#but the horrible thing is that that love just wasn't enough to save them from all that pain and i need to be sedated bye
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what i wish people would also explore more when it comes to Percy is the other side of his feelings about his mom about family and his childhood but this fandom is too afraid to paint Sally even in the slightest bad light (even if it's not bad just acknowledging her flaws because she's a human being and not perfect) that no one will touch on that subject. like yes Sally is the best mom but she also isn't and that's the thing! She isn't perfect! but she tried her best but her best still got Percy hurt and it isn't her fault at all but that's the tragedy of it. i want Percy's feelings about this explored. how he grew up with a loving mom but an abusive step father. how his step father would humiliate him and call him stupid but then his mom soothed him and told him he's not the things Gabe calls him. how Gabe would hurt him and Sally would be there to make him happy and loved but at the same time she stayed with him. i want Percy's feelings explored about how he knows his mother loves him but her absence still hurt him. she would work so much to have money to raise him she did that for him but at the same time it meant Percy was left alone or with Gabe. Sally gave up so much for him, she sent him away to protect him but at the same time he was sent away from his mom. she's the only parent he has because his father is absent and Gabe is not actually a parental figure at all but she's also often absent in his life too and that must have left him with such mixed feelings because it's not all black and white! Sally's love protected him but also hurt him. Percy loves his mom so so so much but there's also this deep-seated bitterness and hurt and anger he never let himself feel and then the guilt for having those feelings because his mom loves him he knows that and she gave up so much for him and she married a monster that abused her to protect him, he knows that but it doesn't make it hurt any less. the mess his emotions are because he knows his mom suffered for him and did it from her love for him but he still desperately wishes she never married that monster that he wouldn't have to have the childhood he had with him that he wouldn't have to live with the trauma he was left with. this all is exactly what makes their relationship so fascinating and also heartbreaking.
or the idea of Percy having weird mixed feelings after Estelle is born because that's his little sister and he loves her with his whole heart and would do anything for her and wants only the best for her but there's also this little jealous monster deep down that wonders why she gets to have a loving mom and a loving dad and a happy normal life but he never got that. why does she deserve it but not him? why couldn't he have that too? doesn't he deserve that too? he was just a child too so why why why??? and then the guilt of feeling that way too it makes me want to scream. emotions are fucking messy and they can be really ugly and they can make you hate yourself and there's no way Percy's feelings aren't a mess when it comes to this and i want to see it explored so badly!
and with Sally too! her feelings about Percy because she did so much and tried her best but sometimes unfortunately your best isn't good enough and it still got her beloved son hurt and she hates it and feels so guilty but she just has to live with that but she can't help to wish it was different. that their lives would be different. better. normal. she can't help but to wish she didn't have to do the things she's done, didn't have to suffer so much just to protect her child. can't help to wish she didn't have to worry so much, didn't have to be so scared about Percy, didn't have to be terrified that one day he won't come back home to her, that she won't be able to hold her son anymore because he will be gone, she just wishes he didn't have to suffer so much, she just wishes and wishes and wishes
and i just wish people weren't so afraid to explore this because it's so heartwrenching and yes if you want something do it yourself but unfortunately i cannot write nor am i able to handle this topic in a way it deserves so i am left only with rambling about it on here thank you
#i am not trying to victim blame or anything i love Sally and she did her best and didn't deserve any of the crap life gave her#but there's just something so tragic about the fact that she married a vile man and suffered abuse to protect her son#just for her decision to hurt him anyways just in a different way but the only other option would probably be Percy ending up dead#so she can't really truly regret it but she just wishes those weren't their only options#that she didn't have to do this just so that her child could stay alive#thinking about it makes me go feral#they had no choice but to suffer there was no way for their lives to be without this much hurt and trauma and it's terrible#and they didn't deserve it but there was so much love too#but the horrible thing is that that love just wasn't enough to save them from all that pain and i need to be sedated bye#percy jackson#sally jackson#pjo#hoo#percy and sally#percy jackon and the olympians#whatever you do don't think about a six years old lonely Percy sitting in a corner waiting for his mom to come back home from work#and he knows she loves him but he misses her so much when she spends so much time in work and that hurts#don't think about a ten years old Percy being sent away to a boarding school and he knows his mom loves him#but what if she's sending him away because he's just too much? or not enough? and what if she doesn't want him anymore?#and he knows that's not true but what if?#i'm thinking it#okay i think that's enough
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"you know, if being cute was a crime, you'd be guilty as charged!"
you have been at this for hours (it has only been a few minutes) now. wriothesley, who has been idly sipping his tea with a straight face, has not yet wavered at your terrible pick-up lines.
"that one was bad," he sips. you roll your eyes.
you clear your throat, "if fine was a felony, you'd be on death row," you give wriothesley an exaggerated wink.
he gives you a disconcerted look.
you pout, "okay, c'mon! that one was good!"
wriothesley puts his teacup on the table and moves his chair closer to yours, "i don't think death row should be associated with romance," he shakes his head, "that may have been the worse one today."
"i think that was, 'are you a crime? because i'll do you anyday!'" you laugh and grab wriothesley's teacup, taking a drink out of it so ordinarily.
wriothesley basks in this. tonight is a quiet night: the inmates aren't awake, sigewinne has clocked out for the day, and you are here. it's strange how you are one of the loudest people wriothesley knows of, yet you make the world sound so quiet when you're around. whatever your magic is, wriothesley isn't opposed to it.
everything about this scene reads domesticity, even though the two of you have been together for a couple of months. spending late nights together, sleeping in the same bed, drinking out of the same teacup? if someone had told wriothesley a few months ago that he would be doing these things (nevertheless with you), he would have called them mad. but here he is, sitting in his office doing nothing but drinking tea, while hearing you recite horrible pick-up lines.
"wouldn't it be the perfect crime if i stole your heart and you stole mine?" you push the teacup towards you boyfriend.
wriothesley winces, "maybe that was the worse one today."
"what?! i thought that one wasn't bad."
your boyfriend looks to the side, "it was really cheesy."
"clearly, you missed the point of pick-up lines," you lay your head down on the desk, "i'd like to see you come up with one."
wriothesley chuckles. you relish in the fact that you are one of the only people that have ever heard him laugh. it's an unexpected sound, and it always comes out more lighter than most people would think. but it's endearing, just like him; you always think that a light chortle from him would paint your dark skies to a clear blue.
"i'm saving myself from the embarrassment," wriothesley sips out of the teacup, on the same side you drank of, you might add.
"boring," you draw out the syllables of the word.
"what? did you run out of lines?" wriothesley teased you, taking another drink out of the teacup to hide his smile. he watched as your face morphed into a light grimace.
"i did not, actually," you raise your head off the desk, "in fact, i'm thinking of one right now."
"oh no..." wriothesley shivers. you shoot him a petulant look. he backs down.
when you think, you have this habit of sticking your tongue out of your lips, just ever-so slightly. your eyebrows crease just a little bit, not enough to be furrowed, but enough to not be at resting position. your eyes don't narrow, they widen. wriothesley thinks that if someone caught you like this on a kamara, your photos would go down in history.
finally, after what felt like years (it was one minute), you look back up at him. this time, however, your eyes are laced with uncertainty rather than flirtatiousness.
"if being in love is illegal, would you be my partner in crime?"
love. you guys haven't talked about it yet.
was that why your eyes were so full of nervousness? did you think he didn't love you back? if that was the case, then it'd be preposterous, for how can anyone look at you and not fall in love? although, wriothesley supposes that it's a good thing, because that means you're his to have.
one side of his brain is in doubt. it's just a joke, it says, they're not being truthful, it's just a pick-up line. but his heart says otherwise. if they were joking, then why do their eyes look like that? why are they fidgeting with their fingers? why are they gently tapping their foot on the ground?
love has never been a consideration for wriothesley. throughout his life, it has been abandonment and independence. there's only been room for one, not two. but you: you reconstructed his entire mind. so now, when he thinks about drinking tea, he doesn't drink alone anymore. when he's staying late to do paperwork, he doesn't have to be alone while doing so. when there was one, there is now two.
oh.
oh.
oh shit. your confession of love came from a pick-up line. and it actually worked on him, because he loves you back. he loves you back so much. wriothesley loves you back with his heart, his mind, his body, and possibly his soul. and he realized the extent of his love through a pick-up line. from you out of all people.
though, even though he's in love with you, he's not letting you get the satisfaction of your line working.
"i don't know. according to the my close friend, the duke of meropide, he says it's illegal to participate in criminal activities." wriothesley's tone is soft. his eyes are full of endearment. your eyebrows stop crinkling, and your eyes revert back to normal. you know. you know.
you give into an easy smile, "don't you think your friend, the duke, is a little too compliant to the law?"
"sorry, he's not changing his ways. but," wriothesley gets out of his chair and strides towards you. his hand meet your jawline, and his thumb traces the corner of your lip that's turned downwards due to your pout. with his thumb, he guides it upward, making it so you were smiling. he laughs slightly⎯twice tonight, which is something he did not expect to do⎯and moves his thumb to lightly caress your bottom lip.
he uses his hand to tilt your head up towards him. you know what's coming, and you excitedly lean in closer. wriothesley tilts his head down to meet your lips, carefully tracing every angle of your jaw as he does so. you meet him halfway, closing the gap between you two almost immediately. wriothesley can feel you happily grin into the kiss. you grab his shirt collar and pull him closer into you, and he obliges with no hesitation.
you are the first one to pull away, and it takes all of wriothesley's willpower to stop himself from pulling you back in.
"but?" you ask, chest heaving up and down. wriothesley, the bastard, is still breathing normally. "does the duke of meropide have any contentions?"
wriothesley shakes his head, "i think he could make some exceptions," he whispers, grinning while doing so.
he doesn't miss the beaming glow of your smile as leans in once more. and then, he knows that he'll be your partner in crime for a long time.
#tana writes (∗´ ᨔ `∗)#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x you#wriothesley#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley x you#wriothesley x y/n#they r so sweet nothing by tswift coded#THIS WAS THE CUTEST THING I EVER WROTE
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Hello!! I was having some bad days recently, could u make a one-shot of moms!wandanat and reader with the reader having a bad week, and then Wanda and Natasha comforts reader? If you want to, of course!
enough for you
pairings: parents!wandanat × daughter!reader
warnings: bad thoughts, self-deprecating reader, lots of crying, one agent who really needs to stfu - i think thats all!
a/n: tysm for the request my love! im so sorry for the delay in posting this one shot, my life has been very busy these last few months. and i dont think this one turns out the way u wanted it, because i already made one like your request but w mom!wanda but i hope u like it :3
HOW YOU CAN HELP PALESTINE!
You always saw yourself working for SHIELD. Being able to do missions and 'save the world' was something you always wanted to do. Having mothers who are considered super heroes was also something that made you inspired by this life, but you only saw it from the outside. How they were greeted by everyone or how it seemed so easy for them to do these hero things. But when you finally got what you wanted when you turned eighteen, it wasn't what you expected.
It was the third time in the last few days that you had messed up in a mission in which you were classified. The looks the other agents gave you at the Academy made you feel horrible. You obviously hadn't messed up the missions on purpose, you would never do that. But it seemed like all those people expected that every step you took would be right, that you would never make mistakes, and that you would be as good as your mothers. Your head hurt just thinking about it. And that thought led you to others, how ashamed you felt remembering how the other agents spoke mean words to you when, again, you messed up on the mission.
You tried to distract yourself from these types of self-sabotaging thoughts about yourself by training even harder. Punching and kicking the red cylinders using all your strength, and even after hours it still felt like you didn't feel good enough, strong enough. All you wanted was to just stop thinking for at least a few seconds, and when you heard those heavy footsteps you knew that wasn't what was going to happen. "Oh, look who's here!"
You didn't care about remembering that agent's name, but you remembered exactly her voice and face, because it was her who started the whispers about how you weren't like your mothers. How you spoiled the missions of the last few days of that week, how you will never be like them. "The daughter of the great Black Widow and the Scarlet Witch, even if it doesn't seem like it." You continue ignoring her presence there, massaging your fingers to continue punching the red bag. "Do they know how you failed this last week?"
She wasn't stupid to know how horrible your week had been, how the failed missions, the disturbances and all those other things were making you almost have panic attacks right there in front of everyone. "No." Your voice was low, because you knew that if you exerted the necessary strength to reach a greater height, the tears would fall without your permission.
"What do you think they will do when they find out how bad you are?" She starts to approach you with those boots with a high step, her head lolling to the side with a tone to tease you. A smirk on her sharp face, her gloved hands resting on her waist. All those little details made you want to scream in her face, tell her that you weren't bad, but how would you say that if you didn't even believe it yourself?
"Maybe they'll get you out of here when they see how bad you are and realize that any of the agents here are much better than you, your place as an Avenger is almost invisible.” The girl laughs, her cheeks almost covering her eyes due to the action. At some other time you would find her features extremely beautiful, but at that moment, you wanted to vomit just looking at her.
Even if you tried to be strong at that moment, like your mother Natasha, you couldn't. Your fists were clenched tightly trying to control the tears from coming out, the pain of your nails in the palms of your hands trying to distract you from that moment. And every time that Agent mentioned your mother's name, your thoughts directed you only to them, how you wanted to be in their arms right now while you feel your hair being stroked by Wanda's magical hands. You knew that if you wanted comfort from your mothers they wouldn't wait a second to give it to you, and even if you didn't want to talk about why you were feeling that way, they wouldn't force you to talk.
"Where are you going? Ruin another mission?” If it weren't for the high-pitched, irritating tone of her voice, you wouldn't have even registered those questions in your head. Your thoughts were in a totally different space from that place, just wanting your mothers affection. So when you started packing your things and totally ignoring that Agent, you knew that your body wouldn't stop until you got home.
The girl's laugh echoed throughout the room as you headed towards the exit door of the place. In films, this scene would be dramatic, as if the main character was planning some revenge in their head to end the character who keeps provoking them. But at that moment you weren't thinking about revenge, or how you would turn things around, you just thought about how your mothers affectionate touches would turn that bad week into just distant memories. How you were sure that your mother Wanda would know what to say to you and how Natasha would know what to do so that your surroundings were just comfort.
You didn't wait a second before getting on your motorcycle, which Natasha had given you as a gift for your 18th birthday, and heading towards your childhood home. Even though those bad thoughts were in your head now and could possibly distract you in the traffic on the streets, you continued on your way with your eyes soaked with tears and the horrible tightness in your chest. You tried to think of good things, like your mom Wanda would probably be baking chocolate chip cookies and your mom Natasha would just be watching, since cooking isn't one of her great talents, but that domestic situation was pretty far away for you. It seemed that any self-deprecating thought stood in the way, a great layer of ignorance about happiness.
You didn't bother to park the motorcycle correctly, just running towards the entrance porch and knocking, almost softly, on the door. You heard some sweet giggles through it, confirming that your mothers were in some domestic situation, before the door calmly opened and revealed Wanda's long red hair. Her smile opened for a few seconds when she saw it was you, their beloved daughter, but when she came across the features on your face, the reddish eyes with lakes over them, her smile soon fell apart, taking its place a worried look. “Sweetie? What happened, my love?"
She took no time in taking you into her arms, even though you didn't answer her question. Your head falls on your mother's shoulder as she wraps one of her arms around your waist and the other massages the hair spread across her chest. Your hands tightly grip the blouse stuck to Wanda's body, as if at any moment she would come off and no longer provide the comfort you needed. Natasha heard your sobs from the kitchen, and she knew they were yours, she knew and kept almost everything about you. She quickly heads towards the front door, seeing her wife's back being grabbed by you, and how your body looked like it would fall to the ground at any moment.
“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” Wanda whispered in your ear with her sweet voice. Your crying was loud, as if you had kept it for several days, your mother thought. She didn't know and had no idea why you were sobbing uncontrollably and why you arrived so early that day. Normally you would be completing some report, or training, since you always said how strong you wanted to get. But at that moment, everything didn't seem strong to you.
At some point you were carried and taken towards the comfortable sofa in that house. Your thoughts were so loud that you didn't even notice when you were positioned on your mother Wanda's lap. She still kept her grip on his body and the affectionate words in your ear. “I need you to breathe for me, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” Her breathing became heavier and slower, forcing it so that at that moment you could keep up with her. Natasha, beside you two, continued to caress your back, praising you for following Wanda so well.
You finally managed to take a deep breath after what felt like hours of crying and sobbing. Your gaze fell from your mother's eyes to your hands in your lap, you felt embarrassed. Maybe because you were 18 and sitting on your mother's lap, or because you were crying uncontrollably without being able to breathe properly, or because you failed at the only thing you wanted to do at SHIELD. “I feel like a baby.” You say in a low voice, almost making your mothers not hear, even with their proximity.
"Well, you're our baby." Natasha says making you finally let out a laugh between your lips. “Do you want to tell us why you're so sad, my love?” You didn't know if you wanted to tell them or not, the negative thoughts making you think they were going to fight you, tell you how bad you are. So, you shrug and lay your head on Wanda's shoulder again, but in a position so you could still look at your mother Natasha. “I just- I had a bad week.” You murmur, closing your eyes to feel the comfort that place brought you. “And, um… I think I should stop being an Agent.”
That took their mothers by surprise. You always said you wanted to be one of the people at SHIELD and you always trained to be one of the best at that place. “Oh, and why do you think that?” Wanda questions. Even though you didn't see her, you knew she would be looking at Natasha, as if they were talking through looks.
“I’m not good enough.” You felt Wanda's body tense beneath you. Your mothers always knew how much you felt like everyone was better than you, how hard it was to believe you were good at something. “This week I- I ruined every mission I went on,” Your mother's blouse was soaked with your tears, and now she could once again feel the salt water falling from your eyes through the fabric. “all the Agents are making fun of me because of it. They say I will never be like you.”
When you finish speaking, Wanda's grip on your body becomes even tighter, you feel Natasha's hand in your hair, stroking it as you hear her sigh deeply. “I've lost count of how many times your mother and I messed up a mission.”
“What?”
“There were several times when I blew up my teammates, for example, Uncle Tony was probably the one who received the most blasts.” Natasha says, making the three of you laugh at the words. “What about the times your mother mistook me for enemies and threw me out of buildings with her magic? We had to stop missions many, many times.” She emphasizes the word 'many', as if she were singing it.
“Remember when I joined the Avengers, Nat?” She was asking your mother, but she was talking so you could listen. “I was much older than you, Y/n/n, and I couldn't do half the things you do today at SHIELD, even with my powers.” She leaves a kiss on your head before continuing. “In every training session I did, I always ended up on the ground.” You laugh again, feeling much lighter than before.
”And you want to know something? I bet you were the one doing all the mission stuff, huh?” Natasha says. “Because if no Agent has ever made a mistake on a mission, then they aren’t real Agents.”
“Your mother is right, make mistakes is human, my love, and everyone will do it one day.” You feel your thoughts start to ease now. The tears stopped falling down your face and only lightness is in their place. Your mothers always knew what to do to make you feel good.
"You're right..." You finally admit, lifting your head from your mother's shoulder and looking at the two women in front of you, seeing nothing but affection and truths.
Wanda sits you down on the couch before getting up and ruffling your hair. "Now, don't worry your pretty head about that stuff and just think about the cookies that are going to go into your stomach in a little while that obviously weren't made by Natasha!"
"What do you mean by 'obviously’?" You laugh at that one scene, seeing Natasha's arms cross under her breasts as an indignant expression is placed on her face.
And at the end of the day you knew that you wouldn't have to worry about anything - just your mom's delicious cookies - and that you knew that your moms would never think about fighting or being upset with you. And Natasha would definitely make sure you didn't need to worry about that Agent who wouldn't leave you alone. That bitch will obviously never set foot in SHIELD again.
#natasha romanoff fanfic#natasha romanoff oneshot#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha romanoff x daughter!reader#natasha romanoff x female#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff fic#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda maximoff x female reader#wanda maximoff x daughter!reader#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff#wanda x you#wanda x reader#wanda x natasha#wanda maximoff#black widow x reader#mcu imagine#wanda marvel#black widow#marvel imagine#marvel cinematic universe#avengers imagine
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the hopeless romantic in me cried when I started watching tbosas only to get that same horrible feeling I get when I watch the star wars prequels.
something about a doomed hero turned villain losing his love and I'm on the ground crying because why couldn't things just have turned out differently? why did he have to make the choices he did? why wasn’t love strong enough to save them? why did they have to lose everyone? why did they have to get so twisted up and far away from the person they used to be? why wasn't the good in them strong enough to fight off the bad?
#they both killed their brother#they both lost their love#they were both munipulated#I know how it ends and yet here I am hoping something will be different this time#this kind of story absolutely destroys me#they had so much potential for good#coriolanus snow#anakin skywalker#president snow#darth vader#lucy gray baird#padme amidala#coriolanus x lucy gray#snowbaird#anakin x padme#anidala#hunger games#ballad of songbirds and snakes#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#star wars#attack of the clones#revenge of the sith#star wars prequels
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Cranberry Juice | Eddie Munson x Reader
♥ Summary: Getting kidnapped from a grocery store wasn't exactly on your to-do list, but neither was having sex with your blood-drunk vampire boyfriend on the dead bodies of your captors, so... [Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader]
♥ Warnings: 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni. Violence, gore, kidnapping, gun related violence & violence against women, drinking blood, drinking blood in a sexual nature, biting, minor character death, derogatory terms used for the reader by someone other than eddie, unprotected sex, p in v sex, breeding kink, very brief dubcon, monster fucking, angst, fluff.
♥ A/N: holy fuck, i haven't written a fem/afab reader in years. i've also never written smut before, so this is new.
♥ Word count: 15945
♥♥♥
You would think that in the two years following the murder of Chrissy Cunningham and the supposed death of Eddie Munson, Hawkins, Indiana would have calmed down a little bit. You would at least assume that they would put down their pitchforks and torches and give Eddie’s friends and loved ones some room to breathe- after all, Eddie’s name had been cleared of any and all crimes, and he was, as far as they knew, literally dead.
But nope!
Nope! No! No way! You still couldn’t leave your house without receiving a thousand angry glares from a thousand angry hicks. Really, you didn’t feel comfortable leaving the house alone anymore, and no one could blame you for that. Between the threats you’d received, the shit you’d seen, and the way the town banded together to hunt down your boyfriend in 1986, you were more than justified in feeling unsafe.
This drove Eddie up the fucking wall.
You were his partner, the love of his undead life, and he couldn’t protect you from the same town that initially drove him into hiding- the town that he had died saving. He couldn’t protect Wayne, either, or the Hellfire Club kids for that matter. He couldn’t shield any of you, or stick by your side throughout the day- the wings and claws that Vecna had so graciously given him upon his return to the living made hiding a little more than necessary. And hey, if those new features weren’t bad enough on their own, Hawkins still wanted Eddie’s head on a pike. If any Hawkins citizen saw him like this, in a new and monstrous form, that would be more than enough of an excuse to murder him then and there.
In short, Eddie was helpless. His new features, the claws and fangs which were meant to maim and kill were useless when it came to defending his loved ones. He was entirely unable to take care of the people he loved most, and he hated it.
Anger and resentment festered inside of him. He worried about you whenever you left the house. Even when you were safe with him, a dark corner of his mind still spiraled through all the horrible possibilities. He wanted to keep you safe, to keep you unharmed and alive, and the idea that he wouldn’t be able to do that gave him a sense of dread like no other.
And then his fears were realized.
-
It started out as a simple shopping trip. You needed to pick up a few things, so you went out to get them. That’s how most people go about grocery shopping. It was normal. Painfully average considering everything else going on in your life, and honestly, you kind of liked that.
You didn’t go out alone. Max also needed to pick up a few things, so you brought her with you. You were smart about it. You both kept your guards up and your keys between your fingers. You were safe. Or you were until you fell for the faux sense of safety provided by the fluorescent lights and the bland music playing overhead- a sense of safety that would be brutally fucking shattered.
Before that, though, you were just looking at juice.
The grocery store shelves in front of you were filled with bottles and bottles of beverages. For a moment, you pondered just how many forms of cranberry juice a company could make. The answer was a lot, apparently.
At your side, Max was fidgeting, impatiently tapping her cane against the ground. You couldn’t blame her, you’d been staring at juice for like, five minutes.
“Hey,” her voice was quiet, “If it’s cool with you, I’m gonna go grab the-”
“Yeah, yeah,” you snapped out of your juice-induced haze, “Go for it, I’ll be here.”
Letting her go was your first mistake.
She nodded at you and left the aisle, ignoring the pointed glare served to her by a middle-aged woman who occupied the aisle with you. As soon as Max was gone, the woman’s glare found its true target. The killer’s girlfriend. The Munson boy’s accomplice. You.
Unfortunately for the woman, your attention was already back on the juice.
Apple. Blackberry. Blueberry. Cranberry. Cran-apple. Cran-pineapple. Cran-mango. Cran-cherry. Cran-pomegranate. There really were a lot of cranberry juices. In all seriousness, you didn’t actually care about juice that much. It was just a nice distraction from the oncoming-
“Devil’s whore.”
Oh, yep, there it was.
You said nothing as the woman swore at you. You tuned out her whispered rant about your audacity- the nerve you had to go out in public after dating that ‘child-murdering monster.’ You were used to this treatment. Not everyone in Hawkins was this intense. Some were worse, and some were better, but there were enough angry citizens kicking around for you to grow numb to the insults. As long as they weren’t threatening your life, you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. You just focused on the juice and let her voice fade out.
That was your second mistake.
You tuned back in to the sound of a click- the sound of a gun’s safety turning off. Panic filled your body as you returned to your surroundings. The woman was gone. Where she had vanished to was a mystery, but you didn’t really care. Not when, in her place, a man stood, aiming a gun right at your stomach.
After noting the gun, the first things you noticed were the man’s eyes- ice blue, cold, and cruel. He wore a sweatshirt beneath a white and green varsity jacket, the hood of which he had pulled up and over his blond hair. It was a clear attempt to provide your attacker with some anonymity- of course, that was instantly cancelled out by the print on the sleeve that read, “Hawkins High, ‘84.” He was your age- and when you looked closer, you realized that you knew him.
Kurt Robertson. He had been a classmate of yours, a jock who had treated “freaks” like you and Eddie rather poorly. Clearly, he had continued his athletic pursuits given his muscular frame. Fear pooled in your stomach as you realized that you were no match for him. You wouldn’t have been a match for him even if he didn’t have a gun.
You put your hands up slowly, “Hi, Kurt. It’s nice to see you, too.”
“Don’t even try it, bitch. Come with me,” he grabbed you by your shoulder, pushing the gun into your hip.
“Uh, maybe,” you were playing with fire, “Can I ask what this is about?”
“You know full well what this is about. That freak boyfriend of yours murdered Chrissy- he murdered Jason, too. They were good kids, and there’s no justice for them.”
“So you decided to find some at the grocery store?”
“Shut up, bitch, I’m talking,” he slammed you into the shelving unit. You yelped like a wounded animal. Two bottles of cranberry juice fell to the floor, cracking open as they met the ground. Red spilled across the tiles.
“I’m here, we’re here,” he gestured to the store’s exit. The implication of backup made you shiver, “To do good by Jason. And Chrissy. Munson took their lives- we figured we’d return the favour. Send his slut to hell for him.”
A crooked smile spread across Kurt’s face as he let you go, pulling back from the shelves. He gestured to the glass doors again, “Now, let’s get a move on, shall we?”
“What, you’re taking me to a secondary location? Too afraid to kill me where everyone can see it?” It was an attempt to escape- to convince this guy to let you go. If you could get him to fuck off, you might be able to slip out the backdoor and get to Eddie. If you got to Eddie, you would be safe.
“No,” Kurt pressed the gun back against your stomach, “I just respect this fine establishment too much to get your fucking guts all over it.”
“This is a grocery store.”
“Hey!” your head jerked to the side to see who had spoken. Kurt did the same. Max was standing at the end of the aisle, her groceries in one hand and her cane in the other. She looked angry, murderous- you were proud of her for that glare alone.
“Is there a problem here?” she scowled at the man in front of you. You felt the gun turn. Its side pressed against you, hiding from view in the fabric of your shirt. The barrel was aimed at Max. Shit.
You turned back to face Kurt. He wouldn’t look at you. His eyes were fixed on the red-haired girl- his new target. You had to protect her. She’d probably be pissed at you for having that thought, but you had to protect her.
“There’s no problem,” you said, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice, “I just ran into a former classmate.”
Max looked like she didn’t believe you in the slightest, not that you could blame her for that. Everything from Kurt’s proximity to you to the juice on the floor spelled out trouble. You blinked.
“Actually, do you think you’re good to find your own way home? I think I’m gonna be a while. Just catching up, y’know?”
You blinked again- three short blinks. Three long blinks. Three short ones. You hoped she noticed.
She stared at you for a minute, looking deep into your eyes before nodding. She coughed out a quick, “Yeah, it’s fine. See you around,” and with that, Max was gone. You could only hope that your message had been received.
Kurt waited for a moment. The doors opened and closed. Max had left. Now, it was just you, a man with a gun, and a dozen shoppers who didn’t give a shit about whether or not Eddie Munson’s whore girlfriend got shot in the middle of the juice aisle.
“Kurt,” you tried, watching as he took in your surroundings and fixed his eyes on the door, “Chrissy was a good kid, and I’m so sorry that she’s gone. She didn’t deserve to die, but I promise, Eddie didn’t have anything to do with it-”
He took your arm in a grip that would surely leave bruises- if you lived long enough for them to form. You winced but continued on, trying again to free yourself diplomatically, “And Jason- Jason was extreme, you have to admit, but I’m sorry about him, too. He did some awful things, but he wasn’t evil-”
“Yeah, you’d know a lot about evil, wouldn’t you?” Kurt sneered, pulling you out of the store and into the alleyway behind it. A pickup truck was parked there, waiting for you. Diplomacy had failed. You had to try something else.
The first thing you did was grab the gun and shove it away from you. Kurt’s arm went with it, and he stumbled slightly. You stumbled, too, but your balance came back to you faster than his did. You used your brief advantage to punch your assailant in the face. Your fist connected with his jaw, sending Kurt right to the ground.
You shook out your hand and took a step away, momentarily stunned by your pain and your power. The doors of the pickup began to open. You ran. You were being chased by former jocks. You didn’t get far.
Two arms wrapped around you- one around your chest, and one around your neck. You tilted your head down and bit as hard as you possibly could. The guy screamed, letting go of you just as another pair of arms took hold.
You struggled, turning around in the man’s hold and scratching at his eyes. Someone ran behind you and grabbed at your arms, trying to stop you. You thrashed, hissing and fighting like an angry animal. It was futile.
You were pushed to the ground and a gun was pointed at your face. Kurt glared down at you, his eyes full of hate and his lip gushing blood. The rest of the boys backed off for the moment, standing on the sidelines, watching their leader.
“I should kill you. I should kill you right now you fucking bitch. Send you to hell with your Satanic fucking boyfriend.”
“Then do it,” you barked, adrenaline and impulse speaking for you more than anything else, “Kill me. Unless you’re scared to do it you quivering pussy-”
Kurt slammed the gun into the side of your head. Your vision went black. Your hearing faded to a soft buzz. Blood dripped down the length of your face. You didn’t feel it. You couldn’t feel anything. You didn’t hear the panicked whispers of the jocks, nor the quietly exclaimed, “Holy shit, dude! You fucking killed her!” or the, “She’s not dead, just knocked out, calm the fuck down,” that followed it.
For the moment, you were out of the game.
The boys loaded you into the truck as fast as they could. Their arms held you down, their hold on you tight, as if your unconscious body would spring up and perform a series of badass jiu-jitsu moves on them. That didn’t happen, but they wanted to be prepared.
The pickup sped out of the alleyway, putting the grocery store in its rearview mirror with law-breaking speed. If any of the jocks had bothered to look in said rearview mirror, they would have noticed a red-headed girl using the payphone that stood near the grocery store parking lot.
“Eddie? It’s Max. We have a problem.”
-
You woke to the stench of rotting wood and decomposing hay. Beneath you, a filthy concrete floor provided a cold embrace. Small stones and various pieces of dirt and debris dug into your soft flesh. In this position, your leg was twisted under your weight at an awkward angle.
Damning the discomfort, you kept still. Every part of you was tense, ready, waiting for some sign or sound of your abductors. Nothing happened. The only sound was the faint scurrying of mice, and the wind blowing through the trees outside. Still hesitant, you opened your eyes.
Most of the structure around you was made of decaying wood. Planks and beams extended across a vast room, stretching up to a high ceiling to meet with crumbling rafters. In some places, red and white paint had been applied to cover up some of the damage, but after years of neglect, the attempted solution had faded and chipped away.
Beams of golden sunlight streamed into the barn through dirty glass windows, and through a large square hole in the wall that had once housed a door. Far above your head, shitty old lights buzzed harshly, illuminating all of the grime that the sun couldn’t reach.
Outside, you could see a weed-filled field running off to a line of trees in the distance. Brambles twisted up near the barn’s entrance. Wildflowers bloomed among nettles and thorns. Vines tangled with the faulty wood of the walls. Even inside the barn, little sprouts popped up through cracks in the concrete. Dandelions puffed near rusted old farming equipment and piles of wasted hay.
This place was oddly beautiful- and clearly abandoned. You were far from help, and from the sound of it, you were completely alone.
Cautiously, you got to your feet. The spot of concrete that had served as your pillow was stained red. You didn’t want to think about that too hard. Putting it out of your mind, you took a few shaky steps, stumbling your way toward the exit. Your bruised body screamed in protest. The sound of your footfalls echoed through the barn. You kept going. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice.
A rusty pitchfork lay against the wall a few feet from the hole in the wall. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have touched the thing for fear of tetanus. Unfortunately, these were not normal circumstances. You armed yourself quickly and continued on, inching forward until the concrete turned to gravel underfoot.
You didn’t make it far.
The sound your movements made alerted your captors to the fact that you were awake. You could hear something drop around the side of the barn- something heavy. Male voices swore loudly. The sound of curses and other exclamations rang through the field, polluting the otherwise beautiful golden hour.
You looked around, desperately searching for a place to hide. You found nothing. There was no hiding place among the weeds and brambles, no space for nature to pull you in and protect you. Your fists tightened around the pitchfork as you realized that this would come down to a fight.
Unfortunately, you were right.
Jocks ran out from behind the barn like ants swarming from a hill. Someone cried out, “Skin only! Don’t kill her yet!”
You vaguely recognized some of the faces before you- the first one was Andy, one of the jocks who had been after Eddie in ‘86. You were able to push him back with your makeshift weapon. The next jock, unfortunately, got much closer. The smell of weed assaulted you, which was quickly followed by an actual assault. A fist met your cheek, and you staggered back, keeping yourself up with the handle of the pitchfork.
The jock didn’t let up. Another punch came your way, but you managed to step back and avoid it. The guy kicked at you weakly, but you easily dodged that, too. In retaliation, you raised the pitchfork and brought it down flat over the guy’s head, knocking him to the ground.
Alas, you were still surrounded. Five more jocks were perfectly ready for a fight, and you were quickly running out of strength and luck. Panic and pain surged through you as another hit connected with your jaw. A fist collided with your stomach. You fell to your knees. Another hand met your face. A ring broke the skin of your lips. Your chosen weapon fell to the ground as blow after blow fell upon you.
You did your best to shelter yourself from the attack. Sharp aches echoed through your limbs with every blow. You tried to separate yourself from the moment, mentally and physically. Curling into a ball on the ground and disassociating didn’t exactly make you feel brave or heroic, but it kept you from taking too much damage. Still, you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk the next day- if you lasted that long.
You barely noticed when the kicks and punches stopped coming. You only snapped out of it fully when someone grabbed your arm. You winced. It was the first reaction they’d gotten from you since the attack began.
“Good,” Kurt grinned, “We didn’t break you.”
You said nothing, biting back several sarcastic remarks. None of them seemed appropriate for the situation. Instead, you slid your tongue over your lip, collecting the blood that pooled there. The next time Kurt opened his mouth to speak, you spit in his face.
“You fucking bitch!” Kurt shrieked, wiping frantically at his face, “Tie her up and get her back in the barn. We’re gonna take this slow, got it? She doesn’t get a quick death.”
Kurt’s lackeys obeyed. Someone bound your wrists together in front of you with duct tape. Rough hands pulled you up from the ground and shoved you back toward the barn. Fear began to take anger’s place as they threw you to the concrete. Blood dripped from your lip to the floor. You watched as it bleed between rocks and cracks below you. How much blood would you lose tonight?
Your heart raced. Breath escaped your battered lungs, but you couldn’t seem to pull any air in. Kurt glared down at you, his form outlined by the light of the setting sun. He looked at you like you were some sort of vermin he had to dispose of. You were sure that in his eyes, that was the truth.
The gun was in his hand.
“Remind me, Andy. How did they find Jason’s girl again?”
“I dunno. They didn’t even let her parents see her face. But Patrick,” Andy knelt down in front of you and grabbed your chin with two fingers, forcing you to look at him, “I got to see Patrick. All of his bones were shattered. Some kind of freak ritual, I guess.”
“Well, we don’t have a freak ritual, but,” Kurt aimed the gun at your leg, “We can always improvise. Answer me this, boys- will a bone break apart if you hit it with a bullet?”
He didn’t wait for an answer.
His finger wrapped around the trigger.
A deafening bang echoed off the barn’s walls.
The sound didn’t come from the gun. Something had crashed into the roof. Dust reigned down on you and the boys as you all looked up, peering at the ceiling. Above you, the old lights began to flicker. The air seemed to chill by a few degrees.
The jocks staggered slightly, their eyes off of you and fixed on the ceiling. They all jumped as the horrendous screech of tearing metal met their ears. Whatever had landed on the roof, it was now clawing its way off. The boys turned to face the door, gripping their weapons and putting up their fists.
An inhuman sound split the calm twilight. You knew it well- that unnerving, predatory growl. You’d heard it a few times before, while running for your life in the Upside Down. While you watched the bats tear your lover apart. You fell back, crawling deeper into the barn.
The lights flicked off.
When they came back on, Eddie was standing in the would-be doorway of the barn, wings spread and fangs bared.
“Is that-?” one of the jocks whispered.
“Munson,” Andy spat. Kurt raised his gun, aiming the barrel at its new target.
He didn’t get the chance to shoot.
Eddie attacked first. He flew forward, seizing the face of the nearest man in his claws. In seconds, the man’s head was nothing more than a bloody mess. Screams filled the air as the first jock fell to the ground. Eddie fell with him, teeth to the man’s neck as blood pooled around them, a blood-red mirror on the concrete floor.
Your attackers stood stunned as Eddie moved on, leaving a body behind. Garnet drops flew to the floor as Eddie tore the next attacker into tiny little pieces. You were almost hypnotized by the way Eddie’s teeth sunk into the guy’s neck, by the way Eddie’s claws tore through his flesh. You could practically hear the sound of blood draining from his veins. When he pulled back, Eddie’s sweet brown eyes were blood red.
He was quick to jump at his next victim, claws and fangs tearing, and slashing, and biting until the man stopped moving.
It was only after that third man’s body was drained that your attackers shook themselves from their reverie and began to retaliate. They’d been aching for a chance to hurt Eddie for years. Now, they had even more of an excuse to kill him- if Eddie was a freak before, then what was he with wings and fangs? To them, he was a monster. He always had been, and he always would be.
They attacked.
It wasn’t too effective, all things considered. A fist flew at Eddie, and in response, he grabbed the offending hand, pulled the man close to him, and put his claws through the man’s chest. You almost felt sick at the sight of it- your boyfriend’s hand, rings and all, coming through the back of a man who beat you minutes before.
You knew Eddie was stronger now, inhumanly so, but you had never seen him use that strength like this- not on a person, at least. You were never afraid of Eddie. You knew that he would rather die than hurt you. But watching what he could do to a human- it filled you with unease, and with some other emotion that you refused to name.
That nameless emotion screamed in your ears as Eddie pulled the man towards him using the hand still in his chest. Eddie brought his fangs to the man’s throat and drank.
The sound of wood splintering filled the air as Eddie blocked a blow from a bat with his claws. He pulled his mouth away from his latest victim’s neck so that he could handle the weapon. He discarded the bat quickly, throwing it clear across the barn. He threw the wielder next, impaling him on some old farming equipment. The dandelions that lived beneath the aged machine were showered in a gush of ruby and wine.
Andy was next. He came at Eddie with a crowbar, and your stomach turned as you realized that all the jocks’ weapons- the bats, the crowbars, and the gun- were meant for you. You winced as Andy managed to land a hit, striking Eddie in the shoulder with enough strength to down a regular man. Fortunately, Eddie was not a regular man. He seized the crowbar and bent it, letting it fall to the floor.
“You- you killed Chrissy! And Patrick, and Jason-!”
Eddie’s eyes bore into Andy’s, speaking untold volumes, simmering with rage. Eddie wiped the blood from his mouth and took a step toward the jock.
“I didn’t kill any of them. I didn’t touch any of them. But you? You made my girl bleed. You’re gonna pay for that.”
In seconds, Andy was on the ground, unconscious or dead, you couldn’t tell. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth. Eddie didn’t bother drinking from him.
For a moment, then, the world fell silent. Eddie’s eyes met yours across the barn, across the sea of blood that he had spilled to protect you. Despite the gore, despite the blood that stained Eddie’s hands and the space under his nails, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him. He was here. You were safe now.
But thinking that was your third mistake.
Eddie smiled back, and as he did, another ear-piercing bang echoed through the barn. There was nothing on the roof. There was nothing clawing down to the barn. There was nothing but you and Eddie, Kurt and his gun.
Eddie brought his hand to his side. When he moved it away, his skin was stained with both his blood and the blood of those he’d slain. You screamed. Eddie fell to his knees. Kurt took aim again. He levelled the gun at Eddie’s head.
You leapt at Kurt, using your bound fists as a weapon. You caught the man by surprise, knocking him right to the ground. The gun slid across the floor, away from both of you. Kurt quickly took the advantage, rolling over and pinning your hips to the ground with his. He raised his fist and brought it down on your face, once, then twice.
He didn’t land a third punch. Eddie tackled him off of you, hurling Kurt’s body away from yours. He stayed in front of you, protecting you from Kurt, blocking him from view. He was your shield, keeping you safe and out of the other man’s reach. Eddie snarled like an animal- a predator. It was a warning to Kurt. A message telling him, on no uncertain terms, to stay put.
Kurt did no such thing. He jumped at Eddie. Thick fingers dug deep into the bloody mark on Eddie’s side. He cried out in agony- the sound was something akin to a roar.
“You’re a monster,” Kurt yelled, his hands now covered in the dark cranberry shades of Eddie’s blood, “You’re a FUCKING MONSTER!”
Eddie stumbled backwards, a pained gasp leaving his lips. Your attacker showed no mercy. He advanced, landing a hit on Eddie’s jaw. Eddie fell to his knees.
“I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time,” Kurt reached for the gun. He couldn’t find it.
Another shot rang out.
The sound echoed around the barn.
Blood spilled out from the brand-new bullet wound in Kurt’s chest. He fell to the ground with a dull thud. His blood pooled beneath him, like cranberry juice on the floor of a grocery store. Another blood-red mirror to reflect another lifeless corpse. Another red stain on the concrete.
You stood behind him, gun held tightly in your bound hands.
Silence followed. You could hear Eddie’s panting, and the sound of your heartbeat rushing in your ears. The busted farm lights buzzed overhead. Outside, in the twilight, cicadas sang, serenading you both. Each breath you took was tainted by the iron scent of blood. A chill danced up your skin. The barn was still cold- so fucking cold.
Eddie was struggling. New blood coursed through his system, making every inch of him feel warm. Something beneath his skin started to itch. He wanted to move. He wanted to hunt. He wanted you. He wanted to see you spread out before him, breathless and quivering, completely drunk on his cock. He wanted the taste of your blood to stain his tongue. He could feel an unending pulsation spread through him, driving him forward, almost controlling him in a way. His eyes met yours for just a moment before he forced himself to look away. A growl left his lips.
Across the room, you watched Eddie’s silent crisis, completely unaware of the feral desires harboured behind his big doe eyes. His claws curled at the concrete. You could hear them scratching against it- almost carving through it entirely. His breath seemed to come faster and faster, his chest rapidly rising and falling with every second that passed. You panicked, slightly, taking a small step towards him as your fear for his safety overtook your brain.
You lowered the gun.
“Eddie?” You called out, shattering the quiet with your desperation. Your voice was weak, shaking. You sounded broken.
In an instant, Eddie was on his knees before you. His cold clawed hands ran up your thighs and over your hips, slender fingers checking for hidden injuries, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His movements were gentle, though they edged on desperate, almost animalistic. Your heart twinged with guilt as sparks flew from each place he touched. Despite the situation, you wanted more of this- more of him.
You got just that when his lips joined his hands. He painted each part of you with kisses, brushing his mouth over your knees, your thighs, your hips. He paused over the faint purple of a forming bruise on your leg, his touch hovering over it slightly as passionate concern tore a growl from deep within his chest. You could feel his breath against your skin, hard and fast, nothing short of panicked. His fear for you melted your heart. You whispered his name. It came out as a plea- a blasphemous prayer in a God-fearing town.
“I’m here,” he replied, his voice low, “I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ve got you. Are you alright?”
You nodded, trying to breathe again as you adjusted to the safety of his presence. His hands slid up your body as he leaned in, pressing his lips and then his teeth against the soft skin of your thigh. He bit down, enough to mark you but not enough to make you bleed, “I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you. I promise.”
You whimpered, taking his chin between your fingers, urging him to meet your eyes. His face was pale, and his normally messy hair was wild and slightly damp from sweat. Blood spilled from his bottom lip. You couldn’t tell if it was his. Gently, you brushed the blood away with your thumb. He leaned into your touch, shutting his eyes for a moment, letting himself be there with you. When he opened his eyes again, there was something dark contained in the sweet brown of his irises- a grim determination.
“Baby,” he groaned, raising a hand to your wrists, “I’m gonna untie you, and then-” he paused, taking a deep breath.
“And then?”
“And then I need you to run.”
“What? Why? What’s wrong-?” a fresh wave of panic shot through you at Eddie’s warning.
Eddie paused for a moment. When he spoke again, he almost sounded afraid, “It’s nothing. Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. I just- I need you to run from me.”
“Eddie, what do you mean?”
He didn’t answer.
“Eddie- Eddie, please-”
He dug his fingers into your thighs, pulling you down and knocking you onto your back. A small cry escaped you. Your heart began to pound in your chest as one of his massive hands curled in the dust beside you. In the time it took to blink, he was leaning over you, caging you in with his body. One of his legs found its home between yours. The way he stared down at you was a new kind of desperate- he looked hungry. Empty. Starving.
“I’ve had too much blood tonight, baby,” he leaned in, nipping at your throat, all teeth, no fangs. He made a point not to bite, “And it did something to me.”
“S-something?”
He slipped his hands into yours, pinning your arms above your head by your still-bound wrists. He pulled back to look at you, ravenous devotion clouding his eyes, “Something, baby. I don’t know what, but I-”
He cut himself off, looking away from your face and shutting his eyes tightly as if he could somehow fend off what he was feeling by pretending to be somewhere else. His grip on you tightened, and you fought off the urge to whimper. Again, you whispered his name.
“I want to taste you,” Eddie sounded horrified at his own words, but he didn’t stop, “I wanna feel you succumb beneath my hands. I want to feel your heart race for me, but I can’t tell whether it’s your blood I want on my tongue, or you. And I- I can’t hurt you, so I need you to run, okay?”
His eyes were still closed. He still refused to look at you. He seemed so deeply ashamed- and yet, heat pooled inside you, flowing down to your core. You drew in a breath, your chest rising sharply. Blood rushed to your cheeks, heating your face until everything beneath your skin felt like fire. Your eyes widened. Your thighs shook slightly. Any sense of self-preservation you had was throwing itself out the window in the wake of the fire that Eddie had unknowingly set inside of you- a fire that you had no intention of putting out.
Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed at your physical response. He leaned down, lips brushing against your ear, “Are you afraid?”
“Afraid? Of you?” your voice shook, and your body trembled beneath him, but a small smile took over your features at the thought, “Never.”
Eddie pressed his forehead against your shoulder. A small grin crossed his features, though there was no joy in it. There was something tragic in every movement he made. A desperate longing drove every action- a want for something he could not have.
“Goddamnit, I love you,” he whispered. His words were almost a whine, “But I need you to get out of here, okay? I need you to get somewhere safe, somewhere away from me, and I need you to stay there.”
He pressed his lips back to your neck, sucking your skin in between his teeth with enough pressure to bruise, but not to break. His claws bit into the tape, beginning to tear it.
“Eddie-” you spoke fast, panicking at the thought of leaving him like this, “Eddie, I’m not going anywhere. Not when you’re hurt. Look, I know you’re afraid to hurt me, and I know that you think you’re a monster, but you’re not,” you flushed as your voice broke, “You’re not a monster, Eds. You- you make me feel safe. I want to stay.”
He stopped tearing at the tape.
“Eddie,” you sounded more sure, “I’m here. I’m staying, and you won’t hurt me, you won’t lose control-”
“You don’t know that,” he hissed, his voice filled with so much self-loathing that the sound of it broke your heart.
“But I do. Eddie, everything you did tonight, you did to save me. To protect me. You aren’t gonna hurt me. You’re not-”
His hand was on your throat. He didn’t squeeze. There was no pressure, but his claws pricked in against your fragile skin. You should have been afraid of him, or at the very least you should have feared for your life. Eddie was dangerous. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you, but you’d just witnessed him murder several people with the claws that were now against your throat. But in fear’s place, that deep longing still burned inside of you.
”Baby,” Eddie warned, “I need you to understand. There is so very little inside of me that wants to be nice, and there is so much of me that wants to-”
A sharp sting spread out from your neck as his claws drew the tiniest drops of blood. He leaned closer to you, to your neck, “I don’t want to show mercy or kindness. I want to fuck you until my cum is spilling out of you, until you can’t move, and then I wanna keep going. I want to use you until you know that that pretty little slit between your legs belongs to me. I want to claim you. To own you. To ruin you for everyone else. I want you to bleed for me, and that is terrifying.”
He paused, releasing your throat from his hold and bringing his lips to your neck. He lapped at the drops of blood that spilled from the pinprick-like wounds he’d made. The second his tongue was on you, he took his other hand off your wrists and moved his touch down your body. He stopped at the hem of your shirt, his fingers biting into the material, almost tearing it like they had torn your skin just moments before.
“Sweet girl, I wanna fuck you until it hurts- fuck you while we’re surrounded by the bodies of our enemies- and then I want to drain you. I am a monster. And I want you the way a monster would. Do you understand?”
Again, you should have been afraid. You should’ve let him free your wrists, and then you should have run away. You should have screamed.
Instead, you moaned.
You couldn’t help it. It just sort of slipped out of you- his words, the intensity of his gaze, the sweet sting at your neck- it all poured gasoline on the already raging fire burning inside your core. Your legs fell apart for him, thighs spreading wide as arousal pooled between them. Eddie looked a little surprised.
“Did you- did you just fucking moan?”
You grumbled, desperate to hide your face in shame. Your humiliation doubled when you realized that with Eddie’s heightened senses, he could probably tell that you wanted him. He could undoubtedly hear the racing of your heart and smell the want between your legs.
“You fucking heard me,” you sighed, looking away in defeat, “But you- you can’t just say shit like that. You have to know that I want you.”
“You want me? To what, to kill you? Because-”
You cut him off, sighing again at your boyfriend’s dramatics, “Oh my god, Eddie, I want you inside of me.”
He froze for a second, stunned into silence. You took that as a cue to carry on, “I want you to fuck me. To claim me. I want you to use me, to ruin me, whatever, I just want to be yours.”
Eddie remained quiet, though his features had softened slightly. You turned back to face him, shoving your shame out of your mind. You sat up in his hold, letting him wrap his arms around your waist as you encircled your still-bound arms around his neck. His eyes were still wide with shock, but there was an undeniable sense of adoration within them. In turn, Eddie saw no fear in your gaze- just determination. And arousal.
“I want you to take me,” you begged, twisting your fingers in his hair, “Right here, and right now, and if you have to do that ‘like a monster,’ then do it. I don’t care. I just want you.”
Another growl ripped itself from Eddie’s throat as he pushed you back to the ground, keeping your arms around him, “Do you understand what you’re getting yourself into?”
You nodded, leaning up and pressing your lips to his in a quick and surprisingly chaste kiss. He smiled against your skin- a genuine smile, this time. You’d convinced him. He sighed, reaching up to gently cup your face. He traced over your cheek as he spoke, “Use your words for me, sweet girl.”
You turned your head to press a kiss to his palm, “I know. Do you understand that I don’t care what I’m getting myself into?”
He raised an eyebrow. You continued, a devious smirk on your face.
“You could do whatever you want to me because I want this. I want you. And, hey if you don’t fuck me at this point, maybe I’ll do it myself and make you watch.”
On the last word, you parted your lips and bit Eddie’s hand. He choked. A blush covered his face, painting his features pink up to the tips of his ears. You smiled, satisfaction with your work sinking in as you leaned up to press a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. His skin was warm, far warmer than the palm he had on your face just moments before.
Eddie shook his head, snapping out of his flustered state. His eyes darkened as want crept back into his gaze. He took your arms from around his neck, pressing a kiss to your hands before he pressed them into the ground above your head. You were pinned.
“Even now, you’re such a fuckin’ brat,” Eddie purred, “Y’know, it might be a little tough for you to get yourself off seeing as you’re, y’know, at my mercy, but I’d like to see you try. I can’t complain about a show like that.”
You gave a defiant wiggle, stretching your hands as much as you could with your wrists still pinned and bound, “I know. That’s why I-”
A moan swallowed your words as he pressed a kiss to the column of your throat. The sound heightened in pitch, becoming a cry as his teeth bit into your soft flesh. Eddie smiled against your neck as he released his hold on your wrists. His hands moved down your body, his actions slow, fingers weighed down by intent. His touch lingered by your breasts for a second, giving your tits a harsh squeeze before he reached further. A sharp gasp left you as you felt his cold digits press against the bare skin beneath the hem of your shirt.
His grip tightened on the fabric, claws piercing through it before he tore it from you entirely, leaving your upper body exposed to the chill of the barn. Goosebumps rose on your skin. Beneath your bra, your nipples pebbled from both the cold and your arousal. Eddie made short work of that garment, too, not bothering with the clasp. In less than a second, your bra was in pieces on the floor beside your poor, poor shirt.
Eddie paused, taking in the sight of your chest. His hands slipped up and over your waist, stopping just beneath your breasts, “Holy shit,” his voice was rough, gravely- and it had you arching up into his hold, “You’re so fucking beautiful. So fucking perfect.”
He leaned in, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, nipping at your flesh ever so slightly. His fangs threatened to pierce your skin, and you knew you wouldn’t mind if they did. You meant what you said. Eddie could have his way with you however he liked. He could cut you, bleed you, break you, and you would let him. You would lie there for him and just let him take everything he wanted. (Of course, you knew he wouldn’t. He loved you far too much to ever cause you real harm.)
You let out a whine, running your hands into Eddie’s hair. It was a little difficult- your wrists were still bound- but you did your best. He moaned, lips still against your skin, and you found yourself writhing at the sensation. Your body begged for more, for him to do more than touch and bite- you wanted to be fucked.
“Eddie, please- please,” the attempt was sweet, but your pleas went ignored. Eddie pulled his mouth away from your nipple, moving just slightly to mark up the rest of your chest. You tilted your head back, panting as his hands descended to the hem of your shorts, squeezing and scratching your sides as he went.
“Eds, please-”
“That’s it, good girl,” Eddie purred, teeth still against your chest, “Beg for me.”
You whined, bucking your hips up, trying to get some friction. Eddie laughed a little as you tried desperately to squeeze your thighs together. The leg he kept between yours prevented it, and you groaned, tugging on his hair in retaliation.
Eddie moaned, leaning back until you could see his eyes shut in pleasure, “So pretty. And such a fucking brat-”
He sunk his fangs deep into your chest. You cried out, digging your nails into his scalp. You keened weakly as he drank from you. He didn’t take much- he was already enduring what could be considered a blood overdose- but he did take enough to shut you up, to make you hurt.
When he pulled away, you were a mewling mess beneath him. Your whines only got louder when he dragged his tongue over the bite wound. A sharp grin exposed his fangs, now stained with your blood. He leaned in, kissing you deeply, sliding his tongue passed your lips. You could taste the copper tang of your life in his mouth.
He pulled away, breathless, and in seconds he was back on your body, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your arm, biting at your wrist and drawing blood before he moved back to your chest. He pulled your other nipple between his teeth, nipping and biting, making you whine. You moved your body against the thigh he kept between your legs, grinding on it. You were desperate and Eddie knew it.
He kissed down your stomach, biting at your hip as his grip tightened on the fabric of your shorts. You yelped at the sting of his teeth, the sharp piercing of his fangs in your flesh. Eddie’s tongue laved over your hip, lapping up the blood that dripped down your side. He tore your shorts to pieces before the blood could stain them, ripping your panties off with them.
A loud gasp escaped you, and you let out a whine as the cold barn air met with your dripping cunt. Eddie’s smile was almost shark-like. Lots of teeth.
“So pretty,” Eddie whispered, “And so wet for me, baby.”
He pressed a kiss to the new bite mark hip before he continued, “Y’know, watching you fuck yourself for me- I’d only last so long before I just took you for myself.”
Two fingers moved up your slit, gathering your arousal before meeting with your clit. His skin was rough, callused from fighting and from his guitar. His touch was electric, sending shockwaves through your spine. You couldn’t hold back your moan, nor could you control your hips as they bucked up into his hand.
“S-so,” you tried to speak as his fingers moved in tight circles over your sensitive nub, “You’d still fuck me, then?���
“I’d clean your fingers off first, but yes.”
“Oh, good. So either way, I get what I want.”
He paused his ministrations and pulled his fingers away entirely, digging them into your sides. You made a noise of protest, but Eddie remained still. For a second, he just stared at you, half squinting. In the time it took to blink, his teeth were on your chest again. He didn’t break the skin, but he got so dangerously close to it that you couldn’t help but shiver as want dripped down your thighs.
Eddie’s grip tightened on you, and you wondered what the bruises his ring-clad fingers left on your hips would look like later on. An especially sharp bite pulled you back to the present. You mewled, whining as Eddie nipped at the soft skin over your heart. You could almost feel your blood pumping faster through your veins, sending that same fire through each one of your nerves.
Slowly, though, Eddie’s fangs distanced themselves from you. It was just his lips on your skin. The pressure was still bruising to be sure, but something had changed.
“I’ll give you whatever you want. Whatever,” you could feel Eddie speaking against you, his breath warm on your chest, “Whatever you want, just stay with me.”
A few short moments ago, he’d been begging you to run away from him. Now, he wanted you to stay. A quick kiss to your bloodied temple told you why.
‘I will,” you pulled his forehead to yours, locking eyes with him, “I promise I will.”
You ran your fingers through his hair, wrapping your arms around his neck as your nails gently scratched at his scalp. He melted into your touch before leaning in, pressing his soft lips against yours. The kiss was so gentle, so different from the harsh bites and scratches he’d delivered so far. Your body overflowed with want, a broken fountain pouring desire onto the floor.
“You,” you muttered against him, “Are everything I want.”
He looked down at you for a second, eyes wide and wanting. You leaned up, capturing his lips with yours. One of his hands came up, cupping your face gently, holding you like you were something precious. Your lips fit against his perfectly. The fire inside you was threatening to take down the goddamn barn.
You paused. Wrapping a strand of Eddie’s hair around your fingers, you gave a slight tug. You met his gaze with a small smile, removing your arms from around his neck and bringing them in front of you.
“Also, I would like to be untied, please.”
He laughed and did as you asked, freeing you with a swipe of his claw. Instantly, your hands were on his face, your fingers running over his cheekbones, sweeping under his eyes. With your new freedom, you were able to run your hands up and through his hair properly. Above you, Eddie seemed to purr.
Eddie lowered himself, kissing and biting down your breasts and stomach, leaving bruises as he went. His movements were the same as before, but there was a new passion to them. You brushed your fingers over his shoulders, scratching at him slightly. He gripped onto the soft skin of your inner thighs, threatening to tear into it. You arched your hips up towards him. He grabbed them, grip tight and claws digging in. You cried out quietly as he pushed them back to the ground. Your back stung slightly, but the pain was quickly put out of your mind.
“Stay put for me, will you, sweetheart?”
You barely had a moment to register his words. His lips met with your heat, and you cried out at the sensation. His tongue moved up and down, teasing your entrance before his lips closed around your clit. You couldn't keep your thighs from closing around his head when you felt the harsh edges of his teeth. He didn’t seem to mind. More than that, he moaned against you. You had to fight to keep still beneath him.
Eddie kissed and bit you, eating you out like a man starved, like an animal that hadn’t been fed in an eternity or longer. The pleasure he brought you was almost violent in nature. You let out a string of incomprehensible words, moaning and whimpering as he drank your arousal.
“You taste so good, baby,” he pressed his lips to your clit, “So sweet. You’re perfect.”
One of his hands slid back up your body, leaving goosebumps behind. He stopped between your breasts, strong fingers pressed against your sternum ever so slightly, holding you still. Over the next few moments, as his teeth and tongue teased you relentlessly, dragging you to the edge at a rapid pace, your hand slipped into his. His claws bit into your skin. Your nails bit into his.
“Fuck- fuck, Eddie-”
“Gettin’ close, sweetheart? Gonna cum for me?”
You opened your mouth to respond, but your words fell to nothing as you cried out his name, shaking as you came for him. Your voice echoed off the walls, and Eddie didn’t think he’d ever heard a sweeter sound. He could feel your heart racing under his hand, your pulse racing through your wrist. The way your fingers squeezed around his- like you wanted him, like you needed him- made him feel weak.
It took you a minute to come back to earth. You could barely hear Eddie shrugging off his shirt and jacket over the sound of your own panting. The metallic clink of his belt buckle meeting the floor as he removed it got your attention.
You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him. Your eyes traced up his slender waist, over scarred and tattooed skin. His wings cast sharp shadows over his body. He freed his cock from his pants, and you tried to keep yourself from drooling as it sprang up against his stomach.
Eddie had always been gifted. He had always been big, thick- the sight of him was always enough to make your mouth water. Even before the Upside Down had so kindly bestowed him with new shit, you thought he was perfect. But after?
You weren’t sure why Vecna had decided to give your boyfriend’s cock ridges and a few extra inches, but you weren’t about to look a gift dick in the mouth. You would never get used to the sight- it would always make you shiver with want, make you drip with need. Perhaps a rational person would be intimidated by the sheer size of him, by the ridges that now covered his length, but you? Never. You didn’t care about anything. You didn’t fear anything. You just wanted him.
Your eyes caught his- honey shining in the twilight, warm, wanting, and slightly hesitant. His pupils were blown out, dark voids drinking in the sight of you. He wanted to give you a moment to catch your breath. He wanted to take a second to kiss you and to hold you close. Eddie wanted to be gentle, but something deep inside him- specifically all the blood he’d drained from you and your attackers- demanded that he get his cock inside you as fast as he fucking could.
“Baby, are you- are you sure you want this? I’m not- I’m not gonna be nice.”
“I don’t care, I don’t-” you sat up, grabbing Eddie’s shoulders and pulling him down on top of you, “I want you, Eds. I don’t care about anything else.”
“Okay. Okay, just- promise me you’ll stop me. If I hurt you, or if it’s too much, promise you’ll stop me.”
“I will,” you could barely hear yourself over the pounding of your heart, “Whatever you need, I promise.”
He took a deep breath before taking his cock in his hand, stroking it twice. He lined himself up with your entrance, pressing against you ever so slightly. He kissed up your jaw, pressing his lips against your ear before he whispered, “I love you. And I’m sorry.”
In one swift movement, he was inside you, buried to the hilt. You were wet and ready for him, but the sudden stretch- the sudden ache of his length pressing against your walls was still a lot for your already sore body to take. Tears sprang to your eyes. A scream tore itself from your throat before you could block it, mingling in the air with the sound of Eddie’s moans.
You could see the guilt in his eyes, but he didn’t slow his pace. His thrusts were fast and deep, almost violent in their intensity. The drag of his cock inside your needy cunt- the feeling of his veins and ridges against your walls- had your eyes rolling back, had you moaning like some mindless slut.
Eddie wasn’t doing much better. He quickly lost himself in the feeling of your body writhing under his, squeezing his dick every time moved. He brushed against a spot inside you that made you see stars. Your muscles clenched as his cock brushed it over and over again. Pain and pleasure shot through you, sparking through your veins and making you dig your nails into his back. He barely felt it.
Eddie took your hips into his hands, his grip bruising, his claws digging in. You could feel your blood pooling beneath his claws, staining his nails red. His lips were against your chest again, his teeth biting and scratching your skin. You barely noticed. You were too focused on him, on his cock forcing its way deeper and deeper inside, finding places that only he could reach.
“Still with me, sweetheart?” His voice was raspy, rough around the edges as he tried to catch breath that he didn’t technically need.
“Still with you,” your voice was just as breathless as his, “Don’t stop.”
He didn’t. The sound of his hips slamming into yours cut through the silence of the night. Your fingers moved over Eddie’s back, scratching white lines into his skin. Your hands danced over the bones and flesh of his wings, darting over every sensitive spot. You knew his body well, and in seconds he was melting into you. Maybe it was a dirty move- you pulling out all of the stops on him- but you were sure he didn’t mind if his moans were anything to go by. His cock twitched inside your walls, and you moaned at the sensation. You were weak and wanting, and he was much the same.
“That’s it, baby,” he purred, “That’s my girl. So fucking good for me, so tight.”
His words slurred together, morphing into a low growl as he fucked into you. The smell of sex filled the barn, overtaking the stench of blood and decay. The barn itself seemed to fade further and further from view with every stroke, leaving only Eddie behind. For the moment, it was just the two of you. There were no threats to your life, no disgusted old ladies in grocery stores, and no jocks that wanted you dead. It was just you and the boy you loved.
One of his hands left your hip, moving back downwards to press his fingers against your clit. You could feel him trying to set a pace while also trying to keep his claws from scratching your delicate skin. As his fingers traced those familiar tight circles, you spiralled under him, walls clenching down around him as you drowned in the feeling of his skin on yours.
You could faintly hear him whispering filthy things in your ear- descriptions of all the depraved things he would do to you spoken over the deafening roar of your beating heart and the sound of skin on skin. Between words, his lips pressed kisses to every part of you that he could reach. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you neared overstimulation. Eddie kissed them away.
Mindlessly, one of your hands slipped away from his wings and over his side. Your fingers brushed something wet, a gouge in Eddie’s skin. The bullet wound. Immediately he flinched, clenching his jaw tightly to keep from crying out. You pulled back with near-inhuman speed, but the damage had been done. In your panic, you didn’t notice Eddie’s pained gasp turning into a laugh. You didn’t feel his cock pulsing inside you. As apologies spilled from your mouth, he took your now-bloodied hand in his free one.
“Damn,” he spoke over you, his voice rough and low, “I guess I deserved that, huh?”
You stared up at him, stunned into silence. Your face burned under his gaze. Even if you knew how to respond to that, you didn’t get the chance. Eddie brought your fingers to and past his lips, stealing your breath from your lungs in the process. His tongue moved around your fingers with a certain grace as he licked the cranberry colour of his blood off of your skin. The sight of it- of his lips around your fingers, drawing you in- was enough to take you to the edge. A little added pressure on your clit was enough to send you over, into a white-hot abyss.
You cried out as your walls clenched down around him. Tears stained your cheeks as your orgasm overtook you. Eddie pulled back, groaning slightly. Transparent strings connected his lips to your now damp fingers. A devilish grin overtook his features, “You liked that, huh? You came hard for me, sweet thing.”
You let out an embarrassingly loud whine in agreement, your body shaking as it came down from its high. Eddie let out a groan that matched your volume as he moved his hips against yours at a harsh and unforgiving pace.
He panted, “I’m- I’m gonna need you to use your words, baby. Need you to- fuck- need you to tell me. You can do that for me, right?”
You let out another whimper before you let out a broken confession, “I- I liked that,” he leaned in to kiss you, but you cut him off again, “But you didn’t deserve it. You don’t deserve to be hurt- unless y’know, it’s kinky.”
Eddie froze for a second. Your words had caught him off guard. As he stilled inside you, his smile changed. Everything about him became less devilish and more genuine. He broke eye contact. You could just see a pink flush spread over the pale skin of his neck and cheeks as he buried his face in your shoulder. When he spoke again, his words were muffled by your flesh against his mouth.
“You’re too good to me.”
His thrusts picked back up again, the same as they were before. He slowly placed your hand back where he found it, “Far too good.”
A sharp sting spread through your body as his teeth pierced your flesh. A fresh round of tears pooled in your eyes at the new ache. Blood dripped down your shoulder and over your chest, painting red lines down your tits. Ruby-red droplets jumped slightly with each snap of his hips. You felt him twitch at the sight of it. His grip tightened, and he made a sound somewhere between a growl and a purr.
“You’re- fuck,” his voice edged on wicked, desperation seeping in as he reached up to wipe your tears away, “You’re mine. I’m gonna make sure everyone knows who you belong to. Gonna make sure they know- make sure no one ever hurts you again.”
“Please, Eds. I want you- I want you to claim me. Want you to show them that I’m just your slut-”
Eddie felt a twinge in his chest, guilt taking arousal’s usual place. Degradation was usually fun to some degree, but he knew what people in this town called you. He knew what they thought you were and he knew the danger it put you in; and with the events that had led you here, his fear was raw. Worry burned through his head, turning brain cells into exposed wires. His lips quickly pressed his lips to yours bringing your pleas to a brief halt. When he pulled away, he whispered, “You know you’re more than that, right?”
“I know,” you leaned up to kiss him, recognizing the emotion in his eyes, “A thing can be two things. I’m a person, and I’m yours, body and soul. Just yours.”
He shut his eyes, chasing down your lips and kissing you breathless. It was sweet, not gentle, but kind- and you wanted to change that. You wrapped your teeth over his lower lip and bit down. You didn’t draw blood. You weren’t sure that you could, but you sure as hell tried. Eddie growled, but before he could say anything, you were whispering into him again.
“You’re mine, too. Remember that.”
The smile that crossed his face was blinding. Desire consumed him again as his hips moved against yours. His thrusts came faster, deeper, and impossibly harder. His eyes clouded over with lust, and you were pretty sure that if you had a mirror, you would see the same thing reflected in your own face. The want. The need. Your body melted beneath Eddie’s as he fucked into you the way he said he would- like a fucking animal.
Your body craved his- you wanted him to keep his word, to take you, claim you, protect you. You wondered, briefly, what it said about you- that you wanted your partner to commit acts of violence in your name. You brushed those thoughts away as a familiar tension began to build in your core.
As your edge grew nearer, Eddie could feel his monstrous instincts overtake him. He knew that his grip on your body was just a bit too firm, that he was leaving dark bruises and deep bite marks all over you. If he wasn’t careful, he would hurt you, but careful seemed to be the last thing you wanted. You kept begging him for more, arching your body into his, digging your nails into him. Soft, depraved pleas escaped your lips, morphing into cries as you came undone beneath him.
Eddie wasn’t sure what happened next. He blinked, eyes falling shut, and when he opened them, he was using your body with a level of violence he had always tried to keep you from.
A broken scream ripped its way out of your throat as the head of Eddie’s cock rammed against your cervix with bruising force. A blinding agony spread through you, crawling through your nerves and making you gasp for air. You could barely feel Eddie’s claws digging into your sides, barely feel it as he thrust back into you. Your thighs slammed shut around his hips. A whimper escaped your lips as your nails scratched down his back, desperately searching for purchase.
Eddie paused for a split second, looking down at you with wide, panicked eyes. He didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. He hated himself for it. You took a deep breath as he kept moving, as he kept thrusting deep within your walls. You tried to relax, to let the pain fade. You failed. You felt the head of his cock hit your cervix a second time, and you bit down on your lip, drawing blood. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you held back a scream- you couldn’t hold back your pleas for mercy.
“Eddie-” your voice broke, “Eddie, stop. Please, please, stop- I can’t-”
All pleasure had left your voice, leaving only pain and fear behind. Again, he didn’t stop. He wanted to stop- he desperately wanted to stop. He needed to stop, and he knew that. He was hurting you, and that killed him, but some shameful part of his blood-drunk mind was excited by your pain. It wanted to keep going, even if he didn’t.
In a panic-fueled attempt to end your agony, your hands pressed against Eddie’s shoulders, pushing him back. It was enough to snap him out of it and make him stop- and it made him notice the blood dripping over your lip and down your chin.
The first word to pass his lips was, “No.”
There was a deep, disbelieving horror in his voice, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, what he had done to you. He reached for you, slowly and cautiously, giving you plenty of time to stop him. When you didn’t, he wiped the blood off your face with his thumb, cradling your jaw with the rest of his fingers.
“Shit- shit, shit, shit,” his other hand came up to hover near your face. Tears filled his eyes. If you didn’t see it, you would’ve heard it in his voice. Your boy sounded so broken, “I’m sorry, baby, fuck, I’m sorry. I wasn’t careful enough. I didn’t mean to hurt you-”
“I know, baby. I know.”
“Yeah,” he whispered, “You know.”
Eddie wrapped his hands around yours and pinned your arms to the concrete above your head. He kept your fingers intertwined. As much as he hated himself for it, he didn’t want to let go. A whimper escaped you, and you watched Eddie’s face as he shut his eyes and hissed. For a moment, you thought he was hurt.
“Eddie-”
“You know that the man you love is a monster. You know that every time I touch you, I risk hurting you. You know I could kill you, the same way I killed those men tonight. The same way they tried to kill you, I could just-”
His hands squeezed yours. He wouldn’t look you in the eye. He looked anywhere else, just not into your eyes.
“Eddie,” your voice was softer, reassuring.
“Sweetheart, when I fuck you, you are being violated by a monster. If I claim you, it means that you’re owned by a monster. If we-if I got you pregnant, if you had my kids… they’d be like me. A monster just like their dad.”
He shifted slightly, preparing to pull away from you as he began to sink into that familiar pit of self-loathing. Eddie had barely moved an inch when you latched onto him further, clinging to him, wrapping your legs around his hips to make him stay.
“You think this is a violation? Eddie, I asked for this. Do you not want-?”
“Oh god. Baby, I want this. I want you, more than I should, but I hurt you. I didn’t stop when you needed me to, and that- it terrifies me. This was a mistake, I never should’ve-”
“I don’t think this was a mistake. Any of it,” you sat up a bit, just enough to press your forehead against his, “You stopped. I’m okay. And, uh… I kind of liked what you were saying. But-”
“But?”
“You really think our kids would be monsters?” you asked, “With you as their father? No way. Menaces, maybe, but not monsters.”
He said nothing, but a small smile crossed his face. He didn’t pull any further away. He just stared at you with those sweet doe eyes of his, so warm, so enamoured with you, and still so full of guilt.
It wasn’t a surprise that his mind had gone to such a place- he had killed a bunch of people moments before, fucked you on top of their bodies, and now, he had hurt you. It was an accident, you both knew that, but the guilt would eat him alive if he let it. You weren’t willing to let that happen. You hadn’t let those dark thoughts get to him in the past, and you sure as shit weren’t going to start now.
“Eddie. Everything you did tonight, you did to save me. Everything you do is to protect the people you love and care about. Tonight, two years ago, and even further back. You love with everything you have. You- are so brave, and so deeply kind, even if you pretend not to be, and if that makes you a monster, then I hope our children are monsters, too. And I hope they have your eyes.”
He remained still for a moment. His expression betrayed both his shock at your statement and his want. In the next second, his lips were on yours. He let go of your wrists, bringing his hands back to your face.
“I love you,” he whispered into the kiss, “I love you, I love you.”
You leaned up and into him, kissing him back as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, “I love you too. So much. And I want you to remember, I also killed a man tonight. If you’re a monster, then…”
He let out a quiet laugh, lips moving down your neck, feathering kisses over your skin all the way to your collarbone, “We’re monsters together, then.”
You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, “Exactly,” you purred. You paused for a second, becoming violently aware of the weight of his cock inside of you. You taped your fingers against his spine before you thrust your hips down against his, “You can, uh… you can start again now. I think I’m okay.”
“You sure?”
You leaned closer, whispering against his lips, “I am.”
He pressed his lips to yours, tongue slipping between your lips as he began to thrust into you again. His pace was quick, but not painful, and not quite so unforgiving. Your fingers reached up to wrap around the messy strands of his hair, tugging gently. He moaned into the kiss, sounding hungry and desperate once again.
As you drew nearer to your edge, your thoughts began to race. His words spilled through your mind, drowning your psyche with every sentiment he’d put forward. He loves you deeply. He’s terrified of hurting you. He’s desperate to keep you safe. You mean something to him. He’s thought about having kids with you, and you wanted him to think about that- fuck.
Your walls tightened around him. His cock twitched inside of you as he neared his own edge.
You whimpered out Eddie’s name, tugging on his hair until he pulled away from you. His brows furrowed in concern as he took in the sight of you, but you didn’t look like you were in pain. Your eyes were wide, filled with lust, and your chest heaved with every breath you took. You were covered in blood and sweat, and you were the most beautiful thing Eddie had ever seen. He felt your hands move to his face, and his gaze focused on your lips as you spoke.
“Eddie,” your voice was soft, “I need you to cum inside me.”
You watched as his eyes widened, as his lips parted in shock and a faint blush covered his cheeks. You were kind of proud that even in a moment this intimate, you could still get him to flush like that.
“You- you want me to-?”
You nodded, cutting him off and pulling him closer, “I want you to fill me up. Breed me, please.”
He shivered, a current of electricity running through him at your words. His body and his instincts screamed at him to do exactly as you’d said.
“You,” he whispered, “You’re perfect.”
His mouth slipped downwards, lips pressing against the space between your throat and your shoulder. His teeth sunk into your shoulder. Pain spread through your skin, white-hot as your blood dripped over your chest. Your muscles spasmed around him as the coil snapped. Your grip tightened on his hair. You could faintly hear him cry out in your own haze. His claws dug into you as he fell over that all-consuming edge.
Eddie bit down harder on your throat as he came, drinking just enough from you to make you see stars. His cock throbbed against your walls as his seed spread inside you, thick, and hot, and perfect. You clung to him, your breath stuttering as your muscles clenched, milking him for more.
As he finished, the monstrous need to fuck and breed you faded away to nothing. He was left with the more human parts of him after that- the parts of him that knew what aftercare was and that you would need it, the parts of him that knew he had to get you somewhere safe, somewhere away from the bodies of your attackers. Your body was limp beneath Eddie’s. Your eyes were closed, and your lips slightly parted. You were fucked out, completely cock drunk, and utterly perfect.
Eddie brushed your hair off your face. You could hear him repeating your name softly as you came back to earth. When you opened your eyes, he was hovering above you, looking at you with more affection than you could put into words.
“Hi,” he said, voice low and slightly shaky.
“Hi,” you let one of your hands move up to his face, brushing your fingers over his cheek.
“You okay, pretty girl?”
“‘M more than okay.”
He smiled, taking your hand from his cheek and pressing his lips to it, “Thank god, I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t.”
“You’d probably lose your mind.”
“Oh, I’d definitely lose my mind.”
You finally caught your breath as he kissed each of your knuckles and your wrist before he brushed his lips down your arm and to your shoulder. He let his cheek rest against your chest, listening to your heartbeat as it finally slowed down to something resembling normal.
Once it had, he lifted his head back up to look you in the eye, “We should probably get out of here, though. Get you home.”
“God, I would like that so much.”
He pulled himself up until he was kneeling, fixing his pants and passing his shirt to you. You pulled it over your head, watching as he got to his feet. He held out his hands to you and you took them, letting him help you to stand. You shook slightly, weak in the knees from both the attack and from everything Eddie had done to you. You buried your face in his chest as his cum dripped down from your abused cunt onto your thigh.
“Ah,” you hissed, “I have no pants.”
Eddie left a hand on your arm, supporting you as he stooped down to collect your torn clothes, “I guess there’s no saving these?”
You shook your head, smiling slightly as he winced.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry about it baby,” you leaned up and kissed his cheek, “It was more than worth it.”
His grin showed you his teeth. He picked up his jacket off the ground and wrapped it around your shoulders. You still had no pants, but it would be enough for now. You pressed a kiss to his bare collarbone as thanks. He tilted your chin up with two fingers and kissed you properly.
“Come on,” he whispered, “Let’s go home.”
You pulled away from him for a second, looking around at the abandoned barn. It looked like a scene straight out of a horror movie. Blood covered the floor and stained the walls. Seven bodies laid out on the concrete, mutilated in various ways. You felt Eddie’s fingers on your jaw, gently bringing your gaze back to him.
His eyes were wide- something in them was almost scared. He didn’t want you to fear him- to hate him. He didn’t want you to think that he was a monster, but the bodies in the room only led to one conclusion- and you didn’t mind it. Monster or otherwise, Eddie was yours.
“Yeah,” you brushed your lips against his, “Let’s go home.”
A grin crossed his face, and the fear faded from his eyes as he bent down and scooped you up, pulling you into his arms. Maybe two years ago, when he was still human, he wouldn’t have been able to carry you home, but his vampiric strength was at present, a gift.
You let your head rest against his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck as he stepped through the blood, out of the barn, and into the night.
-
You fell asleep on the way home. You shut your eyes outside the barn, with the moon shining above you like a pearl in an inky black ocean, and opened them in the safety of the home you shared with Eddie- Hopper’s old cabin.
It had been in a bit of a state when Hopper had given it to you, but it was more than worth the hours you’d spent fixing it. It was a safe place for Eddie to stay- secret, isolated. It was the only place you could stay without the fear of capture and torture hanging over your heads.
At least, it had been. But that fear had come too close, breaking down your door and ripping its way into your life. You had been saved this time, but the experience followed you home. You weren’t sure what would come next.
You turned your focus away from the nebulous future and towards the present. Beneath you, your couch was soft. The living room was warmly lit by a lamp on the end side table next to you. You couldn’t see Eddie, but you could hear the sound of the tap running in the bathroom. From your spot, you could see grocery bags neatly folded on your kitchen table. With them sat a bottle of cranberry juice. You didn’t know whether you wanted to laugh or cry at the sight of it.
You sat up and immediately, you had regrets. Every inch of your body ached. Your face stung from the blows you’d taken, and the space between your legs burned and throbbed. The bite marks that marred your skin stung, and you somehow managed to hit every bruise you had in the small act of sitting up.
Despite that pain, you forced yourself to try and stand. You failed miserably. Your knees buckled beneath you, and before you could do anything to maintain your balance, you were back on the couch. The door to the bathroom swung open, and Eddie burst out with a wet cloth in hand.
“Shit! You’re up, hi!”
You couldn’t help but smile at him as he sped towards the couch. He was still shirtless, wearing the same pants he’d worn while saving you. His missing shirt still covered your body and your legs were still bare. His jacket was thrown over the back of the couch beside you.
“Hi,” you reached out for him as he got to the couch. He took your hand in his, kissing it before he placed another kiss on your lips.
“Hey, hi,” he pulled back from you, giving your hand a squeeze, “Sorry, pretty thing, I was just- I was trying to get you cleaned up.”
“Oh! Well,” you reached for the hem of your shirt, “That should be a little easier now that I’m up, right?”
He flushed as you pulled your shirt over your head. It didn’t seem to matter that his cock had been inside you maybe an hour earlier, he still went red at the sight of your boobs. You smirked at him, reaching out and running a hand through his hair.
“You are far too cute, Eddie Munson.”
“And you,” he pushed you back onto the couch, throwing himself down next to you and pulling your legs over his lap, “Are far too beautiful, sweetheart.”
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your knee.
“So, do you uh- are you okay with this?” he raised the wet washcloth in his hand, “Or do you wanna shower, or?”
“Well, I would get up, but when I tried I fell, so,” you grimaced.
“I could help you,” he gave your leg a squeeze, “Could hold you, up if you want.”
You sat up, pressing kisses to his jaw, “I would like that.”
With a smile, he wrapped your arms around his neck and picked you back up. The trip to the bathroom was a short one. It took even less time for Eddie to remove his clothes and get both of you into the shower.
You kept your arms around him, leaning into his chest as warm water flowed over your back. You could feel your muscles begin to relax, knots unravelling the longer you stood there. Slowly, he started to move. His touch was heartbreakingly gentle as he cleaned every bite mark and every bruise.
In turn, you washed the sweat and blood that came with the fight off of him. Your fingers grazed his side, and you were pleased to find that the gunshot wound he’d taken had almost healed completely. Your hand remained there for a second, your touch feather-light and shaking slightly. You didn’t want to hurt him.
“Hey,” you whispered, “I’m glad you’re okay.”
He laughed a little, though the sound was void of joy, “Yeah? I’m glad that you’re alive.”
Eddie pressed a kiss to your shoulder before asking you to hang onto him. Your hands clutched onto him as he knelt before you, washing off your thighs. You took a deep breath as his hands neared your cunt. He looked up at you with wide eyes, a question held within them.
He quickly put it into words, “You down for round two?”
You grinned as he pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, “Yes, please.”
His mouth was on you in an instant. He hooked your knees over his shoulders, pressing you up against the shower wall, keeping you steady with his hands. You tilted your head back at the feeling of his tongue lapping at your arousal. You found yourself biting down on your bottom lip as his lips wrapped around your clit. Your hands moved over your chest, pinching lightly at your nipples. In minutes, you were coming undone against him. Both of you were breathless as he pulled himself away from you.
When he kissed you, you could taste yourself on his lips. You wondered if he could taste himself in you. He cradled your face in his hands
“How’re you feeling?”
“Stupid good,” you murmured, brushing strands of Eddie’s dripping hair out of his eyes.
“That’s what I wanna hear,” he pulled you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist as he kissed you a thousand more times. You let out a content hum, smiling into him as you lost yourself in him.
As the two of you climbed out of the shower, you caught sight of your body in the mirror. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the reflection of your bruised and battered body. Bitemarks littered your skin. Splotches of red and purple covered your skin.
You felt heat build within you at the sight of everything Eddie had done- and you felt your stomach twist at the sight of the things he hadn’t. The marks he hadn’t left would leave scars on your mind. You hoped they wouldn’t stain your body longer than they had to.
Eddie noticed your gaze, your eyes riveted to the mirror. He stood from where he’d been drying off your legs and moved to stand behind you. He took your arms in his hands, running them down until your fingers intertwined with his over your stomach. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, just under the bloodied spot where Kurt’s gun had struck you so much earlier.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, gently rocking you from side to side.
“Hey, don’t apologize. You aren’t the one who kidnapped me at gunpoint and threatened to break my bones by way of gun,” you shook your head at the ridiculous nature of your captors’ plans, but Eddie had a different reaction.
He buried his face in your shoulder, letting out a whine, “Jesus Christ.”
His hands started to shake against your skin. His breath sped up as his arms tightened around you.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. That never should’ve happened, they never should’ve gotten to you.”
“Hey,” you broke eye contact with your reflection in the mirror and turned around in Eddie’s hold, “There was nothing you could have done. If you had been with me, they would have tried to hurt you. Maybe they would’ve succeeded. And we needed groceries, so-”
“Then I should’ve sent Steve with you. Or Nancy, just someone-”
“I had Max. She’s arguably scarier than Steve and- oh shit, Max,” you pushed away from Eddie, stumbling as you took a step back, “Max, is she okay!? Did someone get her?”
Eddie kept your forearms in his hands, helping to keep you steady, “Deep breaths, sweetheart, deep breaths. Max is alright. As soon as she called me I had Steve go and get her, ironically enough.”
“Oh, thank fuck,” you let out a tired breath as you collapsed against Eddie’s chest, “I guess we have them to thank for the grocery bags on the table?”
Eddie pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “That we do.”
“God, I’m gonna have to call them. To say thank you. And sorry, my God,” you rubbed at your eyes with one hand, “I can’t believe I put Max through that, holy shit.”
“Hey, hey, you didn’t put Max through anything. You got her out of there. That was the best thing you could do, you kept her safe. Besides,” he moved back to look you in the eye, “Red’s a tough kid. She’s dealt with worse than this.”
“I know,” your voice was half a groan, “I still feel bad, though.”
“Well, yeah,” Eddie gently grabbed a hold of you, turning you around to face yourself in the mirror. His hands slipped back into yours, and he brought them back to the expanse of your stomach, “You’ve had, what some would call, a long day, sweetheart.”
You leaned into him, letting out a soft whine when he pressed his lips to your shoulder. You squeezed his hands, “Yeah, you could say that.”
Eddie squeezed back, “Let’s get you to bed, huh?”
“Fuck. Yes, please.”
He picked you up again, pulling you into his arms and letting your head rest against his chest. You felt a bit ridiculous having him carry you around your small home, but it wasn’t like you had much of a choice. Your legs were tired, too weak to carry you. Fortunately, Eddie was more than strong enough.
He laid you on the bed gently, planting a kiss over your new bitemarks before he crawled into bed with you. He started at your side, but within minutes, he was on top of you, his head resting between your breasts. He took your hands in his, intertwining your fingers before kissing them gently.
The two of you lay in silence for a few moments. You ran a hand through his still-damp hair, listening to the sound of your breathing and his. For perhaps the first time today, you were both breathing evenly, completely calm.
On top of you, Eddie was listening to the sound of your heartbeat, sure and steady beneath him. He had spent so much of the day afraid that he would never hear that sound again. He had been terrified that he was going to lose you- that the town that had taken so much from him would take you, too.
But it hadn’t. It had tried, the jocks had tried, but he had stopped them. You were safe now. Safe, and protected, and Eddie seriously didn’t plan on letting you out of his sight for a few days.
“Hey,” you whispered, “How did you- how did you know where I was? Max saw me get kidnapped, but she didn’t know where they took me after.”
His fingers brushed over your temple, “I could smell your blood. Almost killed me when I noticed it. The stronger it got… the more I wanted to end them.”
You leaned into his touch, placing your hand over his.
“I wouldn’t take back what I did,” he continued, “I don’t regret it. I could never regret it. But I’m- I’m afraid that all I am is a weapon. That all I’ll ever be is a weapon. The things Vecna made me do…” he faded off into silence, pulling away and rubbing his hands over his eyes.
You sat up with him, reaching out to trace his strong, scarred arms. You could do nothing but watch as a war raged inside the man you loved. Guilt slipped beneath your skin, thrumming beneath muscle and bone. Eddie had protected you- he killed for you without remorse, and you were excited by that violence. You wondered again what that said about you.
Leaning forward, you pressed your forehead to Eddie’s. He relaxed against you, calmed by your touch.
“Hey, you know you’re more than that, right?” You echoed his words from earlier, “You’re not a weapon, you’re not his puppet, you’re-”
“I’m your man,” he said, a small grin crossing his face, “Your protector. Your slut.”
You giggled, shocked and pleased, and Eddie looked so proud to be the cause of the smile on your face. When his laughter subsided, you crawled into his hold, straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands moved to your waist. You sat there for a moment, taking in his lack of a heartbeat as he listened to the steady rhythm of yours.
“You know this goes both ways, right?” You whispered, running your fingers over the spot where his wings met his back, “You protect me, I protect you? And we protect… whatever comes along. I might not have the claws or the fangs, but I’ve been told I can be a bit of a bitch when I want to be, so there’s that.”
Eddie pulled you closer to him, pinning your chest to his and holding you there as he laid back on the mattress. One of his hands brushed through your hair while the other traced intricate patterns over your back. You shut your eyes and let yourself bury your face in the space between his neck and his shoulder.
“I know,” he tilted his face to press a kiss to your head, “I couldn’t have asked for a better bodyguard.”
You smiled against his throat, “Neither could I.”
You hummed contentedly as he pulled a blanket over your bodies. The mindless motions of his calloused hands on your back pulled the tension from your muscles, making you relax. Your eyelids grew heavy as you breathed him in- the faint scents of blood and cigarette smoke overtaken by the smell of your body wash. You were so calm, unafraid, and bizarrely happy for a woman who had spent most of her day trying not to die at the hands of her kidnappers.
Maybe having sex on the corpses of your enemies was just a natural mood booster. Maybe it was the man you were having sex with.
“You make me feel safe,” you murmured, words slurred with sleep, “Always have.”
“Good,” his voice was quiet, but he sounded like he was wide awake. You focused on the feeling of his hand running through your hair, of his skin, ice cold beneath your lips.
“Keep doing it?”
“I always will, sweetheart. I won’t let anything hurt you. I won’t lose you.”
“Promise?”
He nodded, and you smiled against his neck, “Good. Protect me.”
Without waiting for a response, you pulled his skin between your teeth and bit down; hard enough to bruise, but not hard enough to draw the sweet cranberry-coloured wine that ran through his veins. His soft moan was music to your ears. With your lips on his throat, and his hands in your hair, you fell into a dreamless sleep. Eddie stayed awake through the night, keeping watch over you until the sun began to rise.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x fem!reader#x reader#eddie munson fic#eddie munson angst#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x female reader
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Your Little Hand's Wrapped Around My Finger And It's So Quiet In The World Tonight
pairing [s] : dad!dallas winston x reader
warning [s] :| im actually crying rn | biggest dad!dallas supporter actually | mentions of all things pregnancy related: throwing up
a/n [s] : requests are open!
Dallas is quiet as you stand in front of him, hands shaking. He has barely any reaction to what you told him, tears running down your face as you laid in his arms. Dallas holds you tight, hand laying on your neck protectively. Dallas Winston wasn't a ‘father’ type. After growing up with an absolutely horrible example, he was forced to live by himself, not relying on anyone. You came into his life and understood what he needed: unconsciously pulling him slowly out of the thick walls he has built up over his time on the Earth.
Dallas hated kids, that was one thing anyone could remember Dallas as. It was him knocking over their drink, taking candy from them, or throwing their poker cards everywhere; he hated kids. So, when you had found out you were pregnant you were understandably immediately worried. The day you told him, you were terrified. Your hands shaking as you told him, getting ready to hear yelling or slamming doors: but it was the complete opposite. Dallas cried that night with his hand lying on your stomach, with your hands in his hair.
You were four months pregnant, surviving the time of morning and night sickness. However, you still pushed through while Dallas would follow you into the bathroom at all moments it didn't matter either way. His hand would rub your back and hold your hair back. Dallas wasn't known for acting like this, holding his girlfriend in his arms while she was sick. He was changing in his life, and he let those changes overtake him, saddening the dumb Greasers who would try and convince him to slash tires, by saying no to their advances.
If you asked Dallas fifteen months ago about how he felt about kids, he would grumble and say how gross they were. Now, he thinks the baby with soft brown eyes and dark whisps of hair kicks her legs at him while giggling, is the sweetest creature ever. For the nine months you held her and the pain you experienced, she looked identical to her father. Same nose, lips, and big doe eyes. You weren't angry however, knowing her face would be loved just like you loved Dally’s face.
“Hey Dal’,” You say as he watches you wrap around the corner of the living room. You and Dallas saved up enough money for a small house with just enough you needed to live. Two bedrooms, one big enough for you and Dallas and one for the baby. She was named Darlene after Dallas’ mother, in hopes to remember her legacy. You thought the name was absolutely gorgeous, and she was given your mother’s middle name. “How is Darla?”
Dallas looks up at you, his finger has her hand wrapped around it, as she chews on it. “Hey, sweetheart.” You sit down next to him, and lay on his shoulder. You both admire Darla and her gorgeousness and the happiness she radiated to everyone. “She’s been great.” Dallas’ voice is soft, barely speaking above a whisper as his hand pushes back her hair. You're staring at Dally as he picks Darla up and gives her forehead a tight kiss, and then gives you one. “She probably needs a feeding now. Why don't you go rest, Dal? You've been up all day and night.” You offer but he shakes his head, and follows you to the couch where you feed Darlene.
Another thing that's shown up is his clinginess towards you. He stopped leaving you alone, choosing to go everywhere with you, even if that just includes changing Darlene’s diaper. He's been an amazing, incredible father and you're the most glad to have his support in your life. For the fact he stayed with you, and decided to care for her.
#the outsiders 1983#dallas winston imagine#dallas winston the outsiders#dallas winston#dally x reader#dally winston#dally winston x reader#dallas winston x reader#dallas winston x you#dallas winston x y/n
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A list of underrated Christmas movies for everyone who is getting tired of watching the same things every year:
This year, I wanted to make a list of a few Christmas movies that I feel are a bit underrated and under-appreciated, because I’m tired of seeing the same things all the time. If anyone has any suggestions for their own lesser known holiday movies, please feel free to include them!
Arthur Christmas: An animated movie that should be a classic, but it was unfortunately lost to time because it had a horrible marketing campaign that made it look like complete shit. Well, I’m here to tell you that it’s not complete shit. It’s actually fucking amazing.
Arthur, the clumsy son of the current Santa Claus is known for being a lovable idiot who tends to ruin everything he touches, but when a little girl’s present is accidentally left behind one Christmas, Arthur, an elf named Bryony, and his grandfather (a previous Santa…so grandsanta) embark on a chaotic mission around the world to deliver the missing present. Every character in this movie is so fucking funny and empathetic at the same time. Arthur embodies the true meaning of Christmas in everything he does. Bryony is just…on another level entirely. Arthur’s brother Steve (a strategic genius who wants to use his new technology to ensure his place as the next Santa) is a perfect antagonist that the audience still feels sympathy for. They all just have such a fun dynamic, and it’s a crime that more people haven’t seen this.
Spirited: A fairly new addition to the Christmas movie ranks, since it came out in 2022 (but it was on AppleTV+ so no one watched it). Spirited is a modern, musical version of A Christmas Carol like you’ve never seen before (starring Will Ferrell and Ryan Reynolds, who are an amazing combination in anything). If you’re tired of seeing endless retellings of Dickens' story, just watch this. It’s hilarious, heartfelt, and it brings a whole new perspective to the story in a way that I’m not going to spoil. And the songs go so hard it’s insane.
Happiest Season: A rom-com in which a woman named Abby desperately wants to propose to her girlfriend Harper over the holidays during Harper’s family Christmas party…only to realize that Harper’s extremely rich and conservative family doesn’t know she’s gay. Fun rom-com shenanigans ensue. Did I mention Abby is played by Kristen Stewart, and Harper is played by Mackenzie Davis? Also Aubrey Plaza, Alison Brie, and that guy from Schitt’s Creek everyone loves are in it.
This could easily have been a completely different movie if the cast wasn't so funny and didn’t have such good chemistry. It starts out as a standard holiday rom-com, but I was tearing up by the end of this the first time I watched it. If you’ve ever felt like you’ve been hiding your true self from your family or if you’ve felt like you’ve never been good enough for them, I think you’ll see a lot to relate to in this.
Violent Night: Another new addition to the ever-expanding list of Christmas movies, this aptly named action thriller also came out in 2022, and I feel like no one has spoken about it since, which is a crime because IT WAS SO MUCH FUCKING FUN!
When a grizzled, down on the world Santa (played by David Harbour) gets stuck in a rich family’s house while it’s being overrun by mercenaries, he has to Die Hard his way out and save the hostages (or at least the ones who are worth saving) before it’s too late. This was such a fun surprise, because violent action thrillers are so hit and miss for me personally. David Harbour is great. It’s just under 2 hours of watching shitty people get their comeuppance in unique ways. I’m so offended that it only has a 6.7/10 on IMDB, because this is a great movie to watch with a group of friends and some age appropriate beverages. Yeah, it’s not a masterpiece, and maybe my standards are low, but I had a great time with this.
Tokyo Godfathers: An anime Christmas classic directed by Satoshi Kon in which 3 homeless people (a former drag queen, a runaway teen, and a grumpy alcoholic) find a baby in a dumpster and try to reunite it with its family. This was the movie that tricked me into thinking Satoshi Kon’s other works would be just as comedic and wholesome as this one. It’s got humor. It’s got heart. It’s got twists and turns that will keep you guessing in the classic Satoshi Kon fashion. And the English dub is just as good as the sub, so you can’t go wrong either way.
Neo Yokio- Pink Christmas: Speaking of anime…I’ve talked about this one before, but I have to mention it again because it’s a staple for me every year. Pink Christmas is the Christmas special for the…anime (and I use that word in the loosest way possible) Neo Yokio…aka the one starring (and possibly made by?) Jaden Smith.
For anyone who’s never heard of it, Neo Yokio is a series on Netflix that is the closest thing to a professionally made Abridged Series we’ll ever have. The “plot” of the series revolves around Kaz, a pink haired guy who fights demons and does increasingly absurd rich people things with his robot mecha butler named Charles. The Christmas special involves Charles telling Kaz a Christmas story about the city’s Secret Santa competition for all the ultra rich people.
Look, there’s no good way to describe this one, but trust me when I say you don’t have to watch Neo Yokio to understand it, since even people who do watch Neo Yokio don’t understand it. In fact, I think it will be even funnier if you don’t watch Neo Yokio at all before watching Pink Christmas (but I encourage everyone to watch the series too, just because it’s more of the same insanity.)
Every line in it is pure comedic gold, not because it’s truly funny, but because it’s absurd and ridiculous in a way only Jaden Smith can be. I quote it incessantly while eating a Toblerone every year.
Cabin Pressure at Christmas: Molokai: Okay, it’s not a movie or even a TV special, but I love Cabin Pressure so much that I had to include this too. Cabin Pressure is a comedy radio show (not a podcast, an actual radio show) that aired on BBC Radio 4 in the early 2000s about an airline crew for the world’s shittiest airplane.
For anyone who watched season 2 of Good Omens, you might recognize the name John Finnemore as one of the writers. Well, Cabin Pressure is made by (and stars) the same person. The Christmas episode is one of my favorites of the series, and you 100% don’t need to listen to the entire series to enjoy it. It captures the humor and despair of being stuck with your co-workers on Christmas eve, but it keeps up the spirit regardless. This is another one I quote incessantly, and the whole show has become hardwired into my personality. PLEASE FIND A WAY TO LISTEN TO CABIN PRESSURE! I’m pretty sure the whole series is available on iTunes as an audiobook.
As honorable mentions, I want to include Rise of the Guardians and Klaus, because even though they have a fair amount of popularity, I still feel like people could appreciate them more. And sure, Rise of the Guardians might be more of an Easter movie, but it still includes Santa as a character, and he’s amazing.
That's all for now. Sorry these are all specifically Christmas themed, but if anyone has movie suggestions for other winter holidays, please throw them in!
#christmas movies#spirited#tokyo godfathers#arthur christmas#happiest season#violent night#neo yokio pink christmas#neo yokio#cabin pressure
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Sing me a Lullaby
Tim Bradford x reader
Warnings/Tags: character death, angst, fluff, hurt
Word count: 482
Authors note: Hey guys, don't know how this happened, but I suddenly had this idea. If my goal is to make you cry? Maybe. I did (but only a little bit, I swear). The song mentioned is Lullabye from Billy Joel.
I would say enjoy, but...
There weren't a lot of things Tim Bradford was scared of.
Still he couldn't sleep, having a hard time to calm down.
With you it was different.
Whenever he couldn't sleep you would sing him a lullaby, calming down his racing heart and erasing the horrible things he saw, when he closed his eyes.
He had seen a lot of things no one should ever see in their lives.
No matter how often he told himself that he was strong, your presence and your sweet voice that filled his head, luring him to sleep, were the only things that helped him at night.
"Goodbye my angel, time to close your eyes." you would sing, your fingers brushing through his hair as you smelled his familiar scent.
"And save these questions for another day. I think I know what you've been asking me, I think you know what I've been trying to say."
It was a song as old as you were, your father singing it to you whenever you couldn't sleep as a baby. It continued even when you grew older, until he died of cancer when you were still very young.
You knew every word of it by heart, the song having a deep meaning for you. Tim knew that, feeling honored that you decided to share it with him.
You were his save haven, his light.
So when you were on patrol with your rookie, a call turning out to be a shooting like you'd rarely seen, his thoughts were trained on you, trying to get you all out of there alive as the supervising officer.
He silently gave administrations, telling you where to go and where to position yourselves, waiting for his signal.
It should have been easy, going in, arresting the drug dealer, going back out.
But it wasn't.
When you stormed the abandoned storage hall, they'd already been waiting for you.
Hiding behind boxes you waited for a clear shot, all the while looking out for the others. Firing whenever you were able to, you shot one down, Tim shooting another one.
There was backup right behind you, Harper, Nolan, Grey, Lucy and some other cops.
When you had shot all of them down, you released a sigh of relief. Even though they managed to surprise you, only one got shot in the leg.
Coming out from your hiding spot you followed Tim and Harper, as they slowly made their way forward.
There was no one in sight, causing you to frown. But you would have never complained about something easier than it looked.
But suddenly, your body jerked forward, straight towards Tim, who's face was sprinkled with blood.
Before you could have asked yourself where the blood came from, you fell into his arms, suddenly having trouble to breathe.
Tim's eyes widened in horror, as he slowly sank down onto his knees with you in his arms.
"No..." he breathed, as you started to feel the pain. A shot rang, as you heard someone call clear.
"No, no, no, no, no!" Tim panicked, frantically pressing his hands to the wound in your chest.
He couldn't lose you.
"Y/N, stay with me!" he shouted, though it seemed to blur, as your fingers slowly brushed over his cheek, adding more blood to it as your body convulsed.
You didn't get enough air into your lungs. It was like something blocked your airways, as you struggled.
Someone called for an ambulance, as Tim pressed harder on your wound. His fingers were full of your blood, as it seemed to just seep through, no matter his attempts of stopping it.
"Y/N!" you heard him shout your name again, as tears formed in his eyes, one after another freeing themselves. "I can't lose you, please, stay with me!"
A hot tear ran down your cheek, as you tried to understand what was happening through the fog in your brain. "I-I love you, T-Tim." you sputtered, blood seeping from your mouth.
"I love you too, so don't dare dying on me now!" he gave back, shaking as he sobbed.
You felt so cold, numb.
"Sing me a lullaby." you asked of him, as you noticed how black blotches started to cover your vision.
He stared at you for a moment, speechless. But he did as you asked him to, silently praying that the ambulance would make it in time.
"Goodbye my angel, time to close your eyes." His voice broke, as a sob racked through him, tears running into his open mouth. "And save these questions for another day."
His heart wrenched, as he fell silent, trying to find back his voice, hands still pressing on your wound.
"I think I know what you've been asking me." he continued, your body hanging limp in his arms. "I think you know what I've been trying to say. I promised I would never leave you, and you should always know, wherever you may go, no matter where you are, I never will be very far."
Anther sob racked through him, his body shaking as he sung the words he remembered by heart.
"Goodbye my angel, now it's time to sleep."
He didn't know that you never heard his last words, even if they meant the world to him.
But as you lay dying in his arms, you knew he was your home. And wherever you may go, you would be his.
Always and forever.
#tim bradford x you#tim bradford imagine#tim bradford x reader#tim bradford#the rookie x u#the rookie imagine#the rookie x reader#the rookie#john nolan x u#john nolan x reader#john nolan imagine#john nolan
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SAGAU story idea
Apologies for the wrong lore or information. I don't play it, and I write it based on memories.
In which you, the player, are heavily associated with Celestia (friends? boss and secretary? etc.). You and the (bunch of gods in) Celestia have looked over this world forever. You are close, and you would bicker with them once in a while, but there are ranks between you and them.
With that being said, you know with certainty that Celestia has done many unforgivable things. No, you may be a part of them, but you refused to be one of them.
What you have seen in the game is worse, but not as bad as what Celestia came up with. Why doesn't it show? Well, that's because you interfere and reason with Celestia to tone down their ruthlessness.
Celestia is like the embodiment of a childish king who took the throne and thinks they can do anything, and you are like the minister who's trying to make the situation less worse.
The day you became a very responsible person is when the Archon war began. It was at this point where you realized you questioned why did you became friends with them.
For safety's sake and to improve the Celestia image (you failed this part hard), you didn't use any names but preferred to be seen and called as Celestia, as disgusting as it is.
When Khaenriah did something that absolutely got on Celestia's nerve, they began to plan the most horrible plan of all. That plan was to wipe out everything and restart. A failure, they said, and you, as the most reasonable of all, decided to smack some brain cells into them.
And thus, Khaenriah got destroyed, and the people turned into monsters and so on. Some few gods also lost their lives, and other troubling things began to pop up. But hey, you prevented the destruction of the entire world, and that's something.
The Electro Archon and her sibling would cease to exist, but you tweak the string of fate, and only one of them died. Sure, the nation will be a bit tense in the future because of the newly made Archon, but don't worry, you've got a plan for this, but that's for later.
The Geo Archon also lost someone just as planned otherwise. If both survived, something even more horrible would greet them if they stayed there, and you need certain people in certain areas to keep the plan in motion, so the God of Dust has to go.
Venti wasn't supposed to be an Anemo Archon, but he did because you planned it! if the rebels, the God of Storm and the God of North Wind keep doing that, everyone will be fcked. Game over. You placed the pieces carefully, and that's how Venti's background came to be.
Dendro Archon sacrificed herself to save her people from the forbidden knowledge that is spreading and same goes for her friends. This is the acceptable route because, in the beginning, Celestia wanted them to be straight up deceased with no disease. But you are very good at negotiating, and this is how it came to be.
For creating a new species of human, the Hydro Archon were prisoned, assumed control again and then died. She get replaced but that doesn't mean the new species of human would get spared from the sin. Celestia is just that sadistic and cruel. You were a bit late to the game, but you got a plan! You knew how to avert killing thousands of people. Unfortunately, at the cost of a certain new Archon's life. Again. Damn.
You have done so many things, all for the greater good. Celestia is despicable for wanting to destroy everything, but no doubt you are more despicable after all; you planned every tragedy just so Celestia don't act on their whim.
You could have stopped Celestia, but you are the smart one. You deduced that if you continue to disobey and disregard their orders and opinions, Celestia would have ditched you and destroyed everything. You love this world enough you couldn't bear to see it get destroyed.
Obviously, no one knows this. No one knows you planned the most intricate plan with the most complicated results, but when they do, it's mostly half true. No doubt that some had assumed you are the cause of the tragedy, which isn't wrong, but compared to the original order by Celestia, this is by far, less tragic.
What you failed to see is that the unknown god has dragged a certain pair of twins into this mess, and now you have to think even harder and smarter on how they are going to affect Teyvat and the future to come.
This is your previous life. Your recent life was a normal person and had a hobby for gaming. Your new life started when you woke up in Genshin Impact.
The new you doesn't know the past you, but you know the story unfolding before your eyes when you played the game as the traveler.
How does the story go when you begin your journey?
-
I know things don't line up, but then again, it's just an idea, and I'm tired.
#sagau x reader#genshin impact sagau#sagau#genshin sagau#writing prompt#trying to avoid red flag#failed miserably#you got no choice tho#genshin impact
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When you really think about it, Chloe is just a version of Azula written by people who failed to understand what made Azula work as a character.
They are both malicious 14 year old girls that have a final swan song where they fight the heros for the last time and have a breakdown when they lose. They both have neglectful mothers (but like at complete opposites of the neglect spectrum) that they crave love from, and they both have "loving" fathers that shaped them into the horrible people that they are today.
However, the writers of ATLA understood that Azula is the way she is because of her circumstances; if her father wasn't abusive fire Hitler that encouraged the worst parts of Azula's personality, and if Ursa was able to have a better relationship with her daughter, then Azula would not have turned out the way she did.
Meanwhile, the writers of ML honestly think that Chloe is a bad person only because of her choices, despite writing the exact opposite. Chloe got her ideals of Rich superiority from her Father who raised her alone for most of her life, who is also shown to constantly abusing his political power in the early seasons, but the show dosen't point out that obvious connection beyond "he dosen't punish Chloe enough because he loves her too much UwU". Chloe's mother straight up dosen't care about Chloe and acts like a meaner version of her, but Chloe is the one the Narrative treats as the big threat that needs to be stopped? Andre gets rewarded with a new daughter despite being the reason why the old one turned out so bad??
Azula and Chloe are both cogs in the evil machine that realize they are unloved at the end of their stories, but while ATLA puts the blame on the machine, ML puts the blame on the cog and it's really weird because they laid the ground work for the evil machine!
Also, Zoe is like a dollar store version of Zuko I guess.
Here's another thing that made Azula work: Her progression as a villain felt more natural.
During Season 3 of Avatar: The Last Airbender, the show acknowledged how screwed up she was mentally. After losing Zuko, Mai, and Ty Lee and being made Fire Lord only for her father to crown himself Phoenix King, Azula's sanity gradually degraded, and it was played seriously. It was clear that as evil as she was, she has a lot of issues that make it hard to just write her off as beyond saving.
With Chloe, after the betrayal, the writers ramped up her evil moments while acting like she's always been this cruel. While you could argue these have been traits she's had since Season 1, there's no natural progression to her getting worse after she betrayed Ladybug.
#immaturity of thomas astruc#iota#miraculous ladybug#miraculous ladybug salt#chloe bourgeois#queen bee#queen b#not miraculous ladybug#avatar the last airbender
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SYNOPSIS: Lyney has a patience of a saint, but he's had enough of this game of cat and mouse. This time, he wants you, and no one will stop him for getting what he wants. (2nd POV) [ IDENTITYV AU ]
TW/S: Yandere tendencies, stalking (he's chasing you), minor character death (other survivors died), emotional manipulation, Arle teaches him how to """metaphorically""" cut off someone's 'wings', ooc Lyney and Arle, gore, teeth, Lyney is unhinged
You couldn't remember what tipped him off. It could be from your actions, or it could be from what you said. Hell, it may as well be something that you unknowingly did that offended him— something that would normally not be a bother to him that became its own trigger.
Whatever it could be, you were in the other end of such a horrible fate. And alas, the last place you wished you didn't end up in had to be the one you loathed the most.
The eerie chimes of the bell echoing around the haunted town continued to plague your senses, followed by the faint meowing of the grin-malkin cats as you sprinted for your dear life.
You can hardly focus on what is there and isn't there, as all you had is to get the hell out of here and save this sinking match.
Your only task is to survive.
Survive the madness of the man that loved you in such a twisted, horrible way.
You were his rabbit, and Eversleeping Town was the location of his greatest show yet— a show that will capture not just your attention, but your own will.
Granted, the ever forgiving Illusionist made a simple deal— if you get out by any means necessary, be it the dungeon, exit gate, or, hell— even by completing the ciphers with your companions or saved by the Nightingale… He'll let you go.
However, should you go down, he would consider that as a win of his own, and that meant you cannot leave this forsaken match that you're under.
It's why you were prepared. You came with a companion or two that can assist you, even if it had its own drawbacks.
Alas, this did not stop the Knave from simply going after them first, leaving only 4 ciphers and the dungeon still hidden and closed from many prying eyes. You were clever to cover your tracks, but he is more so with removing the most trickiest companions yet.
…
Or, that's what many may think.
The Knave bas been taught from the best of the best— his "Father" has taught him of how to, in simpler terms, keep a bird from flying away in its cage.
Should Lyney need it, he needed to learn one crucial detail: he needed to learn just how to clip his beloved's wings first and keep them in his cage.
After all, if he had found a way to do such a thing… the outcome of the match will be nothing but predictable.
And the Knave thrives off of the uncertainty, and especially with being dubbed the Trickster of Eversleeping.
He'll let you off for now. He'll let you scurry around, trying and praying that he never catches wind of your antics.
After all, the moment he catches you, you will have to pray to whatever God you believed in that he feels nice enough to not take you down to his very grave.
"Now, Lyney," he could vaguely hear 'Father' speak as she handed him his cards. Gesturing right before them was the sight of someone bound in the chair. The magician stood as he saw the stranger shake and struggle, trying to say something under the gag.
"You must learn how to use your tricks to matters such as this. I'm sure it will be hard, but I have faith that you can do it."
He seemed rather hesitant to speak with how the fool was trying and failing to scream. To beg, even. It was a pathetic sight if Lyney didn't had morals... Which he had, much to 'Father's' chagrin.
Oh well. It wasn't as though having morals can be a bad thing. Maybe it was better, so she can use it to her advantage.
"Take this, Lyney."
She hands the young magician an item. One that can be used with just a bit of force.
"Now, let Father teach you how to clip a bird's wings. All you have to do is watch and follow my lead. You can do that, right?"
He turned his gaze to the taller woman, then to the item she handed to him. The sight of the iron and leather caught his attention, and especially with the ends of it's 'mouth' being bloodied.
Pliers.
He should've dropped it the moment he had it. He should have done that and not agree. It was brutal to harm another person, and he knew that.
... But his 'Father' would simply dangle the life of Lynette over his head. She could simply threaten to send Lynette off to a dangerous mission, especially one where dying is guaranteed.
Many have died, and Lyney was not a stranger to that.
However, his sister was special. She was the only one he had left, and she to him. Should she die, he didn't knew what he'd end up doing.
And so, with a deep breath, he nodded and faced his 'Father'.
"Yes, Father."
...
That day didn't end in a simple case of dental work.
But he learned how to 'clip' a person's wings in exchange.
Your chest began to heave as you traversed through the empty buildings of the town, fatigue catching up to you the more you spent running.
Although your legs ached and begged for a break, you continued running, feeling the rush from behind you— one from the grin-malkin cats.
Now, one can say that you thought covering your tracks was a skill you need to learn. And with that, you assumed it to be the case. However, you've yet to learn that it was better not to underestimate a hunter's skills.
A lesson that Lyney, a man whom you've helped when you were both survivors, would be more than happy to teach you.
As you vaulted over an open window, you felt the air grow harsh as it whipped you on your descent, your feet landing on the pavement. Feeling your muscles tighten, you grit your teeth and sprinted onwards.
Come on, I just need to get to the graveyard. I can lose him from there!
Alas, you were not gifted with the matter of stamina. Just as you've reached past the tracks of the tram, you could hear Lyney speak from behind you.
"Look at what we have here! Scurrying off, are we?"
And then, you felt it.
Pain.
The harsh hit from Rosseland, his cat, as you vaulted over the window leading to the land of tombstones sent you flying; your back soon collided with one of the worn headstones, making you groan in pain.
In the midst of your suffering, Lyney vaulted through the window, his purple eyes twinkling as he crouched down to look at you.
"My, my, my little rabbit," he tutted, chuckling as he watched you crawl away from him with no avail. "Haven't we made a deal? If you manage to escape this match, I'll let you go. But since you went down... I get to keep you. Do you remember that?"
... You kept your mouth shut.
"... [Name]," he said, his right hand reaching over to grab your neck. "Answer me. Do you remember what our agreement is?"
"... I do."
And yet it feels like it's stacked against me.
Coughing, you turned your head away from him. You didn't need to see his face to know that he was happy to hear your agreement to the matter.
"See? It isn't so hard to agree, now, is it?" he asked with a lit of his voice. "Now, my darling... Now that I have you, I'd like for you to answer a few questions for me."
Questions?
"... And if I refuse?"
Lyney laughed at that, but his voice was less composed. Perhaps it was more manic.
"Ahahahaha! What makes you think you're able to refuse, my little hare?" he asked, his eyes closed before reaching up to grab your chin. With an iron grip, he turned your head to him, his eyes open to face you with a chilling smile.
"I'd hate to have you toy with me like that. You know that, right?"
You wanted to say otherwise, but you were already incapacitated. If you ever decided to counter his claim, you knew that he would do worse than simply chairing you to one of the... Less than desirable chairs with rockets strapped onto them.
".. Fine," you breathed out. "I agree."
"Splendid," he said, pulling his gloved hand away to grab his hat. As he pulled it off of his head and turned it upside down, he reached his left to slip inside.
"Now, I don't want to you to force my hand. It's only a few questions that I want you to answer, and if you answer them truthfully... I may spare you by chairing you myself."
You didn't knew what that meant...
... Up until you saw a pair of pliers peek out from his hand, the dull gleam of iron greeting your horrified face.
"But if you lied, I'll have to resort to some more... Drastic measures."
The hours you two spent together was, in short, torture.
You couldn't count the amount of times that your teeth got yanked with those metal ones, the pain and blood gushing as you wailed.
You could count other ways that would be better than feeling metal graze and nick at them. You could've asked for simply to be drugged, to face death by his hands, to bleed onto the ground that he walked on.
However, death was not a fate worse than this. And Lyney— rather, the Lyney you see now, not the one you know of— was a man who had a manic streak hidden under that smile.
As he yanked the nineteenth tooth out of you, he turned his head down to see blood drip down and stain your clothes. He scowled and placed his pliers down with four teeth now on his right side, grabbing a handkerchief to wipe the blood away.
He knew it was pointless. You did, too.
Maybe it was a way to distract yourself from the pain, and for him to justify his actions in doing such a thing.
Alas, delusions can only take you so far, and pain is karma's many mistresses. One of many that everyone in the manor is familiar with, you and Lyney included.
"Shhh..."
He began to dab the cloth more as blood spilled and tainted the fabric, his smile empty of its sympathy for your decision to lie to him. All he could see before him was his darling, whose way, way too stubborn for his good.
And one that is good to make him lose his patience.
"I have warned you, haven't I?" he asked, his voice chilling yet sickeningly sweet while he pulled the handkerchief away. Tossing it to a direction he could care less to look, he grabbed another from his hat to continue his 'treatment'.
"If you had simply stayed truthful, you wouldn't have to loose your teeth! And yet, you didn't listen," he concluded, tutting as you sobbed and turned your head from him.
"I pity you, my dear hare. But it's the price to pay with how you didn't listen to my warnings."
When the blood stopped spilling, he placed the bloodied fabric and stared at his handiwork. From the answers he got from you, he was quite... Intrigued with what you told him.
"Now... I'm going to ask you one more time."
Grabbing the now bloodied pliers, he positioned it to your twentieth tooth, ignoring the sobs you let out and your gaze full of fear.
"Do you prefer my dear sister, Lynette?"
He could hear your breath heave as the metal 'teeth' of the pliers began to tighten.
However, the answer you gave him was interesting... Especially when you whispered out 'yes' with your greatest efforts.
...
"Is that so?"
He couldn't help but laugh. So, you do prefer Lynette, his sister... Over him? What a farce!
He may care for his sister to death, but he would rather have you than her survive to be his lifelong assistant.
Especially now that his 'Father' gave him the role of Knave, and how his siblings have been punished for trying to go against him and save that sorry excuse of magician. Himself.
"Ah, I see how it is," he said, his voice merely a wheeze as his hand shook. However, it went still and firm once more, and he gave you a lopsided smile.
"Do you remember what I've told you before, hm? Back when we were simply 'survivors' in this forsaken manor?"
Your body shook.
"Magicians generally do not reveal the core secrets behind their tricks," he said, his smile widening. "And especially if it concerns their heart. However, I may just revoke that if you call me 'Master Lyney' and swear to be my only assistant— and only me."
He could see that you were shaking even more, and the fear was what drove him mad. Alas, he knew that he might nick at your gums if he got too rough.
Not that you mind, right?
"I'm curious how much of it you'd understand," he concluded, leaning over to continue in a whisper.
"And how long you'd last, hehe~"
And thus, he yanked your twentieth tooth, causing your screams to erupt all through the barren town and the Illusionist to shiver in glee. He always enjoyed the thought of performing, but maybe he has lost it while staying here for so long.
Putting the pliers away, he hushed you and began to rock your body, uncaring of the sobbing and your blood staining his attire.
"I just wish to make a point. And I hope you understand that, my assistant."
Alas, the day cannot last forever. Lyney knew that, and it's why he decided to do one last trick.
Covering your eyes, he grabbed a crimson red handkerchief— one tainted with your blood— and covered your face. With a whisper, he pulled it away, leaning back to see his handiwork.
"And... Voila!"
He seemed rather smug as he saw teeth were back in your mouth, each one untainted and straight like new. Still, the damage was done, as you continued to sob and wail, begging for him to not do it again.
...
That day didn't end in a simple denture fix, that he's certain of.
But he utilized what 'Father' taught him all those years ago.
And that was good enough.
@.throw-letter-away | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2023
#💌 ;; message delivery#💌 ;; from: lyney#💌 ;; post: genshin impact#💌 ;; to: gen. neutral reader#tw: death#tw: gore#tw: teeth#genshin lyney#genshin impact lyney#lyney#lyney x reader#genshin#genshin impact#yandere lyney#yandere genshin impact#yandere genshin x reader#yandere genshin x you#yandere genshin x gender neutral reader#yandere lyney x reader#yandere x you#yandere drabble#yandere writing#yandere x reader
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The Long Con
I saw this tik tok edit of Rachel McAdams in the movie Hot Chick where she gets a milkshake on house (and she's just totally playing the guy) and for some odd reason this spiraled me into thinking about Conman!Steve and Mob Boss!Eddie. So here is my brainrot I guess. Maybe I'll do more parts or make something longer on ao3 if people like it.
Steve wasn't one to not think things through. Yes, he was aware that it was a double negative. He played up the dumb part quite often, but Steve wasn't actually stupid. So it was all part of the game, really.
Steve loved the game. The rush, the push, and the pull of tricking someone, getting them for all their worth. Steve loved the game because it was fun. Steve loved the game because he got to use horrible people for his very lavish lifestyle. There was nothing like living rich by feeding off the rich. Well, he was trying to do that, at least. See, Steve, although good at what he did, he burned through money faster than you could say savings. It wasn't his fault, really. He used to be better at keeping track. Always made sure to have enough, just in case. Hadn't needed to worry about anyone but himself. Because the only thing Steve truly loved for a long time was the game itself.
But then he met people along the way, misfits and criminals like himself that he couldn't help spoiling. The only person who seemed to catch his problem was Robin, but even she couldn't resist a new hard drive for her computer. It's how she made her own money, after all.
Despite his problem with spoiling everyone, Steve always thought things through. He followed the rules of the game without rules and continued to fill his pockets, scamming the deserving and cruel. But sometimes, sometimes for Steve... his abilities and bad habits sometimes, well, overlapped. Sometimes, Steve could have been better at choosing the right people to care about. He was getting better at it, he swears. He let go of the wrong ones a long, long time ago.
But sometimes they came back begging.
Tommy had been someone from his life before. Before being on his own, back when purple and blue were his father's favorite colors to paint him with. It was a time before the game, a time that, although he tries to forget, had a grip on him.
So when Tommy called, seeking forgiveness, seeking help, Steve caved quickly. He would always be that same little boy, looking for love from a past that wasn't there. Tommy wasn't his parents, sure, but it was as close as he would get.
So, yes, steve normally thought things through, but there was the rare occasion, there was the exception to the rule, where Steve majorly fucked up.
He was in Boston when it happened. Even though years ago, Steve swears he would never be going back. He's in a small diner two blocks away from main street. And he had just finished getting Tommy's money back. Steve always celebrated with one of three things: drinks, sex, or milkshakes.
And Steve wanted out of Boston as fast as possible, so he went for his quickest and sometimes tastiest tradition.
"How much do I owe you?" Steve smiled innocently at the waiter, giving his best babygirl face.
The waiter bit his lips as he tried not to stare at Steve's mouth, "It's okay, it's on the house."
Steve licked part of his free milkshake off his finger, "Really?" Steve's voice was an octave higher just for the waiter. He could tell he was someone who had a preference for men, and most likely had a problem with letting go of his masculinity. So Steve knew the more feminine, the better. Steve couldn't help the sly grin that stretched across his face when the waiter got flustered. He was an attention whore; sue him.
His waiter—huh, Andy, according to his name tag—looked like he was about to say something when a throat cleared behind him.
"Andy, doll, you might be wanting to get back to the kitchen for a minute." A deep voice said behind Andy. It sent chills down Steve's spine. The Boston accent with a slight tilt of Irish was enough to captivate him. Andy moved faster than the speed of light at the command.
When Andy disappeared, with his tail between his legs no less, the most beautiful man Steve's ever seen revealed himself. A tall, pale, curly brunette stood before him in a suit with a ripped-up band tee underneath. It shouldn't look good, and it shouldn't look professional, but it did. Steve saw tattoos peeking out from exposed skin, piercings all over his ears, and enough jewelry to start a store. Steve was bewitched.
The mystery man smiled, hands in his pockets, and leaned down slightly into Steve's space. "Oh, sweetheart, I have been looking for you everywhere."
Steve stayed silent, drinking him in; he smelt of mint, smoke, and morning rain.
The man slid into the booth, put his arms on the table, and made a little beat with his knuckles on the plastic. Then, Steve noticed the words "Hell Fire" across his knuckles. Steve's heart sunk to his stomach. He had heard of those hands before. Those hands were famous.
The man leaned his face against his right fist. "Hell" pushed into his cheekbone. "The name is Eddie Munson, love." Eddie looked Steve up and down. "But I think you've already figured that out by now, haven't ya?"
Steve steeled himself. He should be okay. He hadn't wronged this man before, but something, something was telling Steve that he most definitely had. The look in his sweet abyss of eyes told him as much.
A smirk stretched across Eddie's face, and suddenly he kicked the leather bag next to Steve's feet under the table. Steve's cheek twitched slightly for a millisecond, but it was enough to give him away. "It seems here... like you and Hagan have stolen quite a bit of money from me." Eddie tsk-tsked while Steve's heart dropped from his stomach to his feet. Tommy screwed him.
"And that love, well, that just won't do."Steve had never seen such a sweet smile feel so deadly. "So, Sunshine, I am going to make you a deal, and you would be smart to take it."
Steve wasn't actually dumb, but yes, he most definitely did not think this through.
________
Sooo thoughts? I was going to write more but if this was a flop, I didn't want to put my heart in soul into it. But I did spiral a bit with it. Whoops!
edit: I made some grammatical changes but that's it. I realized I kept switching tense changes when I was writing in present, so I changed it to past. I'm much more comfortable with it. Let me know if there are any more errors.
part 2: here
#steddie#steddie fanfic#ficlet#modern au#mob boss au#their both a little dark in this one but also like secretly sweet#steve harrington#steddie writing#steddie prompt#mob boss!eddie#conartist!steve#hacker!robin#the party is there in my mind but I'm still plotting their roles#platonic stobin#always#steve x eddie#writing prompt#fanfic#draw this#wip#ao3#ao3 steddie#criminals all of them#tommy hagan#steve harrington has bad parent#irish!eddie#boston#stranger things#the party#sorry so many tags
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mine | gf!sam carpenter x reader
summary: it's very hard to sam fight against her instincts. so, maybe she should embrace them.
pairings: ghostface!sam carpenter x mackenzie!fem!reader.
warnings: mentions of mental disorders, blood, death of a character, suicide, dark themes.
word count: 3.2k words.
masterlist | request rules.
Sam felt guilty. She felt dirty. Disgusting, even.
Ever since the attacks in Woodsboro, she felt a switch turn inside of her. I mean, she always felt a little different, ever since she was a kid; she hated sharing, hated when things didn't went her way. Hated pretty much every person alive except her sister. And she never found peace. She had to reccur to drinking and drugs to forget about those feelings, even if for just a second. It was raging. Like it was tearing her chest from the inside out. The hallucinations with her real father, the voices she heard telling her to do things, all the anxiety and panic she felt daily. It was torture, to her.
And that got so freaking worse when she met you.
Sam met you through her sister, Tara. The attacks in Woodsboro were very personal to you. You lost your sister there. Your best friend, your Liv. You guys were closer than everything. Both of you were almost the same person, like two peas in a pod. Losing her was losing a part of you. And Sam pretty much saved you back then. Physically and emotionally.
When Sam fell in love with you, she thought that all of the horrible shit she felt would go away for good. She was innocent, of course; thought that love was the solution to all the problems in the world. And it was, for a while.
She felt peaceful, she felt at home. Everytime you kissed her, she forgot about everything bad that was inside of her. It was calm. Something she didn't even remembered how it felt. After Richie, Sam never thought about dating again; she couldn't even trust people enough to let them in. But she trusted you; she loved you. There was something about you and your personality that captivated her, and Sam couldn't even figure it out what it was. She didn't wanted to. She was too busy loving you to even think about these things.
That was the scenario for the first few months of your relationship, of course.
She definetly felt a switch turn inside of her after the attacks.
Why did she felt like that? Why did it feel good? When killing Richie, stabbing him, his blood splattering all over the floor and against her face. Seeing his life fade away in her bare hands. Why did it felt right?
It was too much, for her. She had to go to therapy, against her own will. It was scary. She had to switch therapists every now and then everytime she spoke about her feelings. It was too much for them, as well.
These thoughts haunted her. She had dreams about Richie, about the feeling of his blood in her hands, the smell of Amber's burnt skin, the knife piercing through Richie's flesh. And it wasn't helpful when her father decided to show up every now and then to have a little chat with her.
"You know you wanna do it." Sam turned around, scared that someone had broken into her house, but it was just him. Billy Loomis. "It's a human instinct, Sam. It's our instinct."
She took a deep breath, deciding to ignore him, getting back to her chores. It was almost like she could feel his presence in the room physically. She heard him laugh, but promptly ignored him; getting back to cut some vegetables for dinner. "Look at you, Sam. Look how the knife fits perfectly in your hand. It's like you were made for this."
She closed her eyes shut and threw the knife angrily at the sink. "Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" She screamed, turning around and realizing he was finally gone. That was her life now, day after day. The meds were barely working, and therapy was pretty much useless. So, in a last attempt to save the last bits of her sanity, she decided to leave Woodsboro. Maybe that was the solution all along, she thought. She needed to move on, to forget about the trauma, to live a normal life with her family. And maybe, just maybe, New York City would erase all of the past.
--
Sam woke up breathless. Her heart was pounding out of her chest. Another nightmare, like usual. And as always, about you. Dreaming about your death. The thought of you dying was terrifying to her, she felt this need to protect you from everything and everyone at all times and it could be too much for her own sanity sometims.
She looked to the side of the bed, her body shaking when she realised you weren't there.
"(Y/N)?" She got up the bed and looked for you in the bathroom, feeling dizzy and anxious. "(Y/N)??"
She ran to the kitchen, hoping to find you there; which she did. You were making yourself some late night snack with your headphones on, not even paying atention to your surroundings. Her heart finally slowed down, holding the chair next to her to calm herself down. You turned around for whatever reason and saw her there, looking like she ran a marathon. "Baby? Are you okay?"
"I'm- I'm fine." She looked at you, breathless. You took your airpods off, worried. I mean, it was a common thing to see her waking up in the middle of the night; you knew she had nightmares all the time, probably everyday. You made her sit down, holding her head between your hands. "Tell me, what happened this time?"
"You were there... You were-" She didn't even had the guts to say it. She couldn't even think about you dying. "It felt so fucking real."
"I know, baby. I know." You soothed her, sitting in her lap and holding her in your arms. She felt a kiss on the top of her head, and your smell quickly invaded her nostrils; she finally was at peace now. "It was a bad dream, ok? Remember what I told you: These are only..."
"...Only dreams. You're right." She finished the sentence, looking at you, feeling finally at peace. You kissed her head again, getting out of your embrace.
"I'm gonna get you some water, baby."
"No... Stay with me." She whined, like a baby. You laughed and kissed her lips quickly.
"I'm literally 10 steps away from you. I think you can handle a couple of seconds without me, huh?" You answered, going to the fridge to grab her a water bottle. She looked straight at you, waiting for you to be done so she could finally hug you again. You handed her the water bottle and she promptly drank it; nightmares made her really thristy, for some reason. You were getting ready to sit on her lap again but your phone started ringing, making you go in its direction. "Who the fuck is calling me right now?"
You were intrigued, until you saw the number's id. It was your friend from college, Rachel. The two of you got very close ever since you moved to New York. And that bothered the shit out of Sam, mainly because you were talking to her all the time. Laughing with her, going to places with her. She should do all of this stuff with me, she thought.
"Let me guess... Rachel again?" Sam asked, kind of annoyed. The feeling she hated the most started to build up inside of her. She hated sharing.
"She's not that bad, baby. I get that she can be too much sometimes, but you really should give her a chance." You said before answering the phone. You were so naive, Sam thought. You were innocent to the point where you thought that the reason Sam hated her was because of her personality (rightfully so, because Rachel really could be unbearable sometimes). She could be the nicest, friendliest person in the entire world, and that wouldn't change a thing.
To Sam, she was competition. She was the enemy.
You turned away so you could talk to your friend more privately. It wasn't even something that important, probably just some late night movie session that Rachel was having on her own and she called to say how it was going. It was the love for movies that brought you two together; and also your shared hate of Van Helsing and the second triology of Star Wars.
Sam frowned and got up, going to the bathroom to wash her face a little bit. She was stressed. She was angry. This isn't how it was supposed to be.
Stupid. She's so stupid. She can't even wait until morning to call her? Fucking bitch.
She washed her face with a little bit of cold water, but when she was finished and looked herself in the mirror, she saw him again.
"She's so inconvinient, am I right?" He said, blood splattered all over his face and clothes. "Calling your girl at 3 AM, as if she didn't had anything better to do... As if she didn't had a girlfriend to take care of."
"Stop it." She said, quietly. She didn't wanted for you to know that Billy was back.
"Why do you let this happen, Sam? It isn't right. She's yours. Yet here you are, letting her waste your guys' time to talk with another chick. Oh, I thought you were better than that..."
"Please, shut up."
"You know what you need to do. This has gone way too far." He said, seriously. "You need to take her out of your way, Sam."
"I'm not gonna do shit." She took a deep breath, remembering all of the things you said to her when she was anxious, but this time they weren't helping.
"But you should. She's gonna take your girl away. Are you gonna let that happen, Sam? That's not how we do stuff."
"I'm not like you..."
"Don't be like me, then. Be better. Sneak away in the middle of the night."
"Stop."
"Grab your knife with you. Tie your hair in a ponytail."
"Please, stop."
"Slice her wrists and make it look like a suicide."
"Please..."
"Wear the mask, Sam."
"STOP!" She yelled, and looked up. Billy was gone.
"I'll call you later, Rach." You turned off your phone and ran into the bathroom, where you found Sam crying in front of the sink. You took the girl into your arms and caressed her hair softly. "Baby, I'm so sorry... You're gonna be alright, okay?" Sam nodded in your arms, still crying. She was scared of herself. Scared of him coming back. Scared that this plan would, maybe, come true one day.
And the worst part about all of this is the fact it seemed like a very good idea.
--
It was eating her alive. Everytime you grabbed your phone to talk to her, everytime she called. Or worse, when you invited her over to watch some stupid sci-fi movies. She could do all that shit with me. She should do all that shit with me. That was all she was thinking when she was on her way to her therapist (which, surprisingly, didn't leave when Sam opened up about her feelings). It didn't take long for her to get to the therapist's office; that was something Sam loved about NYC. She would just take the subway and go pretty much everywhere in the city.
"I don't know if I can keep doing this." She said to her doctor, whose name she didn't even bothered to remember at the moment. Other than being a shrink, he was also a psychiatrist, and to Sam, it meant that his hobby was to fill her up with meds she didn't need.
"Doing what, Sam?" The man asked. He was a nice guy, Sam thought. Mid 50s, a velvety type of voice, and was one of the few people in the world that actually listened to her.
"Sharing her. I just, I can't. It's too much."
"She's not your possession, Sam. You know that, I know that." No. He was wrong. You were hers.
"I know." She lied. "But still. It bothers me."
"And how it makes you feel, exactly?"
"Like I'm about to die. Everytime she's not with me. Everytime she spends time with another person, I wished I was dead." Another lie. She didn't wanted to die, she wanted to kill. And deep down, she knew it. She knew Billy was right; it was her instinct. But she couldn't let them take over. She had to be good. For you, and you only.
"She's a grown woman. Don't you think she is allowed to have her own life?"
"I know that. But she could do all that stuff with me. I'm capable of making her laugh, watch some stupid movies with her, or take her to fucking Madison Square Garden or some shit. I'm enough. I'm all what she needs." She said that last part in a whisper. The doctor wrote some things down, before looking at her again.
"How are the meds going, Sam?" She took a deep breath, relaxing in the chair.
"They suck. But I'm still taking them." The therapist smiled.
"That's the spirit." He wrote another thing down. "I know they can be a little bit hard on your body, but you know they help. Are you still having hallucinations?"
"Sometimes. Not like in the past, but still." She looked at the ceiling, unable to make eye contact with the man. It was a tough topic.
"When do you have them, mostly?"
"When I'm angry, or alone." The doctor nodded, making Sam confused. "Why is that?"
"These are the moments that you feel the most vulnerable, and unfortunately that's how this works; it attacks you when it knows that it can get to you." He said, without even using the term that Sam feared the most. "You can't let that happen, Sam. When you feel angry, or when you're alone, try your best to not listen to it. To not listen to him. If it gets really bad I could prescribe you something, but-"
"No. No more meds." Sam interrupted him. "I can handle it."
He nodded. The consult ended quickly, and Sam was already roaming New York City's streets after a couple of minutes. She needed to forget about all of this, in a healthy way. She promised you and Tara to stop drinking, so the only solution she had to forget about all of her shit was to walk.
She grabbed her phone, hoping you'd had texted her. Nothing. Why she wouldn text me? She always texts me after my consult. Sam thought for a second. Opened Instagram, trying to see if you posted anything. She clicked on your stories. Her heart sank to her stomach, seeing a picture of you and Rachel. Of course she was with Rachel. Stupid, fucking Rachel. She didn't even knew you were gonna be with her tonight.
"Why didn't you tell me you were gonna be busy tonight?"
You didn't take long to respond. "I thought I told you, baby. I'm just watching some tv shows with Rach."
Just reading her name made Sam feel nauseous. Rachel. Such an ugly name.
Sam responded your text lovingly, but feeling the opposite inside. All of that anger and fury came back to her. And that was only one thing in her mind right now.
--
Sam waited. 30 minutes, 1 hour. 2 hours. Nothing. You got home after 3 hours of waiting, which made Sam freaking pissed. She was supposed to be with me.
"Hey baby, I'm home! Sorry I took too long..." You got into the apartment, and Sam gave you a fake smile. You walked to te couch, where she was sitting, and sat on her lap, kissing her entire face dozens of times. "I'm sorry, okay? I know that friday's are our nights, but I'll make it up to you. I promise."
"It's fine, baby. Don't worry."
It wasn't fine. Sam wasn't really proud of what she did next, but it was the only solution she could think at the moment. She put a few drops of some allergy meds in your water, to make you sleepy; which happened in about 30 minutes. You both were cuddling while watching some stupid reality show, when you fell asleep. It was te perfect oportunity; Tara was at Chad's dorm, Quinn was at some hookup's place. It was just the two of you. She would be back before you woke up.
Sam changed her clothing. Put on the most generic outfit she could find, nothing special. Grabbed a hair tie. Put a surgical mask on, along with some reading glasses. She felt like fucking Clark Kent. She put some stuff in her backpack and made her way into the streets. She was calm. You wouldn't find out. Never.
Sam was a smart girl, she did her research. She knew Rachel's address by memory, and with a little internet help, she also found out that Rachel was freaking depressed. Damn, how can this be so easy? Thankfully, Rachel lived in a small house right near Brooklyn. It was late at night, no one was walking the streets except for Sam. The whole way there, she felt anxious, but in the best fucking way possible. Sam never felt this good before, only when she was with you. She always felt happy with you.
It didn't took that long for Sam to get there. Sam tied her hair, looking at the girls body right at the window. She was hidden behind a car, which made it easier for her to change into the outfit she brought. A ghostface's outfit.
"Put on the mask, Sam." She heard Billy's voice in her head, making her shiver. "Listen to me this time."
And she did.
Sam entered the house with no difficulty, the girl lived by herself and had a poor security system. She got inside, and did what she was yearning to do for days.
"Sam? What are you doing here?" The girl asked, after Sam revealed herself. She wanted Rachel to ser her, she wanted for her to know who was her killer.
"I'm here to gut you, Rachel."
Sam took the girl down, immobilizing her. Putting all her body weight on the top of hers. She tried to fight back but it was useless, Sam was stronger.
With a razor, she slit both of the girls wrists vertically.
The blood splattered all over the floor, all over Sam's body.
She felt a rush of dopamine immediately. It felt so fucking good. Seeing her life fade away right in front of her. Now (Y/N) would spend all of her time with me.
Sam spent some 10 minutes just looking at the girls dead body, like if it was a piece of art. She took a deep breath, grabbing a wooden pick she brought with her to clean under Rachel's nails, trying to erase each and every bit of Sam's dna that could potentially frame her. She knew it wouldn't have any, but still.
Sam got up, went to the girls computer. Wrote a suicide letter. It was pretty convincible, to be honest.
Before leaving, Sam looked at her lifelesss body one last time, her mouth watering at the sight. Right next to her, was Billy, looking pleased.
"Good job, Sam. I'm proud of you, kid." Sam took a deep breath. "No one is taking your girl away now."
⠀
tags: @laenordeservedbetter @attaccadq
#scream#scream vi#melissa barrera#sam carpenter x reader#melissa barrera x reader#sam carpenter#sam carpenter smut#melissa barrera smut#ghostface!sam#ghostface#ghostface!sam x reader
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Do the Cosmere Secret Projects Follow the Rules of the Cosmere?
[Big spoilers for Sanderson Secret Projects #1, #3, and #4!]
A while ago, I wrote a list proposing some Rules of the Cosmere--aka, trends or themes that tended to crop up in most Cosmere works. Now that I've read all of the Secret Projects, though, I had to wonder: do they also follow the definitely ironclad rules that I once proposed? Let's consider!
1. Don’t feed the children
Summary of Rule: If you try to feed a hungry child in a Cosmere book, something terrible will happen.
Off to a bad start! I don't think this rule came up at all. I don't recall any children being fed, really.
2. Once Marriage is On The Table, Breakups Don’t Really Happen
Summary of Rule: Once characters get to the point of marriage, be they engaged or in an arranged marriage or just solidly A Thing, it is rare for them to break up.
Yes, the secret projects did adhere to this rule, I think! The best example is from Tress--I remember how SHOCKED I was when word came that the Duke's son really had gotten married. I was like, "How is that possible? Sanderson would NEVER allow a couple like Tress and Charlie to be broken up by Charlie marrying someone else!" And then, of course, it wasn't Charlie at all. Charlie stayed single...until he could get back together with Tress. In Yumi and the Nightmare Painter, the romance was pretty much between Yumi and Painter--not even death could prevent that. Sigzil sadly did not have a lot of time for romance in The Sunlit Man, so the rule didn't really come into play there.
3. Your enemy will save you...if the sexual tension is high enough
Summary of Rule: An enemy with enough sexual tension will often sacrifice themself to save the other person.
Honestly, I don't think we really had this in any of the Cosmere Secret projects? The only fierce enemies I can think of would be Tress & Crow or Sigzil & the Ember King...but there wasn't any sacrifice-to-save-the-other going on there.
4. Your fave is (accidentally) queer
Summary of Rule: Sanderson loves to write characters who are deeply deeply queer without seeming to realize it.
Oh yes--this rule is eternal, and the Secret Projects did not disappoint. There's Yumi herself, Miss "Oh-my-god-I-just-saw-a-goddess," our (second?) favorite bisexual queen (does Sanderson know he made a lady bi again?). And then in the Sunlit Man, there's an exchange that I'm not sure is actually an accidental queering since it seemed so blatant, when Rebeke was asked if she was now "The Sunlit Woman" and replied "No, the Sunlit One." Is there a way to read that other than as nobinary/genderqueer?
5. Don’t trust the underling priest!
Summary of Rule: If betrayal is happening, it's probably the fault of the nearest underling priest.
Honestly, I think the only "priests" we had were in Yumi, and if anything, this was a deconstruction. The "head priestess" would be Liyun, I think, and she was horrible and abusive. The "underlings," Chaeyung and Hwanji were actually far more supportive and actually told Yumi some about what was really going on. So I guess in these books you should trust the underling priest(esses).
6. (per @twitcherpated) If there are same gender siblings, there will be a romantic triangle involving them.
Summary of Role: If there are two brothers and two sisters, they will inevitably be romantically linked to the same person.
I agree with this rule addition proposed by twitcherpated, which does crop up over and over again in the Cosmere. But in the Secret Projects, I think the only same-gender siblings we had were Rebeke and Elegy, and I don't think it works with them. Like, I suppose you could imagine a love triangle with Sigzil...but I don't really buy it. Rebeke was interested in Sigzil, but he didn't reciprocate, and Elegy was too busy loving the thrill of murder to have a romantic interest in Sigzil herself. I guess they both did want Sigzil to themselves, in a way. So maybe it does kinda work?
7. Hoid is there
Summary of Rule: Hoid likes to show up wherever plot is happening
Yes! The Secret Projects 100% adhere to this rule. Hoid is the narrator in Tress and Yumi, and he shows up briefly in The Sunlit Man. Hoid will not be stopped.
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Run from me
Warning: very vague gore at the end tried to keep that as short as possible. If you don't want to read about being chased this is not for you
Word count: 1k
Tagging: @slvt4jamesmarch
A/N: This is my first time writing anything like this so I hope it's good. Sorry if there are any errors. I tried to fix most of them, but I may have missed a few. To whoever requested this I love you so much!!!
You awake to the sound of someone knocking on the door. It's probably someone who got their room mixed up. sluggishly, you drag yourself out of bed, carefully ambling to the door. You yawn, blinking the last bit of sleep from your eyes. You don't bother to grab your phone. You plan to go back to bed anyway. It's still dark outside, and your alarm hasn't gone off.
You open the door and there's a man standing before you. He dressed like he was ripped fresh out of the 1920s. His hair slicked down, and he had a thin mustache. Your eyes scan over his outfit, a pin striped suit with an ascot around his neck, and a bowler hat to top it all off. He donned a charming smile, and you brush off the unease that settles in your stomach.
"I think you have the wrong room," you state plainly. All you wanted to do was go back to bed, and sleep the weirdness of this encounter away.
"No, I don't believe I do. if I recall correctly, this is room 74." he says, his inky black eyes never leaving your own.
Sighing, you lightly shake your head, taking a step closer to him, "this is the room they gave me, so there must be a mix up. I can even show you the key they gave me. It has the room number."
You turn around, and you're yanked into the firmness of his chest. Before you can even think of screaming, his big hand clamps over your mouth. "when I let go, I want you to run," he purred, voice molasses-smooth, and you shudder from the feeling of his breath against your ear. You don't make a noise, afraid it'll make everything more real. "And if you make it to the lobby, you get to live."
You think, for a brief moment, if you pray hard enough you'll wake up in your bed, and this will just be a horrible nightmare, but it isn't. It's very much real, and when his bruising grip is finally released you realize the only thing you can do is run like he requested.
And that's exactly what you do, you dart off, hoping that if you're fast enough you'll be able to make it out of here alive. You glance behind you, expecting him to be right on your tail chasing behind you. Strangely, he isn't. You see him back where you left him, taking his time. His gait is steady and slow. He's playing with you and that thought alone makes you sick.
The idea sends a wave of determination through you. You can't let it end here in an old shitty hotel. You duck a corner, and you're met with more rooms with no end in sight. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision. You scream out, and your lungs ache from the exertion. You feel aimless in a way, unsure of where you are going. You don't know where any of the exits were located, or if there even are any. You wonder if this is pointless; if all roads lead to your inevitable doom.
Though the assumption of what he'll do to you if he catches you pushes you on. Being tortured didn't sound like the way you wanted to go, but not dying at all would be the preferred option. You could hear him humming behind you, a faint sound. Something you wouldn't have noticed if you didn't focus. Adrenaline is pumping through your veins, and you're sure if it wasn't you would have collapsed by now.
The halls of the hotel slowly start bleeding together the more corners you turn. Every hall looks identical to another, so much so you start to wonder if you're going in circles. You slowly begin to believe that this wasn't a hotel at all, and more like a labyrinth. A place designed to swallow helpless people like yourself whole. Losing hope, you scream louder, begging for anyone to save you. You weren't the most religious, but you found yourself wishing that somehow god would save you.
The man lets out a deafening laugh, muttering something you couldn't catch. He sounded closer than before. More tears rolled down your face, your eyes flitting around searching for another person. Goddamnit, does anyone work here?
The sound of his footsteps got quicker and louder. The sound was maddening. You couldn't tell if he was right behind you, and you were too frightened to check. The exhaustion was slowly starting to catch up with you. Your feet felt like rocks, every step taking more effort than the last. Your skin is covered in goosebumps from the chill of the hotel. The flimsy nightgown you have on doing nothing to shield you from the bite of the air conditioner.
You can barely force enough air into your lungs, each sharp breath sending a rush of pain through you. You could see another corner coming up. You could only pray that you'd finally reached an exit. That maybe your key to freedom was right in front of you. You quickly discovered It wasn't. When you reach the corner, a flood of dread is washed over you. A dead end. You let out a broken sob, stumbling down the hall. The sound of his mellow hum, creeping closer and closer.
As you staggered down the hall the only thing that ran through your head was: why? Why was he doing this to you? Why couldn't it be someone else? Why is life so cruel?
When you reach the end of the hallway, you just stand there for a moment, silently listening to him walk to you. When he's within your reach you whip around, wildly swinging your arms to hit him. He catches one of your hands, but the other lands a clean strike on his jaw. You freeze for a moment, uncertain of what to do next. He regains composure almost immediately, squeezing your wrists in a tight fist.
"you did good, dear. very good," he croons and thrusts your body against the wall and you groan out in pain. You feel a searing pain in your stomach, and you hesitantly look down to see his knife buried to hilt in your stomach. You try to scream but only a wet gurgle comes out. He twists the knife for extra measure before pulling the blade out of you. You slump forward, your consciousness slipping through your fingers like sand. Right before you lose your last bit of consciousness you hear him add, "unfortunately not good enough."
#james patrick march#ahs hotel#jpm x reader#james march#james patrick march x reader#james march x reader#ahs#james march x you#evan peters#tate langdon x reader#kai anderson x reader#kit walker x reader#ahs fanfiction#who wouldn't want to be chased and killed by James???#he's so dreamy#request#jadesfic
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I know you’ve said before that you view prequels!Anakin and clone wars!Anakin as separate characters, so I’m curious what your thoughts are on Ahsoka series!Anakin are? (This ask was sent by someone who has not watched any of the Ahsoka series, so if he hasn’t shown up enough for you to form an opinion feel free to save this for later)
Hm, I don't recall having said I saw prequels!Anakin and clone wars!Anakin as separate characters befoe, you might be thinking of someone else, or maybe you meant that I have struggled with reconciling the different properties with each other--though ultimately I usually manage to do so fairly well, as I do consider them the same character and each part of the bigger whole.
The Ahsoka series!Anakin is hard to figure out how to blend in there, because I go back and forth on whether or not it really was Anakin or not, if it was a Force vision or Ahsoka projecting or truly Anakin himself, because each idea has such interesting and deliciously heartwrenching implications.
But for the sake of this post specifically, let's say it's truly Anakin in the series--he fits perfectly well with how I see the character, even after his death, because the whole point of him showing up is that he was there for Ahsoka and her issues. This version of him isn't really about Anakin's story, it's about Ahsoka's story, and right then she needed him to represent both Anakin and Vader to her, to force her to confront her fears about what he became, her loss and fear that she could be responsible for more darkness in the galaxy, and her hurt that she wasn't sure she had anything to offer other than being a soldier.
In the episode, Anakin says that she's more than just being a soldier, she's more than a legacy of death and war, because he's more than that. If this is truly Anakin, I love that for him, because being a Force Ghost is about truly letting go of all the shit you're holding onto in life, that you find balance within yourself again, that just by dint of how the Force and Force Ghosts work, Anakin has to have come to peace within himself about how he was more than just Vader, he was more than just death and destruction.
He may wear his ROTS era clothing because that's what Ahsoka needed from him, he may not be glowing blue because this is in her mind not in the real world, he may be flickering back and forth with Vader because she needed that from him, but I have no problem seeing this version of Anakin as the same as this one:
Because the most selfless thing Anakin could do for Ahsoka was show up and help her confront her fears and deal with her issues.
The most selfless thing he could say to her was: you're more than just this because, if I can be more than the monstrous things I did, you can be more than the mistakes you've made that are far less, because that's what she needed to hear.
The most selfless thing he could do was dig into his own horrible past and say, yes, this happened, it's part of me and thus part of you, but you can heal from this, because I know you loved me and you weren't wrong to do so, you're not wrong to love someone even though they did so much wrong.
She comes out of her vision with a new peace beginning to settle inside her and, given how much Anakin worked to drag himself out of the dark and let his attachments go, let his fears go, and embrace compassion for others again--it's a beautiful continuation of everything with Luke, with being willing to embrace compassion for the children who come after you, the ones you're meant to protect and teach and guide.
Maybe it wasn't perfect, maybe there was still some sadness in him or fear of how she saw him, some crankiness that she wasn't learning the lessons he was trying to each, but ultimately I see him as being there entirely for her, not for his own closure, but for hers, because she needed him, so he was there for her.
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