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co-mixed · 4 hours

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X-Men '97: Beyond Expectations

Let’s be honest, who was ready for this?

Personally, I didn’t have many expectations. I knew it was X-men and I knew I’d love it probably no matter what. I had a fear it might be a little too clean and knowing full well what the comics are, making it child-appropriate wasn’t an ideal option. Should I even say the words “pleasantly surprised” at this point? They don’t cover it.

X-Men ‘97 did something that’s been missing ever since the MCU started. It built the X-men fan community back up, brought in new fans, encouraged people to take a look at the X-titles again. We finally get to namedrop our favorite mutants, share ridiculous facts from their past, and yes, remember things like X-Men Evolution and Wolverine and the X-men. But then the show also showed us how heavily emotional and deep cartoons can be.

Okay, enough vague statements, and no more avoiding spoilers.

The show really relies on the previously established lore with Charles being taken off-world to Shi’ar and the X-men left under Scott’s leadership. Or so he thinks. Right off the bat in the first episode, we get an epic X-fight like we’ve never seen and a cliffhanger with Magneto showing up. Not much of a shocker and yet, we’ve never seen the movies dare to do that (or anything that strays too far from Phoenix). Whenever that happens, Magneto trying to abandon his murdery radical ways, it always comes down to his clash with Charles. They really manage to make their decades-long disagreement everybody else’s problem. X-men usually pay the price.

This time though, you finally see the creators working with the comics. We get so many storylines adapted in the span of 10 episodes, it’s unbelievable. That actually does follow the tradition set up by TAS. Only it’s been years, hence more stories and newer, harsher ones.

To be honest, I never even imagined Genosha being adapted. Not just because it’s a heavy arc but because it’s just so obvious: when you mention Genosha you state the fact. We know what their goal is. It’s removing any ambiguity and allowing no misinterpretations of what the X-men are really and have always been about. So it’s a statement for sure. And I couldn’t be happier they finally made it. Correction, I could be happier if they hadn’t killed off Gambit. We’ll get back to that.

So yeah, we got Genosha, OZT, Inferno, and Lifedeath (aside from minor elements and arcs I can’t particularly point out at the moment). So this show went to the depth of what makes X-men X-men, they took the personal arcs like Lifedeath or Inferno, the ones that focused on character journeys, and really showed us who the people are behind these stories. That’s mostly Claremont’s legacy since both stories were from his era and it was his thing to take mutants through their personal hell. Bot arcs were compressed, of course, but the essence remained the same. Which, again is the only goal of an adaptation anyway. So some metaphors had to be sacrificed but ultimately, they just give you a chance to relive it through comics if you’re into it.

But then they hit us with big events like Genosha and OZT. They absolutely go as epic as any movie, because remember how you felt after ep.5? If you’re anything like me, you were devastated and if you’re a Gambit fan, you were shocked too. And this is one of the things that they didn’t just put aside and ignore, something that movies never focused on: the emotions. Throughout the show, the characters say several times that they’re a family. But we actually see that in the friendship between Storm and Jean (which come on, it’s been a long freaking time coming!), or Morph and Wolverine (that one resembles Wolverine’s friendship with Nightcrawler in the comics). But then in the love and drama between Scott and Jean (and Madelyne! And Logan! And probably Emma one day!), Storm and Forge, or Rogue and Gambit (and Magneto!).

Love and friendship - the genuine connections that make you care about the characters and how someone’s death or disappearance or even inner turmoil affects you. We see these things through their reactions, so for them to feel true, we have to see those connections. And here we finally do. Just like we do in the comics. I hope the eventual movie screenwriters keep that in mind because that’s the only way to build an X-men story, brick by brick.

Look at the way Roro and Jean are cheering each other on, with mind and weather, and then when Phoenix shows up.

X-men are a superhero soap opera and we all know that. And ffs let’s never again pretend like it isn’t.

The politics. Now if you’re one of those “keep the politics away from my comics/movies/cartoons” types, X-men are not for you. X-men ‘97 even more so, because this show is all politics. I mean hello, Genosha? OZT? Bastion, sentinels, hate groups? We are even finally calling out Shi’ar! Which I love. We’ve been looking at them through ally glasses since more often than not they play on the side of the X-men. But really, in terms of intergalactic politics, they are no better than Kree or Skrulls (not the cozy ones from the MCU). They can get pretty mean. In one of his finer moments, mainly because it allowed him to rest comfortably on his high horse, Charles points that out. Even explains the short and easy-to-understand version of what being an empire means. But as he does that, unfortunately, Genosha is under attack.

We give him shit for ditching his family like that but really, he just relied on his pal Magneto to keep it together. And he would’ve too, had his gloved hand not been forced by the likes of Val, Trask, and the evil droid that is Bastion.

Here’s where X-men ‘97 do the absolute most – they mix and match stories, piling them on to absolutely overwhelm the heroes. To keep everyone preoccupied and focused on their piece of the drama cake to sneak in a shuttering final forte chord.

And Genosha ain’t even that.

Let me be corny for a moment there, but it’s probably one of THE moments for every fan, when after episode 5 we were warned that the best is yet to come. And we kept asking how? How do you top that? And we saw today (5.15.) because holy shit, this show raised the bar.

We got teamwork. Really, one of the perfect elements of this show is the characters’ powers. The limitless force with which they jump into a battle. We knew it at “Give them the forecast” really. Because we’ve never before seen Storm at the height of her power, with all she can and has done in the comics. Right then and there we knew what we were in for. But then, the rest of that, or any other fight sequence was everything you could hope for. There wasn’t a single one you would wanna miss. Powers depicted as they were always meant to and amazing teamwork. That was one of the best elements borrowed from the recent comics. Recent because while they’ve been working as a team since forever, it was Krakoa that really emphasized how powerful mutant circuits can be.

Thanks to that, we got to see a showcase of creative use of abilities. Beast using his knowledge to his advantage, Morph using their power to turn into everyone who’s anyone - I mean they gave us so many little fun cameos, even though every time you had to take a double look and ask wait, Warren’s here? Psylocke showed up? Or ehhh Hulk? That’s very X-men. The characters have fun with their powers too, with the team landing in the first episode or Ororo flying around when she got her powers back (this ain’t about Forge :D). And then there are devastating displays of power like Gambit charging the Wild Sentinel (still not over it) or Magneto turning off the lights. Of course, in any battle you have to keep things interesting, which is why they don’t just let the heroes use their ultimate ability from the get-go and be done with the whole thing. The baddies also have to surprise you with being harder and harder to defeat.

Speaking of surprises, the fact that all the stories have been stitched together like a quilt makes every turn unexpected. I mean you can predict some things and chances are, the better you remember the comics, the more things you can get right. But what’s the fun in that? They don’t simply adapt arcs, they add and remove crucial elements that make it into something new. And that new is always unpredictable. Like take Genosha - Bastion was behind it instead of Cassandra. While Charles was in space, she wasn’t after him, the Shi’ar politicians, however, were. Or the whole ordeal with Maddie - Scott didn’t stand a chance there. Really, no matter how you spin that story, he can’t get out of it looking good. But they did their best and it worked.

Then again, these are the things that make adaptations work and this is what the MCU is so good with. Civil War was hella different from the comics and it’s still a fan favorite.

And as if all that was somehow not enough, the show is so quotable. It has all those little callbacks to previous episodes or TAS or even the movies, clever writing, and beautiful lines that stay with you for weeks and probably even forever. All the things about chosen family – tell me you didn’t tear up or straight up cry because that’s pretty much what I did. And yeah the first time you’re watching to find out what happens. The second — you really live through all the emotions. Along with the characters because they so do live them.

There is so much X-men lore. You can read them like obsessed (which I often do) and still have so many stories to go through. Anyway, X-Men ‘97 finally flipped the page from the stories we know well and picked a new evil, building a new arc with him at the center.

And then, the details in general. How well the animation is done and how tiny elements you notice help them build the narrative. I’ve been thinking about it since the first episode when I saw the look between Storm and Rogue before the team landed. In that one look, they agreed on a landing strategy they probably trained time and time again in the Danger Room. Similarly, the sneaky sideyes and looks, just pay attention to them when you rewatch (and I know you will), cause the details just make the whole experience even better. All reactions are awesome in this show like Ororo hearing about Forge’s disastrous neutralizer technology and calling an epic thunder. That’s pretty much how the characters stop being 2d even when all they are meant to be is 2d.

Did I mention the soundtrack? Pretty much a masterpiece, right? It feels epic and grandiose and in many ways, it’s because of the music. It’s obvious things it’s still so easy to simply forget to mention it. You pay attention to the story and the visuals but they are tied together by the sound. And it’s most noticeable in the Wolverine/Nightcrawler fight with Prime Sentinels or when Ororo flies around, or when Cable, Jean, and Scott jump into that epic family fight. Breathtaking.

A big part of this show is about family. The kind that supports you and stands by you. You know, the opposite of Nina DaCosta! It’s always touching too because no other team is like that. You don’t get this benefit of the doubt with the Avengers and FF are actually related. You only get that with the X-Men if you’re willing to share the dream.

I’m not going into the dream though, been there, done that. But I do want to talk about the finale.

As many have predicted, we did get a cliffhanger. As if we wouldn’t have come back, pah-lease! But we’re obviously back to Apocalypse and this time he’s gonna mess up with several timelines at once. Now what exactly are we getting - I wouldn’t dare theorize. All I can think about right now is… okay, we’re probably getting some resurrections, some Stryfe, and once again, I’m hoping for New Mutants (even though the only new face I spotted was Dust and she’s from an entirely different team.)

Also, we see a wider universe: Cap and Iron Man, Black Panther (where again did Storm end up ;)), Cloak and Dagger, Daredevil, Strange, Fantastic Four, Spider-Man. If we ever have crossovers…

Still, it’s been amazing and it’s now forever with us.

I might be biased, no, I am most certainly biased but it’s the best animated show I have ever seen and I am ecstatic that it’s about the team I’ve loved my entire life.

#marvel #marvel comics #marvel universe #comics #x men #spoilers #long reads #x men 97 #xmen

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ishdaj · 8 months

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Past Lives (2023) screenshot redraw

#past lives #past lives 2023 #celine song #past lives movie #past lives a24 #ishdaj art #anyway this movie absolutely devastated me #ripped my heart out and everything #it's great yall should watch it #screaming crying gnawing at the bars of my enclosure

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crossbackpoke-check · 1 year

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Oh these all look so lovely. May i ask about good dog bad dream for WIP files?

of course!!! 🥰💕 i answered a little bit about it here, but this is one of the tag stories i really, REALLY want to actually become a fic so i did promise a little snippet of the 2K that is done:

Things that Dylan should do: turn off the light, shut the door, walk back inside to the rumpled sheets still warm from when he left them to grab a glass of water. Leave the creature outside to the lightning bugs and the quarter moon and the shifting shadows of the woods along the gap-toothed fenceline of his yard, and then come out in the morning to nothing more than a paw print and the clean reassurance of sunlight to tell him nobody’s there, to ignore the prickle of discomfort that shivers its way across his body as goosebumps and raised hairs when he thinks about turning his back on the memory of those red eyes.

Things that Dylan does instead: whistle.

#the two moods of just:#HI THIS IS TERRIFYING 😭 i think this is the first time i have a) shared something in progress and b) shared something that is like. real fic #and then also:#YAY TYSM FOR ASKING 😭😭😭 me rn just like 🥹🥺🥰💕✨‼️☺️ you want to hear about my fic???#ALSO ALSO ALSO. i forgot to mention in the last post my formative m*ggie st*efvater influences growing up (read shiver) & seeing the video #on twitter the other day of them actually starting to film??? for a shiver tv show/movie??? made me be like OH GOD I HAVE TO ACTUALLY WRITE #(also a devastating notesapp sentence i have written down that i said prior to the bertuzzi trade but you know it’s fine i’m fine)#liv in the replies #also i work so much better FOR things (creating for people etc) akdjskdjak so i’m just like. who wants to beta read now #so that i have to write in order to not disappoint you is this not what beta readers are for #other tag stories i also want to become fics (and technically could have listed since their docs are me stealing tags & accumulating them:#pk carey lonesome cowboy au / the vestigial old gods detroit au / jackty the breakup / catch carter faerie prince)#tyler borzoituzzi #anyWAY. the absolute poetic justice of me sitting on these two asks for like. days bc busy and then coming to tumblr & IMMEDIATELY seeing #a post and going TYLER BORZOITUZZI about it i can’t explain to you how hard i’m laughing akdhskdjaksj #also yes i DID write another 300 words so i could say 2k in this post instead of 1.7k we love to be a stubborn taurus rising l m a o #wip ask game

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magpieinthemorning · 2 months

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In Out Of The Furnace, the specifics of Woody Harrelson's character and his scene were a bit random, though - i'm glad they'd edited out the more direct (and obviously misleading) references to the Ramapough Lenape Nation in the version I saw. (Except the surnames that 'happen to be' very common among the nation.)

it seems that part was unfortunately partly inspired by some racist made up stories in a real life murder case (an unarmed Ramapough tribe member killed by a park ranger) - check out the New Yorker article Fiction in the Ramapos by Ben McGrath.

I probably wouldn't have noticed those details at all if I hadn't read trivia about the movie - in the edited version post-lawsuit they are just an unspecified group of people from the Jersey Appalachians, which is all they need to be.

And it's not the point that those people would be 'bad' compared to other characters that would be 'good'.

The message is that everybody is fucked anyway - the different characters are just on different points in a spectrum of "trying to not fuck others <--> going all out on fucking others, too", to try to get ahead, to get justice, or just to survive, and failing nonetheless, because they're all fucked by forces far greater (class society, capitalism and the military-industrial complex basically!). :(

#i just felt like i needed to address this stuff after i read about it #because this was honestly one of the best films i've seen in my life #it was Born In The U.S.A.; Youngstown; Atlantic City (and other such songs) as a well crafted movie set in the 00s and 10s basically #out of the furnace #the ptsd representation too #i could unfortunately relate #(spoiler -----------------------------) rodney's death scene will probably stay with me forever #anyway i saw a post here comparing Finest Kind with Out Of The Furnace and NO ABSOLUTELY NOT lmaoooo jfc #ootf is an actually good realistic and genuinely devastating story #the only thing they have in common is the american working class setting :<#which is genuine and true only in ootf :<

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welcometogrouchland · 1 year

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Okay that's enough banshee posting I think

#ramblings of a lunatic #it was lovely. absolutely devastating and so so lovely #i already said in the tags that i don't have articulate thoughts on it and. that's true. i don't #I've been chasing myself around the bend trying to prove to myself and everyone that I'm smart as a part of my daily routine #(aka I'm a full time student and hurtling towards the ''burnout'' part of ''gifted kid burnout'' at rapid speeds)#and i had a nice conversation with my mom about the movie for. idk 15 minutes? before stuff came up #but it's just. more rewarding right now sitting back for once and listening to what other ppl have to say w/o feeling guilty-#-for not producing my own thoughts #this is probably a really weird problem to have. i recognize this #i think i just made too much of an identity out of media literacy. that's on me i should've tried some other stuff along with it #but it's nice sometimes on here. just rbing gifsets and posts that articulate the feelings and thoughts I can't #oughh. i need to SLEEP!#anyway yeah. go watch banshees of inisherin

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emptyjunior · 1 month

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It looks like with the movies taking off, everyone is on the Dune train now!! Which is very exciting, I’m glad a bunch of new people are discovering this media and reading the books, but can I recommend you the David Lynch, Dune (1984) movie.

First of all, if you are invested in the lore of the books and the deeper messaging of the story, you’re going to need to turn that part of your brain Off. If you love kick ass shit and are willing to be slightly tipsy while you watch and have a great goddamn afternoon, this is the flick for you.

Now first fun fact I’m going to share with you. David Lynch (twin peaks, eraserhead director, celebrated surrealist) turned down the opportunity to direct Return of the Jedi for this film. A film that was devastatingly slow to make, changed hands multiple times, had a pricy VFX budget of $40 million and then made barely $31 million, David Lynch turned down Star Wars to work on it. And he did this when he had never read the novel, and did not even like or engage with sci fi media. THAT’S how you know we’re really in for something.

Now this film has some big names in it! We’ve got a young Kyle MacLachlan who is rocking some Devastating outfits:

We’ve got Sir Patrick Stewert as our Gurney and Sting, lead singer of the police, playing the 15 year old Feyd Rautha! If you wanted to see a grown man, sprayed orange, basically naked playing a free wheeling maniac you are in for a treat! And another fun fact, David Lynch also did not know who these actors were, he made a mistake and thought Patrick Stewert was someone else and when Sting said he was in the police he assumed he was in an organization of lawmen.

Now these characters are familiar to you, but let me get into the unfamiliar. Lynch made some directorial executive decisions throughout this film, for I suppose the ease of the viewer? I mean an adaptation is supposed to adapt so he went let me change some stuff up👏👏👏.

Those who paid attention to Jessica’s backstory may know about the Weirding Way. This is a martial arts style created by the Bene Gesserit, and practiced by Paul. It is more than just a fighting style but also an important philosophical concept, like Aikido or how Kung Fu has foundations in Buddhism.

You may also be familiar with the quote “My name is a killing word.” This inner monologue of Paul’s refers to how his title Muad’dub will be used to spur a holy war. A simple name is what people will die and bleed for, it will be what they scream as they cut down enemies.

Dark! Intense! That’s Dune, anyways in the novel it’s easy to take your time exploring these concepts. Introducing the audience to the religious ramifications of a simple name and fighting practice and how these things can have rippling repercussions upon a society like the Freman.

Now David Lynch didn’t have time for that! He had the belief (that may be right🤷‍♂️!) That watching a bunch of people kick each other on top of a sand dune would be Lame😭😭

So he made the choice for his film that “My name is a killing word” was to be taken Absolutely Literally and invented a device where if the freman said the name Muad-dib, shit would explode.

If they said Paul’s name, they could Explode Stuff. Let it sink in how rad that is. Hell yeah man, hell yeah. Imagine me interpreting religious text that way, imagine if I made a bible movie and the moral I took from a parable is that when Jesus asked for food and everyone donated fish, I concluded that Jesus was a mutant who had fish powers and could immediately conjure fish with magic and gave him fish death rays that shot out of his hands.

So that’s what you can expect from this interpretation, the weirding way now means everyone has Lasers its rad as hell.

Some other incredible choices made! This is a spoiler, but in the novels and the new films you can see the Freman collecting every scrap of water they can. Dr Liet-Kynes, the planetologist, reveals to us it’s because they have a long, multiple generation spanding plan to fix the planet. By introducing this water back they hope to reset the ecosystem over centuries of work. The reason they have been unable to do this is because a green planet would obviously not have worms and sand who produce spice, the most coveted drug in the empire, so imperial and harkonnen forces have been stopping this from ever happening. They want to be free from oppression so that they can start to work on slowly fixing their world, a project that plays out in Paul’s adult life and has its own dramas and complexities.

In Dune 1984??? The moment, the Moment Paul lays out his cousin and throws the final punch, it begins to rain in Arrakis. As if they were all under a magical curse and were just waiting for a teenager to come fight another teenager and then the water will come back. It’s so good, it’s so funny.

Also Pugs! House Atreides official Pugs! Paul has pugs in his lap!!

This is honestly an adaptation choice that I really really like! Paul is the result of centuries of selective breeding, this practice is an artform to the Bene Gesserit and a skill that they monitor closely. It produces bizarre and sometimes terrifying results and is the reason for Paul’s existence.

I think having an animal that was also created through selective breeding, was engineered from a wolf into an animal that can hardly breathe is an incredible metaphor! A smart and identifiable symbol for the audience, I think it’s a slam dunk and the new movies should have done it to.

Anyways can not recommend this film enough.

-The body suits the bad guys wear are made out of real body bags, that actually had been used.

-David Lynch to this day hates it.

-The original cut was four hours.

-The cast and crew were sick the Entire shoot with something they called Montezuma's Revenge, which was probably just food poisoning, side effects from the constant smog because they shot the whole thing on backup generators, illness from the cockroach infestation and terrible morale.

-Frank Herbert saw it multiple times and said he absolutely loved it.

-When they ride the worms, sick rock jams play.

If you love electric guitar, lasers, worms and will forgive me for not including all the trigger warnings cause Yes this film will gross you out, then go watch this movie.

#dune #paul atreides #lady Jessica #dune movie #dune Frank herbert #dune 1984 #movies #scifi #kyle maclachlan #david Lynch #films

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starlightsearches · 1 year

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Yes, absolutely! So. Eddie x FemReader. They are best friends and have this special bond but all of a sudden Eddie pushes her aside for another girl he's dating or is interested in, letting her sit in the reader's seat, canceling traditions of years like movie night, etc. But somehow he wakes up and realizes he has been an ass to her (maybe because he actually wanted to get over his own feelings for her) but the reader isn't so quick to let it all go - she wants him to prove how sorry he is!

Jealousy, Jealousy

📼✨ mixtape milestone ✨📼 requests are open!

thanks for the request, bestie! and an even bigger thanks for your patience 😬 i hope you enjoy!

Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Comments likes and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think 💖

Warnings: mostly just language and a little drama and angst and then fluff I think but let me know if I missed anything. I've always wanted to play around with POV switches like this, which is probably why it's taken me so long to finish this one 🙄

You're fuming in the front seat.

Eddie keeps his eyes on the road—more than he probably ever has while driving—afraid that if he even glances in your direction all the smoke you're letting off will start to fog up the windshield. Like he's driving around with a forest fire in his van.

"Listen," he says, even though he's not sure what's going to come after, "it's not even a big deal."

They're the first words out of his mouth since he told you, and they're definitely the wrong ones. Your eyes flash, smoldering at the center like cigarette ends.

Your look may be fire, but your voice is all ice.

"To you."

"What?"

"It's not that big of a deal to you, Eddie," you tell him, shifting against the dirty leather seat like you can't even stand to be near him, "but it is a big deal to me."

Valerie fucking Reed—just thinking her name has you seeing blood. Everything about her puts the wrath of god in you, from the fake-ass pitch of her voice to the way she flips her hair over her shoulder whenever she thinks she's said something clever.

You'd hated her from the moment you'd met her, after the painfully cliche the freaks sit over there cafeteria routine she'd put on for you your very first day in Hawkins. You were more prepared for that shit now—had educated yourself in the art of biting comebacks and fought only with words even when you wanted nothing more than to bash her head into the linoleum tile.

But at a brand new school when you were desperate to make friends? Absolutely devastating.

If you were held at gunpoint and forced to say one honest, nice thing about her, there'd only be one you could offer up: it was her fault you'd met Eddie. With tears still stinging in your eyes, you'd carried your lunch tray in the direction of her pointed finger, falling into the nearest empty chair and tucking your chin into your chest so no one would see you cry.

That was when Eddie swooped in, big doe eyes and denim vest rattling with pins, and a thousand stupid jokes—not exactly a knight in shining armor but you'd never wanted one of those anyway.

Now Valerie wants to take him away from you, too.

Eddie drums his hands on the wheel, fidgeting with the volume on the tape he'd let you choose to soften the blow. He let's Fleetwood Mac fill the empty space between you, all the words he should say replaced with Stevie's soft vocals.

He's not used to fighting with you. Your friendship has always been as easy as breathing—except when it's not.

. . . But you really can't be blamed for that. It's not your fault he feels all weird inside every time you smile.

He wishes you'd smile at him now.

"You know," you say, feet planted on his dash and your chair pushed all the way back, "I didn't say shit when you started ditching me at lunch to deal to her and her friends, or when you skipped on movie nights for all those parties she threw because I get why you had to go, but a fucking date?"

"She just needs a place to smoke . . ." Eddie mumbles, skin hot at the word date.

You roll your eyes with enough bite he actually feels the sting.

"Right. She just needs to get high with you at your place, because she has nowhere else to go.”

Your lips drip with venomous sarcasm—absolutely soaked through with the belief that he couldn't possibly sit in the same room as Valerie and not touch her.

Do you really have so little faith in him? Eddie's got way more self-control than either of you would give him credit for. There's never been a moment he hasn't wanted his hands on you, and he's alone with you all the time.

“Come on,” he says, swallowing so his voice won't crack, “we do that.”

“It’s different," you snap back quickly.

Yeah it fucking is, he thinks, but Eddie doesn't say a word. Maybe the silence will speak for itself—or maybe it could, if you'd let it.

You carve a frustrated hand through your hair, staring him down. “Like, how do you think it would feel for you if I went out with fucking Jason Carver?"

He resists the urge to gag. "It's not like that."

It's really not like that. Just the thought of it has Eddie feeling both sick and violent, unsure if he was more likely to throw a punch or throw up.

He takes the turn into your driveway, watching you collect your stuff with a brutal speed.

"Yes it is, Eddie," you tell him as you slide from your seat before he's even fully hit the breaks, "actually, it's worse. Because Jason is a dick to everybody, and Valerie's got some fucking target on my back. I wouldn't be surprised if this was all part of some evil plan of hers to make me jealous because—"

You cut yourself off immediately, words stoppered by some invisible dam, eyes wide. Eddie's body goes cold when you slam the door without saying goodbye, stomping off to your doorstep.

He scrambles for his seat belt, practically falling out of the van in attempt to catch up to you before you get inside.

"Wait a second," Eddie says, holding the door open with his hand and trying to catch his breath, "why would that make you jealous?"

You scuff the toe of your boot against the step. "Nothing, it's stupid."

Eddie raises a brow, but you can’t look at his big, brown, beautiful eyes right now, tracing down along his leather sleeve to where his hand is planted against the door, black-painted nails splayed wide and already chipping, although you only did them a few nights ago.

Rude that the only time you get to hold him is when you're doing him a favor.

"Stupid how?" he asks.

You shrug. "I dunno . . . she just thinks I have a crush on you or something."

It's a surprise he hadn't already heard; about half of the girl's locker room were still stripping out of their gym clothes when Valerie had to bring everybody's attention to your black lace bra, before sharing a few theories on who you were wearing it for.

"Like I said, stupid." You ignore the heat in your cheeks, gripping the door again and trying to force it shut, but Eddie's not finished.

You wouldn’t notice, but his chest is heaving under his black t-shirt, palm sweating against the door. A crush? On him?

Is Valerie as delusional as he is?

"Wait," —his mouth is on a roll before his brain has caught up— "do- do you?"

Your eyes go wide with surprise, and then shrink into slits as you push him back from the door, one hot hand planted against his chest.

"Fuck you, Eddie," —he catches the words just before the slam— "fuck you for real."

It wasn't a no.

He repeats the words in his mind like he’s casting a protection spell. Like it’s some kind of ward against your anger as he scales the tree outside your window.

It’s harder than it looks, and he’s already making it look pretty difficult—but one hand’s busy clinging to the greasy paper bag packed full with burgers and those crispy tater tots you love. He manages to wiggle his way up to your window sill without losing his pants, even though the tears at his knees got caught on every twig and branch he passed.

Eddie steals a glance of you through the sheer curtains, holding back his fist from knocking. Just so he can look at you properly, without all the static of having you look back.

You're stretched out on your bed, feet in the air and headphones caught over your ears while you flip through the pages of a book. He hasn't seen these pajamas before—the little shorts that just cup the edge of your ass, and a sheer tank top. His nails are leaving little indents in his palm.

Eddie hasn't made a sound, but with the way his eyes are tracing over you, you gotta feel it. You find him at the window, and he panics, rapping his knuckles against the glass a second too late.

You roll you eyes at him, but at least you let him in.

There are honest-to-god butterflies in Eddie's stomach when he flops beside you on the bed. And he wouldn't lie—at least not to himself—but he'd tried to feel something like this before, when Valerie first started paying all that attention to him.

Her manicured hand would brush over the sleeve of his jacket while he'd be getting her product and he'd wait for this same feeling, hoping he had a weakness for all pretty girls, that any attention would him stumbling over his words and these feelings didn't have to be the end of the best friendship he'd ever had.

But it's you.

You cross your arms over your chest, frowning. "What are you doing here?"

Eddie's smile is sheepish, but not nearly apologetic enough for your taste. He holds up the paper bag in his hand, dotted with dark splotches where the grease leaked through. It lets out the heavenly scent of fried food.

"I brought dinner, you know, for movie night."

He slips a tray of tater tots from the bag, and you're resolve falters. You hold back your hand from reaching for one even though you already know how incredible it would taste, the little rivulets of salt and shining grease coating the golden skin.

"What about Valerie?" you ask, stealing your eyes away from the junk food. You hate how petulant your voice sounds.

He just shrugs, pouring out some ketchup onto the tray, licking the excess off of his pinky finger. "Told her I had other plans."

Eddie pops a tater tot into his mouth and bites down with a heavy crunch, but it feels like your heart's the thing being popped between his teeth.

And what more were you expecting? That he'd tell her to fuck off and take her money and friends with her? She's the queen of Hawkins, and you're . . . not.

Maybe you and Eddie are both delusional—or stubborn—enough to pretend like you don't care about the politics of high school, but people had abandoned their morals for less.

“So you blew both of us off, then?”

He pauses mid-bite, like a prey animal, like if he doesn’t move you can’t be mad at him.

“What?” he mumbles through a mouthful of chewed-up potatoes.

You snatch a tater tot from the tray, chewing and swallowing even though your stomach is starting to churn because something bad is going to happen and you can feel it coming like a storm in the air.

“Why are you here, Eddie?”

“I- uh, to say sorry,” he stutters.

The food's getting cold in his hands before you respond.

“What’re you sorry for?”

What’s he sorry for? Eddie has a whole list: sorry for making a fool of myself, sorry for hanging out with Valerie because I thought it might make you jealous, sorry sorry sorry for trying so hard to get over you and doing such a bad job at it.

“I, you know . . . I shouldn’t have made other plans on movie night.”

Those were the wrong words again. Crazy how easy it is for him to fuck this up—like it was something he was born with.

For a second, Eddie thinks you'll yell at him, and he's comforted by that. If you yell at him, you still care.

You take in a deep breath, and Eddie braces himself. He can take whatever you give him, will shoulder any insults you hurl and forgive you for it the second it's over.

But your shoulders slump. You let out a heavy sigh.

And he knows he can't take that.

"I'm really, really tired, Eddie," —you won't even look him in the eyes when you say it, sliding the window open again,—"see you tomorrow?"

But Eddie doesn't see you for two whole days.

That's a fucking record.

He thought you might need space, you know. So he gave you Saturday to cool off, kicked around at the trailer and gave Wayne vague answers about why you weren't around and ignoring the look in the old man's eyes. Listening to sad records and getting high and trying not to stare at your smile in all the photos plastered on his wall.

Sunday, Eddie drove by your house with the volume all the way up on your favorite Rolling Stones album, windows down while he idled at the curb. There was a twitch in the curtains, but you weren't there to shout at him for all the noise before climbing in on the passenger side.

Eddie knocked at your door this morning, hoping at least you’d want a ride to school. Your mom opened it with a sad little frown, telling him you’d already taken your bike.

And really, the two days have only ended on a technicality. Eddie sees you right now, reading a book with your head bent low, sitting at the far end of another table.

"Hey—" Eddie twitches when the flying french fry lands against his cheek with a wet slap— "are you gonna go talk to her, or did you just wanna stare?"

Mike laughs at his own joke, and the other guys giggles along.

Eddie's used to the ribbing. He's never minded it—when you're not around. Kind of enjoyed it a little. Even with his heated cheeks and stammered shut ups that completely gave him away, he needed somebody to acknowledge what he was feeling. It made it more real.

But Eddie's not in the mood for jokes today. And he doesn't need anybody to remind him that he's in way over his head with you.

He shoots the freshmen a look that works just as well as throwing a hand over their mouths—without the risk of being licked—and brushes the potato chunks from his hair while the rest of Hellfire pick timidly at their lunches.

And Eddie goes back to staring.

This time, though, you're staring back.

He meets your eyes. Just for a second, wide with surprise before you snap your head back in the direction of your book, tucking your nose between the pages. Doesn't matter how quick you were though. Eddie caught the look you were giving him.

And his heart is beating hard, like it did on the day he first met you. His limbs all staticky and weird, palms sweating because even from the first second he knew you existed he's wondered what kissing you would feel like and the question never left his head.

Eddie's on his feet before he can think about how bad of an idea this is.

"Hey," Dustin calls to him through a mouthful of square pizza, "what're you doing?"

Eddie just shrugs.

"Probably something stupid."

You can see Eddie's long legs moving in your direction from the corner of your eye, and your stomach drops out of your ass like a dip on a roller coaster in the dark and you can't see the end. He says something to the guys—his lips are moving—but you can't make it out over the sound of the cafeteria rumble, the chatter of the other girls sitting at the same table as you, talking animatedly about all the dates they went on over the weekend and completely ignoring your presence.

You dip your head closer to the pages of your book, so close all the words blur together, trying to hide from Eddie like you've been hiding the past few days. You shouldn't have even glanced in his direction, should have let the burn of his presence so close and still too far away swallow you up.

It’s getting hotter with every step he takes toward you, and you’re getting smaller, body tight and your lips caught between your teeth.

He slides quietly into the seat beside you, fingers drumming against the table, and the sound feels louder now that the girls have quieted down, not-so-sneakily listening in on whatever's about to go down between you and Eddie—hungry like sharks for any new gossip, ready to spread the nitty-gritty about why the freaks are fighting.

Eddie dips his head down, eyes big and already so sorry it feels like a punch to the gut.

"Hey," he whispers, trying to smile and failing miserably, "come here often?"

You try to smile back, but it's not much better. "Hey, Eds."

It's quiet, but not the comfortable kind of quiet you're used to around Eddie. It's a hot and sweaty quiet, a trapped-in-a-car kind of summer burn that makes your lungs go shallow.

Eddie perks up, the first words he can think of spilling out of his mouth.

"The guys were thinking about going to the record store after school. Would you wanna come?"

You wouldn't have thought for a second about refusing an invite like that a week ago. Heaven was nothing compared to wandering around a music store with Eddie.

"I don't know if I can today," you say instead, and then when you see the look of hurt on his face, you soften the blow with, "I gotta go to the library for some . . . stuff."

He hums. "Stuff?"

You shrug, playing with the pages of your book. If you're quiet enough, maybe he'll give up.

But he doesn't go anywhere. His hands stay planted on the table, silent and still for once. The black nail polish is almost completely chipped off his nails—probably picked off and littered all over the linoleum.

Eddie's voice is a whisper when he breaks the silence. "Are we gonna talk about it?"

"About what, Eds?"

"Why you're so mad at me . . ."

You've seen Eddie through a lot of shit, but you've never seen a look like this on him—eyes like saucers and brimming with shiny tears.

And you thought being in love with him was rough, but hurting him is a thousand times worse.

"I'm not mad at you, Eddie," you admit, hiding your eyes in the palms of your hands and pressing down until you see stars, "it's just . . ."

You don't get to finish your sentence.

Valerie's calling Eddie's name from across the whole fucking cafeteria. You watch her waving, standing on her tip-toes like she's not the only place in the room anybody can look, like every facet of her doesn't already scream give me attention!

Eddie sandwiches his lips together, pressing until they turn white. You're not going to like whatever he has to say next.

So you slip the dagger from his fingers, standing from the table. He can't hurt you if you hurt yourself first on his behalf.

"Actually, we can talk about this later," you tell him, slipping your bag on over your shoulder.

"Hey—"

There's sparks in your hand where he holds you, an eruption of butterflies in your stomach. It's just your hand in his, but that's all it takes for you to forget yourself, eyes caught on his soft mouth and pink tongue.

Valerie's approaching. You can see her stalking toward you over Eddie's shoulder. There's no room for vulnerability within a mile radius of her. You've got to get away before she sees all the softest parts of you exposed and decides to go for the jugular.

The door's within reach when the room goes quiet. Quiet enough Eddie doesn't even have to raise his voice when he says your name.

He's no stranger to standing on tables, but it's the first time you've seen him look so awkward, hands swinging at his sides in tight fists.

"I- I think I might be in love with you," Eddie says, "and I'm really, really sorry."

There's a chorus of ooooooooooohs from the audience, and maybe a few confused whispers from all the people who passively assumed you were already dating. Then all eyes are on you, waiting.

It's too fucking hot in this room, and your vision's starting to blur at the edges, feeling like you're on a stage and you can't remember the next line after Eddie's verbal punch to your gut.

You mumble a sound, falling backwards through the door and into the safety of the hallway.

Eddie's down off the table as soon as you disappear from the cafeteria, totally ignorant to the laughter and the jeers from all the dickheads watching.

Valerie's in his line of sight when he hits the ground.

"That was weird," she says, and Eddie can't tell if she's purposefully getting in his way, or if she's just got that aura of somebody who could tackle you to the ground but would never bother because she doesn't have to. "I mean I always knew she was a freak but—"

"Fuck off."

Eddie really would like to get into it more with her, maybe mention that he's been up-charging Valerie every time she mentioned your name, or that half the stuff he's been selling her was mixed with ten-year old spices from the cupboard above the oven.

There's more noise, but nobody else trying to get in his way, the path clear all the way to the door.

It's quiet in the hallway, and that alone leaves Eddie disoriented, swinging his head wildly, unsure which way you went.

"I'm down here."

You're on the floor a few feet away, head rested back against one of the lockers, and all of the bad shit goes away. It's that simple—like a light-switch—Eddie's panicked, and then he's not.

You're looking up at him with a soft kind of smile, despite the tight look in your eyes and sheen over your skin.

He slides down to the floor, long legs stretched out into the empty hall, shoes leaving little scuff marks across the linoleum.

"I'm sorry,"—you tell him as soon as he hits the ground, "about, you know. It was just, um, a lot."

"Don't be," he laughs, "that wasn't the smartest idea I've ever had."

The smartest idea he ever had was talking to you that first day, snatching you up before anybody else could.

Your tongue snakes out from between your lips, and Eddie has to physically hold himself back from tasting you. Your eyes dropped to his lap, your voice is small when you ask, "did you mean it?"

"Yeah, honey,"—probably should've kept the nickname to himself— "meant every word."

He's about to mumble something like, but if you don't feel the same it's totally fine, even though it definitely wouldn't be, when your head drops onto his shoulder.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know . . . just felt like a personal problem."

You laugh, and the sound shakes through him.

"I dunno, Eds. You being in love with me kinda sounds like something that I'd wanna know."

"I'll keep that in mind, for next time," he whispers. You're looking up at him with those big, soft eyes, breath pillowing against his face.

"It's the same for me," you tell him, "in case you were wondering."

In all the time Eddie's thought about kissing you, he never imagined it happening like this—on the floor with somebody's combination lock digging into his back. With your hands in his hair and the dull roar of the lunchroom somewhere nearby and his thumb tracing along your jaw and you smiling against his lips.

He was definitely missing out.

There's the metal clank of the door, and a chorus of footsteps somewhere down the hall. Eddie recognizes Dustin's voice.

"Oh my god, dude. Fucking finally."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson #requests #my writing #eddie munson fluff

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hollybell51 · 10 months

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If I don't have you

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Ethan Hunt x AFAB!Reader

Mission Impossible (around MI3)

Word count: 6.6K

Summary: your mind won't let go of a close call, or all the things that remain unsaid between you and Ethan.

Content: gratuitous smut, angst, light blood/wounds (canon typical), swearing, angst with a happy ending, some mildly dubious moments (ie., sneaking into people's beds), but there's explicit consent so dw about that. Friends to lovers, first kisses (like between people), oral (f receiving), handjobs, making out, missionary, unprotected sex, bit of dirty talk, sappy love confessions (I'm a sap myself, give me a break). I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything.

Notes: hey guys I'm back with another terrible title and porn nobody asked for! I've recently been consumed by Mission Impossible and was devastated by the lack of Ethan Hunt content, and I may or may not be starting down the Tom Cruise rabbit hole, so I did the natural thing and wrote some good old smut. This man makes me absolutely feral in every film (sixty fucking one and he's still got it! What the fuck!) but the long hair really gets me (you all know this already) so I chose to go with somewhere around the MI3 mark. I'm also somehow convinced that he just gets hotter with each film but that's another issue.

Mandatory disclaimer, I don't really care what Tom Cruise does in his own free time with his money and energy but I personally don't fuck with scientology, so yeah. Anyways, enjoy!

The door to the hotel room banged shut behind you, loud and sudden in the cool stillness of the evening. Your face felt hot, and not just because of the heat outside or the fact that you’d just effectively undertaken a high-speed parkour course, blood rushing in your ears, heart pounding.

“What the hell, Ethan?” you hissed as you spun to face him, jerking your arm out of his grip.

He ignored you, stepping closer in the narrow entryway. “Are you hurt?”

Were you hurt? God, it never failed to amaze you just how little regard this man had for his own safety. First he’d quite literally jumped off the roof of a building (albeit a low building, and he’d slid down the tented roof of one of the market stalls first), then raced head-first into what had nearly ended up an all-out fire fight, despite you and Luther both yelling across the comms at him to stop, go around and cut them off! Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t listened.

“That was fucking insane!” you burst.

“Are you ok?”

You were being pursued, first at a walk and then a run. Ethan had seen, you’d told him and Luther both over the comms, and had been receiving directions from the latter. But there were three men chasing you – working for the man you were stalking, most likely, although you weren’t sure – and the streets were unfamiliar, the heat of the evening oppressive, the crush of bodies at the market stifling and the air dusty and thick. You knew, even as your feet pounded on the uneven ground, that you were not going to outlast these men – locals, larger and more numerous than you.

“You’re fucking insane, you know that?”

Ethan had barrelled into you from the side just as the first gunshot had gone off, rolling with a grunt and a curse over some poor stallholder’s display and behind a wall of crates. The rush of relief his presence unfailingly conjured was short-lived as he dragged you to your feet, a quick “alright?” and that goddamn movie-star grin before he was pushing you out from behind the makeshift shelter and back into the crowd. You hadn’t even noticed the substantial tear in his shirt or the rough hatching of a graze high on his cheek until you’d been leaning against a wall, panting and a little shaky, but alive and free of your pursuers.

You’d almost ripped him a (another) new one then and there, but then he’d shaken his head at you and held up his hand, panting, “let’s just get back,” before you could even open your mouth. So you’d held your tongue. Until you’d gotten back.

Now, both his hands were on your shoulders, firm and warm, holding you still. “(Y/N),” he was saying, his eyes searching your face. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” you sighed after a moment, half tempted to jerk out of his grasp again. You didn’t. “I’m fine. Are you?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He nodded, his hands sliding down to grip your arms. The graze wasn’t too bad up close, but as your eyes flicked to the cut on his arm, your anger reared its head again. God, if that had been twenty centimetres to the right…

“No you’re fuckin not,” you said, breathing deeply. It was late, and you didn’t want to disturb anyone more than you already had. “Let me see that.”

His hands dropped from you altogether, and he stepped back. “It’s fine, (Y/N), just a graze.”

“A bullet graze!”

“It’s fine.”

You shook your head, closing what little distance had opened up between you to point your finger into his chest. “Don’t ever pull shit like that again.”

“No promises,” he shrugged.

Jesus fucking Christ! You had half a mind to grab his gun off him and finish the job right there, see how fine he’d be with his brains blown onto the wall behind him. Even then he’d brush it off as a bruise, maybe a light concussion. You swallowed. “Ethan, you could have been killed !”

“But I wasn’t. All that matters is that you’re alright.” He’d taken your hand, folding your accusing finger back towards your palm gently – so gently it made your heart ache – and enclosing your fist in his much larger one. Your stupid, traitorous stomach did a flip to rival his acrobatics.

“No,” you gritted, “that’s not all that matters! You fucking–” matter. You matter to me. You pressed your lips firmly together, the words boiling in the back of your throat, spiralling into a hard, painful lump. You matter, Ethan, more than any fucking mission. None of it would mean shit if you didn’t make it, if I didn’t have you. You matter and I fucking love you, you idiot!

He was looking at you oddly, you realised, the silence hanging between you so thickly you’d need a damn chainsaw to cut it. His hand still cradled yours, but as you watched, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly and the ready-for-anything gleam you were so painfully familiar with faded from his eyes.

You both turned as someone – Luther – cleared his throat, a sharp silhouette against the glow of twilight through the window behind him.

“Are you alright?” your friend asked, looking between the two of you.

“Yeah,” you huffed, pulling back and running both your now-free hands through your hair.

“Ethan?”

“Yeah.”

Another silence, though less tense.

“Taking a shower,” you muttered, feeling your own body slouch as the adrenaline drained from you. You were sweaty, hot, dusty, shaky and too strung out for any more of this shit. Nobody stopped you as you trudged past first Ethan, then Luther, down the narrow hallway and into the small hotel bathroom. You thought you could hear Luther’s rumbling voice over the stream of shower water, Ethan’s higher-pitched response, but couldn’t make out any words. Maybe that was for the better.

In your dream, Ethan wasn’t fine. In your dream, he hadn’t moved as fast and wasn’t stumbling to his feet, pulling you with him. In your dream, he went down and stayed down, breath coming fast and short, and instead of a rip in his sleeve there was a dark stain spreading over his chest.

“Ethan?” you said, watching yourself scramble across the rough dirt of the street to his side, your hands flitting uselessly over his torso.

He cursed, taking your hand as he had so many times before, big and warm and more comforting than it had any right to be. “You alright?” he asked, teeth gritted.

“Yeah, fine. Fuck, Ethan hold on–”

“No, (Y/N)–”

“Hold on , dammit!” It was amazing how viscerally you could feel the pain, sharp and hot like a gunshot wound of your own. You fumbled at your pockets with one hand, pressing down on his chest with the other, but your phone was nowhere to be found. When you shouted for an ambulance or help or anything at all, nobody was listening. The market bustled on around you, the people no more real than shadows on a wall.

Ethan was saying your name again, his blood hot and wet against your palm. Too much, too much too fast.

“All that matters is that you’re alright,” he was telling you, and half your mind was seeing him as he had been in the hallway – serious, sweaty, patch of pink skin over his cheekbone hatched with where the dirt had caught and cut it as he’d rolled.

In your dream, you told the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, words spilling from you in a sick waterfall. “You matter, Ethan. You matter to me, I love you, do you know how much you matter to me?”

You’d seen people die before. It was part and parcel of your job, so you knew what it looked like. This was no different. Ethan’s eyes were hazy, unfocussed, and he was too pale. There was a light sheen of sweat beading his face and neck. His chest was soaked with his blood and your hands were slick with it. His fingers were loosening around your own.

“Ethan?” you asked, your own grip slackening as his head lolled. “Ethan, come on, just hold on–”

No one’s coming.

“Hold on, Ethan. Don’t go. Don’t go, I can’t do this without you.”

He wasn’t looking at you anymore.

“Please, just– listen to me. You don’t know. You have no idea how much you matter to me, how much I need you. Ethan, come on, I love you!”

In your dream, Ethan was dead and you woke shivering despite the warmth of the room. You lay stock-still, counting to ten again and again until your breathing finally slowed and your heart rate returned to normal. You wriggled down under the sheet you’d draped over yourself, curling inwards and wishing for something more substantial than the loose t-shirt – once Ethan’s – and your underwear.

You’d watched Ethan die a thousand times, in a thousand different ways. Nobody would ever torture it out of you, but these – when he didn’t know, when it was too late before you told him – were the worst. It left you with a sick feeling in your gut, a hollow emptiness in your chest where your heart and lungs should have been, and limbs so heavy you were always surprised you managed to get up the next morning. And, of course, the inevitable wave of loathing at how fucking pathetic you were dreaming about telling your partner – friend , probably your best friend, because you were long past being coworkers – that you loved him.

You sighed, turning over. It was close to the full moon, the open window casting a rectangle of silver over the lump that was your legs, the light breeze moving the curtains gently. You could get up and close it. You should.

You’d been too pissed off and tired after your shower to do much more than grunt thanks to Luther when he handed you a cold doner kebab, eat it, then fall onto your bed and close your eyes. Usually, you’d have forced Ethan to take a shower too, waited until he emerged in fresh clothes and smelling like cheap soap, hair damp and curling around his ears, and patted the spot on the couch or bed or floor beside you. He’d always roll his eyes but sit anyway, and he’d stay sitting as you cleaned and dressed – sometimes stitched – whatever injuries he’d acquired with only minimal complaining. He’d give you the same treatment afterwards.

You hadn’t done any of that before, and now you missed the little ritual. You’d been mentally cataloguing the first aid kit for antiseptic cream, bandages, wound pads, suture needles and sterile thread as soon as it had even clocked in your mind that he had more than just the graze to his cheek, the uncomfortable weight of your dream growing heavier with the realisation that you’d left it all to him. And Luther, you supposed.

It was such a little thing, but in the moment it seemed to loom over you, blocking out the moon’s rectangle.

You sighed again, your feet hitting the floor before you’d even fully realised that you were getting up. 2.28 AM glowed sickly green from the digital clock on the nightstand. Maybe if you hadn’t had that specific dream, you thought, you would have given this more consideration. Turned over and closed your eyes, decided to wait until morning proper, dismissed your guilt and concern as remnants of a stressful evening. But you had had that dream, and now that you’d eased the door open and were slipping down the hallway towards the room Ethan occupied, there was no way you could have turned back.

His door was ajar, and didn’t squeal or protest when you eased it open. The set-up, like most hotel bedrooms, was exactly the same as your own. Cupboard on one wall (open, with a duffle bag resting half in and half out of it), dresser next to the door (two guns and a few spare magazines next to them), and a double bed by the window. The orientation of the room meant that the moonlight fell on the floor instead of the bed, but you could still clearly make out Ethan’s prone form, sheet wrinkled and twisted under him, one arm dangling over the side of the mattress, a few strands of hair over his face fluttering with each breath.

You’d seen him asleep before, of course you had. There hadn’t always been hotel rooms with two bedrooms and a pull-out couch to rotate through, nice as that was. There hadn’t even always been separate beds or mattresses – or any at all. Sometimes you ended up side by side in a queen that was supposed to be two singles, slumped on top of him in the back of a van or on a rooftop, curled against his back in a sleeping bag that was only really meant for one person. You didn’t mind, not really, but seeing him like that – totally relaxed, peaceful – tugged at something deep inside you.

You hesitated, one hand on the doorframe, shivering once more in the breeze from his open window. The curtains billowed inwards, floated suspended for a moment, then receded back to brush at the thick sill. The bed rustled as Ethan turned over, and you froze. He’d said something, you thought he’d said something that sounded like your name. Then he did it again, and you were sure.

“(Y/N).”

You crossed the room silently, kneeling then lying smoothly on the bed and against his back like you were made to fit there. He hummed softly as your arm slid over his ribs, your fingers splayed over his heart. Still beating, strong and even and alive.

He sighed, shifting ever so slightly back towards you, his own hand finding yours, larger fingers lacing with your own.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed. The dressing on his arm where the bullet had clipped him seemed to glow, taunting you. He did this himself, it said. You left, he almost took a fucking bullet for you and you didn’t even fix it for him .

The slow expansion and contraction of his torso paused for a moment. Neither of you were heavy sleepers, your job had seen to that. “(Y/N)?”

“Yeah.”

“What’re you sorry for?” he asked, voice thick with sleep.

Everything. “Yelling at you. I just…” You paused, no longer cold in the shadow of your dream, but still aware of its presence. “I don’t wanna see you get hurt.”

There was a beat of silence, then he was turning over again to face you, his hand slipping from your own to run up over your forearm, your elbow, your upper arm, catching momentarily on the sleeve of your shirt before coming to rest on your shoulder. “You’re here,” he whispered. “Thought I was dreaming…”

You smiled, reaching out to run your fingers around the neck of his wifebeater singlet. Even just waking up, he looked good in the damn thing. “You were.”

He frowned, the patch of rough red hashing standing out in the silvery dimness. Up this close, you could see every minute crease between his brows that hadn’t been there a minute ago, every tiny line of tension around his eyes. “What’re you doing here?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. I felt bad.” I couldn’t help you. I couldn’t help you and I couldn’t tell you, and you still don’t know.

“For yelling at me?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t wanna see you get hurt, either. That’s–”

“All that matters. You said.”

You were at a crossroads. You felt it as if someone had infused your every cell with the knowledge that you had two options, and you could only take one, and it would change things. How, you weren’t sure, but the sticky warmth of Ethan’s blood between your fingers and the rough dirt digging into your knees still made your skin tingle.

“You’re wrong,” you continued. “That’s not all that matters.”

The frown deepened. “Hm?”

“You matter, Ethan. To me. If I don’t have you…” You shrugged, once again counting your breaths. How was it that you were more highly strung now than you had been while you were quite literally being chased through a market and shot at? It was so far away now, a distant memory of someone else. This, here, the gap barely wider than ten centimetres between your face and Ethan’s, the warm air and the pale moonlight, the warmer weight of his hand still on your shoulder… That was real.

But bravery – a strange word, you realised, even as you had the thought – only went so far. “Don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” you finished lamely.

He knew it wasn’t what you’d been going to say, that it barely went half way to getting across what you wanted to. But still, he just smiled and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You won’t ever have to find out.”

Maybe you weren’t really awake. Maybe you’d wandered into his dream instead of his room, or maybe (and more likely) he’d found his way into yours. Maybe you really had turned over and gone back to sleep instead of padding down the hall and sliding in next to him, and this was your mind’s way of apologising to you for the earlier horror show. It must be, you reasoned, because somewhere you’d ended up pressed against his front – something that hadn’t happened before; you always found yourself curled around him from behind. Your skin felt like it was on fire as his hand slid across your collar, up your neck to rest on your cheek.

The kiss, when it came, hardly registered as something new. After all, how many times had this played out in your mind? How many times had you wondered what it would be like to move those last few centimetres, lean across that last gap, shove the two of you over that line like he’d shoved you out of the way of that bullet. It was an extension of where you were right now, of where you’d been for the last however long, of where you’d somehow known you were eventually going to end up.

He was as gentle with you as he’d always been, soft and so painfully careful. He held you like you might break, as if you were something precious and delicate, his hand warm where he cradled your face. You felt the last sticky residue of tension and fear drain from your body as you slid the hand that had been resting on his chest down, over his ribs, around his back, pressing between his shoulder blades.

“Ethan,” you whispered as he pulled away, still close enough that you could feel his breath on your face. You weren’t shivering anymore.

“You’re so beautiful,” he replied, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face.

You smiled, every cell in your body tingling with warmth. “So’re you.”

“Mm-mm,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Not like you. You have no idea how beautiful you are.”

There wasn’t much your kiss-addled, Ethan-filled brain could say to that. You closed the gap once more, his mouth impossibly soft, the faint hint of his toothpaste clinging to his tongue when it slid against your own. Someone – you or him, you weren’t sure – made a tiny noise somewhere in the realm of a sigh as you shifted even closer to him, hooking your leg over his.

He was almost on top of you now, leaning over you, suspended carefully on one arm. You’d been here before, pressed into the floor of wherever you were sparring, sweaty and determined to do whatever it took to gain the upper hand again. Secretly, though, you’d wondered what that would feel like like this, and now you wondered if he had, too.

Just as you had all those other times, you pushed your hips up off the mattress and flipped him smoothly. He huffed as you straddled him, blinking up at you in surprise before a smile spread over his face and he sat up, kissing you once more, his hands settling on your hips. You were half aware of your body curving towards his as your hands tangled in his hair, the rapid deterioration of your kisses into something that probably wouldn’t fit the word under any stringent definition.

“Can I?” he asked, fingers flitting around the hem of your shirt.

You just nodded, pulling the garment over your head quicker than you ever had before and casting it aside. If Ethan recognised it, he didn’t say anything.

“You too,” you whispered when he didn’t show any signs of copying you, pulling at the thin cotton of his own shirt.

“Huh?”

“Shirt, dummy,” you smiled. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one who’s naked.”

“All’s fair in love and war.”

Love. Your heart sped up at the word. This could be love. Or war, you supposed.

“I don’t think that’s what that means,” you said, wrinkling your nose.

“Sure it is,” he shrugged. But his hands were at the hem of the stupid thing, and before you could say anything else he was easing it over his head – mindful of his arm – and tossing it to join yours. “Fair now?”

“Yeah.” You’d seen him without a shirt before. Changing in the back of a van, bandaging a cracked rib or disinfecting a patch of tiny cuts where he’d rolled through broken glass (which happened far too frequently, in your opinion), passing him on his way out of the bathroom. Every time made your stomach flip over and your mind race, but you’d never been able to touch him like this before; run your hands down over his shoulders and arms, across his stomach, up again over his chest, around his ribcage, down the curve of his spine.

He was in the same boat, you supposed, smiling as his hand slid appreciatively up your side, thumb skimming the soft underside of your breast. You moaned as he bent to kiss down the column of your throat, sucking at the flesh over your jugular and where your neck met your shoulder, teeth grazing the skin occasionally, tongue soothing the blossoming marks left behind.

“Can I ask you something?” you sighed as he mouthed at the hollow of your collar bone.

“Yeah.”

“You said my name before. Were you dreaming about me?”

Again, “Yeah.”

You smiled. “What about me?”

“That you were here.” He broke away from your skin, stretching to place a soft kiss on your lips. “And you were safe.”

“Well I am.” There was more to it, you could feel it.

“You are.” Another kiss, almost chaste in its brevity.

“What else?” you asked.

He paused, hesitant, then, “You had your legs around my neck.”

Oh. Oh.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you whispered. That image wasn’t a new one. The fact that he dreamed about you was news enough, but that… That sent a veritable deluge of heat and desire down through your body, pooling wetly between your thighs. You had to consciously stop yourself from grinding on him right then and there.

You wouldn’t have been able to, anyway. He was pushing you backwards now, his kisses trailing down over your sternum, between your breasts – he paused here to mouth at one, kneading the other gently, making you moan again – and on to your stomach. He slowed when he reached the waistband of your underwear, kissing across the bridge between your hip bones, leaving you a belt of faint hickeys.

“Can–”

“Yes,” you answered.

He looked up at you from where he’d slid between your legs, one hand on your hip and the other pushing at your thigh. His hair hung over his forehead and almost into his eyes (you’d been trying to get him to let you trim it for weeks now), lips pink and kiss-swollen and so pretty. “Ok,” he smiled, pulling your underwear down over your legs shockingly easily, considering they were still wrapped around his waist. You cursed softly as he bent his head again, kissing the inside of your thigh.

“Wondered what this’d be like,” he whispered, sucking at a spot beside it.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you gasped, your hand sliding down to rest on his head, fingers carding through his hair.

He hummed softly into your skin. “What you’d taste like.”

You cursed again as he licked over the mark, fingers skirting where you wanted him most, your skin on fire with every kiss.

“What you’d sound like.”

You pressed your lips together firmly, stifling any sound as he slid a finger over your wetness. You raised your head, meeting his eyes directly. “Do you wanna find out?”

“Yes,” he breathed. His breath hitched in his chest, and there was that perfect movie-star grin. “Fuck, yes.”

You opened your mouth to say something to that, but before the words had formed in your mind Ethan was licking up your cunt and the only thing that came out of your mouth was an embarrassingly loud moan. You felt him smile, his own soft noise of pleasure muffled against your flesh as he licked again, then sucked determinedly at your clit.

“Oh, fuck , Ethan–” you gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, legs locked around his shoulders.

“Hm?”

“That’s fucking– You’re– Holy shit that’s good.”

Ethan just grinned again, his tongue flicking over you, one finger circling your entrance. A suggestion. “Is this alright?”

You nodded frantically, pressing your lips together as he pushed it inside you. “Yes,” you whined as he licked you again, letting yourself fall back onto the mattress as the hand not gripping his hair twisted in the sheets. He groaned softly, the sound reverberating over you as he sucked your clit, his finger working your hole. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop–” you panted, practically grinding on his face.

A soft hum, then he was adding a second finger, lapping up everything you were giving him as you squirmed , your breath coming in ragged gasps. You could feel the orgasm coming now, coiling in your stomach like a spring, hot and tight and Ethan was the one building it up. Every curl of his fingers, every brush of his tongue and lips, every little grunt or hum, and his free hand gripping your thigh like a vice. You hoped you’d have bruises.

“Oh, oh, Ethan, oh my God–”

Close, you were so damn close. You were aware of your hips jutting up against his face, and the tiny part of your brain that wasn’t consumed with pleasure and want might have felt bad.

“I’m gonna– fuck – holy shit , Ethan– Ethan I’m gonna–”

Then everything was crashing around you and you were crying his name, your legs spasming and your spine arching, electricity fizzing through you. Ethan continued fucking you with his hand, slower and gentler now, his mouth soft on your sensitive clit. Maybe it was gradual, maybe not, but eventually your body transitioned from roiling static to a gentle buzz and your grip on his hair slackened, your legs relaxing around his shoulders.

He sat calmly between your legs, licking his fingers. The entire lower half of his face shone silver in the moonlight with your slick, his lips pink and swollen, eyes fixed keenly on you. You thought if he looked at you like that a second longer, you were going to cum all over again.

You smiled at him, your hand finding his where it still rested on your hip. Gently (though maybe it was because your limbs still felt so heavy and floppy), you pulled him up the bed and down on top of yourself, stretching up to kiss him hard. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue when it slid into your mouth, and his hand on your skin was slightly sticky. It slid around your waist, pushing against the small of your back, pressing your chest to his. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to get enough of it.

You whispered his name against his lips, your own hands settled firmly around his shoulders, holding on for dear life. The fabric of his underwear – why the hell was he still wearing anything? – seemed to burn where it brushed over your hip, pressing hot and hard against you.

“(Y/N),” he breathed, pulling back enough to study your face carefully, as if he were memorising every detail.

You felt the air catch in your lungs, your heart skip a beat. “You’re so…” Pretty. Lovely. Gorgeous. Hot. Handsome. Beautiful. You’re everything, Ethan. “God, I love you.”

He froze, and it was only then that you realised you’d said it. You’d actually said the goddamn words, aloud, to him.

“Are you serious?” he asked. Not incredulous, not judgemental, simply seeking clarification.

And how the hell were you supposed to lie? You nodded, your mouth suddenly dry.

“Say it again.”

“I love you,” you repeated numbly. Then, swallowing, “Is that ok?”

Another beat passed in silence, then he laughed. “Yes, dammit, I love you too.”

“You… love me too.” Had you heard him right? Had you somehow wandered back to your dream, fallen into an orgasm-dulled sleep and imagined the last few minutes? But no, Ethan’s lips felt real enough when they brushed yours again, his fingers felt real enough on your back.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Say it again.”

“I love you. And you love me, don’t you?”

You nodded, an absurd bubble of laughter swelling in your chest. “Yes,” you grinned. “I love you, Ethan.”

This kiss was different. A kiss has to taste different after something like that, you supposed, and you were both still smiling. You reached down, your fingers skirting the waistband of his underwear, then further still to press your hand against his hard bulge. He moaned into your mouth, breaking the kiss to glance down, up again.

“Off,” you whispered, already pulling at the fabric. He obliged, quickly and smoothly as he’d rid himself of his shirt, and in a moment his lips were back against your own, hot and hungry. You took his cock in your hand, your own lips moving away from his across his jaw, the hollow where it met his neck, his skin clean and smooth and tasting faintly of hotel soap.

His dick was hot to the touch, thick and long and roped with veins. You’d wondered, sometimes, what this would feel like. You’d imagined the sound he’d make when you touched him like this (it couldn’t ever have come close to the real thing, you knew that now), how that hot weight would feel against your tongue. He groaned in earnest as you stroked your hand along his length, your thumb swiping around the leaking head. He cursed softly, your name hissing between his teeth, hips moving gently in tandem with your hand.

“I wanted you for so long, Ethan,” you murmured into his neck. “You have no idea.”

“Yeah?”

You smiled. “I dream about you too, you know.”

He faltered, just for a moment, then, “What about me?”

You felt your smile widen and you frantically suppressed the urge to laugh again at the echo of your own earlier words. “I dream about fucking you six ways into next week,” you said simply. “Sucking your cock till I’m choking on it and making you cum in my mouth. Or in my pussy, I don’t care.”

“Oh fuck, (Y/N), Jesus,” he groaned, the sound sending another bolt of heat to your still sensitive pussy. “You think about that when we’re out there?”

“Mhm.” This time you did laugh, nothing more than a soft exhale, not stopping your hand’s movements. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to jerk you off when you’re tryna aim a gun.”

His cock twitched in your grasp, a low moan pressed back behind his lips. “God, (Y/N) that’s–”

“Insane?”

“So fucking hot. You’re so fucking hot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Wanna feel you, all of you. Can I?”

Now it was your turn to curse. “Yes,” you breathed, wriggling to wrap your legs around his waist, your hand leaving its place to grip his shoulder, run down his arm, guide his hand to your hip. “Please, Ethan.”

“Here?”

“Yeah. Here.” You ground your hips against his, already tingling as his cock slid against your slick centre. “I want you inside me. Need you.”

“Shit, ok, just let me–” He broke off as he sank into you, his hum of pleasure mingling with your own breathy moan. Maybe it was the after effects of your earlier orgasm, the dream state you still weren’t entirely sure you’d broken out of, or a combination of both, but you swore that nothing would ever top this feeling. It was like he was made for you, slow and soft as he pulled out and pushed back in, did it again, then again and again.

“Shit, Ethan,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair as he bent his head to kiss your chest. You were glad it was still long enough for this, that you hadn’t managed to get him to cut it. He groaned against you and you smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut.

“Harder?” you murmured. “Don’t have to be so gentle.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he replied, his breath warm against your skin.

“You won’t, don’t worry. Please?”

He raised his head, eyes searching your face. “Ok,” he said, dipping down to kiss your lips quickly and softly before he was drawing away and sitting back between your legs, lifting your hips with one hand and sliding a pillow under your lower back with the other.

Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies swirling alongside the magma in your stomach. This time he pushed hard into you, his cock stroking every inch of your insides, the hand that had been on your hip sliding to press down on your pelvis. “Yes,” you gasped, “yes, just like that.”

“Like this?” Another thrust, even and determined.

“Yeah, oh fuck that’s so good.” You reached up over your head, one hand gripping the headboard of the bed as the other twisted in the sheets, eyes fixed on Ethan. He was so beautiful in the moonlight, shining as though he was cast in silver. He was a fucking masterpiece.

“You’re so good,” he said. “You look so perfect like that, feel like Heaven, (Y/N), I swear.”

Oh, did he know what he was doing to you? Every jolt of his hips against yours building low inside you, his barely restrained little sounds and the heaving of his chest. You weren’t going to last much longer.

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, “ fuck, Ethan, you feel so good. Making me feel so fucking good, so good , you have no idea.”

“Hm?”

“So hot. You’re so goddamn hot, you know that?”

“(Y/N)–”

You were close. You were so fucking close, wound tight and ready to snap at any moment. You whined his name, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts, legs tight around his waist.

“Fuck, (Y/N), I’m– I’m gonna–” He broke off, pressing his lips together, his eyes fixed on you.

“Yeah? You gonna cum?”

“Yeah, fuck, where do I–”

“In me.”

“You sure?”

Were you sure? You’d been sure for way too long now. “Yeah, dammit, wanna feel you cum in my pussy, fucking filling me up so good–”

That did it. His thrusts stuttered and slowed as he spilled inside you, his chest heaving and his head tilted back, eyes closed, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. God, he was just too much, and you’d made him look like that. It had been you, all you, and it was you he was still buried deep inside. Your own climax rolled over you with that, your body squeezing tight and hot around him, your grip on the bed hard enough that you were sure your knuckles were white, spine arching as bliss flooded your body. You might have said his name, he might have said yours again, but it didn’t matter.

You lay there, warm all over and shaking, watching him. After a moment, his eyes opened and he smiled at you, gingerly pulling out to flop beside you on the mattress.

“Clean up?” he asked, already reaching over the side of the bed.

“Yeah.” You were too heavy to do anything but let him gently run the towel he’d found between your legs, thighs and stomach twitching when the rough cotton came into contact with your oversensitive clit.

“Sorry,” he muttered, cursorily wiping at his own crotch before tossing the piece of fabric away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you sighed again, wriggling off the pillow and kicking it aside. You shifted closer to him, his arm sliding around your shoulders and pulling you against his side, his heart beating strong next to your own. Your eyes were drawn to the darker, rougher patch on his cheek, and you frowned.

“What?” he asked.

“This.” You ran your fingers over it gently, barely even touching the skin, doing the same to the dressing on his arm. “And this. Can I have a look tomorrow?”

“It is tomorrow.” He nodded to the clock. Right, yeah. After midnight. “I thought I did an ok job,” he went on before you could say anything.

“Ethan, there’s nothing even on this one,” you protested. “It’s just… there.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not gonna kiss it better?”

“I never said that.” You smiled, dipping to brush the spot with your lips. Featherlight, barely there. “Better?”

He nodded.

“I still want to check them.”

“Ok,” he relented, squeezing your shoulder gently.

You shifted closer, your face inches from his own. Up this close, you could see the baby hairs stuck to his forehead with sweat, every eyelash shining iridescent white under the moon. “I meant it,” you whispered.

“What?”

“That you matter to me. You’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

His breath rushed through his lungs and back out again as he stretched to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’re the most important thing to me, too. I love you.”

You tilted your face to his, this time meeting his lips with your own. It was slow, unhurried, relaxed and tender, and everything you adored in Ethan. “I love you, too,” you whispered into it. Then, grinning as you drew back, “And I meant all the other stuff, too.”

He raised an eyebrow, “All of it?”

“Yeah.”

His chest shook with faint laughter under you, his hand stroking over your shoulder. “I didn’t know you thought like that. Didn’t know you thought about me like that.”

“Yeah, well…” You trailed off, shrugging, your cheeks warm. “Sorry if it was a bit much.”

“Don’t worry,” he smiled, “it wasn’t. I liked it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You know,” you said as you lay down, “anyone else couldn’t waterboard that out of me.”

“Guess I’m just that special.”

“You are, Ethan.” You weren’t shivering anymore, the only weight in you was the pleasant kind of exhaustion that came with finally being safe, being home. Ethan was alive and he knew, he knew you loved him, and he knew what he meant to you, and he loved you too. If this was a dream, it was the best one you’d ever had.

#ethan hunt #ethan hunt x reader #mission impossible #shameless smut #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #tom cruise

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 1 month

Text

Dark Moon | Chapter Fourteen

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 4,5k

Warnings | +18, yandere themes, Stockholm syndrome, fluff, smut, slight panic attack at first, body worship, pussy worship, pussy eating, face riding, fingering, nipples licking, couch fucking, vaginal sex, intense orgasms and devastating emotions, soft yandere Jimin, mentions of ruined childhood

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! 🥰❤️

Hope you are happy with this update! This one is a bit longer than the others! Always let me know your thoughts, you make me very happy ❤️

PS: Forgive me for the mistakes, it was not an easy week for me and I did not have much time 😭❤️

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie, @seokjins-luigi, @pjmsneverland, @jimincrystal, @ajkwww, @ungodlyjoon , @hecateslittlewitchling , @namjoonsbuspass , @darkuni63 , @xicanacorpse , @jiminismine4ever , @btssimpjaneth , @antisocial-mochi267 , @reallygenerouskoala , @velvet-stardust2002 , @angelicsmilesworld

Taglist is open!

Chapter List - Previous - Next

"I finally found you," huffed Seokjin in front of Choi Minhoo, the man had been tied to a wooden chair, only Minho, Seokjin, Jungkook and Namjoon were present in that warehouse. The latter were just waiting for Jin's order to act; they were vibrating with fury.

"Be careful, Jin! My family members won't be happy about this!" he ranted with foam at his mouth, as frightened and rabid as a rat in a trap, Jungkook growled at those words, put his hand to his gun that he faithfully kept in his pocket, but a glance from Seokjin froze him in place.

"Uh, that's scary," put on a fake pout Jin with those beautiful rosy lips of his, "Now I'm going to shit my pants, look."

"Take the piss out of me, they're going to destroy you anyway," he growled, but that only made the man in charge of the Bangtans smile more broadly.

"That slut of a cousin of yours hurt Jimin when he was just a little boy, the result was that her body was dismembered by my dogs, and she was still alive while they ate her, you kidnapped and raped his woman, which amounts to another member of my family now," he began as he walked toward Minho, before grabbing the collar of his torn jacket, "I'm tired of having to pick up the pieces of what you and your damn family break, I will kill you all, child or adult, I will eradicate you from this world as the haughty and arrogant scum that you fucking are," he hissed, tightening his grip so tightly that the tendons in his wrists trembled before he pulled away.

Inhaling before recomposing himself, Namjoon and Jungkook looked at each other with a smirk-that was Jin.

"Jin! Jin! Kim Seokjin, stop!" shouted Minho after him as the man walked away, giving way to his bodyguards, "You said you were interested in politics, right! I can introduce you to the prime minister!" he finally shouted desperately, but Seokjin ignored him expressionlessly.

Neither he nor Jimin would have soiled themselves for such a being. He had deliberately decided not to tell Jimin about Minho's capture, knowing him he would have wanted to kill him with his own hands, but he wanted him to spend more time with Y/N.

He knew that sooner or later Jimin would fall into the arms of a woman he would love with sincere passion, that was what was needed for a troubled soul like his.

They needed to be done with the Choi family forever, all of them.

For days there had been a tense air in the house, Jimin was not there-according to him he had vital research to do-and in his place Taehyung had arrived to keep her company. He did not even use the guest room, preferring the living room sofa to Y/N's dismay.

The living room was her favorite place to read and eat, with Taehyung having conquered that piece of the apartment by now she could always be found hanging around it and disappearing.

Taehyung on his part tiptoed around when she was present, feeling uncomfortable.

He had endangered her with his indifference, plus he had also seen her in an extremely delicate moment, where she was weak and naked in every way.

He always peered at the girl with a pout, undecided how to start a possible conversation, she was not helping him at all in this, she was always so quiet and on her own....

With a snort he saw her head for the kitchen for a snack. He had to do it now.

"Y/N" when he reached her the woman gasped slightly, she had not expected him to come and talk to her, they had ignored each other so peacefully until now, inside she regretted leaving her room.

"Yes?" she huffed slightly, turning away.

At first glance Taehyung looked like a man of integrity, serious and good at his job, but at that moment he was showing his face full of emotion. He seemed nervous about something.

"I ... would like to apologize to you," he said with a note of embarrassment, the girl's eyes widened.

"To me?"

"Yes, it was my fault that they managed to catch you that day. It was my responsibility to control and protect you, I broke my word and for that I apologize" Taehyung bowed respectfully, Y/N was simply stunned.

They had never treated her with that much respect, why now?

Something told her that Jimin's hand was present.

"It's not totally your fault, I attacked your friend and you were reasonably pissed off, I apologize for making you worry about Jimin's condition.... I lost my mind in that instant, I did the only thing I thought was right so I wouldn't suffer anymore," she explained with regret.

"You did what anyone would have done," Taehyung replied, "My anger aside, Jimin was not behaving well with you and you did what you thought was right, that doesn't mean I would allow you to do it again, but I can still understand and yes, it remains my responsibility what happened to you, there won't be a next time."

Y/N nodded a little embarrassed, the determined expression in those languidly slitted eyes put her slightly in awe.

"Um... would you like some strawberry tea? I've made too much for myself," she said turning slightly toward the full teapot, with a small smile Taehyung agreed.

"I love strawberries."

Jimin came home with such a serious look on his face that it made Y/N guess that it was better to turn away from him.

Taehyung had left ten minutes earlier and the idea of being alone with a Jimin in that state unnerved her, she did not want to think that the boy would attack her again for his frustrations, so it was best not to pull the cat's tail too much.

The boy in question noticed the girl's strange attitude, she was moving in a hurry to wash her dishes, she wanted to run to her room and this would have been clear even to the least empathetic person in the world.

"Y/N" the sound of his voice uttering her name so quietly made her freeze suddenly, the water continued to flow in the sink without any more purpose and she did not move to stop it, "Can you come here please?"

She closed her eyes with a soft, inaudible sigh, counted to three before turning away with a slight smile.

She left everything in the sink and turned off the water, then walked over to him who sat at the table staring at her with predatory, glittering eyes, one rings-decorated hand tapped on his thick, muscular thigh, the elastic fabric of his pants wrapped around it beautifully and she found herself swallowing, "Sit here."

She did as she was told and the boy's arms soon wrapped around her at hip level, Jimin buried his head between her neck and shoulder, inhaling her sweet scent.

Y/N felt herself flaring up, the sensation of Jimin's warm breath warmly caressing her made her heart, already swollen with unexpressed emotions, throb.

"Jimin?"

"I've missed you," he repeated the words with which he had returned her the day he found her, Y/N instantly relaxed noticing that Jimin did not mean to hurt her in any way.

"I missed you too," she returned the hug, sinking her face into the soft locks of the man who smiled broadly in response.

"It's been especially stressful to handle things today."

"Are you looking for Minho?"

She asked quietly, not giving away how much even mentioning his name destabilized her, but Jimin knew her well by now; in fact, he sent her a reproachful look.

"Don't ask things you don't want to know, baby," he softly stroked one cheek still marked by a light bruise.

"I just wish you would confide in me, you keep everything inside and then you get sick."

"I won't be sick if you're with me," he replied seriously, peering longingly at her, his eyes lowered to her sugary lips and he closed his eyes, trying to hold himself back.

"Jimin...."

"Y/N." he stopped her by pronouncing her name firmly, "I want to make love to you."

A delicious twinge of pleasure made her intimacy throb, the arms she held tightly around the boy's neck trembled, "Jimin, I don't know if..." she felt so confused.

Fuck, she wanted him. She wanted him with all her heart, but she didn't want to be reminded of Minho, or his henchman hitting her repeatedly as she and Jimin lost themselves in their moment.

"Let's try it," she narrowed her eyes at the man's pleading tone, it was a new side of Jimin she never thought she would see, perhaps he had never begged any woman to fuck, the idea that she was the first one he begged even for a kiss appealed to her, "If anything happens I will stop immediately."

After that reassurance she found herself nodding with soft legs, Jimin kissed her with transport, savoring those sweet lips that tasted of tea and strawberries, fuck, it could become his new favorite taste.

Y/N reciprocated more calmly, trying to keep up with the man's voraciousness that did not just stop at her lips, but sank into her mouth languidly seeking the woman's tongue, gently intertwining in a perfect dance for them.

In a way she found it touching how tender Jimin was in squeezing her hips without hurting her, she had never experienced such intimacy with a man before, she liked it, and she did not want it all to end and go back to the dry old normal.

When they parted a few tears escaped from the young woman's eyes, Jimin stepped back slightly wiping the path they traced along her tender cheeks.

"Should we stop?" he asked sympathetically, but Y/N denied it immediately.

"No, it's just... I liked it, I've never done it like that," she said.

"Like that?"

"So intimate, with someone who loves me" she pulled up with her nose crinkling her eyes.

Jimin's blood froze in his veins, not that he had been a saint, but those words punctuated how much the childhood of the girl he was holding in his arms had sucked.

He kissed her again, feeling in his mouth the salty, lukewarm taste of her small tears that broke his heart, yes, Park Jimin now felt sorry for a past that did not belong to him, but love did that and more, it changed people and Jimin fit perfectly into that category.

He loved her and would get anything that made her sad out of the way, he slid into the neckline of her blouse, kissing every available flap of skin before he himself pulled off every single button that separated him from that body that drove him crazy. From the first time he had seen her, he knew he would desire her every hour of every day, sometimes it hurt so much it was unbearable.

When he freed her from that restraint he found himself face to face with the young woman's bare breasts, he inhaled wordlessly at the sight, god how much he had missed this, even as Minho's now superficial footprints on that divine temple made him growl.

Then he frowned, "Were you bra-less the whole time with Taehyung around?"

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, "It hurt..." she mumbled embarrassedly, referring to the bruises clearly, the bra pressed painfully against them.

Jimin inhaled softly, again bridging the distance between the two of them with yet another kiss of the evening, lulling her gently with his breath, his hand slipped over a rosy little button, teasing its tip, which rose turgidly under Jimin's expert touch, which descended to gently lick the areola before gently biting the tip of the sensitive nipple.

Y/N in response pushed her chest into Jimin's mouth, sighing in sweet waves of desire.

The man pulled away only long enough to effortlessly pick her up and carry her to the sofa in the living room, Y/N held back a surprised sob, and she watched the man's playful smile.

"Will we do it here?" she asked curiously, Jimin chuckled.

"We'll do it everywhere, sweetheart," he sighed, attaching himself to the girl's neck with his mouth, sucking and kissing her soft neck to leave his personal mark; he wanted to remove Minho's presence everywhere from her, "And I'll make you feel sensations you never had a chance to experience."

"Mh..." she squeezed her eyes shut under the weight of Jimin descending lower and lower, marking a glowing trail of wet kisses and bites all along her belly, with his hand he passed the barrier of her panties and barely grazing her pubis he sank his hand into her intimacy, gathering between his fingers a large amount of transparent essence that had already left her throbbing slit. It was the first time he had felt her so soaked for him; it felt like a dream.

"Fuck," he cursed excitedly, quickly slipping off his pants with his free hand, giving his big, hard cock some relief.

He went back to sucking one of her turgid nipples as his fingers began to play between her folds, Y/N moved her hips willingly against his hand, in her mind the only thing present was the idea of Jimin taking her on that couch.

"How do you feel?" he asked blowing hot air on one nipple, Y/N's clit twitched seeking attention.

"It feels good... so good," she whimpered, her thighs trembling, "And I want to feel you inside me, Jimin."

The latter smiled, amazed at the woman's stance, before a more wicked grin furrowed his cheeks.

He leaned closer to the girl's ear before murmuring, "And I'm going to come inside you with my cock and my fingers, soon my cock will be the only thing you'll feel between now and tomorrow, baby doll," he ignored the girl's faster breathing and continued licking her earlobe between his lips, "But first I want you to feel what my tongue can do, I'm going to lick your pussy so well that you'll cry for it," he took off his shirt as well, showing off his well-delineated and strong abs, a deep V went down to below the layer of his boxers that he hastened to carelessly throw on the floor, the sight of his swollen cock already moist with precum made her swallow without any more saliva.

She simply spread her legs for Jimin, but the position reminded her of the one they had forced her into and she stiffened.

"Jimin..." she closed her legs again shaking her head, Jimin immediately reached for her.

"Hey, hey...what's going on, baby?"

"I can't do it like this, I'm sorry" she still couldn't get over her trauma, she was about to have a panic attack and didn't want to disappoint Jimin, but the boy hugged her again.

"There are many ways to do it," he chuckled lightly trying to make her calm down, "Don't feel wrong, you're not."

"R-Really?" she looked at him curiously, wanting to have sex with him, but other than missionary and doggy style she had not tried anything else, ever.

The man nodded, "Give me some space, love."

She did as she was told and saw Jimin lie down in her place, she stood looking at him confused.

"What should I do now?" she asked innocently, Jimin gave her a smug look.

"Sit on my face."

The woman widened her eyes, what was she to do?

"I ... are you serious?"

"Trust me, we'll both like it," he replied biting his full lips, making Y/N's legs tighten.

She sighed slightly and listened to the boy, with some difficulty due to her inexperience she found herself with Jimin's face at the height of her soggy core, she found it incredibly awkward, but that feeling of imprisonment was gone.

From his side Jimin gazed in ecstasy at her wet intimacy, licking his lips he opened her folds with a gentle thrust of his fingers, before leaving a long, slow streak of saliva with his tongue, until he stopped at her swollen and needy clitoris, Y/N widened her eyes and collapsed onto the man who did not complain.

With her nose pressed against the young woman's pubis, she sucked conspicuously on that sweet trembling pearl, Y/N cried out in shock at those strange sensations she had never experienced before, Jimin's soft tongue enveloped her softly, but the pleasure was intense, it was all so terribly beautiful and hard at the same time that she began to shake her hips trying to escape from the continuous strokes of Jimin's fast tongue. The boy seemed to love eating her.

"Fuck, oh... oh! Jimin!" she shrieked breathlessly, the man held her thighs tightly preventing her from escaping, sinking his tongue into her hot and wet entrance, Jimin's eyes rolled back at that sweet taste, he could drink Y/N's essence all his life, she would never be enough for him, his cock trembled releasing thick whitish liquid, he could have easily come that way, his balls throbbing painfully with every moan or scream the girl let out without any more reins.

"Please, please stop!" she cried as she felt something coming, something powerful and devastating.

With the tip of his tongue Jimin again played with the shiny, quivering clitoris, finishing with a light bite that made the young woman stiffen, locking her in the grip of a powerful and strong orgasm, breathtaking in places, her first fucking orgasm.

She began to tremble and weep, no longer even able to bear the gentle caresses of the man adoringly wiping away all her pleasure that had soiled the inside of her thighs down to Jimin's chin.

She rolled to the side clutching her legs and wincing again, Jimin lying on his side wrapped his arms around her, kissing her neck and shoulders, gently brushed one thigh and invited her to raise one leg, "That's it, baby girl... let me feel how good I did," he chuckled as he aligned himself with her entrance, lightly pushed the massive tip of his cock already lubricated with his own cum against her ultra-sensitive slit, Y/N gasped slightly with blurred vision, but let him.

Jimin pushed himself into the sublime depths of her pussy with a delighted sigh, tried to be gentle and delicate, but her almost impossible to groove intimacy soon made him lose his mind, the girl's previous orgasm had made her walls more perceptive and consequently also tighter, each thrust was an immense rush of pleasure and stun for the boy, who pounded hard until his swollen balls popped against the girl's sweaty skin, who opened her mouth wide, feeling a stunning mix of enjoyment with a hint of pain that made her lose her mind, pressed her mouth against the back of the couch to keep from screaming, Jimin gasped against her ear.

It was different from all the other times, she was experiencing pleasure, those thrusts were delicious, not painful, Y/N was simply happy.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! You hold me so tight, my love," he sang lost in his daze, his swollen shaft began to quiver and tremble over and over again, he was coming, "Aaahh... Oh, my-! Fuck, Y/N!" he growled her name like a prayer, quickly sank his cock deeper, touching her cervix again and again, causing the woman to tremble wordlessly as she reached for the man's hand to clasp it between hers.

"I'm coming!" he exclaimed without now a breath, the girl nodded.

"Me too, oh God, me too," she replied without any more concern for her moans, Jimin smiled proudly and taking the young woman's chin in his hands he forced her to look at him.

"Open your mouth" he grunted with dark eyes, Y/N obeyed already knowing what was about to happen and accepting it with pleasure, Jimin spit into her oral cavity and before giving her time to swallow he kissed her, mixing their flavors and tongues, that was enough to make the young man's cock throb, whose pleasure exploded in violent spurts of white liquid in the girl's lap, over and over again he pumped himself into her, who came in an orgasm more intense than the previous one, she could not even find the strength to scream, she just stood there taking the man's seed in spasms.

Jimin waited for her to calm down before leaving her with his now soft and satisfied cock, he lay down beside her more comfortably and kissed her many times, wiping her face of tears with his lips and and gifting her affectionate gestures that even he did not know he was capable of.

He was fucking in love with her.

"I have a surprise for you," he murmured in her ear.

Y/N turned to him with a joyful smile, it had been two weeks since that intense and wonderful evening, Jimin had woken her up the next morning with a series of sweet kisses and breakfast in bed, he was so different from the man who had kidnapped her and that helped her fall in love with the boy even more.

"Really?" she asked trying not to appear too excited, Jimin nodded softly.

"Close your eyes," he said, but the girl looked at him suspiciously.

"Is this perhaps another one of your wild sessions that see your mouth eating me, Park Jimin?" she said with a raised eyebrow, Jimin at first had spent so much time telling her that he would never give her pleasure with his mouth, she still could not believe how much the boy liked to use his tongue to fuck her over and over again, he seemed almost obsessed. She obviously did not complain.

Jimin grinned slyly, "That one later, love," he chuckled, confirming the girl's thoughts, but Y/N stopped at that affectionate nickname, he always called her "love".

She smiled with a warmed heart once again and closed her eyes, when Jimin was satisfied he moved on to the next step.

"Now open your hands."

Y/N puffed slightly, but listened to him once more, something very light and rectangular was placed on her palms.

"Open your eyes."

When she opened her eyes again, she found herself in front of an emerald-colored letter. It was beautiful, little gold leaves were drawn around the edge, intertwining, but still she did not understand what the boy was getting at.

"You wrote me a letter?" she laughed softly, but Jimin shook his head.

"Open it..." he said simply, and there Y/N could see all his nervousness.

She looked at it again, opening it slowly and pulling out a parchment-colored wrapper, she unwrapped it too and her breath caught.

She brought a hand to her mouth and sobs immediately escaped her control, Jimin held her by the shoulders to prevent her from falling.

In her hands were two photographs, the first depicted her sister smiling in the arms of a man with western features, it had been taken at a park well lit by green trees and sunlight, she looked so happy and healthy.

In the second she always had a big smile on her face, but in her arms she held a small bundle that she looked at with eyes full of love.

"She's alive," she sobbed against the chest of Jimin, who nodded relieved to have seen no negative reaction.

"Yes, she ... was bought by a wealthy american, he wanted to give her to his son as a birthday present, but he didn't expect that his son would fall in love with her and decide to marry her, she is fine and lacks absolutely nothing, Y/N."

Y/N lifted his flushed gaze into that of the boy, "Thank you, Jimin.... I know you shouldn't have investigated a client, but you did and I thank you," she hugged him as if he was her only pillar of support, which he really was.

But the boy did not look happy, shortly afterwards he sighed.

"There is also another thing in truth."

Y/N broke away slightly.

"I know everything, I know why you ran away from your family, I know why you changed your name, everything."

The woman froze.

She began to shake her head, trying to pull away, but Jimin held her back, "How did you… no, why?" she was lost, why would Jimin do such a thing? She wanted to forget her past!

"How long have you known?"

"Since you disappeared, the last words you said to me… I had to understand, Y/N."

"No! You shouldn't have done-"

"Your uncle met the end he deserved to meet," he said suddenly.

The implication was there, heavy in both their minds.

They looked at each other a few moments, then Jimin hugged her out of the blue.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he began to repeat like a mantra with his lips pressed to her temple, "He won't hurt you anymore, baby," he whispered, Y/N snuggled softly against him.

"Never again?" she made in a tiny little voice, as if the child self was asking for reassurance from the man who had become the center of her world.

"Y/N, I haven't changed," he said, the steel in his eyes confirmed to the girl what she had suspected. Jimin had not changed, he loved her and treated her well, but the killer behind those half-moon eyes that smiled at her was always there, ready to snap at Kim Seokjin's every command, and to tell the truth that realization calmed her, "I made him pay for every single disgusting thing he did to you and I made sure he will never do anything like that to anyone else ever again," he concluded, returning his mind to the moment of capture.

It had not been easy to track him down, it had turned out that he was a loan shark under the command of another Korean Mafia family, that was what got him a lot of money unlike his brother and sister-in-law.

"He played us, he said he was going to help our family," she trembled with her eyes glazed over and grainy, looking at Jimin with sadness and sorrow, "Instead it was just an excuse to..." a gasp of vomit blocked the words in her throat, Jimin brushed a light kiss against her forehead.

"That bastard got the punishment he deserved, now you're with me, that's what's important, okay?" Y/N nodded quickly, seeking comfort in his arms. Little Y/N cried bitterly in the mind of the now adult girl, seeing her mother giving in under her father's pressure, the man feared losing her brother's favor and ending up on the street.

"Do you really love me?"

"More than my own life," Jimin replied immediately, Y/N licked her lips.

"Good, because I love you too, Jimin," she whispered dimly, but the boy heard her anyway, smiling relieved he still cradled her with his chin resting on her head.

"I'll take care of you, I won't let you lack anything," he promised, Y/N closed her eyes letting him carry her to bed like a cute little doll.

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fabled-lady-twilla · 26 days

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Hi, I'm Twilla and I'm currently in the process of writing a ShigaDeku Dystopia/Soulmate AU fic that no one, and I mean literally NO ONE, asked for! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Why do I always join fandoms late and why do I always somehow end up loving/shipping the rarepairs in fandoms that barely anyone likes or wants to read about lmao? 🥺👉👈

I just finished reading the latest manga chapter, watched all six seasons, and binged all three movies. I am absolutely BURSTING with ideas of where I want this story to go. I want to at least post the first chapter by the time ShigaDeku Week 2024 is here next month. :)

In my fic timeline, the MHA canon story line doesn't happen until Class 1-A's third year, and since my story is set six years after their graduation, most of the main characters are in their mid to late twenties. My story starts after the Quirk Affliction, a strange illness that begins killing off Quirk-users all around to world, resulting in a massive a death toll that causes civilized society to collapse.

Anyways, here's the general synopsis:

The Final War was over before it had even begun. With the onset of the Quirk Affliction, a mysterious illness that disproportionately targeted the Quirks of heroes over the Quirks of villains, the world was left defenseless as it plunged into a new era of chaos and devastation.

It’s been six years since the onset of the Affliction and the death of All Might. Six years since the world’s heroes, and the society they desperately fought to protect, have crumbled into dust in Shigaraki Tomura’s hands.

From the ashes of this destruction, Japan’s new regime was born. The country was split into three territories, each with its own Grand Commander, united in nothing save for one singular rule: life for those who submit, and death for those who do not.

As Grand Commander of the largest and most plentiful of Japan’s territories, Shigaraki has lived the last six years reaping the fruits of his labors and taking pride in helping his Sensei accomplish his dream. But as of late, Tomura has been having strange dreams of his own: hazy memories of an abandoned park, of blooming wisteria trees, of laughter and freckles and forest green eyes.

Midoriya Izuku, now Quirkless due to the Affliction, has not stopped his pursuit of helping others, despite the world — and everything in it — turning itself upside down. Izuku dreams of a brighter future, and strangely enough, dreams of his long-lost childhood friend, Shimura Tenko.

The same Tenko that Izuku had unknowingly befriended as a young boy. The same Tenko who’d stopped him from jumping off the rooftop all those years ago. The same Tenko that, Izuku realized with horror, was now the monster known as Shigaraki Tomura.

Unfortunately, Izuku learns all too late that having a Soulbond with the King of Villains comes with a heavy cost. Shigaraki seems hell-bent on keeping Izuku as close to him as possible, believing Izuku to be his Soulmate, and thus, Shigaraki’s only true weakness, stirring up an ill-fated romance that neither has prepared themselves for.

As a new calamity encroaches upon them in the form of a mad man attempting to become a god, the heroes and villains must find a way to work together and solve the mystery of the Affliction before it destroys the world and everything they hold dear.

✨ P l e a s e ✨ let me know if you're interested in hearing about this by either, liking, reblogging, or sending me a PM. I'm working really hard to get the first chapter of this out by ShigaDeku Week 2024 in May!

Thank you so much for reading. 💚💚💚

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yellow-dejavu · 3 months

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When I saw Dark, I definitely expected characters like Hannah and Ulrich to be hated. I wasn't surprised when I saw comments disliking them on different websites, but I just didn't expect to see people celebrating that Hannah was murdered by her own child while her younger child was sleeping in the same room.

People can enjoy any moment they want while watching a show or movie, but I just don't get it. Hannah gets an amount of hate that no other character in the show gets, and it feels like a large part of the show's viewers ignore to even trying to understand her.

jonas literally says in the first episode:

“My father said good and evil are a question of perspective.”

I'm not saying her character didn't do bad things, but it's exhausting how that's the only thing people see about her and it's just like they're trying to erase the good she did or all the positive things she meant in certain characters' lives.

I was even more shocked to see how few comments put Hannah on the same level as Helene Albers. I just don't understand how anyone could think that Hannah is somehow comparable to an abusive parent.

Hannah with her kids:

When she saw her boy struggling to cope with his dad's dead, she supported her child and made sure he got the professional help he needed.

And when Jonas came back to town, she made sure he got his medications and therapy sessions with Peter.

Hannah was so worried when Jonas tells her he had a fight at the end of the first season.

In the same scene, he just wanted to comfort his mother by saying, "Don't worry, Mom. Everything will be fine, Mom." when he actually believed that he could save Mikkel and thus end his own existence.

As the months passed since her son's disappearance, Hannah was so devastated that she almost took her own life.

She didn't, because Stranger Jonas appeared.

Stranger Jonas has returned after years of living in the apocalypse, and he doesn't know what else to do when his plan fails. The only thing he can think of is to go to his mom and tell her the truth.

After the time young Jonas spent traveling with Claudia, the first thing he does when he finally returns home is look for his mom.

It was a long time before Hannah saw her son again.

But she went to see him immediately when a random old woman told her that she knew where her son was and that he needed her.

Hannah was heartbroken when she saw what had happened to her boy. In that moment she apologized, recognized her mistakes, and told him that she was there for him.

Young Adam looked scary, but Hannah loved him anyway, and baby Silja trusted him when he said, "I want to show you a secret. But we'll let your mom rest, okay?"

Hannah died when Silja was very young and she probably didn't remember much about her mom, but she still named her firstborn Hanno after her.

and that's just to mention some of the things I could remember about Hannah's relationship with her kids.

The last dialogue of the whole show:

"I always thought "Jonas" was a good name."

Hannah was a good mom and her kids absolutely loved her. It bothers me that some people want to take that away from her because they don’t like her.

It's really hard for me to understand how some viewers can watch a show like Dark and decide that they can see all the million gray areas that all these characters had, but with one particular character they reduce everything to black and white.

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sammyboyimagines · 10 months

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Summer W/...Headcanons

These are some summer-themed headcanons for Eddie Munson! It will include both fluff and some smut, so MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY.

This is mostly for fem readers but I can make one for gender-neutral readers as well.

Eddie is not one for warm weather. As a man who wears many layers, he finds it unbearably hot once the temperature rises above 70 degrees.

It is a rare sight to see Eddie with a ponytail. He mainly wears it down but he knows you find it adorable when he uses one of your hairbands to tie his hair up. He especially wears his hair up on hot days, refusing to have his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead in the summer heat.

Speaking of summer heat, Eddie lives for pool days. If you have a pool at your place, you better believe he'd be knocking on your door every day to jump in the refreshing water.

But that's not the only reason he likes pool days. Seeing you in your bikini and having the privilege of rubbing your body down with sunscreen, he was in heaven.

"Eddie, can you get my back, please?" You handed him the bottle of sunscreen, blind to the obvious lovesick look in his warm brown eyes. "With pleasure, m'lady." He retorted with his typical nerdy responses. It never bothered you though, because it was one of his cute quirks.

Eddie is shockingly pale during the summer. Every time he steps outside for more than an hour at the most, he comes back inside with skin as red as a lobster.

Which prompts you to rub aloe on his sunburn and listen to his whining when the sensitive skin burned throughout the day.

"Eddie, quit whining, please! I'm trying to get some sleep." You turn onto your side in your bed to glance at him as he lay face down to avoid laying on his sunburnt back. "But it hurts so bad!" His muffled voice could barely be heard through the pillow, making you laugh. "Sorry baby, I tried telling you you needed sunscreen!"

Speaking of, Eddie constantly pushes you away when you offer him sunscreen. "I need a tan anyways." "You always do this, you're gonna get a horrible sunburn!" "And you always give me special treatment, all the more reason to get burnt!" He smiled at you as you slapped his shoulder.

If you're a fan of ice cream, Eddie loves to go get ice cream with you. He'll take you to the nearest ice cream joint on particularly hot days as if it were tradition. "Maybe we could skip ice cream today?" You propose, eager to get home and spend some alone time with him. A pout appeared on his face. "But...we always get ice cream? What do you mean?" He was absolutely devastated. "How about instead of ice cream, we go to my place and turn on a movie. My parents aren't home, and I can think of a good way to beat the heat..." As you hinted at your intentions, you slowly slid one strap of your tank top down your shoulder. Eddie's eyes widened in realization. "Yeah-uh we should definitely skip the ice cream, what was I even thinking?" He made it home after speeding through the town.

Eddie had never been to the beach before he met you. It just wasn't something that he or his uncle could afford. The road trip was long, but Eddie was prepared. He brought a mixtape of his own, with all his favorites on it. "Seriously Eddie? Is this all Metallica, Dio, and Iron Maiden?" You had only heard the vocals of the three bands so far. "Yup, only the best for a ride with you, sweetheart." Though his words pulled at your heartstrings, you were still confused about the little variety on the mixtape.

Speaking of the beach, Eddie quickly found out that he was not very fond of sand. "Jesus Christ there's sand fucking everywhere." Eddie brushed off the excess sand from his time at the beach, annoyed by the grainy texture touching his skin.

Eddie hates summer, but he tolerates it because he gets to spend more time with you.

For example, when Wayne is out for the day, Eddie will turn the heat up in the trailer if he knows you'd be coming by. "Jesus Eddie, is your air conditioning broken?" You fanned yourself mere minutes after stepping into the trailer. He just shrugged at you, keeping himself from smiling at your discomfort. You slipped off your tank top, leaving you in your bra and shorts. This was exactly what Eddie had been waiting for. "I don't notice the heat." He was lying straight through his teeth, and you caught on quick. "You just want to see my tits, Munson." "Damn right, sweetheart."

Eddie often uses the heat as an excuse to get away with things. "Sweetheart, please? It's hot outside and you know how I feel about the heat making my hair frizzy" Eddie was begging for you to wash his hair yourself. He used the guise that it was all frizzed out and sweaty from the humid day but really he wanted your soft hands touching him, gently scratching his scalp until he was practically asleep in your presence.

If you have a summer birthday, Eddie takes extra time to make your day memorable since he has more time after school ends. Eddie plans a whole itinerary for your special day. Ice cream, pool party, cold drinks, and sweet music; Eddie went the whole nine yards for you.

Something you both do that annoyed the hell out of Wayne is open the door repeatedly, going in and out at all times during the day. One of you would go in for a drink, then 10 minutes later the other would come in to cool off, etc. Finally, he'd had enough and told of the both of you. "Uh uh, no more of this shit! You're either staying in or staying out, stop letting the cool air out!" He firmly told you. As he walked away, the both of you erupted in a fit of quiet laughs at the situation.

On a dirtier note, the summer air brings out a different side of Eddie. He's doting on you more, and he's extremely needy for you. His hands are on you, your waist, your hands, your thigh, etc. He loves feeling your warm skin under his hand or pulling your clothing off when neither of you can keep your hands to yourself.

Also, pool sex is a must for Eddie. The pool in your backyard became one of Eddie's favorite spots to hang out during the summer. Watching you in your bathing suit all day? Priceless.

That's all I got for now, thank you!

#stranger things #stranger things netflix #reader insert #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie x y/n #eddie munson #wayne munson #eddiemunson #imagine #eddie munson headcanons #stranger things 4

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rrr-is-gay · 7 months

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RRR ON-SCREEN KISS OPPORTUNITIES, rated for her pleasure

1. Immediately following the fisher boy rescue. They go onto the dock and kinda embrace one another but fail to kiss. Not okay. 3/10

2. The thigh touch scene. Come onnnnn, I know they’re talking about Sita, but they coulda squeezed a lil kissy kiss in there, if they had any courage at all. 8/10

3. RAMBHEEM SQUAT WORKOUT. Not exactly the ideal shot for an onscreen kiss; we’d need to get a little creative with the camera work to keep it cohesive. But it would be the literal hottest thing EVER, so I hate that it isn’t real. 8/10

4. MAKEOVER SCENE!!!!!!!!!!!! This one demands a kiss, multiple times! The beard trim? Pop a lil kiss on his nose, Ram! The hair treatment? Kiss his forehead! Changing his shirt? Bheem, give’m a nice lil smooch! It’s practically canon, the camera just cuts too quickly for us to see it. 10/10, peak kiss opportunity.

5. Pre-Naatu. How fucking SWAG would it be for them to just pop the fastest lil kiss on each other’s lips RIGHT at the moment they dunk on Jake for not knowing Naatu? This precise moment, when Bheem twirls around and Ram puts his arm on his shoulder? KISS!! 6/10

6. Post-Naatu piggyback ride. Would have loved to see Bheem kiss Ram’s cheek here. Totally ungrateful that he doesn’t. Wtf Bheem. 9/10

7. Sopping fucking wet. Bheem could totally pop a quick kiss onto Ram's lips before administering the antidote here. He's all up in Ram's face anyway, tending to him, caring for him, healing him. A nice kiss would help!!!!!!! 7/10

8. MARRIAGE CEREMONY. Bheem. BHEEM. You adorn your lover with the holy thread of your tribe, but don’t seal the deal with a kiss?? Maybe he thinks it’s dubcon cuz Ram is basically unconscious. Would’ve loved a kiss here, but I respect the consent king. 4/10

9. REVEAL YOURSELF TO ME IN BED. Bheem could have AT LEAST kissed Ram’s hands here, I mean wtf!!!!!! You think you might die tonight, and you could be saying goodbye forever, and you DON’T kiss????? 10/10, scene incomplete without a tender smooch.

10. Devastating fight. Bheem could’ve gone out on a limb here and really brought Ram back to reality if he’d gone in for a kiss. A bold move, yes, but not out of character for Bheem. 3/10

11. Pain, pain paaaaiiinnnn. Ram is more devastated in this moment than he’s ever been in his entire life. He would absolutely kiss Bheem’s head while holding his limp body in his arms. Only gets a pass cuz Ram is still undercover and a kiss would’ve given him away. 2/10

12. Hand nuzzle. CANON, I TELL YOU!!!! It’s CANON that Bheem kisses Ram’s hand here! It was only cut from the film because of homophobia! 11/10

13. Burn this lanka down. Okay. It’s one swift move to pull Ram out from the cell and onto Bheem’s shoulders. So a kiss on the lips couldn’t work. But Ram could, and should, totally kiss Bheem’s head right here. And Bheem should kiss Ram’s wrist! The fight can wait one millisecond!!! JUST KISS ALREADY! 8/10

14. Bridal carry. A nice swift peck from Ram to Bheem would really boost both of their morale right here. And it's such a brief shot, I'm sure the kiss happened, we just didn't get to see it. Once again, homophobia. 9/10

15. CANON CANON CANON CANON. I don’t wanna hear ANY debate or disagreement on this one, you little freaks! They DO kiss here! I can see the intention in Bheem’s eyes! That slow lean inward!!!! He’s about to kiss this man smack on the lips!!!! And Ram is so tired, but he’s BLISSFULLY here for it! He’s flat on his back, ready for Bheem’s plush lips to smother his right NOW! HEAL THIS MAN WITH YOUR SWEET KISS, BHEEM!!!! 10000000000/10

16. Phallic rifle. Would love a nice little makeout sesh right here in front of Governor Scott. How fucking badass would that be? Not a little peck either, I want them to get really filthy for a minute, because they’ve earned it! Grip that rifle and stick your tongues in each other’s mouths! Come on, the movie’s almost over! What have you got to lose?! 9/10

17. “What can I offer you in return?” “KISS ME!” This really is the last chance for these two men to show us how they really feel. I get that it’s kinda awkward in front of their friends and family, but it’s all worth it just to make Jenny uncomfortable. (Why is she there?????) Oh wait, Sita’s there too. Meh. I still want them to smooch. 7/10

18. Etthara Jenda! Dance, smile, skip, cheer, KISS! This song is all about victory and pride. Wouldn’t an onscreen kiss just be the cherry on top?! I think so. 9/10

#rrr #rambheem #ram/bheem #analysis #meta

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wannab-urs · 5 months

Text

The Spreadsheet Digest | Vol 29

Howdy folks!

This is the final Spreadsheet Digest of 2023! I started the spreadsheet back in May as a way for me to keep up with everything I read. Basically, I was having trouble finding fics I had read so I could reread them or I was getting two chapters into a new series before realizing I'd already read it. So I did what I do and I made a spreadsheet about it. Then I felt like other people might benefit from a searchable list of fics. Then, and I don't know why, I thought people might want to know what I thought about the stuff I was reading. And here we are - 29 volumes and 34 weeks later.

Sorry for long intro! This week I have 16 fics for you (Frankie, Joel, Max Phillips, Javi P, Ezra, Dieter, Dave York, and Jack/Whiskey). Summaries and Tags provided by the author where applicable - sometimes I filled in some stuff.

You can find my masterlist here and all my fic recs here

Recs under the Pedro!

My Way - Frankie one shot by @goodwithcheese

Summary: Frankie's working on his truck... you interrupt him Tags: PIV Sex, Frankie uses his words, aka "you know he talks you through it," frankie is bossy Thoughts: if he uhhh "uses his words" this much in the series this is technically set in, I do believe I'll be reading that. This was HOT. Like absurdly hot. Lemme be you car girl, Frankie

Cocoon - Joel series by @secretelephanttattoo

Summary: A short ode to Joel's coat. / a bath with Joel Tags: Angst and intimacy. 1 reference to blood and allusion to canon typical violence (nothing is described) Thoughts: God i love little intimate moments like this... wrapping yourself up in Joel's coat, washing the bad day out of his curls... I am SICK! Someone let me hold this man, please.

I'll Leave a Light On For You - Max Phillips one shot by @oonajaeadira

Summary: Max has reservations when it comes to love, and for very good reasons. Tags: Angst. Character death. Allusions to the atrocities of war and its lasting effects. Max is a vampire. Traumatic soul memory. Me assuming I know anything about French culture of the 1930s. Thoughts: This is beautiful. Just absolutely stunning. I have a fascination with the concept of past lives, and I adore the way it's written about it here. There are some really interesting takes on it here with Max being a vampire. Also, side note, this fic made me cry. It's that soft angst that you don't expect to make you sob, but holy shit. When it hit (you'll know it when you read it) it hit. I was devastated. And then because it's adira and "we do soft here" it ends sweet.

Once in a Blue Moon - Dieter one shot by @whatsnewalycat

Summary: You're the only person working when a Christmas blizzard rolls into town and snows you in with a notoriously difficult guest, Dieter Bravo. Tags: one shot, slight dub con elements (power imbalance, isolation, alcohol) although both parties are enthusiastically consenting, hotel guest x hotel staff, blizzard, Minnesota because that’s my best friend, dieter generally being an ‘if you give a mouse a cookie’ ass bitch, kinda enemies to lovers???, Christmas, loneliness, palm reading, food and eating, cannabis, conspiracy theory mention, fluuuuuufffff, smut, dirty talk, a dash of conflict, painting stuff, power outage, poverty mention Thoughts: Aly has this way of writing Dieter that is like she knows him in real life. He feels so personal and real to me in her stories. I think I say this every time I talk about her fics, but my Dieter would not exist without hers. Anyway -- this fic is wonderful. Dieter has all that silly druggie boy charm he always has, there's a really interesting inclusion of him having PTSD from working on the movie from The Bubble and a really interesting way that he's dealing with it. It's got perfect vibes for us christmas haters too. I loved this so much.

Jingle Balls / Dashing through the ho - Frankie series by @idolatrybarbie

Summary: Santa Frankie porn... that's it. That's the fic Tags: santa kink???, cockwarming, cum, like so much cum, unprotected vaginal sex, unethical use of a mall Santa Village, semi-public sex, dirty talk and pet names, mentions of free use. / santa kink again, free use, spreader bar, creampie, come eating, facefucking, throatpie, anal sex, degradation, cum, pet names (honey, little girl, sweet girl, baby), praise, CUM AGAIN GUYS LIKE IDK WHAT HAPPENED HERE. Thoughts: This is mostly my fault and I refuse to apologize for it

Galletita - Javi P one shot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Summary: Your sister and brother-in-law have enlisted your help with their small business while they await the birth of their first baby. You help with the cafe and find yourself face to face with a new customer whose appetite might have met its match in you. Tags: big boi Javi P is hungry and a little cranky, you like to bake and Javi likes to eat, belly kink, feeding kink, probably bad Spanish, we’re playing fast and loose with timelines, canon, and everything in general, so just forget about timey wimey boo boo wah wah and enjoy the story lmao Thoughts: I do, in fact, need a big boy

Devour - Ezra one shot by @frannyzooey

Summary: Falling for Ezra on the Green Tags: harvesting violence, mentions of gore and blood, mentions of cannibalism, love as consumption and all the visuals that come with it, so much fucking and filth and ass play and cum eating it isn’t funny Thoughts: It was a gift for me, so I really probably should not be so amazed by how much I love this fic. But oh my god, dude. Love as consumption, freak nasty smut, Ezra being Ezra, bi!Ez, the Din/Ez hints (I'd like to know more about that), it's all perfect. I will never stop being obsessed with this

Tear You Apart - Dieter one shot by @psychedelic-ink

Summary: it's the 70s and your friend invites you to an underground club where one of your favorite musicians is playing: dieter bravo. Tags: innocence kink, mild corruption kink, backstage sex, piv, dirty talk, weed, oral + handjob (male receiving)obsessed with rockstar Dieter. Thoughts: I'm surprised I haven't seen more rockstar Dieter. This was hot, filthy, and just... in the words of the man himself perfect.

One Man Show - Dieter one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Summary: Dieter gets himself off! Tags: male masturbation, use of sex toys, anal fingering, butt plug, sex tape??? i guess Thoughts: I'm loving this solo session concept so much. Dieter filming himself!!! for no reason!!! is so hot. Everything about this is so fucking hot. I want him to send me that video...

I am a nightmare, you are a miracle - Joel series by @party-hearses

Summary: After your two year relationship with Tommy Miller ends, Joel takes you in — and it’s home like you’ve never quite known before. Tags: slow burn, explicit (eventual) smut, language, infidelity, alcohol, age difference, soft!joel, no cordyceps outbreak, sarah doesn’t exist (sorry), tommy stans don’t come for me. Thoughts: I have been very intentionally not reading WIPs and waiting for them to be finished, but I fucked up. I was scrolling the dash and frannyzooey recc'd this and it caught my eye and I just didn't even check if it was finished. But I regret nothing. Ch 4 is coming soon, I'm manifesting it. I fucking love Joel in this and I'm super intrigued by reader's uhhhh mommy issues and the way that those manifest.

MASTERLIST BINGE INCOMING | @brandyllyn

To sell your love for peace - Javi P series by @brandyllyn

Summary: You are Javier’s newest informant. You’re not his usual type but he’s willing to make an exception. More than one. Tags: smut, sex work, canon typical violence, javi being a moron Thoughts: I adore a lovers to idiots to lovers story... and man is Javi an idiot. The characterization of Javi here is perfect. Protective!Javi is very canon and I love seeing it in fic. Also, I don't normally go for miscommunication tropes (they tend to annoy me) but this was perfect. I loved every second of this story.

The Serpent Under It - Dave York one shot by brandyllyn

Summary: Dave is very good at his job Tags: Canon typical violence. kinda dark yo, soulmate AU Thoughts: I don't typically read soulmate AUs, but I actually read several of brandyllyn's this week. They're very different from the normal trope. This one broke my heart and it's less than 800 words.

To perish twice - Javi P series by brandyllyn

Summary: You can feel when your soulmate comes. Tags: smut, soulmate AU, Javi being an idiot, male masturbation, piv sex Thoughts: This is what I mean... you can feel when your soulmate has a fuckin orgasm??? What a concept. This was really hot, kind of funny, and had just the right amount of angst.

Cross My Heart - Ezra one shot by brandyllyn

Summary: While waiting at a clinic for the hope of a prosthetic arm, Ezra meets a woman who will change his life Tags: Talk of self harm / suicide but no one does it, discussion of medical procedures and prostheses, some use of ability based slurs by Ezra and others, canon typical violence Thoughts: We love a man who will threaten to murder someone's entire family for you... no seriously. I absolutely love Ezra's characterization here and I love the FMC's story AHHH. It's just a very sweet story... with a little Ezra flair.

Into the Shade - Ezra series by brandyllyn

Summary: Why would anyone fake having a soulmate? Tags: Ezra being Ezra, con man!ezra, soulmate AU, smut, Ezra x OFC smut, Ezra x reader is in there though. Thoughts: Yet again, the typical soulmate concept has been turned on its head here, and I love it. I also adore the flores animae - the particular soulmate mechanic in this fic. It's really interesting!

Dreams are Sweet Until They're Not - Jack Daniels series by brandyllyn

Summary: A crimson rose could only mean one thing. Tags: soulmates au, Jack being a slut, angst, smut, happy ending Thoughts: Okay last soulmates AU on the list, sorry. I went a little nuts. They're just so good. The ending of this one was so sweet, dude.

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My fics this week:

Something Sweet - Javi p x reader - You’re new to the team in Colombia and all alone on your birthday. Your partner, Javier Peña, decides to do something sweet for you. (fluff, smut)

Under Your Skin - jack daniels x javi p x reader - You’ve worked on Chucho’s ranch since you were 15 years old, grew up with Javi, loved Javi… He comes back after nearly 20 years to find you hooking up with a certain former secret agent. He’s jealous, for sure, but of who? (smut)

in the a.m. - javi p x reader - Between sleeping with informants and getting in bed with Los Pepes in the fight to bring down Escobar, Javier Peña also finds time to be with you. Wrestling with crippling self hatred, Javi tries and fails to keep his blood stained hands off of you. Based on some of my favorite Arctic Monkeys songs (smut, angst)

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Happy Reading!

#fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #fanfiction recommendations #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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