks.

"Two!"

He closed his eyes. You closed yours.

"One!"

Your lips met in a soft, romantic kiss. He brushed some hair out of your face and Gods, his hands were soft. You couldn't believe you'd ever managed to stop liking him.

When you pulled away he sighed contently as if that kiss was all he'd been needing his entire life.

You whispered something to him before pulling him in for another kiss.

"Happy new year."

#x reader #fanfiction #regulus black x reader #regulus x reader #marauders x reader #marauders fanfiction #regulus black fanfiction

133 notes · View notes

sneepseverus · 3 months

Note

hey! I have a headcanon of Young!Snape teaching Y/N in the library so they don't have to cheat during the Portions exam (it could end in a kiss, maybe. <3)

Yes! I feel like Snape would hate tutoring unless it’s someone he cares about. I wrote something a lil silly, so I hope you like it.

Pairing: Young!Snape x gn!reader

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: a bit of arguing but mostly fluff

Dividers

To say that the past few months were difficult would be an understatement. Potions this year had proven to be increasingly challenging. You tried your best to review the material in your free time, but that combined with juggling your other classes and your social life was not an easy feat. You considered asking your friend Severus, who was practically a potions genius, for help, but given how serious he was about his academics, you feared doing so would only irritate him.

You just about had it. There was no way you’d memorize all the material for the next exam and pass. You decided to write down everything on a piece of parchment and hide it somehow so you could cheat discretely.

Finally. It was over. Of course, your guilty conscience kept telling you what a terrible mistake it was, but no one seemed to notice. Plus, what would happen if you really failed? You winced at the thought of having to repeat this class again next year, alone without any of your friends. "It was just one exam; I won't do it again," you told yourself. "Everyone does it at some point, right? By this time next year, this won’t even—"

Suddenly, you were stopped in your tracks as you felt a tight grip on the sleeve of your sweater.

"What the hell was that, Y/N?!"

Severus cornered you into the wall, locking eyes with you as he waited for an explanation.

"W-what was what?" you stammered.

"Oh, don’t play dumb with me. I saw what you did," he continued, refusing to lift his eyes off of you. "You weren’t exactly subtle, if that’s what you were even trying to be."

"Okay, fine!" you broke. "I cheated!"

He raised his eyebrows at you, almost proud of the fact that he caught you.

"Why do you even care? Everyone does it. Sorry we're not all intellectual like you. I needed to pass somehow. And it's not like I cheated off of you. What, are you going to report me now? Get me to fail the class, or worse, expelled?"

Though you were intensely defending yourself to the point of guilt-tripping him, you knew he was right (of course.) You were lucky it was only Severus and not your professor.

Finally, he released his grip on you, letting out a sigh. "Fine, I'll help you," he murmured, lowering his gaze to the floor.

"What?" You weren’t sure what you heard was right.

"If you really need it that badly, I'll help you! I'll tutor you."

"But, I didn't—"

"Meet me in the potions classroom tonight right after dinner. Be there on time," he commanded, centering his wand right on your chest.

Before you could get even a word out, he stormed off, gripping his books to his side, probably muttering some…choice words under his breath.

With the hallways now completely empty, you scoffed. "The nerve of him," you thought, rolling your eyes as you replayed the conversation in your head. You had to admit, though, under all that stern yelling, it was a kind gesture…Perhaps it'd be best to review some of the material beforehand so you wouldn't appear to be a complete idiot in front of the junior potion’s master.

You didn't forget about your little tutoring date after dinner. While everyone happily made their way back to their dorms, you dragged yourself to the designated meeting location, hoping he at least would forget among all the commotion.

Unsurprisingly, though, he was already there, seated with an array of supplies and ingredients scattered across the table.

"Do you usually come here on your own at night?" you joked, trying to break the ice as you took a seat next to him.

He clearly was not in the mood for any sort of amusement as he completely ignored your question. "We should get started. Just because we had an exam today, doesn't mean we get to slack off. The next one will be here before you know it, and—"

"Yes, I know, Severus. Obviously, I'm here because I want to get better. You already made it clear that I made a terrible decision earlier today," you snapped.

The expression on his face softened as he took a moment to process your reply, awkwardly clearing his throat. "R-right…Why don't you tell me which sections you'd like the most help with, and we can go from there?"

With the both of you now calmed down, you tried to get over your embarrassment and tell him everything. It wasn't easy being this vulnerable in front of someone who seemed to grasp any and every subject so easily, but he was intently listening, this time more curiously and even…empathetically?

"I can't exactly blame you for finding the material confusing. As I attempted to make these potions myself, I realized many of the instructions aren’t as descriptive as they should be, and in some cases, wrong. I’ve taken corrective notes that I’ll share them with you, and we can follow along…"

You fully expected everything he'd say to go over your head, making this a waste of time for not only you but him, as well. But, to your surprise, everything was kind of starting to make sense! Severus may have been a quiet student, but when he did talk, words were not wasted; he always found a way to describe his thoughts clearly and concisely. Oh, and that voice of his…he could make even the most mundane of topics sound exciting.

As he was speaking, you couldn’t take his eyes off of him. His glittering eyes, smirks that could pass for actual smiles, and expressive eyebrows made it clear he was actually quite passionate about potions. No wonder he was so good at it.

"Y/N?" he asked abruptly. "Is what I'm saying making sense so far?"

"Oh…yes," you responded, hoping he couldn't tell you were actually enjoying this.

"Why don’t we get to actually brewing some potions then? This is, after all, a subject where one typically learns best by doing."

Hesitating, you pulled the ingredients toward you, carefully reviewing his notes before preparing them accordingly. For a moment, you were more focused on how elegant and neat his handwriting was.

You could feel your heart flutter as his hands made their way to yours, guiding you with the lightest of touch so that you wouldn’t accidentally hurt yourself. "Yes, just like that," he commented, barely leaving a gap between you two as he watched you intently. "You're doing quite well, actually."

You shifted slightly in an attempt to hide your cheeks, which only continued to grow redder throughout the night, and covered your mouth in case you accidentally squealed.

"Y/N, you should look directly at what you're doing. Precision and accuracy are very important in potions. Also, you shouldn't touch your face when your hands are still dirty!"

Severus was right when he said you were not very good at being subtle…This time, though, he seemed more concerned for your safety and well-being instead of simply accusing you of doing something wrong.

"Oh, there’s some slime near your mouth. Let me wipe that off for you." He grabbed a napkin and gently cleaned the corner of your lips. At this point, you'd be lucky if he didn't hear the sound of your heart thumping rapidly against your chest, ready to fall out into his hands.

Before you knew it, it was almost time to go to bed. You managed to accomplish more than you expected, and you started to understand why he enjoyed this subject so much.

"Well, we should probably end here. We can continue tomorrow if you'd like, but I'm seeing improvements from you already. I think if you had even just a little bit more confidence in yourself, you'd—"

Fuck it.

You grabbed his face, hands stained from all the chopping and squeezing, and planted a kiss on his nose. "Thank you, Severus. This was actually incredibly helpful. You’re really sweet, you know that?"

With your palms still cupping his cheeks, he almost tripped, finding it difficult to maintain even a second of eye contact with you. "O-oh, of course, any time, it's no pro-problem," he rambled on.

"Hey, maybe as a thank you for taking the time to help me, I can help you out."

"With...what exactly?"

"Lucky for you, I'm actually an expert at snogging. Meet me at the library tomorrow right after dinner. And don't be late."

#snape #snape x reader #snape x y/n #snape x you #snape fanfiction #snape fic #snape fluff #severus snape #severus snape x reader #severus snape x y/n #severus snape fanfiction #severus snape fic #severus snape fluff

131 notes · View notes

hunny-bean · 10 months

Note

Got a Frank Castle request. How about a little vacation with him. A cabin by the lake and a campfire with marshmallows .

Out Of Mind

Pairing: Frank Castle/F!Reader

Summary: You finally managed to persuade Frank to take a break with you. He happened to know the perfect place.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Um.... yeah, none. Teensy bit of swearing. Mentions of violence?? Maybe?? Pretty much straight fluff. This was so calming to write.

A/N: I really enjoyed making this one! There wasn't as much stress about it being enjoyable because it's all stuff I'm used to. Somehow it turned into a sort of angstless hurt/comfort. Don't ask how, I've got no idea. Let me know what you think! XOXO.

Read on AO3

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

"Are you sure this is the right spot?" you asked, looking out your window at the sea of orange leaves around you.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Frank promised. "But we'll have to walk a little while to get to the lake."

He hopped out of the driver's side and walked around to the back of the truck to gather your things. You sighed, standing up and stretching to prepare yourself for the last part of your journey.

"How much is a little while?" you wondered, knowing Frank's tendency to be vague about not-so-ideal situations.

"'Bout two miles. It's not that bad," he answered nonchalantly, throwing a leg over the side of the truck bed. Your eyes shot open wide, and you let out a surprised laugh. You were pretty good about walking long distances from growing up in the city, but you weren't looking forward to dragging your bags for half an hour through a damp, rocky forest.

"Why are we parking two miles away from the lake?"

"So if someone comes looking for us," Frank replied, lowering your favorite duffel bag into your arms, "we can hide without them knowing immediately that we're there."

"No one's gonna come looking for us," you assured him. "Everyone thinks you're dead, remember?"

"I'm just trying to keep us safe, sweetheart. You never know what could happen."

The two of you were standing on the side of an old dirt road, your truck tucked behind a cluster of large trees to keep it hidden from view. Looking around, you saw there wasn't a path, clearing, or bike trail in sight. Evidently, Frank was determined to do everything the hard way.

You couldn't really complain, though. You were on your first vacation with the love of your life, and you were planning to enjoy every single moment of it. You expected Frank to hand you another bag, but he just leaned in to kiss your forehead before arranging the other three on his body and starting off into the forest. You followed close behind, allowing him to clear the way of vines and thorns before stepping carefully after him.

After eighteen months spent staring at and studying the gorgeous figure and mannerisms of the man in front of you, you had learned a few things about him. Because of this, you could tell that Frank was a bit upset about something. He seemed tense, and he was ripping at the twigs and spiderwebs more aggressively than was necessary, almost like he was trying to work out some unwanted feelings. It took you a moment to decide how to approach the subject. He wasn't exactly known for being super open about his emotions.

"Is there something bothering you?" you asked offhandedly.

Frank stopped in his tracks and turned around to face you, his head cocked to the side and his forehead scrunched in confusion. He seemed amused by your attempt at casualness.

"Why do you ask?" he responded, ripping up a dead branch that had been in your way.

"I don't know. I just thought you looked a little nervous."

He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again as he decided against it. He stood there thinking for a while, but right when you thought he might give you an answer, he turned away from you and kept on walking without saying anything. The two of you continued on like that for what seemed like hours, just making your way to the lake in silence. You thought that was the end of that conversation, but after shredding a few more twigs, he finally spoke.

"I guess I just don't have the greatest track record with things like this," he admitted.

"Like what? Vacations?" you asked hesitantly, afraid he might go silent again. Thankfully, he seemed ready to talk whatever was upsetting him.

"Yeah? I guess so," he began. "I think I'm just kinda on edge because, uh, whenever I let my guard down or try to be happy. . . things tend to go wrong." He sounded like he was figuring it out for himself as he spoke, as if he was telling both of you instead of just you.

Hearing this, you sped up to stand beside him and grabbed onto his arm. He let you, but he didn't look over at you like he usually did. You knew from past experiences that Frank wasn't the biggest fan of feeling vulnerable.

"Nothing's gonna go wrong this time. I promise," you said, leaning in close to him.

"I appreciate that, baby, but you can't possibly know what's gonna happen," he mumbled.

You couldn't exactly argue with that. There were tons of things that could go wrong when you were in the middle of nowhere. You could only be as careful as possible and put all your energy into making sure Frank enjoyed this trip as much as you were planning to. Suddenly, you were struck with an idea.

"Why don't you list all the things you think could happen while we're out here, and I'll tell you all the reasons why they won't," you suggested, smiling brightly at him.

He took a moment to consider your proposition, but you could tell he was on board. You were hoping you could turn this into a game of sorts that you could play whenever one of you was worried about something.

"Alright," he decided. "One of us could. . . trip over a rock." It was a rather tame first suggestion, so you brushed it off pretty easily. You knew he wasn't actually worried about rocks. He was just testing the waters.

"We've got, like, four first-aid kits and we know how to catch ourselves. I don't think that'll be an issue," you teased. You saw his lips quirk up on one side. Your master plan was working.

"Okay. Someone could find us and try to kill us." That was definitely more what he was worried about. It was certainly a valid fear, but you were still determined to help him let go of it until you returned to your normal lives.

"It's very unlikely that someone's actively trying to find either of us right now," you reasoned. "We've been really good at laying low; you especially. Even if someone accidentally stumbled upon us, they probably wouldn't try to kill us because they wouldn't know who you were. Even if they figured it out and attacked you, there's a ninety-five percent chance that you'd win. Need I go on?"

It would take more than that to completely comfort him, but it was easy to see you were making progress.

"I think you're okay," he said, shifting his arm so yours were linked together. You looked up to see him thinking intently about something that he very obviously found entertaining.

"What is it?" you pried, smiling back on instinct. You couldn't help it. Everything about Frank's happiness was contagious to you. He could be laughing at the goddamn apocalypse and you'd still be laughing with him.

"You really think I'd lose to five percent of the population?"

You scoffed, bumping into him playfully. "I don't know, I was just throwing out a random number. It's probably more like ninety-nine," you amended. "Besides, if you're that confident in your abilities, then why are you worried about losing?"

"If focusing on the one percent is what keeps you safe, then that's what I'm gonna do," he asserted.

"Well you're welcome to, just not this week. You chose this place specifically because it was safe. You know you're allowed to feel safe, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know. I guess that's just not as easy as it sounds," Frank joked pessimistically.

"Well, we're gonna keep working on it. Anything else you think could go wrong?"

"We could drop all our bags in the lake."

The two of you kept playing for a long while, walking arm-in-arm through the fallen leaves, enjoying the crisp early-autumn air. As time went on and you ran out of ideas, the suggestions and rebuttals grew increasingly more outlandish until you were both cracking up, all your previous concerns forgotten about. Just when your shoulder was beginning to ache from the weight slung over it, you heard the soft sound of moving water in the distance. As you got closer to the sound, the air began to smell like lake water, which would have been unpleasant had it not carried so much nostalgia with it.

"It should be right over here," Frank announced as soon as the shimmering waves came into view. Sure enough, just barely visible in the distance, hidden in the shadows cast by the setting sun, was the silhouette of a small, cozy log cabin.

"This place is incredible," you marveled, excitedly hopping up the front steps. You stepped to the side, looking around the front porch as you waited for Frank to dig the key out of his pocket and unlock the door.

"My dad and some friends of his built this place in their early thirties. This was their special spot growing up and they wanted to preserve it in some way," he recounted, twisting the key as hard as he could until he managed to open it with a hard shove and a loud creak.

The inside was just as quaint and inviting as the outside, despite the dust and cobwebs that had formed after years of disuse. It was obvious what you'd be spending your first evening doing. Thankfully, you'd anticipated this, and had packed a whole gallon-sized bag full of old rags and cleaning spray. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a convenient broom propped up against the wall. That certainly wasn't the only thing you noticed though.

On the wall opposite you, directly across from the front door, there was a stone fireplace that fit in nicely with the wooden interior. In front of the fireplace, there was a soft red and orange rug with dusty pillows strewn across it that were clearly meant to be sat on. On one side of the room, there was a tall oak table with a simplistic design and four matching chairs around it. There were a few windows in the cabin, positioned in a way that told you they would light up the whole room in the early morning. For the night, there were candles literally everywhere, some in elegant holders, others tossed haphazardly on their sides. On the other side of the room, there was a door leading to a teeny little bedroom with nothing but a queen sized bed, a small nightstand, and a dark wooden dresser on the wall. With a little love, you knew it would be the perfect place for you two to relax away from all the noise and danger of the city.

"So. . . what do you think?" Frank asked, taking in your awestruck expression.

"I absolutely love it," you told him, dropping your bag and turning around to pull him into a giant hug. "And I love you. So much," you added, kissing him sweetly before pulling away to start unpacking.

Frank whistled, taking in the state of the place after sitting empty for so long. "I guess we'd better get to work, huh?" he sighed.

"The sooner we start, the sooner we'll be finished."

And so you worked until the sun finished its descent, dusting furniture, fluffing pillows, scrubbing windows, sweeping floors, taking snack breaks, and changing sheets until you were finally finished. Now, it was definitely perfect.

"It looks just like it used to when I was a kid," Frank reminisced, inspecting the various trinkets scattered across the mantel.

"Sounds like we did a good job then," you grinned.

"I'd say so too," he said, spinning you around and pulling you close to him. "What would you like to do now?" he asked.

"Hmm..." You thought for a moment, considering all your options. Suddenly, you remembered something you had seen on your way up to the door. "Do you wanna start a fire?" you suggested, beaming.

"That sounds nice, baby."

"Yay! You go ahead and get it going. I'll grab the blankets and marshmallows," you directed.

"You packed marshmallows?" Frank teased lightly.

"Well, it wouldn't be a camping trip without them!"

When you made it outside, you found Frank crouched over the cleared out firepit, lighting a stick on fire and using it to create several little flames throughout the pile. The pit was dug into the ground with a circle of large rocks surrounding it for people to sit on. Once you got the fire going, you and Frank shared the largest stone, wrapped up together in a cozy blanket and carefully toasting your marshmallows to perfection.

Well, not really to perfection. You both had yours catch on fire several times before you figured out the right technique. You never quite got yours exactly how you wanted it, but Frank was toasting masterpieces before too long. It didn't bother you though, because he always gave you his best ones.

The warmth of the fire and the body next to you had you feeling sleepy after a while, and you began nodding off with your head on Frank's shoulder. The comforting smell of the shifting leaves and the curling smoke created an atmosphere that you never wanted to escape. You were truly free of all the stress of your everyday-life. Every responsibility, every problem, every tough decision; they were all officially out of sight, out of mind.

"I think this is gonna be the best week of my life," you mumbled, melting into his strong embrace.

"Me too, baby. Me too," he whispered.

After a long moment, the silence became heavier and the dying fire got somehow louder. You knew there was something else he wanted to say, and you waited for it patiently.

"I thought of another worst-case-scenario," he said at last, rubbing your arm gently.

"What's that?"

"You could leave me." You turned your head to kiss his shoulder lovingly.

"Never."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

A/N: Not my best work but I kinda like it! Anyway, thanks for reading!<3

#jon bernthal #frank castle #frank castle smut #frank castle x reader #jon bernthal smut #jon bernthal x reader #frank castle fanfiction #punisher

325 notes · View notes

thesherrinfordfacility · 8 months

Text

i did not break my own heart last night thinking about the missing 1941 scene and have it sat in my brain all of today spinning around like a fucking microwave in order to not make you lot suffer with me. and i somehow feel i may be right about this so buckle up and lets break it down.

so yes, following on from this post, i think that there is going to be a third 1941 scene. twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern. it's been literally set up like that by even bringing back 1941 into s2 in the first place. but we're missing a crucial detail because it does not - at all, really - explain how they went from evading danger from hell and having a cosy candlelit bottle of red to celebrate, to the bastard 1967 scene. we all know this, this is nothing new.

the symbolism of nightingales is probably going to cast a shadow on this. these two excellent analyses look at the meaning of nightingales in the context of R&J, and the relation that the song has to this point in time, respectively. in summary; it's a song that should be around in 1941 courtesy of vera lynn and others, and the nightingale itself carries the meaning of love being hidden and forbidden by way of it singing under the cover of darkness, before being replaced with reality and soberness - represented by the lark. the Dinner of '41 scene is set in the bookshop at night; this would parallel - that they are safe and concealed, and truths can be shared, but the writing is on the wall that stepping outside would be to shatter the illusion, so to speak. it might be that the song itself gets miracled up onto the record player, or a wireless lying about - whatever. note: i don't think they'll dance though, not given crowley in ep5, "you don't dance"... but then again, if there ISNT a kiss in s3-1941, an aborted dance seems like the next best option... the cowardly one, but i'll take it

this would also track with aziraphale having his epiphany after the church in s1-1941; specifically, in my eyes, that he doesn't necessarily just realise he loves crowley, but that crowley by way of saving his books loves him too. this is only supported by the whole of the s2-1941 scene of trusting in each other as the only way to pull off the trick, the subterfuge. this is then, again, also important in the context of what i think happens in s3-1941.

i do think aziraphale is going to bring the books up again, and what crowley did, because it needs to be addressed. the Nazis/furfur confrontation has scared him, regardless of whether he saved them both, more than he realised. its put things into startling perspective. i think he's going to bring up the books, and actually question crowley a little more as to why he did it. the repeated use of, and subsequent weird reaction crowley has to, the use of the term "friend" in s2-1941 would indicate that this is going to be a focal point in s3-1941. are they just friends? is crowley disappointed that aziraphale is still referring to him as that, after what he did? 'saving' aziraphale in the church, and then saving his books? or is aziraphale just saying 'friends' so hesitantly in both instances because he's not completely sure where crowley stands?

we as the audience know the answer to this, but they obviously do not. if one of the crucial themes of s3 is going to be resolving miscommunication, it makes sense for this scene to be the first, and last, time they communicate properly... at least, until they sort out the issues that culminated in the Final Fifteen.

so let's say they start getting into a very roundabout way of discussing what they mean to each other. there will need to be the sobering, ice-water-over-the-head realisation however, as s2-1941 demonstrated, that they cannot belong to each other, because they manifestly belong to heaven and hell respectively. crowley is still being spied on, and it firmly places aziraphale in their line of sight too. it's going to bring up the holy water discussion; why crowley asked for it - to protect himself, whether by taking out demons or taking out himself, as long as it means he - and most importantly, aziraphale - does not get hurt.

they actively confess that they want to be together, in a way that is more than they are now. aziraphale wants to, but says that they can't, because it's too dangerous. crowley suggests that no one ever has to know, they can hide it (there, in the bookshop, whilst the nightingale is singing), and even if they are found out, they can run. "hell won't just be angry; they'll destroy you..." // "no one ever has to know".

aziraphale doesn't want to have to hide it, doesn't want a halfway measure- is still thinking in black and white. crowley however thinks that something is better than nothing - thinking in the grey. but ultimately, as long as they are still shackled, they cannot do what they want, and it puts the other in danger. "surely the great thing about being a demon is that you can do whatever you want" // "you sound jealous, angel...". instead, aziraphale promises that the day that they are no longer tied to heaven or hell, they can be together; crowley scoffs, thinking that that will never happen, so they will never happen, "you're so clever! how can someone as clever as you be so stupid?!"

the reason they can't right now is because they could be caught. they would have to skulk around, be ashamed, feel guilty - and aziraphale is tired of feeling like that. because only having crowley in secret would hurt more. not being able hold his hand, or dance with him, or kiss him, unless it was in the bookshop. if hell were to find out, crowley would be killed, true, but if heaven were to find out, aziraphale could be cast out. and if crowley survived hell long enough to see aziraphale fall - he'd never forgive himself, and in a way, i don't think he'd ever forgive aziraphale either.

it's tearing them to pieces, but they have to stop whatever is happening between them in its tracks. it's acknowledged, but it's not named. this gives them plausible deniability; if they called it 'love', it would be undeniable. so, aziraphale asks for crowley to go; asks him to leave before they do something they can't come back from. crowley doesn't listen - crowds him, gets in close, and aziraphale is powerless to stop it. doesn't want to stop it. he's selfish by nature, a selfless kind of selfishness, but he wants this with all his being. and then - "this is too fast, crowley, please don't..." // "im sorry, angel. please... please, forgive me". aziraphale never gets to answer, to grant him that, because boom - the actual first kiss.

so. now that i've had to make you read that, i'm going in for the kill. let's look at everything that follows - and look at how the above might recontextualise it.

1967: the offer of the picnic, the Ritz? ie. the literal lyrics of berkeley square? aziraphale has caved in the interest of giving crowley a weapon to use if all else fails, to protect him, but that's as far as he's willing to progress. everything else is still too painful; he's on the brink of tears, promising that one day they'll be able to do what they want, to be open about how they feel, but not yet. they can't. crowley tries to push, "ill give you a lift, anywhere you want to go..." (him offering again to run away? a second chance to leg it?), and aziraphale reminding him that they can't, he can't... don't make him go too fast again, it's not fair. it also sets up perfectly that aziraphale and crowley don't speak for the next 40 or so years (as far as we're aware) until armageddon is threatened.

bandstand: mostly this is still centred around the apocalypse contextually, but i think with the above hypothetical scene in mind (the offer to hide, to run away, to be together), aziraphale is sent back to remembering their mutual confession that they've nonverbally agreed not to bring up, because it's not safe, and it's too painful. they've skirted around it, and returned instead to a tentative kind of friendship at the beginning of s1, but they're still not safe to address why seeing each other again, being so close to each other and not being able to touch is so painful. anyway - aziraphale refuses their side, but the above scene would re-view this as 'our side can't exist yet, you know this! you know why it can't!', and crowley leaves, again after pushing a bit more than aziraphale can stand.

alpha centauri: basically a facsimile of the above; same steps, same dance. but this time, crowley harks back to aziraphale's foolish (?) hope that they will be together, without having to run away, when the day comes that they don't have to answer to heaven or hell. and aziraphale smacks him right back, echoing crowley asking for aziraphale's forgiveness in kissing him, "i forgive you." crowley knows exactly what aziraphale is getting at, there - he's answering crowley's whispered plea to forgive him for pushing, for trying to force him, for acting in desperation. but he's also not answering that - he's skirting around that very thing, forgiving him like a knife would, slicing back at crowley for not only insulting aziraphale on something that is likely a genuine insecurity of his, but also putting him back in his place, for their safeties, because them being together just cannot happen. not yet.

and "please forgive me" in 1941 might seem out of character, but idk if it is; crowley knows that doing what he's about to do will hurt aziraphale, aziraphale has (hypothetically) told him as much, but he needs to do it - and seeks not benevolence or forgiveness as crowley-the-demon, but actually seems aziraphale's forgiveness, as crowley-the-person. the echo would certainly match the tone given here, in multiple ways:

the ritz: i mean, what is there to say? yes, their song is literally playing on the piano, and heralds the shift in their being out from heaven and hell, the day has finally come where they can - again, going by this entirely hypothetical scene that ive concocted - actually be together as they want to. and the nightingale literally singing outside, but as @shoemakerobstetrician beautifully pointed out, god remarks that it's covered up by traffic. so actually, if we again refer back to R&J interpretation of the nightingale, the love is still hidden, still somewhat under wraps, but can only just about be heard over the noise of the streets outside. the prohibition of them being together, of loving each other, is dwindling. and one day, it'll stop singing altogether. that day is coming, it will come, and then they can do what they please. so whilst the ritz scene may well be a mark of them starting the next chapter, it's slow to take hold, there's still hesitancy - which absolutely makes sense when we see that they are still very tentative with each other come the beginning of s2.

s2 general: aziraphale realises their freedom first; he gets excited by the dance, and being able to show his love to crowley, completely and without barriers, in the form of the ball - what he has read to be the best way to do so. he touches crowley more. he shares his bookshop with him, gifts it to crowley as being his as well as aziraphale's, this safe space that is so wholly theirs that crowley has the power to grant entry. the same with the bentley - aziraphale sees it as theirs, and crowley silently agrees, granting aziraphale the same power. crowley is comfortable in the bookshop to remove his glasses, has a place for them. the bookshop becomes tidier, more minimalist, to make crowley more comfortable in it (it is more cluttered in s1, im certain of it). it might just be the grading between s1 and s2, and lack of clutter, but the yellow is more prominent - his literal favourite colour. everything just screams that aziraphale is ready to make good on his promise from s3-1941.

crowley... for once, is the one not quite catching up. not realising the little dates here and there are literally poses them as a couple (although yes, the coffee shop one is to prep crowley for the goob jumpscare), that aziraphale has granted him the power to grant entry. aziraphale literally asking, practically begging, crowley to help him hide goob. the mf colour of the walls. the colour of the bentley. it's not until nina outright asks him if they are together that he realises how careless they've been - but wait, is it careless if they have nothing to be careful of? well, arguably crowley does, hell are still hanging around him like a bad smell... but this is what he wanted! this is what he was pushing aziraphale for! so, does he risk it? he's not sure, but he's certainly realising that aziraphale is ready, if nothing else. and by the time the ladies stage their little intervention, crowley finally realises that the confession he started in 1941 now can be fully aired, can come out into the open.

the Feral Domestic: *fingers at temples* i know i have been fairly vocal about my interpretation of this scene, and frankly - until we get this hypothetical s3-1941 scene, i stand by it - but let's say this speculation about the scene is true, and re-examine the key points in the Final Fifteen that would completely turn on their heads in terms of meaning:

literally, harking back full circle to what aziraphale promised in 1967 as what they would do when they could fully acknowledge their love, and what they did as soon as - on paper - they were free at the end of s1. this is however before he's spoken to by nina and maggie, so maybe this is what crowley was planning in terms of confessing fully to aziraphale, but after their meddling he realised that yes, they need to actually talk about it again. he doesn't understand why they're telling him what they are - because he's existed so long in gestures and gifts and not talking, literally dismissed it now as a viable option, that it doesn't even occur to him to try talking again.

which is why he does something brave, and tries to tell aziraphale instead (say it out loud, make it undeniable, put a name to it, "i love you", something that i think was crowley's actual intention before aziraphale interrupts him) when he comes back to the shop... he's so nervous, because it's vulnerable, and because the last time he did, they ended up hiding for 50-ish years.

next up:

now, im reluctant to think that aziraphale lied in the Feral Domestic, because i do think the key thing at work is his paramount need to do the Right Thing (ie. make a difference in heaven). whilst metatron obviously manipulates him, im not entirely convinced that aziraphale wholly sees through it. i don't think he knew that metatron was up to something, i think the shaking off of this naivety is going to be part of his s3 character development. but this sentence - again, especially in context of the hypothetical s3-1941 scene - must on some level frighten him. especially if you take this meta into account, aziraphale must realise at least that they were never safe, even when they were denying what they were and how they felt, it didn't make a bit of difference. now, metatron could have just been talking about the arrangement, not referring to any romantic elements of any kind, but the threat of it? no wonder he pushes for crowley to join him in heaven; he could keep crowley safe there. they could be together, and heaven - in his eyes - would be able to say a word against it.

then:

the fear sets in; crowley was too late in telling him, acknowledging that they could be together, realising what aziraphale was saying to him without words, and now heaven has come for him. plonked them right back where they were in s2-1941, but perversely mirrored; instead of hell coming for crowley with violence, heaven came for aziraphale with kindness. crowley doesn't have a magic trick he can just do on the fly, perform it perfectly when the need for it is greatest, and has to cling to the hope that aziraphale still sees them as the barrier to them, the reason they can't be together. and in true miscommunication fashion, i think aziraphale does see it, but what metatron said lingers, and in addition to being inside the institution, changing it from the inside out, in order to make a difference... he knows that whilst it's exactly the opposite of what they wanted, he needs to make them safe. better to be inside the tent pissing out, than outside the tent pissing in.

but aziraphale doesn't tell crowley what metatron said, because instead he either deliberately tries to deny the implications of it (cognitive dissonance king behaviour), or he doesn't want to panic crowley and is trying to convey to crowley that he can't speak his concerns, not when the metatron could still be watching, and instead just needs crowley to trust him, take his hand, and join him in heaven where they can be safe. doesn't tell crowley that heaven hasn't captured him in shackles again, but he's willingly held out his wrists because it's the safest thing for him, and them, to do.

so it's one thing to look at what crowley's saying, but aziraphale's reaction? before, i just found it to be out of confusion, him not really understanding what crowley was saying, but tbh i never paid much attention to it (david stole this bit of the scene - not to put down my beloved michael here, but he did). and i know others have remarked here that aziraphale is flitting his eyes to the window and looks scared and stressed, but i don't completely think that its because he's scared that metatron is watching (although, now, i will accept with the rug thing and hypothetical s3-1941 in context it is definitely playing a part), but also because he's just starting to recognise that this is a repeat of the s3-1941 scene, "this sounds familiar, we've been here before... oh, we've definitely been here before... oh shit. i still can't do this, not unless he comes with me. we still can't be together, not in the way crowley wants. the way he's trying again, now, to ask for."

but the issue is: crowley wants to run away together. again. and i totally get why, but once again, going back to 1941: it's exactly the solution that will not work. they cannot run from this. heaven, and hell, will find them. they will come for them. it wasn't an option in 1941, it wasn't an option in 2019, and it isn't an option in 2023. aziraphale begins shaking his head - crowley is confessing, but a) aziraphale doesn't run from things, it isnt in his character, and b) it's just putting them back where they started - something that they have to hide. it defeats the purpose.

and this? yeah, im sure on neither side it was meant the way im about to interpret it, more of an unspoken thing, idk... but if the bookshop is indeed their place of safety, and is where they (as far as crowley sees it) can speak and keep their love, it makes sense that crowley is telling aziraphale he needs to stay. the bookshop can be interpreted so many ways - it represents their relationship, or that crowley means him, himself - but what if we looked at it like crowley is trying now to covet it, because it's protecting them? what if he's saying, "well, if you won't run away with me, we can't be free to have our relationship as we wanted it, not unless we stay here... heaven has come for you, has come for us, and whilst they're here we can't move. so what other option is left remain in this bookshop? to never leave it, and what we have inside it, because there's no other option in which we can be together if you won't run with me."

and what if aziraphale is saying, "no, i have an option, and that's to be together in heaven! they won't be able to do anything, not when im in the position the metatron has offered me, that can be our new bookshop... nothing lasts forever - this bookshop won't last forever, it's compromised, and we can't continue to secret away what we feel inside it, it's time to move forward."

welcome to the line that breaks my heart the most in this whole goddamn scene - and tbh i think is fairly self-explanatory in the hypothetical s3-1941 context. that aziraphale is trying, once again, to tell crowley that he is offering himself, letting them be an 'us', as crowley says shortly after - that before he couldnt do it, and these arent the best of circumstances, but they can finally do it and not have to hide in the bookshop. but crowley reminds him, "hey, i was in your shoes, remember. i wanted us to be together then, and you told me you couldn't, didn't want a halfway measure - well, now i don't either. and this will be a halfway measure, because i don't think us being together in heaven is going to go the way you hope it will. i understand a whole lot better than you do." in any case, it would explain why aziraphale choses this moment to look so devastated. this is what he promised crowley, but now crowley - to his mind, in the things left Unsaid - doesn't want it... him.

and then... back to the nightingales. they're not singing at all, not even under the rumble of traffic, like they were at the Ritz. they're completely absent - day has broken, the things unspoken have now been said, and there's no denying them anymore. from crowley's point of view, there was nothing to stop them this time, but if aziraphale won't run with him, then they have to go separate ways, because there is no other way. aziraphale knows there's the possibility that the only place they could actually be safe is heaven itself, that the bookshop was never as safe as they hoped it had been, but that crowley might actually come to see that. but the fact that crowley is resigned to just... returning to 'reality', to a world that's still turning where they aren't together? despite everything they've just said? "we could've been... us." well, that hurts.

and then... the kiss. now. im still of the mind that the kiss was an Issue. i definitely think it was meant out of love and desperation, and out of possibly being a goodbye. this would echo the hypothetical s3-1941 kiss... but it was hurtful. it was abrupt, and harsh, and not at all romantic (imo). it was possessive, and almost cruel. i do think still it was a last ditch attempt, a temptation, to get aziraphale to change his mind, before crowley leaves the shop and returns to the 'real world'. but it hurts aziraphale in many different ways - but with 1941 put in there, too? crowley is just testing his resolve, trying to push him, come around to giving in. crowley asked him to forgive him the last time he kissed aziraphale, and this time - this time, aziraphale is giving him what he asked for.

#did i just do a whole ass meta based off of a completely hypothetical non-existent hc of the third part of 1941?#yes - yes i did #but the Implications would not leave my brain #make of this what you will if you even got to the end and if you did frankly congratulations #good omens

236 notes · View notes

butterflydm · 5 months

Text

restructuring the wheel of time into ten books

So a little while ago, there was a poll about people's favored choice for how many books should have been in WoT -- I voted for 'ten' and this is, I guess, my argument for a ten book series.

Books 1-5, I don’t really have any notes on when it comes to structure. Every book is complete in and of itself. While books 2 & 3 do have something of a repetitive structure, I think that works better in a book series than in a tv series.

The only suggestions that I would have structurally would be minor things like “tweak Rand’s power levels in the early books to keep him more in line with what he does later” (aka what the show is doing, lol) and maybe not having Ishamael present during the Battle of Falme and having that purely against the Seanchan, so that we don’t have super similar climaxes for Rand two books in a row (Rand could get his wound in Tear instead). And those are the sorts of things that I think it might be likely that Jordan would have done if he’d known exactly how long the series would end up being -- ex. he clearly backed down on Rand’s power jump when he realized that the series would be going for longer than he’d originally planned.

One minor plot change that I would do is put Perrin feeling Rand tug at him as the epilogue of TFOH or thereabouts. Just a little hint of Perrin in there, showing that he'll have a bigger role in the next book.

Book 6, though... I have some thoughts there.

Lord of Chaos/A Crown of Swords: this is the first book where the beginning really takes some time getting off the ground -- there are several Salidar chapters that could have been combined. This is really the first place in the books where characters hang around doing nothing (we're told more than once in Elayne & Nynaeve's PoV that they're barely being taught anything and that being there feels pointless), waiting for it to be time to actually Do Some Plot (the big Healing of severing) and it's just the beginning of a bad trend.

The other structural change that I would suggest is not doing the weird feint with Mat's character where he starts off doing a "Rand's general" storyline and then creakily transitions over to Salidar instead. Since Mat isn't actually going to Illian, he doesn't need to be marching south. He could just still be in Cairhien/Caemlyn and have Rand take him to Salidar from there. As it is, we end up spending several chapters on a storyline that gets abruptly terminated part of the way through the book so that Mat can do a completely different storyline instead and that really pads out the pages unnecessarily (this was a really bad trend that happened with Mat's character in particular more than once in the books; his storylines would just stop in their tracks and get shifted to something else entirely and never go back to his original storyline; ex. we literally never find out why/what the murdered caravan of Tuatha'an had to do with anything, because Mat never bothers to tell Rand their message because he spends the entire rest of the book series doing completely unrelated things and only ever sees Rand again for a brief conversation that is dominated by everyone catering to his slaver wife -- we never get payoff for the vast majority of Mat's storylines, even the minor threads). It really does feel like Jordan started writing the book, then went "oh shit, Mat needs to meet & marry the DotNM" and just abruptly changed Mat's story to yeet him to Ebou Dar without actually rewriting the earlier bits in the book.

Outside of that, the main change I would suggest being made in these books is improving Min’s characterization and Min and Rand’s relationship by NOT having Min change herself for Rand. Let Rand fall in love with Min as she is, not the dolled-up version of Min that she invents for Rand’s benefit (there are other characterization tweaks I would recommend as well, but Min is kinda the biggest issue imo).

The main ‘story arc’ for Rand that's set up in LoC is ‘defeating Sammael’ and it should take place over the course of a single book, not two separate books. Parts of ACoS would be saved for the next book but the Illian climax should happen in the same book that the story starts. I would title this book “A Crown of Swords” so that the focus is on Rand’s story, not the Forsakens' (and part of the oddness here is definitely due to Jordan changing his mind about doing the Taim-Demandred combo, so he sets up something that ends up going nowhere).

Inciting incidents:

Egwene is summoned to Salidar leading to Rand sending Mat there as well

Min arrives in Caemlyn, leading to The Box Incident

Turning point:

After the Box incident, Perrin and Rand stage a fight so that Perrin can go find Masema

Egwene sends Elayne, Nynaeve, Mat & co to Ebou Dar to look for the Bowl of the Winds and they actually take advantage of Mat being ta’veren right away instead of waiting around for a month (all the delays in Mat's various storylines had a knock-on effect in delaying everyone else's storylines, imo -- the Slog happens because everyone is waiting on Mat, whether they know it or not)

Climax:

Rand defeats Sammael

The attack of the Seanchan on Ebou Dar begins

A Crown of Swords/The Path of Daggers/Winter’s Heart: The Path of Daggers only needs some of trimming imo. Once that trimming is done, I think Elayne’s section of the prologue of WH could slid into it fairly neatly as a bit of an ‘upbeat’ epilogue, which would be a contrast to the darkness of Rand’s ending in the previous book and his defeat here when he tries to repel the Seanchan from Ebou Dar.

Also have Mat interact with Tuon throughout this book, essentially like he did in WH (Mat's interactions with Tuon in WH make sense with his previous characterization; it's in CoT & KoD when Jordan had him completely reverse on his moral outlook on slavery so that he would be willing to make out with a slaver - genuinely, how Mat goes from sympathizing with slaves in WH to sympathizing with slavers in CoT remains one of the most baffling writing choices that I've ever run across; especially with how limp and one-sided it made everything about Mat & Tuon feel in those books for me, because Jordan drained all the potential interesting conflict out of the pairing so that he could focus on Mat navel-gazing about his self-inflicted prophecy woes, making him just Min 2.0. *sigh*). This book I would choose to be named “The Path of Daggers” out of the available options.

Inciting incidents:

Elayne & Nynaeve use the Bowl of the Winds as Ebou Dar is invaded by the Seanchan and Mat gets left behind during the escape

Perrin & co find Masema, etc.

Egwene uses the rule of law to take control of the Salidar Aes Sedai

Turning point:

Mat first meets Tuon -- maybe give Mat & Tylin’s first meeting to Mat & Tuon instead, where he accidentally greets her using the Old Tongue, thus sparking her interest (cut out Mat & Tylin’s ‘relationship’ entirely, it was zero percent needed and is needed even less if Tuon arrives in the first wave of the attack, as I'm suggesting here)

Rand learns about the invasion by the Seanchan and goes campaigning

Egwene & the Aes Sedai jump to Tar Valon and begin their siege (since they no longer need to kill time to let Mat's plotline happen)

Climax:

Rand fails to defeat the Seanchan & gets attacked in the Sun Palace but kills the attackers here instead of us needing the Far Madding detour (which just felt like a less emotionally-impactful version of The Box to me and Jordan giving in to his desire to write a travelogue)

Faile learns Masema is dealing with the Seanchan and kills him, cutting off that entire path of slog by not getting kidnapped (we really only need one kidnapped wife imo)

Mat escapes Ebou Dar, kidnapping Tuon along the way (there's our allotted Kidnapped Wife)

Egwene is captured by the White Tower Aes Sedai when the rebels block off the harbors to Tar Valon

Winter’s Heart/Crossroads of Twilight/Knife of Dreams: All three of these books would have greatly benefited from being massively cut down to a single volume. This one also has a touch of TGS in it, mostly because Egwene had a lot more story left after KoD than pretty much any other character except maybe Mat.

Specific items to change or cut:

Cut out Far Madding entirely (Rand killed the attackers in Cairhien). Since Tuon arrived with the initial Seanchan invasion fleet in Ebou Dar, Nynaeve can be honest with Rand about Mat being left behind but Rand can see (in his color swirl vision) that Mat is no longer in Ebou Dar and has already escaped, filling that plot hole (the list of contrivances to keep Rand from knowing what happened to Mat frustrated and annoyed me so much when I was reading books WH-KoD).

Have the love confessions and Rand sleeping with Elayne, but don’t do the bonding yet. Have Rand leave Min behind in Caemlyn when he takes Nynaeve off to do the cleansing, so she can (emotionally) bond with Elayne & Aviendha. Since Min was just at ground zero for a terrible attack that was focused on Rand (which should, to Rand, prove his fears about being a danger to the people he loves to be correct!), it really is so bizarre that he keeps backpacking her around to dangerous place (Far Madding) after dangerous place (the Cleansing) after dangerous place (parlay with the Seanchan) and mostly shows that Jordan a) just had no more plot beats for Min until she played pregnancy test for Tuon in the epilogue and b) primarily saw Min as Rand’s Hero Reward rather than a character in her own right. But the whole affair mostly just undermined Rand’s character journey for me (he's so isolated! ...except for his live-in girlfriend).

Don’t do the Shaido plotline at all (have the Shaido scatter back to the Waste post-Dumai’s Wells); instead this should be where Perrin starts his wolf boot camp, so that he actually has a more appropriate amount of time for training before the Last Battle (and his emotional storyline would be a conflict with Faile over her killing Masema). I guess you can do the Whitecloaks storyline here.

Have Mat be the one to make a treaty with the Seanchan, and have Semirhage order the ‘airfleet’ against the White Tower instead of Tuon doing it. Instead of Mat accidentally giving himself away for nothing, have the Mat-Tuon marriage as part of the deal to seal the treaty, since Mat has figured out that she believes that he needs to be her husband, per prophecy, so he uses that to actually get concessions out of her. Because we aren’t trying to convince the readers that Mat is the sort of person who is capable of falling in love with a slaver in the space of a single month, we don’t need to spend two whole books wandering the Altaran countryside doing random shit and instead can get to the politics of it all. Let Mat actually continue to be smart and empathetic in this section of the storyline, rather than lopping off those parts of him and turning him into a zombie bootlicker yes-man. You can still layer in elements of Mat seeing potential in Tuon to be more than just a slaver, just don't have him toss his entire brain & morals away in order to kiss her ass.

Out of the available titles here, I think “Knife of Dreams” is the best one.

Inciting incidents:

Egwene undermines Elaida from within the Tower

Perrin starts Wolf Boot Camp

Rand & Nynaeve cleanse saidin

Turning Point:

Rand faces off against Semirhage and captures her

Egwene finds out from Verin about the extent of the Black Ajah in the White Tower

Aviendha leaves to go to Rhuidean to become a WO

Mat finds out that sul'dam (and thus Tuon) can channel and actually uses it as a negotiation tactic against her, please let this man use his brain during literally any of his conversations with Tuon, I am begging you. The way he reacts in the books to finding out that Tuon is a sul'dam and then that Tuon can channel is SO FUCKING BIZARRE. He just Does Not Care about slavery at all in CoT & KoD and is all Me Me Me about all of the Tuon revelations. In the previous books, Mat claims to be selfish even while constantly doing heroic/selfless things, but in CoT & KoD, he really does just come across as a genuine selfish bastard, someone who only thinks about himself and who doesn't give a shit about anyone else.

Climax:

Tuon and Mat agree on the terms of their marriage alliance and Say The Words

Elayne defeats her fellow claimants to the throne; maybe Min helps root out that Darkfriend captain in her guards, which would lend weight to her being able to do the same later for Tuon and also make it so that Min is at least as helpful to Team Light as she was to the Seanchan

The Seanchan (sent by Semirhage before she went to face Rand) attack the White Tower.

The Gathering Storm/Towers of Midnight: ToM has never made any sense as a title, so I would call this combined book “The Gathering Storm”. This section is more about putting things in a somewhat different order than they happened in the books, with a few tweaks.

Inciting Incidents:

Egwene defeats the Seanchan at the White Tower

Semirhage is freed by Elza and captures Rand, and (stealing @markantonys's excellent suggestion) Nynaeve is the one targeted when Semirhage forces Rand to her will, making Rand push Nynaeve away 'for her protection'

Rand and Egwene have a tense encounter that makes her doubt his sanity.

Turning point:

After taking the test to become full Aes Sedai, Nynaeve gets Lan's bond from Myrelle and then, since Myrelle was literally right outside the Black Tower at the time, Nynaeve and Logain deal with the Black Tower

Egwene deals with the assassins in the Tower (Gawyn subplot)

Perrin deals with the dreamspike and kills Slayer | Egwene deals with Mesaana

Aviendha returns from Rhuidean and reunites with Elayne & Min

Climax:

Rand attacks his father, leading to the moment on Dragonmount

post-epiphany, Rand actually goes to check in on his friends and loved ones, thus making his epiphany have an impact on the storyline -- he Travels to where Mat is and is the one who helps Mat get from Point A (Altara) to Point B (Caemlyn) and letting them actually have a real reunion, delivering Aludra to Elayne, where she is ready to make weapons. In Caemlyn, he talks to Elayne, Aviendha, & Min, leading into the bonding moment.

Mat saves Moiraine from the Tower of Ghenjei.

(epilogue) Tuon arrives back in Ebou Dar and takes control of the Seanchan forces, letting everyone know that there is now a treaty with the Westlands. Her going back with a treaty already tentatively in place would actually make the triumphant tone that the books try to take her with her return make a lot more sense than... readers apparently supposed to be happy??? that one slaver is taking over from another slaver, even though Tuon is just as willing to do awful shit to our protagonists as Suroth was, so it feels like a distinction without a difference to me. Technically, is Tuon marginally better than Suroth? Eh, maybe, but not by much.

A Memory of Light: Most of my changes here either follow from earlier ones (we already have a treaty with the Seanchan, so Mat can just go to Merrilor to start General’ing right away), but apart from that:

Let the Emond’s Field Five (plus Elayne) have a group reunion! (easier to do in this version where Mat's storyline isn't all about sucking up to Tuon, I admit)

Let Perrin and Mat be at Rand’s funeral! (genuinely so bizarre that Sanderson didn't do a one-sentence fix of this tbh; that would have been the easiest thing in the world to fix. One sentence is all you would have needed.)

Let Moiraine be the person who realizes that Rand is still alive, not Cadsuane.

The battle itself could have been cut down somewhat in order to leave more room for character interactions (we probably don't need three separate sword duels for Demandred; kinda excessive). This is a goodbye to people some of us spent over a decade loving; we should be given proper goodbyes to them.

I also feel like there's no need to have everyone and their brother know that Rand is in a relationship with three women? And it felt pointless to have people know that Rand is the father of Elayne's kids too. Have Rand tell his dad (and then have Tam actually act like he has that knowledge during his scenes with Elayne; it is genuinely bizarre how formal Tam and Elayne's interactions were in AMoL; she knows that he's Rand's dad! That's the grandfather of her kids!) but there's no need for a continent-wide memo about Rand's love life. I know this was likely all because of the epilogue where the whole world knows about ~the three~ grieving widows but this is all about a theoretical world of only ten books total, so some tweaking of the epilogue is happening regardless.

Inciting incidents:

Moiraine arrives (with Mat) to help heal the rift between Egwene and Rand

Darkfriends attack Caemlyn through the Ways

Climax:

Rand vs The Dark One

Everyone else vs the Shadow’s forces

So, that would leave us with ten books total (plus the New Spring prequel):

The Eye of the World: the journey begins

The Great Hunt: more important plot elements are introduced, like the Seanchan; Rand begins to learn leadership

The Dragon Reborn: Rand accepts being the Dragon Reborn & takes on a full-time leadership role; Mat now has his luck & Perrin has met Faile

The Shadow Rising: Perrin takes on a leadership role when he leads the defense of the Two Rivers

The Fires of Heaven: Mat takes on a leadership role during the Battle of Cairhien, creating the Band of the Red Hand

A Crown of Swords: Egwene takes on a leadership role by becoming Amyrlin Seat of the rebel Aes Sedai

The Path of Daggers: Elayne takes on a leadership role by putting in her claim to become Queen of Andor

Knife of Dreams: Rand & Nynaeve reverse the Dark One’s counterstroke and then Rand tries and fails to make an alliance with the Seanchan (fake!Tuon); Perrin goes to wolf boot camp; Mat makes a treaty with the Seanchan via marriage alliance to the DotNM; Elayne gets all ten Houses she needs to secure the throne; Egwene has all-but won over the White Tower as well.

The Gathering Storm: we all prepare for the Last Battle; Rand has his epiphany, in whatever form it takes; Mat saves Moiraine; Perrin defeats Slayer; Egwene and Elayne prepare their respective areas for TLB.

A Memory of Light: the journey ends (for this age)

I feel like this gives us a more consistent build-up to the ending, with each piece building upon the ones before, and not taking an excessive amount of time with subplots in the endgame. Each character also has a more consistent progression as well.

Rand

tEotW: worries about being a male channeler

TGH: told he is the Dragon Reborn but assumes the White Tower wants to use him as a false Dragon

TDR: goes on a journey to prove whether or not he’s TDR and proves that he is; taking control of Tear

TSR: becomes the Car’a’carn

TFoH: takes control of Cairhien

ACoS: takes control of Illian

TPoD: has his first major failure when he is unable to repel the Seanchan from Ebou Dar

KoD: succeeds in cleansing saidin but fails to make peace with the Seanchan

TGS: has rock-bottom moment and then his epiphany; he learns he doesn’t have to do it All On His Own

AMoL: re-seals TDO

Egwene

tEotW: sets off an adventure

TGH: experiences great trauma at the hands of the Seanchan

TDR: Black Ajah Hunter

TSR: Goes to the Aiel Waste to begin her training

TFoH: One of her mentors (Moiraine) dies

ACoS: is called to take on a leadership position

TPoD: takes control of the rebel Aes Sedai

KoD: besieges Tar Valon and is captured

TGS: become Amrylin of a united White Tower

AMoL: leads in the Last Battle and becomes an inspirational figure

Perrin

tEotW: discovers that he’s a wolfbrother

TGH: is first placed in a leadership position when Rand disappears

TDR: meets Faile

TSR: defends the Two Rivers (Slayer introduced)

TFoH: feels the tug of ta’veren and leaves the Two Rivers again

ACoS: saves Rand

TPoD: finds Masema; Faile kills Masema

KoD: Wolf Boot Camp

TGS: deals with Slayer in the Wolf Dream

AMoL: leads the wolves at the Last Battle (instead of it being Elyas)

Nynaeve

tEotW: sets out to protect the four kiddos

TGH: adopts Elayne as a fifth kiddo

TDR: Black Ajah Hunter

TSR: Tanchico & the SAD bracelets; Egeanin

TFoH: defeating Rahvin & capturing Moghedien

ACoS: Salidar & Ebou Dar

TPoD: using the Bowl of the Winds

KoD: cleansing saidin

TGS: the Black Tower plotline

AMoL: with Rand at the climax of TLB; being the Ultimate Protector

Mat

tEotW: finds the dagger

TGH: blows the Horn of Valere

TDR: discovers his luck

TSR: Rhuidean & prophecy

TFoH: the Battle of Cairhien & the Band of the Red Hand

ACoS: Salidar & Seanchan invasion in Ebou Dar

TPoD: meets & kidnaps the Daughter of the Nine Moons

KoD: forms a marriage alliance with the Daughter of the Nine Moons

TGS: saving Moiraine

AMoL: General of the forces of Light at the Last Battle

Elayne

tEotW: meets Rand, heads off to Tar Valon

TGH: gets a found family in Egwene, Nynaeve, & Min

TDR: Black Ajah Hunter (meets Aviendha)

TSR: Tanchico & the SAD bracelets; Egeanin

TFoH: bonding Birgitte; Circus storyline

ACoS: Salidar & Ebou Dar

TPoD: using the Bowl of the Winds & heading to Andor

KoD: becoming Queen (plot climax)

TGS: bonds Rand (emotional climax)

AMoL: powerful leader during the Last Battle

#wot #wheel of time #wot book spoilers #wot spoilers #wot amol spoilers #wot a memory of light spoilers #a memory of light #my wot meta #the wheel of time #sigh this was supposed to post tmorrow morning #but tumblr mobile hates me #so here we are

130 notes · View notes