#the far flashbacks and flash forwards | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

archiveikemen · 2 months

Text

Ellis Twilight Main Story: Chapter 1

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

[ Ellis POV ]

— What is happiness?

The moment I burned that image into my eyes, it changed like the colours of the sky at twilight.

Even though it left a deep impression in my heart that would stay forever, I can never get the exact same feeling ever again.

Time, stop.

So that this happiness will never fade.

…

[Kate POV]

(Starting from today, I’ll be under the surveillance of “Crown”, a group of assassins who conquer evil with evil.)

(My job as a “fairytale keeper” is to document their sins— this is my only lifeline.)

I tidied myself up in front of the mirror and gave myself another encouraging pep talk.

(It honestly scares me to think I’ll have to watch them “sin” again, but…)

(So far, I’ve had my fair share of harsh situations; from handling customer complaints at the post office, to making deliveries at extremely chaotic scenes of carnage.)

(Everything will be fine. I get through this, one way or another.)

Kate: Only for one month. You can do this, Kate. You’ve got this. … Alright.

Saying words of encouragement to myself as though I were chanting a scripture, I opened my room door and took an enthusiastic step into the hallway—

…

???: Whoa.

Kate: Kyaa!?

The tip of my nose bumped into the chest of someone who was standing in front of my room.

Kate: I-I’m so sorry…!

Ellis: I’m sorry too. … Are you hurt?

(Ah… this man is—)

– Flashback Start –

Last night, I found out about the Queen’s secret group of assassins “Crown”.

Harrison: … Now that she’s known way too much, what do you intend to do with her, Victor?

Victor: Hmm. Let me think…

Ellis: Do we kill her?

(Wha—?)

Ellis: She doesn't look happy at all, but I’ll do it if it’s for work.

– Flashback End –

(He was the first person to suggest killing me.)

(But, after that…)

– Flashback Start –

Ellis: I’m Ellis.

Kate: Nice to meet you… Ellis.

Ellis: Mm… nice to meet you too. I often go out of town with Jude to attend to some business, but I’ll make you as happy as possible while I’m here.

– Flashback End –

(Why is Ellis standing in front of my bedroom…?)

(Oh, right. My surveillance has started.)

A single wrong move could cost me my life.

Memories of the amount of fear I felt the night before flashed into my mind, causing me to straighten my back sharply.

(I can’t keep my usual attitude.)

(This is a whole different world I’ve stepped into.)

Kate: Ellis, right? I look forward to working with you from today on.

Ellis: Yeah, I’m Ellis Twilight. A pleasure to meet you too… also, there’s no need for you to be so tense.

Ellis gave a small chuckle and peered into my face with a concerned expression.

Ellis: … Your nose is red.

Ellis: Sorry for that. The door flew open right when I was about to knock, so I couldn’t dodge in time.

He leaned against the door with a long, slender arm.

Hidden behind his curly hair was a pair of eyes the colour of twilight — just like his name.

Surprised by the sudden lack of distance between us, I gasped and hastily apologised.

Kate: It's not your fault! It’s mine for getting too motivated and jumping out of my room…

Ellis: Motivated? What for?

Kate: Ehh!? Uhh…

(“I was giving myself a motivational boost because I was afraid of living together with the people here.”)

(I can’t say that to his face…)

Kate: It’s kind of like being transferred to a department I know nothing about… um…

Kate: HURRAH! Something like this…!

Ellis: Hurrah…

Ellis blinked in surprise.

(That sounded too unnatural…)

Ellis: … You’re so cute.

Kate: Uhh… it’s fine, you didn't have to cover for me…

(I should be relieved he could find an excuse for me, but it’s still embarrassing…)

As my gaze wandered around my surroundings, searching for somewhere for me to go, Ellis’ face turned serious again and he whispered to me,

Ellis: I want to assign you your very first task in this “new department”... may I?

…

Kate: — Wow…

(What a beautiful garden.)

Ellis led me outside to the castle’s courtyard…

Before me was a large English garden that looked very carefully maintained.

The seasonal flowers were in full bloom, filling the air with a heavenly smell.

(Last night, this castle towering over me appeared solemn and dangerous, and yet…)

(It also has such a peaceful place in it.)

I followed behind Ellis along the path while admiring the beautiful garden, until we arrived at a gazebo.

Tea and scones were arranged on a table, it seemed like there was a tea party about to begin.

Ellis: Here.

Kate: Uh… t-thank you.

I was puzzled when Ellis pulled out a chair for me, but I took a seat as invited and he went to sit opposite me.

(He mentioned something about giving me a task just now…)

Kate: Is this where my first task will be?

Ellis: Yup. … Your first task is to have breakfast together with me.

(... Huh?)

Ellis: Tell me about yourself while we enjoy the delicious food. I’ll tell you about myself too.

Ellis: If you write them down, it’ll count as a “Fairytale Keeper” report. Right?

Kate: I’d appreciate that, but… wouldn't that be too much of a bother to you?

Ellis: I don’t think so. Why do you ask?

He seemed to genuinely want to help me.

Ellis: I’ll tell you about the other members of Crown too.

Ellis: I know it must be terrifying to live with people who are complete strangers.

Kate: …!

(Could it be that my “first task”...)

Kate: Did you invite me here to soothe my nerves?

Ellis: … You’re partially right.

Kate: “Partially”?

Ellis: The other reason is that I want to chat with you. … So that’s where you’re partially wrong.

His lips lifted into a faint smile.

(Was the impression I formed of Ellis last night all a misunderstanding?)

Last night, I felt uneasy — like something was staring at me from the darkness, giving me the chills.

(I’m not getting that feeling from Ellis in front of me right now.)

(Perhaps last night’s uneasiness was only because I just witnessed a murder scene…)

I pushed those thoughts aside, deciding not to bother with them.

— Thinking back to it later on, I realised that was a mistake.

(Anyway, Ellis made the effort to make all these arrangements for me.)

(I should accept his offer and hear him out.)

Kate: Thank you, Ellis.

Ellis: I didn’t do anything to deserve your thanks.

Ellis: Do you like sweets? Victor baked these scones this morning.

Kate: Oh? Victor can cook…?

Ellis: Yup, it’s a hobby. Al is a good cook too.

Ellis: Al taught me to make clotted cream previously, so I made this myself.

Ellis: I bought this jam because Liam recommended it to me.

Ellis: As a stage actor, Liam always knows what’s popular.

Ellis: This meat pie is from the restaurant Roger took me to for lunch a while back. He treats me to meals often.

Kate: Whoa, slow down a little. I want to write all of that down…!

I took my little notebook out of my pocket and started jotting down the things Ellis told me about the members or Crown.

Kate: Oh, I know about that apricot crumble place too! It’s always busy with lots of customers.

Ellis: I bought it together with Harry. He may not look like it, but Harry has a sweet tooth and has an eye for good dessert places.

Kate: Fufu… the members of Crown seem very close.

(Even though they made me feel as though we were people from two very different worlds…)

(At the end of the day, they’re just human beings living in the same London as I am… and that feels somewhat reassuring to know.)

(This is all thanks to Ellis.)

Ellis: Kate.

Kate: Yes…?

With natural movements, Ellis reached his large palm towards my face—

Ellis: … You got cream in your hair.

Kate: Huh? Oh…

(I really did get cream in my hair. I didn't notice.)

Ellis gently tucked my hair behind my ear.

Kate: Thank you.

Ellis: You’re welcome. … Is the food so delicious that you got too absorbed in enjoying them?

Ellis rested his chin in his hand and gazed at me with a smile.

Kate: … Yes, it’s delicious.

Ellis: Glad to hear that.

(Being able to pull off this sort of thing so effortlessly… Ellis must be very popular with ladies.)

I suddenly became conscious of my heart beating faster and tried to calm my racing heart.

Kate: You put in a lot of effort into setting up this breakfast, and you’ve also been very concerned about my wellbeing so far…

Kate: Why are you being this kind towards me?

(I don’t remember doing anything worth receiving such kindness from Ellis for…)

Ellis: It’s because you’ve been looking unhappy since last night.

Ellis: I only want the people around me to be as happy as they can be.

(That’s all…?)

(But I’m merely a stranger to Ellis…)

Kate: Do you treat everyone the same way? Even complete strangers?

Ellis: Huh…? Hmm… I don’t think so.

He seemed bewildered by my simple question.

(Ellis is indeed a rather strange person.)

(But…)

Kate: … This makes me happy.

(I definitely feel much more at ease now, thanks to Ellis.)

Ellis: I see… I'm glad you don't find it unpleasant.

— My feelings of wariness melted away by the end of our pleasant breakfast together.

Ellis: Are you a fan of theatre?

Kate: Yes. Actually, I volunteered to do an extra shift last night to earn some extra cash for tickets to a play…

Ellis: Fufu… you’re quite a passionate fan.

My conversation with Ellis went smoothly, like we’ve been close friends for a long time.

Just then, I heard another set of footsteps.

Victor: Hi! It’s looking lively out here!

Ellis: Victor.

Kate: …! Good morning.

Victor: Ah, no need to stand for me! I didn't mean to interrupt your conversation.

Victor: Ellis offered to help prepare breakfast this morning… did it make you feel better?

Victor gazed at me searchingly with a smile.

The air of mystery I sensed around him last night vanished, leaving only the feeling of warmth from his eyes resembling gemstones.

(My “first task” from Ellis must’ve really helped soothe my nerves.)

Kate: Yes. It’s all thanks to Ellis and the delicious scones you baked.

Victor: …

Victor looked slightly surprised when I thanked him with a smile, but his expression quickly switched into a bright smile.

Victor: Your relaxed smile is basically saying “I’m so happy to be Crown’s exclusive fairytale keeper”!

Ellis: … She never said that.

Kate: … Fufu.

My shoulders shook a little as I giggled at their exchange. Victor’s eyes narrowed.

Victor: Now, there are two things I ask of you, our fairytale keeper. One is to keep our secret, and the other is to record our sins.

Victor: The first task is very straightforward and I see no problem with it; but I don't wish for you to be confused by the second task, so I’d like to guide you a little.

Victor: May I give you a brief explanation of the task?

Kate: Yes, please.

Victor: It’s not a difficult job, actually. All you have to do is to observe the members and record what you think is a sin.

Victor: I leave it up to you to decide how you’d like to do it.

Victor: You can rotate amongst them and observe multiple members, or you can focus on just one member and accompany him in his activities.

(Observe the members of Crown, and the method is entirely up to me… I see.)

Kate: Understood. … Um, may I also know to what extent I’m being watched?

Victor: Even though we say we’re keeping you under surveillance, we don't wish to restrict your freedom. Except going outside alone, you’re free to do as you wish.

Victor: You may be asked to follow us on missions sometimes, but your free time is yours to spend freely.

I nodded, relieved to know that I wasn’t being watched as strictly as I had expected.

Kate: Understood. Thank you for the clarification.

Victor: … To be honest, I was surprised to see you smile just now. I never expected to see your smile so soon.

Victor: We’re an organisation that commits terrible deeds and we had you witness a horrifying scene last night, so I thought you wouldn't exactly feel “at ease”.

Victor gave me a cheeky wink.

He then squinted his eyes like he was looking at the sun.

Victor: I hope that the darkness you’ll be subjected to against your will from now on, will never steal your smile.

Strangely, because of the tone of his words, I couldn't dismiss them as a lie.

(There’s no denying that the members of Crown are scary people who kill without hesitation and dwell in the shadows.)

However— at the bottom of my heart, I had a feeling that I’d understand them better if I just looked closely enough.

Victor: Well then, I shall take my leave. Being the Queen’s Aide is quite busy.

It seemed that Victor was only there to check on me, and so he left the garden without joining us at the table.

(I have to closely observe the members of Crown if I want to record their sins, right?)

If that’s the case— I think my best option would be to start with getting to know Ellis.

That thought came to me almost naturally.

Kate: Um, Ellis… what are your plans for today?

However, I was interrupted by someone’s voice.

Jude: What are you doing, slacking off when you have work to do? I’ll punch you.

Ellis • Kate: !

The deep voice startled me, making me jump.

(This voice—)

I timidly turned around to see Jude standing there with his arms crossed and looking clearly ticked off.

(H-He’s furious…!)

Ellis: Sorry, I’ll go right away.

Ellis shot Jude a casual glance and responded without even leaving his seat.

(He’s so relaxed about it…)

Jude clicked his tongue and strode out of the garden with a flip of his jacket.

Ellis: … There you have it. My plans for today.

(Jude is the president of the trading company Ellis works at as his assistant… right.)

(I intended to observe Ellis today, but I guess I’d be better off postponing that plan.)

Kate: Thank you for taking time off your work for me. Good luck at work.

Ellis: ...

Ellis stared at me in silence, pondering about something—

Kate: Uhh?

Ellis: If it's okay with you, do you want to come along?

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #otome #cybird otome #ikevil main story #ellis main story #ellis twilight #aikm translation

75 notes · View notes

biceratops7 · 1 year

Text

… let’s talk about “Arrival”

So I was fully intending on making a more general but thorough peruse through the new Good Omens title sequence, because my FUCK aren’t those always a gold mine. But then I thought to myself, “hey wait a minute, I can be even more unhinged and on brand.”

Something I’ve seen nobody talk about yet is that the movie that the procession is marching into is The Arrival, which is a 90’s movie that draws a pretty straightforward parallel. But I think if it doubles as a reference to 2016’s Arrival, THAT has some much more interesting implications. Either way this reference is doing some heavy lifting.

For those who haven’t seen the movie (or that one philosophy tube video about it lol), the basic plot is that a group of aliens later named heptopods arrive on earth scattered across the world, and just kind of invite humanity to check them out. Each country hires a team of linguists who are all tasked with figuring out what the visitors are here for. But the thing is, it’s only about aliens on the surface level. This is really about communicating, cooperation, and how language holds the power to alter your very fabric of reality.

Spoilers for the movie:

Two major revelations occur towards the end of the movie. The first is that an element of fluid time is revealed. Throughout the movie, the main American linguist has been having flashbacks to a daughter that passed away of an illness. But since the heptopod language has no regard for chronological order, we learn that these are actually flash-forwards when she becomes nearly fluent. In other words, learning heptopod, having a genuine curiosity and even compassion for these vastly different beings. has given her the ability to perceive reality in ways thought previously impossible.

Even before noticing the Arrival reference, I’ve been side eyeing these “flashbacks”, but this and the image above confirmed it for me. Any instance of the word “becoming” when talking about the past indicates some sort of fluid time nonsense. The past is fixed unless something ✨happens✨. I don’t think these are simply memories, I think something rather cosmic instead is afoot.

But it’s more than just “there’s probably time travel in this” though. Simply having Aziraphale as a companion has changed Crowley. It’s given him an ability that he’s not meant to be capable of as a demon. He already had it in him to be good and have mutual relationships based in trust and kindness, I’m sure all demons can if given the right nurture… but Crowley is experiencing love. In the show, something tangible to the senses and distinctly angelic. I’m very much hoping that that whole element of things is going to somehow be a driving factor in what’s occurring over all, and possibly involved in time going screwy.

The other element of Arrival’s ending that’s of import, is the heavy emphasis on the importance of cooperation. First of all, we learn at some point that not every country has the same message to decipher, they each have one piece of a whole. Some of the countries begin using games to communicate with their heptopods, and this poses a problem because it causes messages to be more easily interpreted as hostile. For example, the phrase “we brought a tool” can be easily misconstrued as “we have a weapon.” Eventually, the world gets impatient and scared, and a war is imminent. What finally leads to everyone putting down arms and cooperating, is the American linguist sending a message to the Chinese linguist saying “in war, there are no victors, only widows.”

Something noteworthy about this particular march is that the procession never splits like it does at the end of the first season’s. Not only are both angelic and demonic figures marching into the light atop a mountain as a United front, but this actually seems to be a theme this season. Heaven and Hell aren’t working together as far as we know, but they are at least working towards the same goal, which for some reason is getting Gabriel’s ass. There is also a heavy emphasis on mending broken relationships, with Crowley and Azirphale trying to fix a (probably) lesbian couple literally being the B plot.

Now this is where we bring in what’s actually on the movie screen, which is that damn box. So at this point we know basically nothing about it accept for it probably being a Mcguffin. But we DO have the imagery of three feathers, a black one, a white one, and a bluish grey one, falling into it… and it sure as fuck looks like a moving box. So back to arrival, what actually was the message? The heptopods told the linguist that they’re here to help humanity (via giving them a tool or new tech I think?) because in 3,000 years, they will need humanity’s help. So with this and the world eventually being inspired to stand down and share their pieces of the message, it’s this over arching theme of setting aside fear of the other and cooperating indefinitely for the benefit of the whole. The black feather, the white feather… and then something that is somehow both yet entirely unique.

I think… somehow, someway, this season may culminate in Heaven and Hell reconciling. Whether it be against a common enemy, for a shared goal, or in love, there seems to be many clues both symbolic and literal that show them learning to be one again. Learning to understand eachother’s language and see new ways of being neither before could fathom.

#by the way the last image (not the meme) are Aziraphale and Crowley circling eachother in a dance like pattern… like twin stars…#so close they may from a great distance appear as one…#good omens #season 2 #speculation #meta #analysis #ineffable husbands #Aziraphale #Crowley #arrival 2016 #season 2 title sequence #biceratops

294 notes · View notes

joelletwo · 3 months

Text

reading thru the The Final utsuro fight visuals with the vocabulary i gained while liveblogging gintama

[VD: the section of the fight that has gintoki and utsuro-in-takasugi's-body slide through reanimated flashbacks to past scenes of the series that cast them as past versions of themselves, shouyou, and takasugi]

bc the maths is insanes

the initial flashback is to their immediately previous silver soul fight - the casting of the conflict as unending, progressless, in utsuro's favor. have either of them appreciably changed since then? is anything different? what is initially an incomplete brief flash - with utsuro still inhabiting takasugi - solidifies when he regresses to his original body and begins to more effectively counter gintoki. utsuro remains on the right throughout.

direct cut from there pulled further back in time to gintoki's immediately previous fight with takasugi's body in shogun assassination - takasugi on the right, giving utsuro in his body the power of Unconscionable Violence (senseless, gleeful, and knowing you well enough to perpetrate it) (joelletwo tags on squeaky toy video, 2023, repeated endlessly every day since)

but it's mutual - gintoki also knows you well enough to turn the tables and get the upper hand back

(not that this meaningfully stops you for long).

direct cut from there slightly forward in time to gintoki's first fight with utsuro in the immediately following farewell shinsengumi, where the revelations overwhelm him and reduce him to being fueled by the pure instinctual anger of The Demonic, a state of losing yourself and your ability to fight effectively (reductionisms, 2023),

conditions where it's all you can do to hold out against an enemy that represents something so big in your psyche,

which he knows about, since he's been that for you before. back in time again to the first (onscreen) takasugi confrontation, right before taking advantage of your precarious mental state to punch you out of the plotline (kraniumet tags on yamameta post addition, 2022)

but utsuro keeps a vice grip on control of the story, surfacing back into the present to stop and reverse his fall mid-air so he can stay anchored in the battle with gintoki,

meaning he remains vulnerable to the weaknesses of the body he's in, which only ever exists anymore in one memory - you're unable to move, only to witness. a third figure is introduced, who is more you than you here, while gintoki remains himself.

the you more you than you accepts death while you watch it approach with helpless despair and terror.

the collapse of utsuro back into the body he inhabits in present invites a re-examining of the series of flashbacks thus far - where the perspective of who controls the focal memory seems to flip from utsuro to gintoki back to utsuro here, does it? the farewell shins->festival transition is 1:1 substitutional, working out so that utsuro-as-takasugi winds back up on the right.

but it isn't utsuro borrowing a strength of his like Violence here - it's, just like in the execution, succumbing to one of his weaknesses. flipping between the two scenes, takasugi's derailing fear of gintoki as a figure becomes gintoki's of utsuro. there's a double elision of takasugi (missing from farewell shins due to his fight with gintoki) so that utsuro becomes both gintokis - making him both the one who looms large, and the one who is destabilized by.

gintoki signifies something huge to utsuro, after all.

he takes up the role he had back then, the one you assigned him from the start, because half of his time always exists in that one moment now as well.

being the one who acts on the story and moves it forward, brings it to an end.

the regression through history continues to child against unbeatable teacher, again the question of if either of you has grown since you met. gintoki becomes the underdog challenger on the right.

the refusal to give up an unwinnable fight, no matter how many times it's tried, the even-back-then way that gintoki becomes a shouyou figure for others, fluidly shifts you forward in time.

the reverse shot, the perspective flip - the identity lines cross.

he drags you through time with him, until you're someone he knows how to beat.

(because, again, you know each other so well as to be losslessly interchangeable, for two opposing souls in the process of finding themselves - conquering themselves - to become indivisible.) (reductionisms translation, 2024) (yamameta ouroboros poem, 2023)

and even when you win - earn by ceaseless trial and effort the right to play his trick back on him and dethrone/defang him by pushing him literally out of frame - ...

he learns from you as well and pulls himself back in by your anchor.

#gintama #sopping wet gintoki posting #undescribed #borrowing the power of gay love to beat ur dad......................... i guess #the kind of thing i could ramble on abt for 5 million words trying to untangle everything i think about. the connections here..............#but i limit myself kjsdfg so i can come back and use this as a reference for my own confusion lol. this sequence. makes me ILL #videos

65 notes · View notes

curiositydooropened · 7 months

Text

Wildfire • Searing

A trip to the Ether brings force new pain and horrors, and you spend time in quarantine remembering truths of the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Chapter Wordcount: 9,356

Warnings: There's a flashback this chapter! I marked it off and hopefully it's easy to understand, but please let me know if it's confusing! Thank you! • enemies/rivals to lovers, second chance romance, slooooowburn, made out scene that goes nowhere fun, unrequited love, so much pining, blood, gore, character death, best friend!disabled!Eddie Munson, character injuries, trauma, PTSD, hallucinations, drowning, concussion, hurt/comfort, fire, panic attacks, insomnia

Fic Masterlist • Navigation • Masterlist

Chapter Four: Pyre • Chapter Six: Combustion

---

NOW

September 1988

Byers hummed under his mask, the low rumble of his chest against your arm that shook like the truck bed over treacherous and unpredictable terrain. Your eyes were closed in attempt to quell the nausea of motion sickness. The soft vibrations of the boy’s voice combined with some foreign sixth sense you could feel in the marrow of your bones, steeling the claws of terror that shredded your esophagus.

The truck came to a halt, and you peered one eye open to take in your surroundings. The streets of Hawkins were black on a still night, moon casting shadows down alleyways and across the back side of The Hawk’s marquee. Harrington pulled himself to two feet, reaching a hand to help you up. You took it, pack weighing you down.

“Argyle, radio on?” Nancy hopped from the tailgate and spoke into the receiver clipped to her shoulder strap. Her voice echoed to the one on your chest, and Steve’s, a handful more of Scorch team as you all stepped onto pavement, dust kicking up at your heels.

“Copy that, Scorch lead,” Argyle repeated, and then you heard the slow crank of his window before he shouted. “Hey, be careful out there. I’m just a call away.” His demeanor had sobered entirely.

Jonathan met him at the window, and they exchanged an intimate handshake.

You had to look away.

Your breath tasted of oxygen from your tank and tequila without the buzz, adrenaline taking over and burning through the calories before it could hit you properly. Your ears rang a bit, struggling to focus on the crunch of asphalt beneath your feet. You were moving before you’d even realized, a steady walk.

Something tingled in your fingertips, a magnetic pull. You halted your steps and clenched your fist, released, clenched again. With a frown, you glanced forward at the gaping wound in concrete, a pulsating wall of wet and vines, a whisper that sounded like home.

Something snatched your wrist, and you pulled back to find Steve’s eyes on you, big brown and worrisome.

“Alright, we go in, find the source, torch what we can, and get back to the Gate.” Nancy’s voice cut through the air. She stood before the gash in the wall, the steady pulse of red flashed across slender features. “Stay in your groups. Watch your feet. If anyone gets bit, you call for immediate quarantine.” She paused and looked out on the group before her before saying, “Stay alive.”

The torch end of her gun split through the thin membrane, and the vines began to slink away, leaving the space gaping and cold. Again, it pulled you to it, tugged on your sleeve opposite Steve’s grip, led you forward.

“Hey, are you good?” He asked, voice low, breath too warm against your ear. He sounded underwater.

You grit your teeth and offered a curt nod, pulling him with you through the gash. That swoop rocketed your stomach, but backwards, a tug at your navel that felt right, like pieces were falling back into places, like someone had reversed the fall of a Jenga tower. The bits that wobbled and swayed now firm and planted like your boots to the grey matter of the Ether.

“Steve,” Jonathan called, far off. “You two are with us.”

—

The Ether was a desolate landscape of ash and ruin. Vines overtook the charred remains of your comrades and their own kind. Not as thick as they had been, dust remained, still in the damp atmosphere. No wind kissed at cheeks. No cloud moved, an overhead shadow of burgundy and black.

You felt the next quake before it settled, a buzzing in your fingertips, a rumble in your stomach. The only movement in a statuesque world. Then the asphalt rolled, cracked. You gripped Steve’s shoulder strap to hold him upright as Nancy and Jonathan barreled into one another for support.

Nancy shouted orders, muffled by her mask, but you watched her two fingers pointing for cover. Northbound, a semi upsized, jack-knife becoming a rickety shelter.

One-by-one, you filed in on unsteady footing, the Ether quaking around you. The crackle of broken limbs split the air as widow makers were shaken from nearby trees, branches stabbing into decaying Earth at right-angles. A power line groaned and snapped, loose line slapping against asphalt a handful of meters away.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Steve asked, voice too loud, breath fanning your ear.

“Sign’s He’s back,” is all Nancy could muster before her hands came flying near your face. You crouched out of her way just in time to see her slapping Steve’s mask back onto tanned cheeks. “Keep your mask on.”

“You mean signs like an Earthquake…” Jonathan snapped. Mid-word, the low rumble stopped, settling your stomach, an ache in your knees.

“Let’s keep going,” Nancy instructed, peeling herself from beneath the truck bed to scout the road once more.

“Do you feel anything?” Steve’s voice came muffled this time, still inches from your cheek, and you felt his hand, once again, around your wrist. He held you back, allowing the other two to gain quite a distance.

You swallowed, adjusted your straps. You felt everything: the prickle of your skin beneath his clammy fingertips, the damp chill of stagnant air, that all-to-familiar set of eyes between your shoulder blades. The smell of death and decay somehow stronger.

Steve stepped into your sight line, jaw tight, brown eyes full of worry. His plastic mask cut into the bridge of his nose, past smile lines you hadn’t seen in years. He released your wrist, but the steady burn of his knuckles against yours grounded you, pulled you right-side up.

Then you heard her voice. Vickie spoke your name. Her breath fanned your cheek. Her nose nuzzled your ear, sent chills down your spine.

Steve had heard her too, maybe he’d even seen her. You watched as brown eyes went wide, face flashing in terror. He lurched forward, forearm shoving at your bicep to get you out of his way. “Jonathan!”

Everything else happened in slow-motion: the turn of your heel as you crashed to the ground, pack weighing you down and bouncing off cold asphalt, Steve’s footfall echoing as he scrambled for the trigger. Fifteen feet away, a demodog crouched on its haunches, flower-like face opening one petal at a time, claws extended before it sprung.

Jonathan Byers cried out, a sound that pierced the dull throb at the base of your skull. The meat of your palms turned to pulp as you caught yourself, hands and elbows bloodied, but the taste of iron filled your mouth like copper pennies, mixing with saliva and the soft meat of human flesh.

You sputtered, spraying the pavement red, and scrambled to your feet.

Steve kicked at the beast, hard, sending it flying from the gaping wounds on Jonathan’s side. It caught itself in a slide. Another one leapt from the ruins of the semi trailer, the sound in its throat guttural, dark, bone chilling.

“Steve!” You called, pulling your gun from its holster.

Nancy was faster on the jump, knocking it from the sky with her fist.

Jonathan managed to fight off a third, smacking it over the head with the butt of his weapon with a distinct grunt of pain.

“All clear?” You called from behind the first two, thrower heavy in your hands, finger on the trigger.

“Clear!” Steve and Nancy confirmed, taking two steps backward until they were backed into Jonathan.

With a deep breath, you squeezed the trigger. There was minor kickback, nothing you weren’t used to, and the surge of power as you sprayed the creatures with a stream of liquid fire. The heat burned at your mask, the tops of your cheeks, your lashes, a sensation you were all-to-familiar with, had made peace with, found home in. But as the flames stuck to the gooey flesh of the monsters, as the smell of ash and decay met your nostrils, something worse settled into the pit of your stomach, seared beneath your own flesh, charred your bones.

You dropped the device in your hands, unable to maintain hold. Your breath had been stolen from you, replaced instead with unbearable, all encompassing pain. Was this what Vickie felt when you stripped her flesh from her bone? Was this white hot the same that she felt in her last moments, fire on her last breath? You fell to your knees.

“Harrington to base, we need emergency evac immediately.” Steve’s voice stuttered over the radio on your chest. You heard your name and Byers’. “Requesting medic and mandatory quarantine.”

You ripped your mask from your face and gasped for air, trying to see past the blur of your eyes. The horrible image of Vickie’s death flashing in your mind again and again and again.

“Copy that, evac on its way,” Argyle’s voice was high-pitched, cut-off on the end as he undoubtedly hit the gas.

“Harrington, it’s Munson. What’s going on out there?”

Two hands grasped your face, cold, clammy, a plunge of relief despite the fire still rattling inside you. Soft thumbs swept at the tops of your cheeks, and when your eyes focused, Steve was inches from your face, his own expression wrought with worry.

“Harrington!?”

“Demo dogs,” Nancy answered for him. You glanced over the man’s shoulder to see her tightening a tourniquet around Jonathan’s thigh. She reached for her radio again, hand slick with her partner’s blood.

“What do you mean dogs? Alive?” Hopper’s voice came through the radio this time, and it wasn’t until he’d said it that you realized. You hadn’t seen a single living creature in the Ether since Vecna died. No demogorgon walked the scorched Earth, no demo bat patrolled the skies. For over a year now, this place was desolate, empty.

“Hey, look at me,” Steve squared your chin back to him while Nancy explained your team’s predicament back to base. “Are you in there?”

“I could feel it,” you croaked, voice shaking. “The fire, Steve. I felt it.”

“I know,” he frowned. “You were screaming.”

Just like Vickie had screamed, engulfed in flame, calling your name, pleading for you to stop.

Your stomach rolled, and you shoved your partner out of the way as it emptied its contents to the asphalt, as black and bloody as the heap of dog charred not fifteen feet away.

“Is she flayed?” Nancy approached, ever the investigator. “Are you flayed?”

“No,” Steve stepped between the two of you.

“Nancy,” Jonathan warned from his place on the ground. He was holding his side together with one hand, and his face was growing increasingly pale.

“I just want to know what we’re dealing with here,” she explained, teeth grit to turn her jaw sharp as glass. “Is he back? Is he talking to you?”

Steve glanced over his shoulder at you, and you shook your head, wiped your mouth on the back of your hand.

“Well, you’re clearly connected to the hive mind, so -”

“Nancy!” Jonathan called, sending a chill down your spine. His partner rushed to his side, and he gripped her hand. “Help me up.”

“Steve,” you rasped, staggering backwards, out of earshot. “Maybe she’s right.”

“Stop it,” your own partner held his hand up before he helped Nancy pull Jonathan to his feet.

“I mean, what if he can see all of this through me? What if I lead him right to base?”

“You won’t,” Jonathan grit his teeth, leaned on Steve’s broad shoulder. “I’ll keep my eye on you.”

Steve scrubbed his face with his hands, and you watched his measured gaze point Nancy’s direction. She wiped blood on her pant legs and nodded, adjusting the straps of her pack.

“You’re not staying out here,” you argued. “There are dogs, bats, probably. Who knows what else.”

“Someone has to stay and figure it out.” Nancy pointed out.

Before you could come up with more excuses, more reasons to pull Steve back with you, back to the base and back to safety, Argyle’s set of wheels squealed into view. He reached out the window to pop open the door handle to the rickety old pick-up, a distinct scowl darkening his features.

“What the fuck didn’t you understand about ‘be careful’, Byers?” But there was no meanness in his tone as he scurried to help Steve pull Jonathan up and onto the open tail gate of the truck bed.

Nancy followed, heaving his pack up beside him.

You waited a long moment, turning to face the beasts you’d helped gun down. They felt eerily familial now, some kin you’d betrayed with the tug of your finger. They lay before you charred and pock-marked, flesh bubbling to a sludge of goo beneath their forms. A shiver on the wind caught your shoulder tops.

“Let’s go, buddy! We gotta get this idiot stitched up, pronto!” Argyle called, drumming the side of your caravan back to the real world, your real home.

You lifted yourself up and over a wheel-well, pack weighing heavy against your lower back. Someone tossed a handkerchief your way as a means to blindfold yourself. You gripped it tightly in one hand, willing your trembling fingers to still.

Over the red cotton, you caught a whispered moment between lovers. Jonathan told Nancy not to worry, begged her to be careful, pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, her cheek, her salted lips, her pointed jaw clutched in a grimy hand.

You bit back emotion that welled, this need that pitted itself somewhere dark, somewhere deep. You turned your cheek away from the couple and found a honeyed gaze, brown eyes beneath a crumpled brow. You opened your mouth to speak, but something latched to that need, somewhere dark and deep, lurking on the water’s edge, a predator waiting to strike.

You grit your teeth and dutifully brought your handkerchief to your eyes. Strong hands replaced yours at the back of your head, maintaining a knot that wasn’t too tight, and you felt the warmth of Steve’s breath against your ear. “Keep it contained.”

With the wrap of a fist to the tin roof, your stomach lurched, and you were off. Steve’s words and Jonathan’s hummed tune playing tennis in the recesses of your mind.

———

THEN

One Year Earlier

September 1987

The music was so loud. Pop ballads blasted through overhead speakers that once called fire drills and announced containment breaches. Chatter echoed against concrete walls between each break in song. The occasional whoop and holler accompanied the clinking of plastic cups and pouring of more liquor.

Your own glass of lukewarm bourbon stung like smoke, only sweeter, and hung at your side. You were tucked into a folding chair in the corner, watching the party rage on in an echoing cafeteria, the bitter taste of defeat on your tongue.

Your best friend clung to the shadows on the far side of the room, pressed against a pillar with her face buried in her girlfriend’s throat. The smiles on both of their faces were the only consolations you’d allow yourself to celebrate.

“Hey, don’t know if you heard, the Wicked Dick of the Upside Down is dead,” Eddie Munson slid into your purview, all curls and dimpled smile. He returned your non-response with an eye roll, and ordered you to hold his walker steady so he could dip into the seat beside you.

He slumped against you, his denim jacket jingling with the amount of pins stabbed through it. “You’re seriously harshing my mellow.”

“Oh, am I?” You rolled your eyes and continued your stare into the middle distance, watching the steady pulse of happy party goers. “I’m not stopping you from enjoying your night.”

“Yes you are,” he whined. “Because the little dark rain cloud over your head is bumming me out.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t feel like celebrating,” you sighed.

Eddie hummed, nodded, all hair in your periphery. He shifted in his seat, and you caught a glint of light out of the corner of your eye. He’d pulled a flask from his pocket and twisted the cap off, tipping it against the plastic brim of your cup. “For Gutierrez and Ramsay,” he mumbled low enough for you to hear.

Emotion clawed at your chest at the gesture, wetting your eyes, thus far the only remembrance you’d heard for your fallen compatriots. Your team leads fought fire with fire, and died at the hands of the Devil. When you closed your eyes, you could still make out the sharp angles of their necks. Hank cradled his partner. Staring at their lifeless bodies, Vickie’s hand tugging you to retreat, you wondered if you’d succumb to the same fate. Bodies twisted and torn, in the arms of someone you loved.

With a shaky hand, you brought the sticky sweet beverage back to your lips.

“You know, Linda told me we can’t carry the burden of every life lost. It’ll just weigh us down.” Eddie sounded about as convinced of the bullshit as you were.

You rolled your eyes and took another swig for good measure, the bourbon stinging like ash at the back of your throat. “Fuck Linda.”

A laugh caught your attention, a private moment that was probably too far for you to catch, but your subconscious was listening for it. Steve Harrington was perched on a cafeteria table, all long limbs and head thrown back in delight. A smile lit up his tanned features as he took what you could assume were slicing insults from Erica Sinclair.

Her own lips were pursed into a shy smile, a rare expression on her sweet little face that had your own heart swooping. The girl’s arms were crossed, face tilted downward to hide the smile before it spread across all of her features.

You watched Steve toe at her knee with his shoe until she looked up, and he offered his fist in some form of solidarity or congratulations. She returned the gesture with knocked knuckles before the two of them erupted into a more intricate secret handshake.

The entire exchange warmed your insides more than the drink in your cup ever could on a day like this.

“Hey, dickheads,” Eddie’s call startled you back into focus.

You cowered into him, as to not be seen by wandering eyes, and noticed the couple of teens he’d called out for. Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler inched by, red solo cups in their hands.

Eddie beckoned with long, ringed fingers. “Are you both insane? If Hopper caught you with those, you’re dead men.”

“Hopper can’t do anything about it,” Wheeler scoffed, but he kept his volume low.

You snorted.

“Uh huh,” Eddie cocked an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“We were bringing them for you guys,” Henderson informed a little too loudly, the most obvious lie he’d told.

Wheeler kicked him in the shin.

“Thanks so much, Henderson. We were running dry.” Eddie’s face split into a grin, and he held his hands out to receive the kids’ drinks.

Shoulders slumped in defeat, the two boys handed over their drinks.

You noticed, with the faintest glint of light, that Eddie had exchanged them for his flask. “You bring that back to me tomorrow, or else.” He hissed, but couldn’t manage to hide the look of mischief from his brown eyes, the curve of his mouth.

With a matched grin on their faces, the boys scurried away down a secret hallway to partake in their own form of celebration.

“Eddie Munson, you big softy,” you snorted, elbowing his side.

He sighed, taking a long sip of something bright red from the cup in his right hand. You managed a chuckle at the cringe of dramatics on his face at the taste, tongue stained neon within seconds of the liquid touching his lips. He chased it with whatever he held in the left.

“Did you just confiscate these from the children?”

Robin and Vickie approached the two of you, hand-in-hand, matching lovestruck looks on both of their faces. Eddie extended the cherry concoction, and Robin took it with a matching look of mischief in her blue eyes.

You felt a familiar sneaker tap against your own, and managed to greet your best friend with a sad smile. Her head was tilted toward you, pretty orange hair cascading over her shoulders. She took two fingers to the rim of your cup to tip it towards her, peering over to see just how much you hadn’t drank.

“Did Steve find you?” Robin asked, licking neon from the crease of her plush lips.

Something odd kicked in your chest, not unfamiliar, just dormant, and your face warmed. You avoided Vickie’s gaze as she tapped your foot again, and you shook your head. You peeled your cup from her grasp to take another drink.

“Oh, well he was looking for you,” Robin shrugged, but you noticed the smirk meet her lips simultaneous to her own cup.

You narrowly avoided Vickie’s waggled eyebrows as you glanced over your own cup to search for Steve across the bustling caf. He was no longer perched tabletop, Erica long-since distracted in a conversation with her brother. But it didn’t take long for your eyes to attract like magnets to those broad shoulders, the gloss of his hair, the curve of his tricep.

He stood toward the center of the crowd, locked into a conversation with Nancy Wheeler. Dim light was cast across her pointed features, and she seemed engaged in their conversation, a lightness on her brow you hadn’t seen since you’d met her. She seemed relieved, celebratory, maybe even a tad shy as she spoke, hands tucked beneath her arms.

“I think I might go to bed,” you swallowed, sliding Eddie the remainder of your drink before pushing into Vickie’s space to stand.

“I’ll walk you up,” your best friend seemed too eager, a frenetic energy buzzing under her skin.

You tried to ignore the kiss she shared with her partner, letting Eddie offer a loving bite to your wrist like a feral child in his form of a goodnight. You patted his hair, and Robin took your spot beside him, cheersing you with a red cup and lips stained pink. You nodded. “Night.”

The stairwell echoed in silence, that swell of a pulse in your eardrums that matched the tandem steps of you and your best friend. The steel door slammed shut behind you, quieting the ruckus of the celebration down below. An odd chill coursed over your shoulder, and you glanced behind you to find nothing and no one but the vast expanse of concrete and steel spiraling for floors below.

“They’d want you to be happy, you know,” Vickie cut the silence, chewing the smile from her face with extreme difficulty.

You rolled your eyes and continued your climb. “I know, Vic. It’s just… complicated.”

“Have you talked to him since?” She pressed.

She referred to a drunken night one week earlier. You’d fallen asleep in Steve’s bed, nose-to-nose, large fingertips tracing hidden circles into your skin.

“No,” you avoided her gaze, despite her neck stretching to catch you. “But it’s fine. We’ve been busy.” You’ve been avoiding him, sinking yourself in training, in Scorch, in fighting. Secrets shared between covers felt insignificant compared to a fire-fight with hundreds lost, minuscule in comparison to the ache from your grief and the confusion you’d attached to a win you weren’t sure would ever come.

“Sure, okay,” Vickie scurried to round the landing before you, to stand a few stairs ahead and box you in. “But like, I don’t know, it really looks like it’s over. You know? Like really over. Which none of us thought would happen, and maybe it’d be good for you to consider what you’re going to do next, right? I just think you really need to seize an opportunity. And I’m not just saying this because you’re my best friend and he’s Robin’s best friend. I just want you to be happy.”

She was nervous, rambling.

You glanced around, her voice echoing up the staircase, and you gripped her wrist to lead her back up beside you. “Okay, I get it. Take a deep breath.”

“Sorry,” her shoulders relaxed, bumping your own as you continued your climb. A soft breath of a laugh fell from her lips.

You pushed open the heavy steel door, holding it for her to pass through before you fell back in step, sneakers tapping against linoleum flooring, dimly lit by the escaping sunlight.

Vickie walked beside you, gaze a little far-off, hands wringing in front of her, twisting at a ring on her middle finger.

You pulled your key on its lanyard from a pants pocket, and your dorm door clicked open. “You want a glass of water?”

You fell easily into your roles. You filled her a plastic cup of water while she tidied discarded books and pages, piled your laundry into a basket. She smiled at your eye roll, and you watched as she drained the cup. She caught a bead of water as it fell from her lip and released another of those nervous laughs, the ones that prickled the hair at the base of your neck, the ones you knew preceded confrontation.

“Vic, what’s going on with you?” You scoffed, crossing arms over your chest. “You’re being cagey.”

She rolled her eyes, but you saw the chew of her lip. Caught, she turned her back and paced toward your bed before slowly lowering herself at the foot. “You really think this is done? Do you really feel like he’s dead?”

This woman had fought monsters. You’d watched her jump into action on dozens of occasions, leading hundreds of innocent people to safety. You’d seen her face covered in char and sweat and ash as she scorched the remnants of her hometown. You’d seen tears spring to her eyes as the landmarks of your shared childhoods crumbled into matching piles of ruin. Never had you seen as much concern etched across her soft features.

You swallowed, nodded. “He’s gotta be, right? We watched him burn. Eleven said…” A chill swept over the back of your neck as you watched Vickie twist her ring around her finger once more.

“I know, but I don’t know. Do you think he could have like… jumped onto someone else? Maybe he’s in hiding without a body somewhere.” Her tenor was starting to quicken, the breadth of her sternum rising and falling too rapidly.

You reached out for her, and she jumped under your touch. “Hey, why are you so worried about this?”

Her eyes were wide like saucers, dark circles beneath them that you’d honestly all possessed over the last few particularly grueling weeks, but in this moment, hers felt pronounced.

You swept hair from her long eyelashes, tucked it behind her ear. “What’s going on?”

She shook her head, scrubbed at her face with her hands, and peeled upward and out of your grasp. “It’s nothing, it’s stupid.”

“Nothing’s stupid. Come on, talk to me.” You reassured her, taking her seat on the foot of your bed, preparing for the worst.

“It’s…” She paused, back to you, shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath. When she spun to face you, her demeanor had changed, lightened. The rain cloud that hovered before seemed to drift away. “I just want this to be over so bad. Robin and I have been talking about what we’re going to do, when this is all over. It used to feel so far away, and now it’s right here, and I’m scared, I guess, but excited, but also just anxious, and - “

“So tell me about it,” you cut her off, somehow managing a smile despite the repeated reminder that this was over and soon you’d be floating in a world who didn’t understand what you’d gone through, and odds are, you’d be alone.

She chewed on her bottom lip, a habit her mom had scolded her for since she was a child, but that aching smile fell back over her features, and she crossed to collapse on the bed beside you. The mattress harrumphed under her weight. “We talked about going to school together. We both got into IU.”

“Yeah?” You fell backwards beside her, staring up at the stained dorm ceiling panels.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “I’m nervous, but like, excited, you know?”

You swallowed back that lump growing in your throat. “You were excited before. You still want to be a music teacher?”

Vickie always had her plans, organized chaos in the form of binders stuffed with mail-in applications, the gentle push and prod of you to apply with her. You could never decide, stuffing envelopes into that floorboard beside your bed, lying about acceptance letters when she’d received her own. You’d sipped vodka out of matching Betty and Veronica mugs and tried not to imagine her off in the big city without you.

“Or art,” she confirmed, fingers tracing lines in your ceiling like the constellations you used to lay out and watch.

You sighed simultaneously, and snorted in response.

She muttered your name, and you glanced sideways to catch the pale yellow light cascading across high, freckled cheekbones, a soft sadness in her eyes. “Do you think I’m being reckless?”

You frowned.

She caught your gaze and swallowed. “With Robin, I mean. I think I might ask her to move in with me, and I know that sounds crazy because we’re literal children, and - ”

You caught her wrist mid-air, gave it a squeeze, managed a dry laugh. “Vic, you literally followed her into War.”

The laugh that poured from her at the irony was warm enough to pull a genuine smile to your lips, a gesture that was growing more and more foreign as this fight continued. Your grip loosened on her wrist, and she moved to interlock your fingers, her little silver ring scratching between roughed-up knuckles, blistered and burned.

“You know I’ll never leave you, right?”

You bumped her with your forehead, her visage blurring in the proximity. “Couldn’t get rid of me when you moved to Hawkins, what makes you think you can get rid of me now?”

Satisfied with your answer, she brought the back of your hand to her lips for a peck and release.

“Good,” she tutted, rising from the foot of your bed to open the tiny wardrobe beside you. She pushed aside a couple of grey tank tops and pulled a black v-neck from the rack, holding it to herself as if she didn’t have forty in her own closet to match. “Then I can talk to you without you getting mad at me, right?”

The challenge prickled your skin, competitive nature over-wrought with irritation at the shift of her tone from sincere to playful, mean, even. “Probably not,” you snapped, propping yourself on your elbows to catch the shirt she tossed your direction.

“Put this on, it makes your boobs look amazing.”

You groaned and flopped back to the mattress, suddenly warm and exposed under her gaze. You hid your face in the t-shirt, hangar still attached, and shook your head. Her name slipped from your mouth in annoyance.

Yours was repeated back to you in a mocking tone. “What if tonight’s the last night?”

The rustle of your drawers pulled your focus from around a sleeve. “What?”

She was bent over a pair of jeans you hadn’t worn in well over a year. A tear had pulled through the fibers on both knees, and you were positive the waist band wouldn’t fit now. “What if it really is all over?” She tossed the denim beside you. “What if this is the last night we’ll be in this building? What if it’s the last night we celebrate with these people? What if it’s your last chance to talk to everyone?”

You knew she didn’t mean ‘everyone’.

“I get that you’re sad, okay? I’m sad too. I’m going to miss them just as much as you are.” Vickie’s hands found your knees, and she jostled them. “And I understand if you’re tired. We’re all exhausted. I yawned about twenty times dancing with Robin in there. She yelled at me.” Her face lit up with something fierce. “But I’m asking you to get dressed and come with me back to the party, because tonight might be your last night, and I don’t want you to miss your chance.”

You scoffed and tossed the shirt aside. “Miss my chance for what?”

Her mischievous gaze was hard to avoid, and she leaned in even closer. “I don’t know. What do you want to happen?”

It was a question you’d asked yourself several times over the last week, when avoiding Steve meant slipping into the girl’s locker room and excess of times or taking the rickety elevator to avoid him on the staircase. You thought last time would be the ‘last time’ so-to-speak, and all the other times before that. That’s just how life worked under fire.

And last time, as with each of your last times, you’d ended up exchanging truths under government issues linens, chuckling soft breaths against one another’s mouths, making promises of honesty and protection. You weren’t sure you needed more than that.

Of course, you wanted to feel the coarse pads of his fingertips draw circles just north of the insides of your knees. You wanted to feel his breath fan your pulse points. You wanted to hear the way his breath caught when you dug your nails into his scalp.

You’d settle for soft kisses to the temple after long runs through the Ether, like the ones you’d caught him press to Robin’s sweat-slick hair. You’d settle for the elaborate high-fives he’d give the children when they’d reunite after nights in Quarantine. You’d settle for half-smiles across the caf like the ones he’d give you when you’d finally caught his gaze.

“Okay, forget about it,” Vickie glossed over your non-response. “Just come downstairs and hang out with me. We’ll find Robin and Eddie and get you another drink and just pretend like we’re stupid kids again. Maybe we’ll sneak into the pool.”

Her optimism was always so difficult to crush, her rosy lips split into a grin, and you knew she wouldn’t cease fire until you complied.

With a resigned sigh, you reached your hand for her to help you up, and you nodded.

She took your hand with a grin and tugged you to your feet.

The party below spilled upwards into living rooms and dorms. Music on overhead speakers was transferred to boomboxes and acoustic guitars. Instead of echoing off concrete walls, laughter was absorbed into threadbare couches. Hallways dimmed to the red glow of Exit signs. Footfall faded, stumbled behind locked doors.

You perched on a comfortable sofa in the living space, waving Eddie goodnight as he waggled his fingers. Vickie and Robin had sandwiched you in sloppy kisses before they slunk off hand-in-hand, whispering sweet nothings. You sunk further into the cushions, hugging one tightly in your lap as the lights turned off and your world was cast in moonlight from a nearby window.

You sat there for ages, maybe the entire night, staring out at the greyscale world beyond, those treetops tinged in golds and rubies in the daylight. You thought of your friends, hand-in-hand, and of Pedro and Hank, arm-in-arm, and of the emptiness that lingered when you recognized life, as you lived it, was coming to a close.

You pondered and mourned in silence, starlight the ever-present reminder that you were Rightside Up and safe, somehow, a promise Steve had kept without realizing it.

“Hey,” a voice full of recognition startled you from your reverie, and you turned to face Steve. His strong features were silhouetted, but you knew the curve of his shoulders, the dip of his jaw.

“Hey,” you offered a smile, shrinking further into your seat.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked, gesturing for permission to join you.

You nodded, shrugged. “Not really.”

He crossed slowly before sitting, his weight on the springs shifting your own. He was close, warmth radiating off biceps pressed against yours. “I was looking for you.” He touched his knuckles to your knee, a sensation that shot electricity through you.

“Oh?” Your voice squeaked, throat dry.

“Yeah,” he nodded, and you ventured a glance his direction. The moonlight poured in, pale yellow against his features, his nose, cheek, the swoop of his chestnut hair. “I know you and Hank and Pedro were really close, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

His eyes shone, and you had to pull yourself from his gaze to process his words. He cared. The thought brought a smile to your cheeks despite the grief you felt in your soul. You tipped your face away from him and played with fraying of the canvas lining the pillow in your lap.

You contemplated lying, reassuring you both that you’d be fine, but something about his warm presence settled beside you, the soft lilt of his voice, had you speaking freely. “I will be,” you nodded, a sentiment you hadn’t even realized until you spoke it into existence. “I just haven’t had time to think about what my life’ll be like without their… guidance.” Orders, teasing, coaxing, care.

“I get that,” Steve sighed beside you, head tilting to rest on the furniture at your backs. “It’s been kind of nice not having to make decisions for myself.”

“What were you going to do, before all of this?” You gestured to concrete walls, a singular window, a common space long since vacant.

His gaze trailed the room before landing on you, and you warmed under it. With another sigh, he looked outward again. “I thought I had a plan for when it was all over, but that was a year ago.” He waved it off.

You nudged him with your elbow. “What was it? Maybe it’ll give me some inspiration.”

He snorted, shook hair into his eyes. “Ah, yeah. I doubt it.”

“Come on, Harrington,” you goaded. “What was it? Become an actor? Join the circus?” This felt better, right, the tease of competition between you settling the tension that was building with each passing glance.

“Try marrying the girl of my dreams and having six kids?” That popped the bubble. You couldn’t hide the face of disgust and unease that settled after his comment, knowing all you knew about him already. “Yeah, bad, right?”

You stuffed back a remorseful chuckle, tried to keep a strange bout of jealousy at bay when you remembered his conversation with Nancy earlier, how engaged the two of them looked, how hopeful her blue eyes were.

You cleared your throat, made firm eye contact with your pillow, shrugged. “I don’t know. Seems like you aren’t the only one with those aspirations. I’ve heard Rob and Vic might move in together.” A harmless bean spilled surely wouldn’t rile up your best friend.

“Wait, how do you know that? I thought Robin was going to wait to ask her…” Steve trailed off, and when your eyes met, you both rolled them in exasperation for the gushy love shared between clueless women.

“So what about you?” Steve asked after a moment had passed, little finger soft once again to your knee. “If this is really all over, what’re you going to do?”

You glanced back over the parking lot, the trees, Scorch course off in the distance. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out… where I fit. You know?” You locked your fingers together above your pillow, as Vickie had done earlier, but without the lightness of her touch, yours were bruised and calloused and burnt. Your knuckles were sore.

“Right here,” he said.

His eyes were dark, brow soft, yet pensive, and under his watch, you couldn’t breathe. It was the same panic you’d felt all week when you’d watched him cross the caf or climb into the bed of a truck, that fight or flight ramping up within your rib cage.

“I’m serious,” he shrugged, shoulder knocking your own. “What if you fit here?” He pressed a large finger into the pillow on your lap for emphasis. The skin of your wrists and hands lit up with proximity. “You’re so good at this whole thing, and we know it isn’t over. The Upside Down didn’t close up when Vecna died like we thought it would. There’s still a mess to clean up. Who says you have to leave? That you have to move on right now and make some huge life plan over night?”

You blinked back at him because you hadn’t considered any of that, and maybe it’s because this existence had been something everything was counting down the chance to run from. You’d all been thrust into this life when the world opened up (or earlier), and you followed orders because that’s what kept you safe, what kept you alive. You’d never considered that maybe you were made for this. Although, when Steve mentioned it, things did sort of kick back into place.

His knee knocked yours. “It’s not like you’d be alone.”

The implications rendered you silent, a splash of cool water across skin that had been set ablaze, filling the space with steam. Your breathing was shallow, mouth dry, and you couldn’t unstick your knuckles from each other, though his hand remained centimeters away, picking at that same tear in the fabric you’d been playing with moments earlier. You felt yourself go stock straight, rigid against the warmth of his bicep.

“Did I make you uncomfortable last week?” His voice was barely a gravel, a shockwave of electricity sent through you.

You swallowed in vain, shook your head.

His eyes trailed your features, and you bit hard on your lip when he stopped there, before he found your gaze again. “Because I meant it when I promised I’d keep you safe.”

Your reaction to Steve Harrington was reckless, always had been. Volatile, even, the way your heart raced, the heat that churned through you like water boiled over. There was always something in his tone that challenged you, always something in his gaze that riled you up. He pushed you over the edge you teetered on with an eye roll and a smug smile, arms pinned over your head against the mat or mask over his face on the Scorch course.

Maybe that’s why neither of you were surprised when you reached across the space and pressed your lips to his. Neither of you stiffened at a first kiss, noses bumped and knuckles. Simultaneous, you parted for a breath and dove back for something stickier, something warmer, something more dangerous.

He was sweet, whisky and something softer, ice cream, maybe. His lips were warm, and a bit dry, but plush. And when you finally sunk your fingertips into his silky hair, you coaxed a breathy whine that sent warmth pooling through you.

“Is this okay?” You hissed between kisses.

He hummed in agreement, hands reaching for your middle to tug you into his lap. He massaged your thighs with oversized hands as you bracketed his hips, pulling another loud groan from deep in his throat.

You had him pinned beneath you now, hips rolled, and his head thrown back against the sofa, pupils blown with your fingers in his hair. The moonlight cast shadows across his chiseled features, a constellation of freckles down his left side. The way he watched you, lips licked, sent a wave crashing through you, another sizzle to fan the embers burning within you.

His hands found your hips, and your ribcage beneath the t-shirt you’d been forced to change into, and you thought of Vickie’s encouragement, her optimism that this would be the last of it.

The warmth of Steve’s palms coaxed you forward until he caught your mouth with his once more, and his words echoed in your mind beside her, a chorus of contradiction. This is your last night here. You fit right here. I’ll never leave you. It’s not like you’d be alone. Two truths pulling at you like a rope over a line, neither would exist while the other did.

Steve sucked in a breath, harsh, and you blinked your eyes open to see him licking a tender lower lip. You’d bit down on him without realizing, that ever-present competition fresh between you. He didn’t seem to mind, already going back in, but you pinned his shoulders back, pushed off of him to stand.

“Whoa, it’s okay,” he wiped at the corners of his mouth, ran a hand through his hair to replace yours. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, stumbling backwards until you almost tripped on a coffee table. You managed to side-step it, feeling claustrophobic surrounded by so much canvas furniture.

He stood to catch you in case you fell, and the reach of his arms had you backing even farther into the shadows of a long corridor. He recoiled, scratching at the back of his neck. “Are you sure? Because um… I didn’t mean to push anything if you weren’t…”

You shook your head, that familiar panic clawing at your chest at the mess you’ve created. “Steve, it’s fine. I just don’t think I should do this right now.”

A crease formed between his brows, concerned, pitying, and he shoved his hands into his jean pockets. “Okay?”

You sighed, scrubbed at tired eyes, tried to ignore the taste of him that lingered on your lips. You’d already taken it too far, already scratched the itch that had been growing within you for months now.

“I can wait.” His voice was soft, almost imperceptible, and his brown eyes held that same hopefulness you’d seen in Vickie’s.

Guilt rattled your rib cage, searing. You nodded and said goodnight.

The night remained sleepless, starring at water-stained ceiling tiles while you contemplated next steps. The feeling of Steve’s hands ghosted your ribcage. The image of Vickie’s hands twisted in your own burned behind your eyes.

Knuckles wrapped against your door, and you pulled your watch from the beside table to look at the time. 08:25. With a resigned sigh, you buckled it over your wrist and answered the door. You startled to find Nancy Wheeler on the other side, brown crinkled and hair curled around her slender features.

“Hopper wants us.” She informed you, managing the softest of smiles.

You swallowed, nodded, and went for your room key on the countertop.

After the loss of Gutierrez and Ramsay, your Scorch team needed new leaders, and there was still so much Ether to scorch.

———

NOW

September 1988

Stains on pale yellow walls churned at a bread-and-broth full stomach as cigarette smoke wafted in beneath the broken seal at the bottom of the door. The lone light flickered, exacerbating a migraine that had lingered for weeks now, maybe months. Two familiar faces sat on the other side of the plexiglass, wrinkles between their brows, smoke swirling round faces.

“How you feeling, kid?” Hop asked, voice gruff, concerned, paternal.

“Sweaty,” you winced, peeling your tank top from your sternum. “Hope I don’t smell. My shower is one scalding pressure wash every morning.”

Hopper snorted, a cloud of smoke exiting each nostrils and floating skyward. “I know. It’s Hell.”

Hell was the Ether. Hell was the tug between your shoulder blades. Hell was lurking somewhere deep, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

“How is everyone? Byers?” You grit your teeth, pushing back the wave of nausea and slumping against the glass that fogged on your side. The water bottle, lukewarm, was the only reprieve you’d been given from your sauna, refilled at frequent intervals to ensure you stayed upright and alert.

“Jonathan’s fine, but he’s not out of the woods yet. We’ve got him holed up too. Huntley and Miller are dead. Dog fight this morning on the county border.”

You cursed under your breath, squeezing your eyes closed to push back the visions of yourself lashing out against the two Scorchers, gnawing on their flesh, the fresh squeeze of hot blood between your teeth. “I was hoping that was just a dream.”

“Are you having any visions right now?” Owens asked, voice gentler than his gruff counterpart.

You shook your head. “Same as yesterday and the day before. I can see her,” you gestured to somewhere in your periphery, where the wave of fiery hair stood out, just beyond your reach. “And I can feel him.” That tug in your shoulder, the bend in your spine that itched and ached. You rolled your shoulders and pushed it back. “But I don’t see anything unless I’m asleep. Even then it’s just roaming the Ether. I can never see him. He’s not coming out.”

“What happens when those fuckers catch fire?” Hop asked, wrapping his knuckles against the glass. By the look in his eye, he was testing the strength of it, making sure it’d hold you back.

You took another sip of water. “I wake up.”

“Maybe we do a bit of uh… what do they call it? Remote viewing? Put her under, have her tap in.” Hop spoke under his breath, but you knew he was talking about Eleven. He knew Hop was talking about Eleven. You felt the itch under your shoulder and shuddered again.

Owens caught your movement and stopped Hopper with a hand up. “Alright, miss. Are you comfortable if we take another look at your back?”

With a sigh, you pushed yourself upright and turned your back to the men to pull your shirt up and over your head, holding it to your front with what little sliver of modesty you could maintain. Although, at this point, you’d lost your will to care.

For days now, you hadn’t noticed growths on your back, no indication that you’d been Flayed or that this parasite was growing within you. Nothing showed itself beside this feeling you had that you couldn’t explain, that no one could understand.

“Thank you, dear,” Owens wrapped his knuckles to the window to tell you it was safe to put your shirt back on.

You did so and turned to face the men again. Both of them offered characteristic grimaces: one of pity, the other of disdain. You slumped back into the chair next to the window. “So, what’s the prognosis, doc?”

The older man shrugged, scratched at his forehead. “Unfortunately, we might just have to keep you in here until we discuss further plans. We kind of have to keep you out of the loop, kiddo. Can’t risk him hearing us.”

You understood. You shook your water bottle, tapped it against the glass, and said, “Empty.”

“Fresh water, coming right up,” he smiled and stood. “Jim?”

Hopper waved him off, stamping his cigarette out on the seal. You watched ash scatter the ground. He stood, chair groaning beneath him, and he towered over you on the other side of the glass, teeth ground into a clenched jaw. He scratched at the stubble on his chin.

“Harrington and Nancy make better partners than you two did. He actually listens to her.”

You snorted, rolled your eyes. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“He and Munson ask about you constantly. I caught Wheeler and Henderson trying to hack into your security camera footage.” He wrapped his knuckles against the glass again, pointing toward the camera that had been watching you. He waggled thick fingers, and you mirrored him, trying to hide the swell of something lighter within you.

“Keep holding him back,” he ordered, your commanding officer once more.

With exchanged nods, he exited down the hallway with Owens, and you slumped back against the fogged glass. You swallowed and stared up at the bright green bulb that glowed just beneath the lens of the camera.

—

Days had gone by. Maybe nights had too, but you couldn’t tell under the buzzing fluorescents. You had no windows to the outside world, probably miles beneath the Earth at this point, just on the precipice of that churning, horrific world on the other side.

You tossed and turned on your cot, sheets stained with sweat that clung to every inch of you. Cries echoed a few boxes down, unfamiliar voices of more and more faces sequestered into quarantine, their fates somehow worse than your own.

All you wanted was to stay awake. If you stayed awake, he stayed away. But the ache of your eyelids added to the dull throb at the base of your skull, and every so often, the rake of fingertips down your arm coaxed you into a slumber.

Feet sputtered down the hall, steady, a run, and your heartbeat matched it. You launched from the unsteady rock of your cot and met a figure as its hands slapped against the glass of your window, steadying itself.

“Harrington?” You frowned at your partner on the other side. His palm met yours, thick glass in between, and his chest rose and fell as his breath fogged the glass. “What’s going on?”

He shrugged, slumped into the chair Hopper had been in. It creaked beneath him, and he glanced down the hallway for on-lookers before turning back to you. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” You scurried into your own chair, leaning in to get a better look at him.

The bruise around his eye was yellowing, and his hair looked good pushed off his brow. He maintained that signature scowl, but there was something soft in his eyes as he observed you the same way you looked him over. “Are you suffocating in there?”

“Only a little,” you shrugged. “Why are you here?” You glanced back down the hallway, as much as you could see, to find it the same as it always had been, empty.

“We had a bad firefight yesterday. Ten dogs or so.”

You did another cursory glance of his person. That you could see, there were no bandages. His hair wasn’t burned or singed. Any soot had been scrubbed from the creases on his face.

“Could you feel it?”

You shook your head and watched his shoulders relax. You wished you could soothe him further, reassure him you were okay, that you were safe, but the two souls attached to you lingered in the periphery. Instead, you tapped your fingertips to the glass. “I thought of something yesterday.”

Steve adjusted in his seat, glanced down the hallway once more before leaning in to read your lips.

“You remember the party, the night after he died, or at least, we thought he did?” You asked, feeling that presence heavy over your shoulder.

Recognition flashed behind your partner’s eyes, and he shied from your gaze, scratching at the back of his neck.

You warmed, tried to forget the feeling of your hands there, of his warm hands against your sides. Something prodded your shoulder. You cleared your throat. “Vickie made a weird comment that night, off-handed. She was acting really shady, and she asked if he could have latched himself on someone. The body died, but maybe the soul didn’t?”

He looked back up at you, brow crinkled, understanding sinking into him, and you watched his ribcage deflate. His knees began to bounce, and he buried his face into his hands.

“And if that’s true, she had him for almost a year. It had nothing to do with the flower. He just latched on to the nearest thing, and when she died,” you gestured to yourself. “Maybe he’s weaker now.”

Steve was shaking his head, arms crossed over his chest. “You couldn’t save her.”

You swallowed back emotion that boiled at that slap in the face. “She didn’t tell us. None of us could, but I’m telling you.” You hoped he couldn’t hear the desperation in your tone.

“This happened to her, and you murdered her.” His voice was lower, graveled.

You balled your fist, swallowed back that panic which seared at your ribcage.

“What do you expect to happen to you?” Finally, he met your eye, his own brown replaced with piercing blue, cloudy. The smell of charred flesh stung at your nostrils. The taste of ash filled your mouth.

---

[A/N: Remember when I said hiatus cuz of NaNo and then I wrote this chapter? *insert eye roll here* I can't help it! This story wants to pour out of me, and I want it to, too. I love these two more than anything. They bring me endless joy. And they kissed! I made them kiss! In a flashback, but still. Maybe they'll kiss again, who knows? Maybe the reader dies a horrific death like Chrissy, who knows? I do. I know. And I love it so much. Thanks, as always, for reading xo]

Fic Masterlist • Navigation • Masterlist

Chapter Four: Pyre • Chapter Six: Combustion

#wildfire fic #steve harrington fic #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things fic #eddie munson #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington slowburn #rovickie #vickie stranger things #rockie

100 notes · View notes

mischiefmaker615 · 10 months

Text

The Doctor is In

Rating: R

Summary: Let's Play Doctor Dark

''I must say darling, for SHIELD being as secure as they are, the lack of interruption is appreciated. Of course, there wouldn't be a way to find this room regardless without me slipping up my illusion and you are far to precious to risk losing.''

Loki's voice was always hard to pinpoint where exactly he was coming from, and the fact that you couldn't move regardless didn't seem to make things matter anyway. All you've been able to do was hope that your colleges would see beyond Loki's disgust of appearance, somehow find the room he kept hidden in their own damn facility and get you out of this hell hole he himself saw as a sex dungeon.

Your cunt ached just by the mere flashbacks of what you've been through.. how long? Sessions could take hours. Days here in total? His magic kept you healthy and forgetful so.. who knew. All you knew was that regardless of how many times he showed up in the white lab coat, he was not one bit of a doctor any more than one who binge watched Grey's Anatomy. Anatomy.. he did very much know though, yours at least..

Your body tensed by how your muscles ached, knowing you've been in this position far to long yet way to short for him to change it now. You were on.. an operating table of some sort? On your back, arms tied down by your sides. Your legs were placed up and tied on some railing type things? You were pretty sure it was used either for when someone gave birth and/or was getting a female exam done. Regardless, you weren't moving from that spot any time soon, his magic made sure of that.

About now you would cuss or make some crude remark, but the gag he placed over your lips just now- using his own tie around his neck as he eyed you hungrily while taking it off- silenced your words that tried shooting out at him.

''now now darling there's no need to be rude, I thought you'd enjoy our little sessions by now for you to relax a bit more..'' he scolded but didn't seem angered one bit as he ignored your muffled sounds you both knew were cuss words. ''but I suppose then this is the perfect opportunity to bring up something knew I wished to try today, I do so love seeing your little reactions whenever your body is introduced to something.. exotic.'' He chuckled and your body tensed as he joined your side so he look down at you.

By now, all shyness of being nude was out the window since he's seen every inch of you already, but you still appreciated the medical down that clung to your body. Call it a "doctor kink" of his, that was half of his sick little game as he straightened in his white coat and his eyes roamed over your body while he held his hand up.

With a flash of green in his eyes, a black box landed in his hands, causing you to shudder at the horrors of what could be inside. By his grin alone, you knew it was something he would very much enjoy as he sat down beside you on the table, placing the box in his lap before he placed a hand just at your collar bone, the other hand on the lid almost protectfully.

''oh my darling I've been looking forward to this for awhile, for your sake I've merely been taking one step at a time. I know mortals can be rather fragile creatures and I do so wish not to break my precious toy..'' he purred as his finger tips ran down your chest, ghosting over one of your breasts as your body tensed, your arms giving another hard useless tug to your restraints while his hand ran down to dip under the dress and skillfully found your cunt while his eyes never left yours.

''speaking of toys darling, that is exactly what we have here-'' taking the opportunity to your muscles tensing, your pussy clenched around a finger that dipped just the fingertip, making you both suck in a breath, your not exactly intending to be for pleasure as he did as a smile met his lips.

''I do so love watching your eyes, your delicious facial expressions and how your body reacts to how pleasure takes you, I found a way for me to pull experience that while your also getting full attention to your needs.''

They weren't needs bastard, they were yours that was merely being taken out and from you. Of course, it was hard to cuss at him even in your mind as his finger teased your cunt, barely pushing in and out where you forced your body to remain still and not give in to the need to raise your hips.

Finding it better to just show what he was talking about, he used his other hand to open the lid of the box and held up something that made your body shudder, a reaction that didn't go unnoticed by Loki and he rewarded you by pushing his finger in a little deeper this time while he let your eyes take in the sight.

''this my darling will not only pleasure your beautiful cunt but simultaneously pay close attention to the clitoris- wherever I choose to move it of course.'' He explained, almost sounding like a medical professional explaining something as normal as how to take out the trash. Yet with the referral to your clit, he made his point by removing his finger and gently yet barely began rubbing lazy circles against it, causing your body to flinch by the sudden urge of pleasure beginning to spread through your body.

Loki couldn't help but chuckle as he stood, setting the box aside and removed his hand from your intimate area, admiring the little gadget as if it were gold. ''I know you can take it well darling, the dildo end is about the size of both my fingers, something I know you've been accustomed to for awhile now,'' he teased as your body started struggling as he moved around to stand between your legs and moved the dress up a bit to have better access to your cunt.

The flash of his eyes didn't go unnoticed as you felt your body begin to feel hard to move and your struggling ceased enough for him to align the dildo end first with your entrance. ''alright darling, I do need you to take a deep breath and relax for me to make this easier for yourself, the inevitable was the first lesson I've taught you so you know the pain with you force me to force it.'' he told you gently as a reminder and your fists clenched.

As much as you didn't like giving in to his orders, you knew there was nothing you could do until you were rescued and pain in this was not a fun thing to have.. again. So to your stubborn and dismay, you gave a good deep breath and released it. upon your release, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt him slowly push the device all the way into your entrance. You concentrated on breathing, feeling your body adjust to the size and the simple foreplay earlier helped getting in as well.

''good girl darling,- it's also wish for me to point out that both ends of this device not only works the way they are designed to move, but both also vibrate as well.'' He praised gently, a smile clearly showing his excitement while his hand held onto the other end of the device, his thumb on the button while his other hand caressed your knee.

Without giving much a chance to fully take in what he had just said, he clicks the button on and your body jolts by the sudden movement that was in your cunt, Loki's hand pressed to your chest to keep you down- not that it mattered, you weren't able to sit up properly anyway.

The device was a slow pace, much like the pace he usually kept with his fingers. You felt the device moving forward and back on its own and a repetitive motion, the slight ridges adding more sensitivity as it rubbed the right spots as well as vibrated them. Your eyes squeezed shut quickly, wanting your expression to look more in pain to hide the fact that your eye lids would have fluttered closed as the pleasurable feeling spread through your body.

''oh my darling, you're taking it perfectly, exactly how I hoped'' he cooed, staying between your legs as his hand caressed your thigh, his eyes drinking you in as your body struggled to breath properly while your brows raised ad furrowed as butterflies fluttered in your lower stomach.

Damn him- damn it all.. in some fucked up way, this all would be easier if it didn't feel good. But it did.. and denial was never an expression on your face as you bit into the tie that kept your words from leaving your mouth. However, it didn't stop any of the pleasurable moans and sounds as he clicked the button on the device, the action alone shifting the device a bit in your cunt and teased a different angle before you felt the device pump at a faster pace.

Your body shuddered and you barely felt his hand caress your cheek lovingly, playing with a lock of your hair as he sighed in contentment. ''that's it darling, take it, take all of it, all I have to do is leave it, where I get the mere beauty of watching you come undone to something only I could stop..'' he moaned and your body jumped as he clicked a new button on the other end he was holding, pressing it to your clit as the device mimicked a licking motion against you.

It was almost to much, feeling yourself being pumped while at the same time your clit getting pleasured all just made your back arch as best as your body was able to in its restraints. You saw Loki remove and hold up his hand with a grin on his lips, gloating how your body was getting pleasured without him having to hold the device anymore while it did the work for him. you hated him and you hated how your body couldn't show it in this state.

''I could choose to leave if I so wished, leaving you hear helpless at the mercy of this device until I feel like returning. I could even make the settings ghost you, keeping you at that delicious edge but not quite getting what you want if I so wished. Or I could tag team the clit end and my actual tongue where you'd fail to know what was what anymore'' he almost laughed as he slowly moved to your side, a hand wiping a way a single team with his thumb as your orgasm drew near. ''you'd like that wouldn't you my little play thing..'' he cooed before he leaned down and his tongue dragged over your throat and neck, his teeth nipping here and there before sucking your skin and ensure marks.

It was all to much, from getting stuffed, to your clit getting none stop licked to his mouth attacking your neck, while his hand now groped your chest.. the build up drew together before your orgasm hit.

You moaned against the gag as your back arched and your body compulsed, your orgasm hitting you hard as the device kept going. your body twitching as it rode you out and kept going, making you moan and whimper before you opened your eyes when all movement stopped.

Your body was shaking as you took in deep breaths, squirming a little as Loki took his own breath and closed his eyes, looking up as he took in the moment that just took place and his expression held absolutely bliss.

''that was absolutely wonderful darling.. absolutely breath taking..'' he breathed as he opened his eyes to look at you as if he himself just came down from his own orgasm. ''you did so well darling and this is just the beginning..''

Your body stilled as your breath held and body tensed. What..

He strolled back around to move between your legs again, his hand dragging against your body the whole way as his finger tips took in the feeling of your soft skin before his hand moved back between your legs.

''this my dear, has the battery lifespan of three hours..''

CLICK

#loki #loki odinson #loki fluff #loki god of mischief #loki x reader smut #loki laufeyson #loki smut #loki fanfic #loki x reader #lokifluff

162 notes · View notes

jmdbjk · 5 months

Text

Episode 1: The Beginning

Beyond the Star, produced by HYBE Media Studio

Opens with a flashback of Namjoon explaining their belief in the concept of how any art, any genre of art, can change the world.

This opening footage was recorded during a press conference for CONNECT, BTS.

A good explanation of what CONNECT, BTS appeared on DAZED, January 14, 2020.

It was a huge wide-ranging global art project to link visual art to music art. This is one of the installations in New York City:

Then we see scenes of them arriving at Incheon Airport in February 2020.

In February 2020, they were about to embark on the MOTS world tour. They were really pushing into the western market, especially the United States. They were headed to the States to start promoting on the talk show circuit and for magazine interviews. Western media was all over BTS. The public relations hype for their tour was huge. It was going to be HUGE. BTS was HUGE. At this point in the documentary we see english speaking fans trying to buy tickets for this tour.

This was the beginning of the year that would be their magnum opus.

Leading the docu-series with this reminds everyone what was supposed to happen and the impact they hoped to make here in the United States, to ride the wave of their success as far as they could go until they had to stop. Keep in mind they did not have any full English songs yet.

As far as they knew, this would be the end as we knew it, the end of Chapter 1. We all know what was to follow the MOTS tour even though no one wanted to speak about it: Enlistment. Jin would enlist December 2020 even though rumblings of a potential military exemption were beginning to buzz.

This period of time and after was when MANY MORE became fans of BTS. MOTS:7 was a record-breaking album. They were riding HIGH.

The scene of them being told the MOTS tour was cancelled is gut-wrenching. It makes me think of the content they filmed that day (March 8, 2020 a music show?)

and I wonder at what point during the day they were told. Jimin and Hobi did a Vlive:

There are scenes of MOTS cancellation day in 2020 Memories, but not THIS scene of them being told the tour was cancelled.

Then we jump forward to scenes of the members on the beach in LA (end of 2021) recalling their feelings and thoughts about the previous (almost) two years (the pandemic), reflecting on themselves. They had to overcome frustration, and change and adapt to reality.

Some of them were able to do that easier than the others. We know Jimin had a rough time, and it was challenging for Jin, Tae and Yoongi. Namjoon and Hobi worked on music. Yoongi wondered what was the point of even releasing music at all.

Jungkook says even though they were sad, something good came of it, they realized how much singing and dancing – performing – meant to them and how it superseded everything else.

Jimin says he and Namjoon spoke about how they needed to organize their thoughts over the years pertaining to the reasons they are doing what they do, how they feel and what they want to do, perhaps in order to help them sort through the pandemic aftermath and to serve as sort of an outline of how to proceed... it is sort of how the rest of this documentary series unfolds: the past, the present, the future.

Namjoon begins sharing thoughts of how he felt in the beginning and we flash back to 2013 debut. And the rest say their thoughts about how they began. This is a good way for newer fans to understand how they began: hearing their words as mature adults reminiscing about their roots and their start.

We’ve heard the general story of how they began with RM first and the rap line was assembled, then the vocal line was added with Jimin being the last to make the team. Bang PD recalls how impressed he was with Namjoon and knew this was someone special.

I’m positive there were opinions, decisions and choices made that we will never know because we weren’t there witnessing the moments. Whatever those decisions were, some probably forgotten in time or only known by a few involved in the process, however it happened, these seven individuals were settled upon and the team was created. The rest is history.

No one had an inkling of how much they would change the idol and kpop industry from what they then knew it to be.

Preparing for debut: one of the things Jungkook says is they expected hardships back then but looking back now, if he tried to do that now, he couldn’t do it, but back then, it was a given. Yoongi said they spent every moment in the practice room when they weren’t eating or sleeping… up all night practicing, so much stress and pressure amongst seven young passionate young men trying to make a good debut.…you can see the stress and fatigue on their faces.

Through all of that they reveal how hard they worked and how deep their commitment is. They felt it was important to convey this deep personal connection to each other they developed and how strong their bond is.

The events might be repetitive for people who’ve been Army since the beginning or since before 2020, but for the benefit of newer fans, presenting their story like this in the words of each member is important.

The author of the book Beyond the Story, Myung Seok Kang, explains how much of an underdog BTS was in the beginning. They were from a small, barely making it company and had the audacity to win Best New Artist in 2013 at the Melon Music Awards.

Hearing them state how they felt during that debut year, their young minds trying to process what was happening, thrust into society at such a young age, seeing their friends still being students, they had to reconcile within themselves that their lives were so different.

Jungkook (our now giant global pop star) said he remembers how small he felt hearing another really good singer in his in-ears as they prepared for a performance.

Watching them struggle to come up with the melody for Danger, working on it as a team from Jungkook, to Namjoon, to Yoongi, note by note… at such a young age and then not experiencing the expected success or gains after they had done that with the previous song… they thought this would be the end for them. All they wanted was to win first place at a music show…. CAN YOU IMAGINE?? The team was wavering.

Newer fans need to be aware of this struggle.

All of this led to them writing the album, The Most Beautiful Moment in Life, the real start of their rise to stardom. They finally bagged that 1st place music show win with I Need U. The win gave them the confidence they needed to push forward and they kept winning with each song after that. Seeing their confidence grow after each win is exhilarating.

This album is the turning point in their career, the launch pad, so-to-speak.

And the song, Yet to Come (The Most Beautiful Moment in Life) is the thread connecting Chapter 1 to Chapter 2 and beyond. We will have a Most Beautiful Moment in Life 10th Anniversary in 2025. This docu-series is the bridge between what was then, now and what is … yet to come.

Review of Episode 2 next…

#if you can read the book it adds so much more #bts beyond the star #jimin #jungkook #hobi #namjoon #yoongi #jin #taehyung #what will the song be that connects YTC with the future?

58 notes · View notes

starcrossedxwriter · 11 months

Text

Built for Love Part 9 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

Warnings: If graphic depictions of violence and abuse are triggering for you, PLEASE SKIP THE ENTIRE ITALICIZED SECTION. It is a flashback and it is graphic.

A/N: Please heed the above warning if you need it! It gets worse before it gets better for our girl :(

Shallow pants filled the hallway as Charlotte clutched the side of a concessions stand. Her heart felt as if it was going to beat right out of her chest.

She had no real coherent thoughts, only flashes of his smirk, his menacing eyes. And all she felt was panic and terror, as if he awakened true fear in her body that she thought was long buried.

“Hey!” Charlotte immediately straightened up as she heard Malcolm’s voice. She dusted off her clothes and cleared her throat, desperate hoping her panic and heart rate would decrease. “Chris sent me to find you. You good? You look like you’re having a panic attack.”

She nodded, her hand still pressing into her chest. “Y-yea, y-yea. I j-just f-freaked out… with… t-the audience,” she forced out. “J-just panicked f-for a sec.”

She could not tell if he believed her, that it was just the audience, his eyes were filled with concern but there was a thread of skepticism there too.

“Ok, well take a beat, take a breath. I’ll tell Chris you need a minute.”

She took a few deep breaths, forcing all that fear and panic back to a figurative box. She could not figure this out right now. She had a job to do and she would have to push through.

“I’m o-ok, I’m ok.”

“Ok, you ready to head back in? Chris wants to start.”

She nodded, “Yea, yea. Let’s… let’s do it.”

Charlotte barely remembered her lines, songs, or cues as she moved through the rehearsal like a robot. She was by far the weakest link among the cast, which was surprising to everyone, since she was typically running circles around everyone. She was thankful that none of the investors, including Shaun, stuck around long after rehearsal. He did not have a chance to speak to her or get close to her as she immediately exited the stage once Chris dismissed them. He merely threw her one last grin before he walked out the door.

Charlotte raced to the nearest bathroom, her quick lunch soon staring back at her. By the time she made it back to her dressing room to change and head home, she was barely standing, emotionally and physically drained. For a few moments, she just sat there, unmoving, staring at her reflection in the vanity mirror.

She wanted to scream or cry or rage or break something. But instead, she just stared into space and at her reflection, spiraling into a deep despair she had not experienced in a long time.

This was her own doing, she realized. She underestimated him, however he had managed to weasel his way into her world. She, foolishly, let herself believe time had dulled whatever impulse he had with her. His desire to control her new no bounds, defied the very laws of human nature in her opinion to move on. She had moved on, moved her life forward, and he was still frozen in time. That sort of relentless drive, he’d never stop. And that meant, she did not know if she could stay there.

She knew as soon as Michael learned he was floating around, or worse, her family, they would encourage her to leave. And she did not see a world in which she could convince them it was safe for her to stay. Nor did she even believe herself it was safe. He did not do all of this to get close to her for no reason, and she knew the reason could not be good. She felt as if this was an impossible situation with no outcome that worked in her favor.

However, despite the scenarios running through her head, the likelihoods and odds she knew to be true, the knowledge that her safest bet was to get on a plane and go home, she could not find any of them reason enough to actually do it.

She stared around this dressing room and she saw it, everything she had dreamed and worked for her entire life. When she left the first time, that was a means of survival. What were dreams when your only goal was keeping blood pumping through your veins? Her life quite literally hung on that decision so she never regretted it, not much. But she knew, if she abandoned the dream again after breathing new life into it, she would never forgive herself. Her soul would never be at peace again. That’s why she was even driven to come back, her soul needed this. She had jumped and grasped at this dream and she refused to allow him or the mistakes of her past dictate whether she seized it.

Reason fought her. She was courting fire, playing right into Shaun’s game. He wanted to be in her life, however he managed it. And she would never win against him. Those thoughts were loud, the realities pushed against her dreams, her human instinct to protect her physical body demanded she see reason.

It was a tough decision. And one she knew she had to make alone. Because the moment Michael or any of her family, people she trusted for sage advice, found out, they would make the decision for her. Her brothers would sooner hogtie her and force her on a plane before they allowed her to be in his presence ever again. And she understood that impulse, knew the pain and trauma they all went through when she was with Shaun. But still, was even that reason enough?

She shed her clothes of Ashley as her brain battled for the path forward. She had no idea what to do.

“You got a sec?”

Charlotte turned to find Malcolm waiting for her in the doorway of her dressing room. Internally, her entire body sagged. She knew he was likely there to inquire about her lackluster performance but she had no words or excuses. She was terrible and everyone knew it. However, still she dug as deep as she could to force a smile on her face.

“All the seconds in the world for you. What’s up?” She could hear how labored and tired those few words sounded, how fake the pep she infused into them felt in the space.

“Wanted to see if you were feeling better? You seemed out of it up there?”

“Y-yea. Sorry, I know today wasn’t my best. I’ll be better for tomorrow night. Think I just need some rest.”

“Ok well, before you go, can I show you something?”

She nodded, grabbing her coat and bag to follow him. They weaved through the backstage, which was almost empty save one or two people. She had not realized how long she sat in her dressing room. They finally stopped when they were center stage of the theater, the lights were dimmed but she could still see all the seats and boxes and all of its glory.

“Just thought you deserved a minute of quiet here without everyone. Starting tomorrow, this room is gonna be filled with thousands applauding for you every night.”

She let out a breathless sigh as she stood in the middle of the stage. She closed her eyes and if she thought back hard enough, she could remember what that was like. The thrill, the joy, it was truly intoxicating.

She only opened her eyes when she heard his words.

“Don’t let him take this from you again, Charlotte. You’ll never forgive yourself.”

She stilled before turning on her heels to face him. How could he know? She thought to herself. He couldn’t possibly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yea you do. Look… I won’t claim to know what he put you through. But I do know that you survived. You left and you survived and you came back here to claim what’s yours. That’s a hell a lot more than many women can say. Don’t let him run you outta here like he still has power.”

She shook her head. “H-How’d you…” she did not know what she even wanted to know… how’d he know her secret when she never told anyone and how’d he know she was considering leaving.

He scratched his head. “Let’s just say I’ve seen women in the same situation you were. Took me a while to notice the signs with you, I’ll admit. And one interaction with him to confirm those suspicions. You really are a damn good actress. But it’s always in the eyes… That's the one place the facade could never quite reach. No one else knew or suspected from what I could tell.”

Charlotte cast her eyes down at the weathered stage, her hands picking at the soft fabric of her black leggings. “You never said anything.”

He nodded. “And when you quit and left so abruptly, I wondered if that was the right choice. My aunt’s ex was like him and one time, she told me that the one thing she needed but never had was a friend who just could be there. Wasn’t trying to tell her things she already knew or preach to her or force her out of a situation she wasn’t ready to leave. She just needed someone to create a space for her to be her. The show always seemed like that for you… the one space to be you. I didn’t want to take that away from you.”

She chuckled, wiping the tears that streamed down her face.

“Not much of a safe space anymore. I don’t even know what he’s doing here. H-He hated musicals and shit like this.”

“Yea but he’s obsessed with money and you so this gives him both,” Malcolm mused. “W-when I recognized who he was, I spoke to him after you went back to your dressing room… before he left. He manages Issac Simmons’ investment portfolio. He’s invested in six award winning musicals and plays. But you know rich white folk, they never do the overseeing themselves. He hires an investment firm to manage all of his investments, monitor, and make sure they’re profitable. Shaun’s overseeing his portfolio. Issac attends meetings for the show as a producer and he gets to attend for the financial piece of it. How he managed that, I have no idea.”

Charlotte let out a humorless chuckle. “That was always m-my problem with him. I u-underestimate him the extent of his cruelty every time… at my own peril. Probably planned this the moment I left, knowing I’d be back.” She let out a strangled sigh. “I can’t leave a-and I can’t stay. I don’t know what to do,” she laughed, the laugh filled with exasperation and fear and frustration that she felt in her dressing room, the battles that existed in her head.

“You don’t gotta keep making the same mistakes. And you don’t have to let him win.”

She shook her head. “I’m not letting him win! He just wins… he’s bigger and stronger and smarter and faster. I c-can’t…” she paused. “I can’t fight him and I can’t beat him. I never could. A-and it's not just me I have to think about… Michael and my family… I can’t put them through what happened last time.”

“In all this, I haven’t heard one thing… what it is you want. What do you want, Charlotte?”

“I want this!” She spun around, gesturing at the theater. “I know I talk big shit about awards b-but I-I can live without ever winning a single award for what I do. I d-don’t care about that part of it. I… I can live without all that. But I-I c-can’t live without this. Without knowing that I had what it took to perform on t-the stage as a lead and that I t-took the steps to achieve something I’ve wanted m-most of my life. For as long as I could want to be a-anything, I wanted to be this. A-and if I never get nominated, fine. If I never win, f-fine. That’s ok because, at least, I achieved this.”

“Want my advice?”

“Please.” She settled on the edge of the stage, her feet dangling into the orchestra pit.

“I know it doesn’t feel like it today because seeing him brought up old shit. But you are a totally different woman than the last time he saw you. What’d you do when you were in LA?”

She shrugged, unsure of where his advice was headed. “I j-just tried to find myself again and happiness… I guess. Found hobbies and just tried to live again. I dunno.”

“Did you?”

A small but distinct smile settled on her features as she thought about her friends and family, Michael, and her career.

“Y-yea I did. But…”

“No. No buts. You found you again. The only reason he had power over you back then is because you thought you had nothing without him. You thought you were nothing without him. But then you left and you took it all back. You took the broken pieces he left you with and made something new and stronger. You are stronger than he realizes or you even realize. He’s betting on you cowering, he’s betting on you giving up. What would happen if you actually got in the ring this time and fought for what you wanted?”

“What about Michael a-and my family? They’ll never accept me staying here with him back in the picture. My dreams or not.”

“Look…” he sat down next to her. “Your family wants to keep you alive and healthy. So do I. But I… I’m selfish,” he admitted. “I know it and I’ve always owned that about myself. Because I care more about whether my decisions bring me peace at night, not whether others can accept them. You could call Chris tomorrow and tell him you quit and run back to LA. No one would fault you for choosing safety over this. Your family will breathe easier, the man you love will breathe easier and in some ways you will too. But,” he paused, glancing at her.

“Will your soul breathe easier? Will your heart allow you to rest at night knowing you had a chance to fight for the future you want and you didn’t take it? If the answer is yes, then maybe you don’t want this and what it represents. And that’s ok too. No judgment. But the Charlie Chris told me about… the Charlie he met as an annoying freshman, his words not mine,” he added as a caveat that made Charlie grin. “The Charlie I met on my first day in Chicago who exudes star power from every pore of her very soul, the Charlie Chris staked his reputation to bring back… he told me that that girl would claw her way through mud, glass, and landmines to get what she wanted. He said she was unapologetic in her pursuit of her dreams. So if you got any of that girl left in you and have any doubt about your answer, then have that boyfriend of yours teach you some boxing moves and get in the ring. End this your way. Not his.”

“I really hate that everyone uses boxing metaphors with me now,” she huffed, rolling her eyes. She pulled her legs into her chest. She knew he was right, this was what she wanted. But she did not feel strong enough to do what he was talking about. She was not equipped for this, the fight. She had never done it before. “I don’t know how to fight him and if I lose, there are no redos this time. I got a second chance… doubt I’ll get a third,” she admitted, what she was truly afraid of. That she was about to gamble her life on this dream.

“You want a hard truth? No one knows how to fight until they have to, Charlie. Until one day, you realize something in you will die if you don’t. Whether it be your soul, your heart, your dreams, your purpose, or your physical body. Whatever. So you fight for that, for that thing you know you can’t live without. And you fight like hell because there’s no other option. You’ll get hit, you’ll get knocked down. And it’s gonna hurt like hell. Sometimes you might get knocked out of the ring altogether. But you stay in the fight until you have nothing left. That’s life, that’s the gig. You ain’t the first person to feel ill-equipped for the fight and you won’t be the last. But I don’t know anyone who regrets fighting, just a lot of people who regret running, even with all the odds stacked against them.”

“And if I lose?”

He pushed up his shoulders in a shrug. “You have to decide what’s more important, Charlotte. Do you want survival with a dark cloud over you or do you want to fight for the life you actually want? No one can decide if the risk is worth it for you. Not me, not your family, and not that man of yours. It’s your life… make the choice that gives you peace.” He patted her knee before pushing himself up to stand. He dusted off his pants before helping Charlotte to her feet. “I should head home, kids’ are with my parents so it’s date night. See you tomorrow?”

She could hear the hopefulness in his voice, the silent prayer that curved around every word that her answer would be yes.

Her eyes followed the gold trim on the walls, imagining her family and Michael cheering for her in the front row. She was tired of running away from this, tired of letting him steal good things from her. She wanted a good thing, she deserved and earned this good thing. And she was going to take it.

“Yea.” She smiled as his whole body visibly relaxed and he let out a sigh of relief. “And I’ll be better… stronger than I was today. Thank you.” She hoped those two simple words conveyed her thanks, her appreciation for pulling her back from the edge of a decision she would have regretted her whole life.

He laid his hand on his lapel of his jacket and winked at her before exiting the theater, leaving Charlotte alone.

She sighed and glanced around before nodding. This was her choice and her life. She knew what she had to do and it would not be easy but it would be worth it. It had to be.

When she finally made her way home and up to their apartment, she was not surprised to find Michael already lounging in bed, shirtless, watching anime.

“Wasn’t sure when you’d be back so I just got pizza. You didn’t respond to my texts? You ok? You look beat.”

She watched him for a moment before sitting down on the bench at the end of her bed to take off her shoes. She took a deep breath and lied. She was fighting to have it all… her life and her dream. And the only way she could see to achieve that was to keep the amazing and protective man lounging in their bed at an arm’s length, for as long as she could.

She knew this plan relied heavily on luck and prayer. Prayer that all the chips fell exactly as they should so Michael and her family’s path never crossed with Shaun’s. There were so many ways this could unravel and she knew it. But even if she had to hold it all together with scotch tape and luck, she would do it. She didn’t need luck forever. She needed it for a few months.

“Yea, everything’s good,” she said sweetly as she walked around to kiss him. She perched on the edge of the bed next to him. “Rehearsal was j-just brutal. Day before previews, everyone’s just on edge. Wasn’t anyone’s best I don’t think. How are you?”

“Good, I went to the comic book store and did some research. Think I got every issue featuring Killmonger they had. I remember some of it from when I read it the first time but lots of good info. Why don’t we run you a bath before dinner and then you can tell me all about rehearsals?”

“Sounds heavenly but I’d much rather you join me so I can hear about your day. I don’t even want to think about the show. Tell me everything you learned.” She rubbed his leg before getting up to retreat to their bathroom.

“Want some wine?”

“You know me so well,” she moaned. “You get the goods and I’ll start the bath.”

She watched him for a moment as he rolled off the bed to go to their bar. Charlotte retreated into the bathroom and slumped against the vanity.

“This is a terrible idea,” She whispered to herself before walking to their tub. But it would work. It had to.

***

“Great show everyone! Found some minor things to tweak for tomorrow but it was truly stellar.”

The entire cast cheered, Charlotte hugging everyone she passed as they made their way backstage, their first official night of previews done and dusted.

As soon as the curtains fell and the applause died down, Charlotte finally let out a sigh of relief she did not know she was holding in. She did it and it was amazing. She had thought rehearsals were thrilling but she had forgotten how truly otherworldly performing in front of a sold-out crowd was. And for the house to be so packed on their first night, she had no regrets.

She was not surprised to find a certain actor waiting for her when she returned to her dressing room, a bright bouquet of flowers in his hand. Charlotte immediately threw herself in his arms, Michael lifting her off the ground.

“Els! Baby girl! You were fuckin’ phenomanal. That was amazing. You were perfect.”

“Thank you, baby.” She only had eyes for Michael while she performed. Every time she looked out into the crowd, she zeroed in on him, performing for him. And his reassuring smile gave her all the small boosts of confidence she needed to make it to the end of the show. She pulled back to look at him, her eyes searching his. “Y-You really liked it??”

He laughed. “I loved it. It was a really great story, the songs were perfect. You and Malcolm’s energy was insane. I’m excited to see it again once it opens officially.”

Charlotte’s entire body seemed to light up and glow, his opinion the only one she truly cared about. “Really?”

“Yes.” He captured her lips. “I see why he fought so hard to get you to join, that role was made for you. Congrats. Let’s go out and celebrate. Take you to dinner and then we can continue the celebration at home.”

She leaned into his embrace, her arm lazily wrapped around her shoulder. “Can we just go celebrate at home? My only idea of celebrating right now is being in your arms.”

“Anything you want.” Charlotte quickly changed out of her clothes and headed out the back door, surprised to find a few people waiting back there for a glimpse of them. She stopped and took a picture or two before heading into their car.

Michael continued to show her with praise the entire car ride and as they entered the apartment. She listened to his favorite parts and his one or two small critiques that she found incredibly insightful while getting ready for bed.

When she climbed into bed, she straddled his hips, her favorite spot to have true heart to hearts with him.

“Thank you,” she whispered, kissing him softly.

“For what?” His tone told her that he didn’t know what he was being thanked for.

“For supporting me. I wouldn’t have been able to do what I did tonight without you. Every time I looked at you in the crowd, I felt th-this surge of confidence and reassurance. I-Its just… t-thank you.” She cupped his face. “Thank you for loving me.”

His hands pulled her into his chest to kiss her deeply. “You never have to thank me for that.”

He flipped her onto her back and pulled off her nightgown, his body settling between her legs.

“I think the star of the night deserves a bit of extra attention?” He whispered as he pushed a finger inside her,

Charlotte’s back arching off the bed in pleasure.

And for one night, she didn’t think about all the notes she had for herself on her performance, she didn’t stress over what everyone else thought, and she did not think about Shaun. She just enjoyed the bliss of a good night with her boyfriend. This is what she was fighting for and it was worth it.

***

Charlotte pulled lasagna, Shaun’s favorite out of the oven, his birthday cake she spent all day making sitting perfectly on the glass display on the kitchen island. She had made all of his favorites, put on his favorite dress, all to ensure his birthday was perfect and special. His gift was neatly wrapped on the dining room table, an expensive watch he had dropped a million not-so-subtle hints that he wanted. She glanced at the clock as she continued finishing everything up, expecting him to waltz through the door at any moment.

She did not have to wait long as she heard his key enter the door. She immediately and quickly checked her hair and make-up in the hall mirror to ensure she looked perfect for his special day, just as he would want her, before greeting him at the front door. Her bright smile faltered as she saw his friends in tow behind him.

“H-hey babe. Happy Birthday! I didn’t know we were having company?” She offered, her voice remaining bright and sweet so as to not frustrate him.

“The boys decided they wanted to watch the game tonight.” She glanced at the takeout bags in their hands of burgers and fries.

She glanced toward the kitchen, the meal she had spent all day preparing, unable to stop the way her lips tugged downward.

“I cooked? Just like you wanted.”

He gestured toward the living room, his four friends filing out of the entryway and getting settled. His best friend, Marcus, turned on the tv and basketball game loudly.

“I don’t want that shit.” He threw at her, frustration coursing through her. But still, she could not let it show. She merely smiled and nodded.

“I-It’s your day, love. Whatever you want. I’ll just put the other stuff away for us tomorrow.”

She hesitated before kissing him on the lips, hoping it would ease his anger. She doubted it. She used to be able to soothe him, early on, with physical affection and more intimate activities but not anymore. It was rare when there was anything she could do to make him forget he was angry, forget to rain those blows down on her, forget to hurt her in other ways.

“You look fuckin’ terrible in that dress.” He did not bother to whisper that one, all of his friends pretending they were more engrossed in the game than his rude comment.

She glanced down at her outfit, suddenly she could only focus on her flaws that it accentuated and how it was looser than she remembered. She had lost so much weight in the last couple of months as things between Shaun and her continued to deteriorate. Her weight had always been one of his favorite things to criticize. She was down to a size 2 and he still thought she looked fat… and so did she.

“O-Oh I thought you liked this one,” she offered, her hands running down the front of the dress, which used to hug her soft curves and ass. It was revealing, low cut and shorter than Charlotte’s usual taste. But he had picked it out and often demanded she wear it. So she thought it was her best option for the day.

“It just makes you look like a fuckin’ whore. But maybe that’s good.” The word stung but she kept her face neutral, as neutral as she could. “High time my friends saw what type of woman you really are. They think you’re so perfect and pristine.” She tried to stop it but she couldn’t stop the way she flinched as he brought his hand to her face. However, the sharp bite of a slap never came. Though she could tell he found it amusing that she was expecting it. He did grip her chin though, painfully but not excruciating, forcing her eyes to his. “Maybe we could put on a show for them.” His voice dropped again, ensuring that no one but Charlotte could hear his threats. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby?”

“No,” she asserted defiantly.

He merely looked her up and down and offered a small “hm” and sinister smile before demanding she got them plates and utensils for their food.

She quickly retreated to the kitchen, her hands shaking as she rummaged through their kitchen to find everything they needd.

“That cake looks great, Charlie!” Donovan called from the couch.

Charlotte could not help but beam a bit, the first nice word said to her all day. She knew she would get no such praise or compliments from the man she made it for so she would take it wherever she got it. However, when she glanced up and found Shaun’s eyes piercing into hers, her small glow dimmed to darkness immediately. Her thank you was barely audible over the loud tv.

She wished she could return to their room while the boys hung out, escaping his glare. However, she knew she would not be so lucky when he summoned her into the living room and pulled her onto his lap. His grip around her waist was tight, nearly painful as he kept her there, forcing her to watch the game with them. She did not even understand basketball. He only let her go once to get him another drink before he forced her back on his lap again.

She hated it and he knew it. Knew how uncomfortable it made her and he savored it. It was not just being on display, but feeling the simmering anger beneath the surface that no one else could see or feel. It was like being forced to watch someone build the stake you were to be burned at, knowing every moment it grew taller and taller meant certain pain and death for her. He wanted her to feel it, know punishment was coming. Sometimes she knew why and others she didn’t. But it was the fear he enjoyed, he wanted her to sit in terror every second while they laughed and cracked jokes.

“Shaun told us you’re playing the lead in your show tomorrow night?” His friend, Jason, offered as the game went to commercial. “Chicago right?”

Charlotte did not take her eyes off her lap but she offered him a strained smile and nod.

“That’s what’s up!”

“Congrats!”

All of his friends’ congratulations rang out around her. She just said thank you before turning her attention back to the game, hoping the attention would not cause the rage already simmering to turn to a boil.

“Damn Shaun, you gotta a superstar on your hands there. Ready for that trophy husband life?” Donovon joked, all the boys laughing and joking about how they’d gladly become stay at home husbands’ to a powerful woman.

Shaun’s laughter filled her ears but she was the only one who heard the fakeness of it, the fury that colored the edges and stole any genuine amusement from his tone. She desperately wanted to find something else to do, somewhere else to be. But she knew he could sense that, her fear that made her want to flee, through the tightened grip around her stomach.

“Yea, baby girl is something alright…” he placed a gentle kiss to her spine and Charlotte recognized the secret message in it immediately, that it would be the last stroke of gentleness she felt that night.

She had hoped to make it to tomorrow’s show without a bruise so she could perform at her best. It was her first night as the lead, taking over for an actress who had to have emergency surgery. It was her dream and she wanted it to be perfect. But tonight had been one misstep after another, despite her best efforts. She would not make it to the stage tomorrow unscathed, she could only pray he showed her mercy and exercised some control so she could still perform.

“So what about that cake though?” Donovan asked, glancing at the kitchen as the final quarter winded down.

“Y-Yea, I can cut y-y’all some,” she made a move to go into the kitchen when he held her tighter, halting her movements.

“No baby, let me.”

He stood and Charlotte settled in his seat, her eyes trained on the tv and none of the men seated around her.

“Babe! Can you help me for a second?”

She immediately excused herself, rushing into the kitchen to find him staring down at the cake. She noticed that he had scooted it closer to the edge of the island from its original spot in the dead center. He had a knife wrapped in his hand, waving it around casually as he examined Charlotte’s day’s work.

“It does look great,” he whispered, Charlotte not sure whether to accept the compliment because she could detect the faintest amusement in his voice. “But I’ve seen better.”

However, before she could respond, she understood why he looked amused. She took a step forward just as he moved and pushed the cake and its holder, a glass cake stand Charlotte received from her grandmother, to the floor. She gasped as the holder shattered into a million pieces and the cake splattered across their pristine white floors.

She glanced from the newly made mess on the floor to his eyes, the menacing pair daring her to say a word or cry. She forced the tears that sprang to her eyes to stay where they were as the other men came rushing to the kitchen at the sound.

“Damn. What happened?”

One short glance at Shaun and she knew what lie she was to tell. “O-Oh I… um… just tripped while I was carrying it and d-dropped it. Y-You know h-how clumsy I-I am… Sorry guys… sorry, baby,” she offered, turning to Shaun. And even though she had not done a single thing wrong, she found that her apology to him was genuine. Her eyes repeated that apology as he stared at her, apologizing for not being what he wanted, for not trying hard enough, for ruining his special day. He had a way of making her mind believe she was the guilty party even when she knew in her soul she had done nothing wrong.

“It’s ok, babe. I know you tried your best.” He gently kissed her on the top of the head, Charlotte bowing her head and caving in softly. “You know what fellas, let’s call it a night. Wanna spend some time with my lady,” he kissed her on the cheek this time, Charlotte hoping none of them could see how her whole frame trembled beneath the seemingly sweet gesture and in his embrace.

His friends snickered and immediately gathered their stuff. She knew they merely figured they were being kicked out so they could fuck. Oh how she wished they could see it, see her terror, or that she had the confidence to scream at them to save her. But he had stomped all of that out of her. No voice to ask for someone else to help her and no energy to save herself. Besides, she knew it was useless. With everyone else, he hid the beast so well and so perfectly that they would never see the truth. Sometimes she, even still, fell for the facade that hid the monster so how could she expect anything else from them?

When she heard the door finally click closed, she braced herself. For what? She did not know. Part of her yearned for the days when it was a mere slap across the face every couple of weeks. Now, he avoided her face as it caused too many questions. However, what he could not do to her face, he seems to desire to make up for it everywhere else.

“Get on your knees,” he demanded when he returned to the kitchen, Charlotte still paralyzed in the same spot he left her. Charlotte’s eyes fell on the broken glass and cake, which made her hesitate for a millisecond, a millisecond she would quickly regret.

“You are really stupid, you know that?” He shook his head before he backhanded her, her body falling into their table. He quickly followed it with two punches to her abdomen that forced her to her knees. He kicked her over and over again, even though she was down where he wanted her, Charlotte screaming and begging him to stop as she felt several of her ribs crack.

He grabbed her by her hair, using his fist to create a ponytail to force her upright despite the pain.

“See we gotta have a long lesson tonight. When I tell you to do something, you fuckin’ do it. Got it?”

She nodded fervently, her body unable to determine what pain to focus on first: The pulling in her scalp, the sting on her cheek, the soreness already spreading through her stomach, the agony of every breath, or the shards of glass she could feel breaking her skin on her knees and chins.

“I-I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry” she strained to offer. “I-I’ll m-make it… up t-to you.”

However, he did not release her, Charlotte’s heart sinking as she watched his hands go to unbutton his pants. Her whimpers and pleas for a reprieve went unanswered as he forced himself down her throat.

She just pretended she was elsewhere as he made her to service him, forcing her panic to calm enough to focus on other things. She thought about the director’s notes from rehearsal today, she thought about her schedule for tomorrow and where she could fit in a quick run to an urgent care, she thought about what lie she would tell to explain the bruises that she most certainly could not hide in her character’s revealing costumes. She thought only of actions, tangible actions she could take. Not her fear, not her panic, not her despair. Actions. That seemed to be the only thing that worked when he hurt her. Thinking of the things she needed to do to keep the one thing in her life that brought her any joy was the only way to endure it. After all, no was not a word he accepted in any regard, but particularly not in the bedroom.

When he was done, he released her hair, causing her to collapse into the mess on the floor, her coughing and sobbing filling the kitchen.

“Clean this up, bitch. The floor better be spotless when I get back.”

She sat there for a moment as he retreated, her head buried in her hands as she cried. The agony of every sob was only amplified by the pain radiating through her ribs. Her hands shook violently as she tried to clean, accidentally cutting herself over and over on shards of glass she could not see through her own tears.

She had gotten the floor fairly clean before she noticed a steady drip of crimson staining the floor. She glanced down to see a rather deep cut from the glass on her leg, her blood falling from it. She immediately looked over her legs, both of them and her hands smudged in her own blood. She let in a sharp breath, which quickly turned to pants of panic as she fell forward to the floor.

It was not that she had not seen her own blood before but the sight felt like reality hitting her like a train. This would be her life… for the rest of her life. Day after day of killing herself to be perfect for him, to do every action by the letter of his law, only to end up in the same spot: broken beneath him. He’d never stop, he’d never change, and she’d never be perfect enough. Because he didn’t want her to be. He wanted her to be this broken, bleeding shell of a woman until he grew tired of her.

And that reality, the first time she forced herself to contend with the prospect of such a bleak future, made her insides twist in agony, adding to the pain she already felt. Pain… that was it for her. That was all she had known and would know: pain. She could hold tight to frivolous dreams like being the lead in a show but none of it even mattered. Her life was just one series of blows after another. He had taken everything else, it would not be long before he took that last sliver of light in her life with him.

“Charlotte! Charlotte, baby…”

She moaned into the floor, shaking her head, which she had buried into her arm on the floor. She was in too much pain, everything ached and hurt and she would not survive another thing. She knew it would only make it worse, more painful but she resisted, resisted his touch as he turned her over and straddled her.

“No! NO! Let me go, let me go!” She pushed and fought against him, using her last bit of energy to buck his body off of hers even as he pinned her hands to the ground, which felt softer and like she was sinking into it…

“Charlotte! Els! It’s just me! Babe! Wake up!”

Michael’s calls were frantic as he straddled her out of control limbs to subdue her. His eyes filled with unshed tears and trepidation as he tried to force her out of whatever nightmare had its grips on her mind.

However, he quickly realized grabbing her only amplified the issue, her erratic movements to escape his touch only intensifying as he tried to help her. However, he was terrified to let her go, terrified she would accidentally hurt herself or topple over the side of the bed.

This was not the first night Charlotte had woken him up with nightmares lately. Every night for the last week in fact. Most were soft whimpers and pleas that ended fairly quickly. He would inquire about them the next morning but she never seemed to remember what plagued her. However, tonight, when he woke up to those whimpers, it was far worse. It took mere minutes for them to turn into all out screams and pleas for mercy to an unknown assailant.

Her eyes were open but utterly unseeing, filled with pain and terror he wished he had never seen on her. Her body was active but her mind was still trapped in whatever hellscape her subconscious conjured.

“P-Please,” she whimpered. “D-don’t… I-I c-can’t… t-take a-any… m-more. Please. I-I’ll be b-better, I-I pr-promise.”

Her pleas to a person who was not there sent splinters through his soul, he wished he could do more to help her but he was utterly helpless. Even as she begged, her body continued fighting him, unaware that he was not her enemy.

“Els… love. H-hey, it’s me… it’s Bakari. It’s Bakari… y-you're safe, you're safe. Wake up for me,” he opted to match her tone, soft whispers that conveyed all of the love he held for her, hoping that would infiltrate the terror that whipped her into this frenzy.

He loosened his grip around her wrists and settled next to her as her body relaxed, his words and gentle touch seeping through slowly but surely. He kept one hand on her, loose but gentle as he caressed the inside of her wrist. He just had to wait for her mind to catch up, to realize the threat she felt was fiction, not reality.

“B-Bakari…” she whispered, his name coming out as a sob of relief. She sobbed as she realized where she was, Shaun was gone and her boyfriend sat beside her, his face in utter shock. She threw herself into his arms and cried into the nap of his neck. The visions from her nightmare, no not a nightmare she realized. A memory, one she had buried so deep, she had almost forgotten it. She glanced down at her hand, her normal one replaced with a vision of her dirty bloodied one from that night.

She could not control it as she felt her stomach immediately turn. She pulled herself away from Michael and leaned over the bed and retched. She groaned in pain as she heaved and flinched as Michael went to touch her back to comfort her.

“I-I’m sorry,” she kept repeating in the darkness as she realized what she had done, how she had embarrassed herself in front of him.

“Don’t apologize, love. Can you stand?”

She nodded faintly.

“Ok,” he helped her out of the bed on his side and led her to the bathroom. He sat her on the closed toilet, Charlotte’s eyes still a bit distant and clouded, though he knew she could hear him. He crouched down to be eye-level with her, his fingers whisking away the tears that continued to stream down her face. His tone was gentle as if he were talking to someone made of glass, anything other than a soft word would cause her to shatter into a million pieces.

“You ok for a few minutes? I’ll clean up as best I can out there while you shower and brush your teeth. And I’ll get the housekeepers here tomorrow. We can sleep in the other room for the rest of the night.”

She nodded, squeezing his hand before he left her. She did not move for a few moments, she just sat there, in shock. She had never experienced a nightmare quite like that before. She hated the wreckage he was still able to create in her life, how one glance had shredded through her subconscious.

She knew her house of cards was close to toppling, her web of lies would unravel. Michael was perceptive, noticed every change in her behavior. He would wait until the morning because he knew she was too fragile right them but then he would demand answers. And she did not know if he would accept “I don’t remember” this time.

When she finished, Michael was waiting for her with her favorite tea, a sweatshirt, and underwear. He helped her get dressed and led her to the couch.

“Wanna j-just crash on the couch so you can watch a bit of tv to calm down?”

She nodded quietly. He helped her snuggle up in her favorite thick blanket and rest with her head in his lap. His fingers gently massaged her scalp through her scarf. He could still feel her body tensing beneath him, none of her usual relaxation methods working to ease whatever plagued her.

“What’s wrong, Els? You’ve had a lot of nightmares but that one was… You sure you’re gonna be ok when I go to LA tomorrow? I can reschedule or come back early? Maybe you can ask Chris for a day off.”

“Y-yea, that’s it. I promise,” she whispered, clenching her eyes shut. “And no, you’re staying an extra couple days to see your family. You should do that.” She forced herself up and kissed him softly. “I’m ok, really. I t-think j-just the longer I’m back here, the more old shit it brings up. Besides, we only have two shows before opening night… two more days. Chris would k-kill me if I miss one. It was j-just a dumb flashback. I’m ok. G-get on your flight tomorrow, I'll keep you updated and I'll be fine."

He nodded and she fell back onto his lap. She immediately felt racked with guilt. Of course he believed her, she had never given him a reason to distrust her until now. She closed her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep as Michael’s soothing hands comforted her. But her inability to sleep this time had little to do with fear and a lot to do with her own guilt.

These nightmares were her punishment for lying, she knew that. All of the stress and panic she was hiding just manifested in her dreams, but amplified.

It’s for a good reason, it's for a good reason, she reminded herself. Though, she could not dismiss the nagging concern that when this house of lies finally fell, Michael would certainly not see it that way.

***

“So are you gonna miss having Michael there tomorrow night?” Chris asked as they watched everyone mingle at the cocktail hour one of the producers hosted. Tomorrow was the big day and everyone was excited and on edge, there was no inbetween.

She shrugged. “A bit. But he sent the most gorgeous flowers and got a massage for Sunday morning. He’ll be back mid next week and already bought a ticket to see it again when he’s back. I told him he’s gonna get tired of it.”

“He definitely will. A month in and Jason,” he gestured to his partner who was chatting across the room, “Barely wants to hear a note from one of my shows ever again. Let alone see it for the 100th time. Anyway, cheers,” they clinked their champagne flutes against each other’s. “Tomorrow’s your big night. You're gonna be a star once the reviews hit and this is all said and done."

Charlotte bowed her head. “All thanks to you.”

He shrugged. “I just know talent when I see it. Oh shoot. Isaac and his financial guy just got here. I should go say hi. Be right back.” He squeezed Charlotte’s arm before disappearing into the crowd, her eyes following him until they landed on Shaun and Isaac. Shaun, thankfully, did not notice her yet. But she did not linger long in the spot to give him the opportunity.

She quickly turned and moved through the crowd, making conversation with other investors and actors. It was a decent enough crowd that she could avoid him artfully. She and Shaun did a skillful dance the entire night. Every time he got too close, she spun away or Malcolm or Vanessa swooped in and artfully redirected his attention. It was dizzying but by the time she left to head downstairs to her car, she thought she had made it through another Shaun sighting without incident. And to think, she was going to tuck her tail between her legs and run home.

However, she should have known one cardinal rule: luck always runs out eventually.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Her steps down the hallway halted as she worked to slide on her coat. He was perched against the elevator as if he had been waiting for her.

She glanced around, the hallway was a ghost town as everyone else was still partying and having a good time. She could faintly hear Chris captivating the entire room with a third story of the night. His second one was Charlotte’s cue that it was time to head home. She had tried to sneak out unnoticed but now he blocked her path down to her car.

She studied him for a moment, her eyes trailing over his body from head to toe. He was still as handsome and captivating as she remembered, his brown skin was flawless, his suit reeked of wealth and high-quality tailoring. His appearance had not changed one bit. However, whatever captivated her about him the first time was long gone. She had been the moth to his flame, he drew her in effortlessly back then. But now, she only saw the facade for what it was: a mask to hide who he really was. She could not believe she fell for it the first time.

His stature remained tall and wide, making her feel physically powerless and inferior with her shorter stature. It was David and Goliath reincarnated but she had no rock and slingshot to save her. He could still squash her like a little bug and he knew it. Her confidence wilted like a flower with no water with every passing second underneath his glare. She hated the effect he still had on her, how her soul and bones seemed to recognize him and fall back into those patterns to protect herself. However, she remembered her mantra, she was fighting back. No more cowering, even if her fear wafted off of her like she was prey and he was her predator.

“It's good to have you back, baby. Miss me?”

“I-I…” her voice faltered for a moment before she drew herself to full height. It did little but she felt more assured when she answered him. “No. And I’m not your baby. I left you and I moved on. W-what are you even doing here?”

She hoped her voice sounded more confident to him than it did against her own ears. She sounded like a helpless child to stand up to their bigger and stronger bully.

He smiled, still that menacing smirk that sent chills down her spine. He circled her as he spoke, a hawk surveying its dinner.

“I manage all of Isaac’s investments. He was one of my rivals’ clients but when I found out his big investments were in Broadway… It was the fuckin’ long game, I’ll admit,” he reasoned. “But I figured I could get two things I wanted. I manage his portfolio, make recommendations, and I could keep my eye out for the Charlotte Bennett’s epic return. Worst case scenario, Issac makes a lot of money, so I make a shit ton of money. And best case scenario, I’m in the perfect position to see my favorite girl again. You know when I read that you were gonna be in this show, it wasn’t even a hard sell. As soon as I mentioned it, he said ‘every show Chris writes turns to money in my pocket.” He stopped in front of her, his finger grazing her cheek. His eyes seemed to light up as he watched her flinch beneath it, despite how hard she tried not to.

“How’d you even know I’d be in the show? I don’t remember you having a love for Broadway.”

“Oh I don’t give a fuck about any of this,” he waved his hand. “But I do still care about you. And like any good investor, I like to keep a close eye on my best investments. And you were my greatest one… so much time and energy I put into you. I know you better than you know yourself. Didn’t know what show or when, but this was always your dream. People leave but they always come back home eventually. It just required patience and time. You surprised me though… I’d thought you’d make me wait a lot longer than two & a half years.”

She tried to school her breathing. At this point, she would consider winning this fight to be ensuring he did not see the terror that raged beneath the surface. When she made this choice to say, she had forgotten what this part felt like. To feel his simmering anger up close, to feel primal fear like this. She now remembered why she had considered running in the first place.

With every step he took toward her, Charlotte took one step back until he had her pressed against the wall.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered, one arm wrapping around her waist to pull her close while the other inched up her thigh beneath her dress. She wanted to flinch, disgusted at how his hands felt against her skin. “Did you miss me?”

She shook her head vehemently, one arm pushing all of her weight into his chest to push him off while the other pushed off his wandering hand. She hated that he still felt entitled to her body and her. Her mind drifted back to Michael and one of the boxing moves he showed her when someone had you pressed against the ropes. She did not even give it a second thought as she jabbed her shoulder and entire weight into it and shoved him off of her.

She quickly moved from the wall and faced him. She knew she was only able to do that because she caught him off guard, the surprise in his face told her that much.

They don’t expect you to fight, Malcolm’s words came back to her. She would have to thank him again for that tidbit.

But she was merely happy to get his disgusting hands off of her, that was enough for now. She also made a mental note to thank Michael one day for teaching her that move before she turned her attention back to him. That one maneuver infused her with a new spark of confidence. She was not the same woman, she had grown and moved on and she would not be so easily intimidated ever again.

She squared her shoulders and stared at him as he blocked her way out.

“Move, Shaun. I don’t miss you and I never want to see or speak to you again. Y-You don’t get to waltz in here after years and act like you own me. Whatever game you’re playing, enjoy playing it alone. We’re done. Let me go,” she demanded, her voice sounding as strong as it had been since she spotted him earlier. “Now.”

However, Shaun seemed unperturbed by her change in demeanor and stronger voice. He merely laughed at her show of strength.

“Let you go? After I spent years turning you into the perfect woman? And don’t kid yourself, Charlie. That woman is still in there, underneath this bullshit facade you show to the world. You’re mine, Charlie. My perfect girl. You can move across the country, date other people… and you’ll still always be mine.”

Charlotte shook her head vehemently. “I-I am not yours! I don’t want you, Shaun. I’m in love with someone else. And he…” she sighed. “He doesn’t hurt me like you did, he doesn’t scare me, or talk down to me. He loves me. I didn’t come back for you. I came back to do this show and to start building a life with him. That’s it. There is no us ever again.”

She cowered slightly as she saw anger flash across his eyes.

“Oh you think you’re better than me now?”

“I think… I know I deserve better than you. And that I don’t love you… and that you can never hurt me like you did again.”

She barely had time to get the last word out before she doubled over as he threw a jab at her ribs. She immediately crumpled to the ground in shock, pain radiating through her abdomen. He followed it up with a kick to the same area that made tears spring to her eyes. It took everything to keep from screaming, she knew everything else was drowned out by the loud music of the party down the hall. It was quick, over before she even had the chance to attempt to defend herself. All she could do was whimper as she tried to push herself onto all fours, one hand immediately shielding her side from another kick.

“D-don’t, don’t…” she pleaded, her apologies flowing with each heaving breath. “I-I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry.”

He crouched down low beside her. “There she is,” he beamed. “The real Charlotte. It seems like you forgot who the fuck has power here. Cause it sure as hell ain’t you or that nigga you with. You breathe because I allow it, you’ll get up there and sing that bullshit every night because I let you. You lived carefree in LA because I allowed it. You don’t deserve shit. Still the worthless whore I remember. Don’t let the fans in there fool you, Charlie. You’re still nothing without me. Understand?”

When she didn’t immediately answer, he gripped her face tightly, forcing her eyes to him.

“I said, do you fuckin’ understand?”

“I-I u-understand.”

He immediately let her go, her face falling down as tears stained her cheeks.

“Get up,” his voice was so filled with disgust, she almost flinched again. “You don’t want people to see you like this, do you?”

She did not even watch as he sauntered back to the party, leaving Charlotte alone and broken on the floor. She sat there for a moment before she forced herself to her feet and dusted herself off. She pressed her hands into her eyes and wiped away her tears.

She gingerly tested her range of motion, a sharp exhale escaping her. It hurt when she moved but it wasn’t unbearable. If she could dance through broken ribs, she could certainly get through bruises. But she knew there would be no way to hide the bruise that would form from Michael when he returned from LA. But she decided that was a problem for later. She would just have to spin a larger web.

Charlotte quickly rushed into the elevator to ensure no one saw her. When she slid into her car, she demanded their driver drive around the city for 20 minutes before he took her home. She anxiously looked over her shoulder every 30 seconds as if she could pick Shaun out of the sea of cars behind her while she held back tears.

When she finally made it up to her apartment, she did not even change her clothes. She crawled into a ball on the couch and turned on the tv. She had finally dozed off when her phone rang.

“H-Hey babe,” she whispered as she answered Bakari’s FaceTime.

“Oh, I’m sorry love. I figured you were still out at that event. You ok?”

She smiled and nodded. “Y-Yea, yea. I j-just wasn’t feelin’ great at the party. Long day a-and t-too much to drink I think. Stressing for tomorrow. I didn’t even take off my make up,” she chuckled. “Tell me all about your first couple meetings while I get ready for bed.” She pushed the conversation back to him, hoping she had said enough to ease any concerns he had.

Michael did not keep her on the phone long as he could tell she was exhausted. But he did share highlights from his meetings and screen test with Chadwick, gushing - in the most manly way possible - about how excited he was to work alongside Chadwick and a couple of the other actors who were there. There was another day of reading and screen tests with a couple other cast members the next day but it seemed as if everyone had loved him. Though she was tired, his words were a breath of fresh air, the thing she needed to tip the scales of this day back in the right direction.

“I knew it. I’m so happy for you, love. The last couple will go great. Sounds like they’re just a formality?”

“Basically. Team’s gotta talk numbers but I think it’s a done deal. Ryan said the role is mine and he ain’t auditioning anybody else.”

She mustered up as much energy as she could to let out a couple of enthusiastic cheers.

“Good. Well I’ll call you tomorrow to tell you how opening night goes. Enjoy the time with the fam and we’ll celebrate when you get back?”

“Sounds good. See you on Wednesday, love. Get some rest. You sure you’re alright?”

“Y-Yea,” her voice cracked as the weight of the day and all her lies got to her. She so desperately wanted to fall and break down and sob. But she couldn’t. And she knew if she lingered under his stare, he would push. And one more push and she would crumble. “Love you, bye.” She said quickly before hanging up the phone.

She clenched her phone in her hand angrily and banged it on the counter, a slight sob escaping her.

She slid out of her dress and curled up in one of Michael’s sweatshirts before returning to the couch. Her eyes stayed trained on the tv all night, not falling asleep until the wee hours of the morning.

Thousands of miles away, Michael could not relax either. He was in bed and could not stop thinking about Charlotte.

Something was not right. He searched social media and the news to see if something had gone wrong at the last night of previews but all was quiet and the few posts he saw were extremely positive. He felt like a stalker but he checked all of her co-stars' social media accounts, studying every picture and video they posted , studying the rare glimpses of Charlotte in backgrounds. And still nothing. She looked tired but otherwise happy and joyful like he left her. In every photo he could find, she was smiling and laughing and clearly joking around.

After staring at the wall for an extra hour, he remembered that he had another option to get answers that did not involve Charlotte at all.

He scrolled through his contacts until he found Rob’s number. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel while the phone rang.

“Mr. Jordan, what can I do for you?” The man sounded groggy as if he had been asleep.

“Hey Rob. Sorry for waking you up. But you took Charlotte home tonight from the party right?”

“Yes sir, about 3 hours ago… around 1:30 a.m.”

Michael nodded. “Did she seem ok to you? Was she feeling alright or looked upset or hurt in any way?”

A distinct and pregnant pause filled the phone, a pause that filled him with dread, his protective side immediately kicked into overdrive.

“Rob. What happened?”

The older man sighed. “I don’t know, sir. And I mean that. When I dropped her off at the party around 11:30, she seemed just fine. Tired as she had been all day but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She texted me to meet her downstairs at 12:45, which was a bit earlier than she told me to come back. She came down and she seemed frazzled and upset. She had me drive around the city for 20 minutes before she told me to head home. She kept looking out the back window like someone was following her but she wouldn’t say what the issue was.”

“Was someone following you?”

“No, not that I could tell.”

“Was she hurt?”

“This is purely speculation, sir. But she did sound like she was in pain when she got in and out of the car. I asked if she needed help or was alright and she told me she was fine. I wish I knew more.”

“No, no. That’s plenty. What time does she have to be at the theater tomorrow night?”

“Around 3, sir. Curtains open at 7:30 and then she said the after party is nearby at midnight.”

“Good. I’ll send you the details but plan to pick me up sometime tomorrow afternoon after you drop her off. I’m getting on the first flight I can back to New York.”

“Yes sir.”

“And Rob, don’t mention this to her. If anything happens tomorrow when you pick her up, let me know.”

“Yes sir.”

Michael sighed and thudded his head back onto his headboard. He turned over the last couple weeks in his head and realized that tonight or her nightmare were not the first instance of odd behavior. The recent increase in her nightmares, the lack of sleep, the overall jumpiness she seemed to have. Something was going on, something more than just nervousness about performing. And whatever it was, it ended tomorrow. He would make sure of it.

Tag List: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings @pipsqueak-98 @miyuhpapayuh

***

A/N: Now… before everyone gets mad at me lol, I just want to assure everyone that this is a love story! Happy endings are coming lol we just gotta get through some muck first. Also what do you think of Charlie's decision to keep this all secret from Michael? Definitely is weighing on her heavily. How do you think that'll affect their relationship long-term? Michael is on his way back to his girl (I love how he immediately knew something wasn't right) andddd how do y'all think he's gonna react to what he sees?

Thanks for reading! Drop a comment and let me know what you think or if you want to be tagged!

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #michael b jordan x reader #creed 3 #black panther #adonis creed #michael b jordan fanfic #creed iii

156 notes · View notes

rocketturtle4 · 10 months

Text

Why Kawi Felt Inentionally Ace Coded

This is the second post I am making about this show for this week, the first was about what I think went down around time travel in this ep and I will directly reference those theories.

Also I just think the way this episode was playing with flash forwards and backs (with both Piseang’s conversation with his mum AND Max’s convo with Kawi – ALSO A FLASHBACK FYI) is VERY INTENTIONAL. (for the purpose of keeping us both in and out of the loop)

Okay so, for the record I really didn’t plan to actively engage in BMF this week, I am mid spiral on an entirely different TV show and this show did not have my full focus while I watched it this morning.

HOWEVER

This moment

[Image ID: Kawi saying "Do you think it's possible for two people dating to have no sexual activity at all]

Took my attention and kept it, I was yelling and I made 2 quick reaction posts about the fact that I was yelling (1, 2)

I will add here that @dropthedemiurge posted about Kawi being definitely ace coded LAST WEEK (I couldn't find it sorry but I remember reading it) as well as this week 2 and @heretherebedork had two different posts about this this week.

Also there is legit evidence for this being about touch starvation and intimacy issues (@shouldiusemyname) and if they do this well I wont be mad but…

It Felt VERY ACE CODED To me

And it felt a bit smack in your face ace coded in a way that to me was throwing up giant WE ARE GOING THERE flags. These flags, to me, were primarily in the LANGUAGE that was used more than Kawi’s physical body langue (which was more ambiguous between the two theories), and this is even trickier because of the layers of translation involved.

So lets talk about those flags

(Also I’m demisexual and demiromantic so my own lens is definitely colouring my view)

Max’s convo with Kawi

I actually loved this convo FOR Max’s response, not because he responded well (if Kawi is ace) but because he DIDN’T respond well. This show is doing a really good job of allowing it’s characters to be flawed and I reckon both Max and Piseang got to be flawed in this episode.

Max has been our gay Yoda

Max has been on point with all his advice

Kawi and Piseang are together in part due to Max’s advice,

But do you know what else Max is?

A 20 YEAR OLD

Max isn’t the person Kawi needs to talk to in this moment, because Kawi’s experiences are no longer aligning with his, and all of his advice thus far has been based on HIS OWN EXPERIENCE (which he literally says by the way):

[Image ID: Max speaking while the subtitles translate the start of his sentence as "Personally,"]

Kawi’s language in this convo was REAL SUS

On top of the first line pictured above, their conversation includes

Max: You’ve already crossed the line, what are you afraid of?

Kawi responds

[Image ID: Kawi saying "I'm not afraid. I just don't think it's that significant."]

Then we get Maxs scoff (SCOFF!!): "Right, The word from someone who’s never had sex"

And his positive take on how important sex is for a relationship and an Individual

And the implication that doing it with someone you love is even better

Then

Max: Are you going to sleep next to each other holding hands forever?

[Image ID: Kawi saying "That's good." with an acesexual black, grey, white and purple flag added to the image]

@sparklyeyedhimbo I like the flag one so I borrowed it.

Then Max points out that it will only work out if Piseang feels the same way.

my thoughts:

Max is very dismissive of Kawi in this convo, there is a real disconnect with Kawi’s tentative questions and Max’s certain responses. Again I THINK THIS IS INTENTIONAL as per above. (For anyone who wants to check again its part 3/4 from around the 2 minute mark)

Kawi doesn’t seem afraid, he seems genuinely confused about not wanting sex. And personally, I’ve BEEN THERE.

Back in the bedroom

Now here we get some fear as Kawi finds condoms, panics and pretends to sleep.

Something I find interesting about this is he doesn’t pretend to sleep facing away from where Piseang would lie or curled up, he is still placed fairly centrally on the bed. His body language isn’t overly defensive (in my uninformed opinion). Now this could just be that he trusts Piseang regardless but I wanted to point it out.

[Image ID: Piseang standing at the foot of the bed look at Kawi apparently asleep in bed]

Then Piseang Time Travels (Full clown, I’m committed)

(I just watched the scene again and Kawi opens his eyes and we don’t see Piseang while the music plays, this scene is legit from Kawi’s point of view and we’ve already seen that the travel isn’t visible to the person not holding the magic globe so I AM EVEN MORE CERTAIN)

Anyway back to this post

Piseang goes to bed and looks at kawi like this

[Image ID: Piseang staring at Kawi]

(I’m just putting this here and choosing to interpret it as weighted with future knowledge lol)

Which post is this again?

Ah yes Ace!Kawi

So we get bed in the morning and Kawi pretending to sleep and then Piseang goes

[Image ID: Piseang rolls to lie on top of Kawi]

And Kawi informs him that he’s heavy.

There’s no recoil

There’s no fear

Until

[Image ID: Piseang says "Would you like to get on top instead then?"]

Even then he’s startled more than scared in my humble opinion

Until Piseang tries to kiss him

[Image ID: Kawi making a very surprised/scared face]

Then Kawi pushes him off and leaves

Piseang continues to try and encourage intimacy

HOLD ON I HAVE A SECOND CLOWN THEORY ABOUT THE FUTURE

(I’m less convinced about my projections for what happens in the future, Piseang looks so content, maybe he just get’s a glimpse of domestic bliss…It needs to be next week already. FOR THE RECORD I’m sticking with clown theory 1 if I have to choose).

We get this moment

[Image ID: Two images of Kawi as Piseang wipes something off the corner of his mouth and Kawi's expression goes from anger to something softer]

And Kawi’s change of experession here is so tender, I feel like this could be coded either way intimacy issues or strong romantic feelings, it’s not lust though that’s for sure. (I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be using coded for intamacy but *shrugs*)

(oooo I wonder if the language play came from his glimpse into the future)

I’m going to skip ahead to the theme park or this will go forever

The bits in between feel more ambiguous to me

THESE LINES FELT SUPER ACE CODED

[Image ID: Piseang saying "If you just wanted to eat, why did you ask me to take you to a theme park? then Kawi saying "I just wanted to get the vibes. The thing that can make me the happiest is eating"]

Food over sex is a legit part of the ace community (the same way tucked in shirts and clear phone cases are part of the bi community from what I understand)

[Image ID: Kawi still saying "The thing that can make me the happiest is eating" now holding up a corn cob]

(If Kawi had held up cake here I would be ALL IN)

Then we get the rollercoaster metaphor!

[Image ID: Kawi and Piseang both looking at the rollercoarster, Piseang looks excited Kawi looks concerned/apprehensive/is making a woah face]

I’m just going to transcribe here it’s quicker and I’m running out of time before I go out tonight:

K: This is too much. Not this ride

P: Come on, Let’s try it first

K: No, I don’t like it.

P: You haven’t tried it yet. How do you know if you like It or not. You said you’d never been to a theme park.

P: If you don’t try it, it’s the same as if you’ve never been here

e.g. Coming to a theme park isn’t the same as enjoying the ride

Then P holds out his hand

P: If you’re scared, just hold onto my hand, Okay?

[Image ID: Kawi looking at Piseang]

K looks at Piseangs hand, Looks at Piseang, Looks at the ride and says

K: No! I won’t get on it. You can go alone if you want to. I’ll just wait here

And walks off

[Image ID: Piseang looks disapointed]

This again felt to me like a rejection of the fear as the primary motivation, he directly says he’s not afraid but he still doesn’t want to

I’m not sure about this scene in the car, it mostly just felt like Kawi was fed up at this point.

[Image ID: Kawi and Piseang in the car]

Possibly this scene highlights the different places there in and how Piseang is open to new experience and Kawi’s not? This feels more intimacy coded than ace.

Restaurant Scene

[Image ID: Kawi and Piseang looking tired in the restaurant]

Both Kawi and Piseang look so worn out in this scene, they both spent the whole day not communicating their true wants and fears and it’s left them all worn down

But Piseang doesn’t give up

[Image ID: Piseang saying "Whatever I did wrong today, you can tell me." and Kawi responding "Today was great."]

Kawi responds to this sincerity and reaches out to hold Piseang’s hand.

KAWI is the one WHO REACHES OUT, again this reads as specifically felt to me as a reason against touch starved.

[Image ID: Two images of Piseang and Kawi holding hands in the restaurant]

And then we’re in the bedroom (time skip anyone).

I’m actually not going to analyse this scene at all much. If Kawi is ace then he can still choose to have sex provided he and Piseang have communicated and if it’s intimacy issues then I also think it’s okay provided they’ve communicated first. ( idon't actually currently think Kawi is demi for the record)

(even when Piseang takes his shirt off, Kawi’s eyes stay on Piseangs face)

(although Piseangs do too actually…)

[Image ID: Two images of Kawi and Piseang after they have removed their shirts staring at each other. The first image contains the subtitle of Piseang saying "are you sure?"

(god his eyes are so big here compared to their often squintiness)

He doesn’t pull back but leans into the kiss. He’s clearly sure of his decision. I’m just not sure about his reasons.

[Image ID: Piseang and Kawi kissing]

Both Piseangs hands are on Kawi, but Kawi’s hands are straight down, I think this could go with either theory but personally on the few occasions I’ve made out with someone “what do I do with my hands?” loops in my head lol so I found this relatable.

Make of this what you will!!

Thoughts on Kawi and Kissing Piseang while he’s drunk

Honestly this doesn't feel weird to me, romantic attraction can involve kissing and drunk!kawi is just giving in to his confused thoughts and feelings, Aesthetic attraction can trick you too if you're not aware of your own identity (lol I had sex with someone before I experienced sexual attraction for the first time and felt very confused about why I didn't really feel like doing it again after even though it had been a positive experience, It was WILD), Kawi kisses Piseang because he likes him and is then confused about Why TF it doesn't feel like it's "supposed" to, *shrugs* make of that what you will.

Additional Thoughts

I’m reading into past future events now but I wonder about Pear and Kawi’s relationship.

Did they have sex?

There was clearly something fundamentally wrong with it, and the show talks about Kawi prioritising work, but it’s all a bit ambiguous and we never got any impression of intimacy. The fact that Pear is pregnant and Kawi doesn’t question if he’s the father, how long have they been broken up? Why did Pear seek out Not in the first place? Did Pear assume Kawi was gay because they didn't have sex??

ALSO

The scene where Kawi stares at Piseang while he was sleeping (Ep 9) I'm not going back to find it now or this won't get posted for like another 14 hours but it also felt ace-coded but I shrugged it off.

ALSO I HIT THE IMAGE LIMIT LOL

(@lurkingshan and @clairificusrex since you helped with my thoughts)

#be my favorite #be my favorite the series #be my favorite meta #ace-coding in be my favorite #rturts is wondering #long post

71 notes · View notes

mel1rose · 3 months

Text

Prologue

As flame reduces even the stars to ash, as ice seals away even time itself, as great trees swallow even the sky...

Fear not the power of darkness.

And so, we start where it all began. Come, let me show you a real happily ever after...

~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~

Word Count: 1.7k

Inspo Music: Toccata & Fugue in d minor - comp. Bach, arr. Stokowski; Thinking Time - TWST Soundtrack (aka post-overblot flashback theme part 1); Beauty and the Beast Prologue Instrumental (1991) - comp. Menken

Warnings: Gender-neutral reader, hello darkness my old friend, existential questions, spooky ambience, and the slightest hint of blood if you squint, but nothing recent.

~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~

Darkness is the only thing you know.

You can’t move, for the shadows envelop you in their embrace. You can’t hear, for the eerie silence snuffs all sound. You can’t see, for the void is all that exists.

Well, the void, and apparently you, are all that exists.

…That can’t be right.

Wasn’t there supposed to be something happening? Something important?

You wrack your brain for something, anything, that could illuminate your reason for being here. You try to remember what happened. Nothing. You try to remember how you got here. Nothing. You try to dig deeper, to the first memory you have, any memory, really, to tell you who you are. All you know is you and the void.

But one thought, strong and clear, crosses your mind.

Find them.

…Find who?

Find them, the thought insists.

Why? You ask. Why do I need to find them?

Find them, the thought insists again.

But somehow it feels right. It feels like what you’re supposed to do. But…how? You’re trapped in a never-ending, cold, dark void…

…Not for much longer.

You feel something start to grow in your heart. You look down and see light for the first time. It’s small, unassuming against the ever-expansive darkness.

But it’s there. It’s shining. It’s…warm. Your warm light.

Little by little, it expands to the rest of your body, chasing away the cold from your chest, your shoulders, your torso, your limbs, your neck, all the way to the top of your head and the tips of your fingers and toes.

This is not where you’ll stay, not if you have anything to say about it.

You stretch out your hand, finally able to move, focusing all your being on finding a way out. Your hand starts to glow, growing brighter and brighter until it bursts and fractures into a million stars. They swirl around you in a beautiful dance of light and color that almost look like…strings. In fact, the longer you look, the more shapes start to take definite form. You swear you can hear a firm, yet gentle melody pierce the silence with its rising and falling tones. The lights finish their dance in a grand flourish, coming together in a flash and a shower of sparkles to reveal a door.

You step forward and open it.

~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~

You find yourself standing in a garden. The sun is shining, the air is clear, and the scent of roses hangs on the breeze. You feel soft grass cushioning your bare feet. You hear the leaves rustling in the swaying trees and birds chirping as they fly overhead. Vine-covered walls line the border on one side while towering hedges line the other.

It’s warm, you notice. So warm.

Find them, you hear the breeze whisper.

There it is again. No time to rest, you suppose.

Guided by the breeze, you walk through the garden, stepping onto a path of mossy stones, passing beds of tulips, daisies, and dandelions. A few rose bushes guard the exit, framing a well-traveled walkway that becomes more overgrown and unkept the farther you travel away from the garden.

You don’t have to walk very far to see where the breeze wants you to go. Past a towering tree, its trunk thick and strong, you notice that the same stone wall from the garden stretches out along the path. It ends at a rounded stone archway that opens into a dark, interior hallway; the closer you are to it, the more you notice the cracks that line the archway’s surface and the increasing lack of sunlight shining down on you.

Find them, you hear the breeze whisper in a chorus of voices.

Against your better judgement, you cross the threshold into the hallway, following where the breeze takes you. Dust clouds hang in the air. Cobwebs decorate any surface or corner they can stick to. What were once grand carpets, drapes, tapestries, and tables now bear the scars of ravenous colonies of moths and termites.

Find them, the whispers on the breeze say. But the breeze doesn’t feel inviting anymore.

It feels cold. So…cold…

As wind whips past you, you rub your arms together, trying to salvage whatever warmth you had left from the garden. You look up to see the raggedy crimson drapes sway one after the other down the hallway until an old wooden door at its end slowly creeeaaaaks open.

Find them, the whispers say. You feel the return of the wind, now buffeting you from behind towards the open door and into the dark room beyond.

It’s too far for the sun’s rays to reach you here. But as you step forward, small square braziers by your feet activate with a puff of smoke one after the other until the entire room is lit by soft, blue flames.

You’ve entered a room lined with cracked columns. Frayed navy blue strips of patchy velvet limply decorate the walls, some parts stained a dull yellow. Eight pedestals stand in the middle of the room, forming a walkway towards an elevated platform accessible by worn marble stairs but covered by those same navy blue drapes like curtains on a stage. Curious, you take a closer look at the pedestals and their display of a…varied assortment of objects.

A broken crown, wilting like a dead flower despite being made of a sturdy metal. Obviously, it wasn’t sturdy enough to handle the pressure.

A curved claw, adorned with a large chasm that threatens to split it in two. Parts of it are discolored with patches of dark yellow and reddish brown. Something bad must’ve happened to the poor creature that this belonged to for the claw of all things to retain damage.

A seashell necklace, worn with holes covering its cracked surface. Its faded golden luster and threadbare black chord testify of numerous uses. Interesting choice for a display that’s nowhere near the sea.

A red gem, dulled from countless scratches. It’s still attached to a torn scrap of black fabric and the frayed remnants of a feather. Maybe with a little bit of polish it’ll look good as new?

A dagger, its blade covered with rust and threatening to fall off. Gem-shaped indents in the hilt are little more than forgotten craters in the metalwork. Pity. That could’ve been useful if things go south.

A skull-shaped brooch, the pin on the back bent at an odd angle and hanging loosely from the spring that once kept it in place. Oh come on! That could’ve been perfect for…something.

A sharp needle about a foot long, miraculously spotless and kept in good condition compared to the other objects. But upon closer inspection, there’s some slight discoloration at the bottom and a single track of a reddish brown substance that spans from the tip to most of the way down its length. This feels…oddly…familiar…maybe from a dream?

An antique gold key, its bow bearing a simple design of a raven’s skull. A strip of black-and-white striped fabric tied around the shaft droops downward as a lifeless little bow. What does it unlock?

You analyze the objects one by one, taking in all of their details and imperfections. Only one catches your eye. You return to it, inexplicably drawn to the artifact like a moth to a flame. You reach out to touch it.

Find them, the whispers say, urging you on.

But before you can make contact, you feel the wind return once again, this time flapping the drapes covering the platform until you hear fabric tearing from the force. By the time you run up to stabilize them, the frayed drapes fully separate from their base and fall to the ground, taking you with them in a puff of dust, debris, and a sneeze or two.

From your vantage point on the ground, you notice two things. One - the aged drapes are not stained. In actuality, they bear a faded yellow pattern of stars and crescent moons. Two - those drapes were covering a rather large, rather clean, rather expensive-looking oval mirror.

Golden snakes twisting around themselves form the frame, accented by a few shining rubies. At the top sits a crown of feathers, molded from the same metal that houses the mirror itself. You expect to see your reflection as you stand up, but you see nothing except an empty void.

Well, you see nothing except an empty void and a shadowy figure walking towards you.

It stops at what would be just in front of the mirror. All you can make out are long, flowing, black robes, making it appear as if it were a being risen from the shadows themselves. It holds out its bare, clawed hand towards you in a silent invitation.

Find them, the whispers in your heart say, stronger than ever.

You hesitate for a moment. You look down at your hand. You look back at the mirror. You reach forward, expecting to hit glass, but your hand passes right through the rippling surface. You take the figure’s steady hand.

As you step through the mirror, you glance all around you and see not one, not two, but seven lights, all coming from their own mirrors, all following the shadow holding your hand. Each light glows a different color at a different brightness, even compared to your own, but all chase away the feeling of dread that briefly settled in your heart at seeing the void again. You realize that you’re not alone anymore. You look back towards the figure again, each step more confident than the last.

The figure stops, turning around to face you and the gathering of lights. The same flowing robes that obscure the shadow’s body shroud its face. You hear a voice speak in your mind, sophisticated yet slightly grating, distorted somewhat by the whispers that echo its words.

To me. To them. To yourself.

The hour grows long, and time is scarce.

Keep steady your grip, no matter what may come…

And as you fall back into the darkness’ cold, soft embrace once more, a revelation crosses your mind.

You…are you, right?

No. You are…you…but…not…at the same time.

You are @$#%*&$%&^.

You are…Yuu.

And you’re about to become the meal of a large gray chimera with blue flames shooting out of its ears.

Welcome to the Villains’ world, Yuu@$#%*&$%&^

~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~

A/N: It's finally done!!! I'm so happy to share this with everyone and to actually put an idea down on paper that I've had for a long time now. I've got more stories to share, so stay tuned!

I do not own Twisted Wonderland or any of its characters; those rights belong to Yana Toboso, Aniplex, and Disney.

I do own any stories that I write. Please do not modify or repost my work.

#mel1rose's book of tales #my writing #tw: dried blood #twisted wonderland #au #gn!reader #yuu

26 notes · View notes

bestworstcase · 5 months

Note

Can you pleeeeease elaborate more on Silver Eyed Warriors being psychopomps, pretty please, thank you in advance, hands you a chocopie

right ok for the uninitiated, a psychopomp is a spirit or deity or creature or other entity responsible for guiding the souls of the newly dead to the afterlife.

i’ve talked about this part before but: silver eyes are associated with death (and grief) in many ways, both symbolic (reaper imagery) and material (the glare arises from the drive to protect the living, and ruby’s memories of people she’s grieving inspire hers, and the glare destroys the hand cinder used to kill pyrrha).

but why do i say psychopomps, specifically?

when people on remnant die, their souls pass through the liminal white void ‘between’ realms, as we see with ozma (who returns from the afterlife through the white void) and penny (who meets winter there) and arguably fria (the white flash at the moment she dies) and ruby (who returns from the tree—a metaphorical death—in a burst of pure white light, unlike the white-gold we see with afterans). so the white light released by the glare at least resembles the white void which bridges the gap between the living and dead.

right?

now consider this sequence of events:

ruby witnesses pyrrha’s death.

white light bursts from her eyes like wings, petrifying the wyvern, burning pyrrha’s killer, and leaving ruby unconscious.

months afterwards, ruby either begins to or continues to experience dream-flashbacks to pyrrha’s final moments (“do you believe in destiny?” “yes.” <- ruby wasn’t there.) which alternate with pyrrha calling out for jaune (in apparent fear or desperation, so it’s not simply the recording intruding on her dreams)

after ruby voices her own grief for pyrrha (V5) and learns more about her eyes from maria (<- while surrounded by butterflies the symbolism is very unsubtle), jaune is ‘found’ by an autumn leaf (<- symbolizing pyrrha) that leads him to pyrrha’s memorial, thus allowing him to release his own grief and make peace with her death.

#4 is akin to salem transforming in the pool of grimm and the resurrection of humankind in that a literal causal relationship isn’t explicitly shown but the symbolism and narrative structure suggests a meaningful connection; salem was alone until she was reborn and returned changed to a world that had likewise been reborn and changed, ruby carries pyrrha’s unfinished business forward with her (the dreams!) until she understands the true nature of her eyes whereupon pyrrha’s spirit (symbolized by that leaf) finds peace by helping jaune let go.

a similar thing happens in volume nine. ruby wakes up hearing echoes of penny’s voice in her head calling her name, and she’s haunted through the ever after by penny’s sword—a representation of penny’s soul and a symbol of ruby’s grief. this is only the beginning of grieving penny, so the arc is not complete yet, but thus far it’s on the same general track.

thennn there’s ‘guide my way,’ which is about summer rose from ruby’s perspective and, well, the title. it invokes the imagery of a psychopomp explicitly—“guide my way out of this place”—which reinforces the subtler imagery used in ‘indomitable’ (“i’ll meet you there/when we strive, we transcend/even death cannot end our climb”)

the twist is that silver-eyed psychopomps are meant to guide the living through grief as much as they are meant to guide the dead into death; they do not bridge the divide only in one direction. this of course befits a world where death is apotheosis (“for it is in passing we achieve immortality; through this we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all, infinite in distance and unbound by death,” “our souls transcend death,” everything the lost fable does with salem’s deaths and resurrections, ruby’s experience in the tree, etc) and merely part of an unending journey rather than ‘the end.’

there’s also (gestures vaguely) whatever is going on with the hounds, which i do not think was as simple as salem ganking a silver-eyed warrior and making a grimm out of him; she’s experimenting with the boundary between life and death in some way, because of what ruby’s glare did to cinder.

32 notes · View notes

sethcertified · 1 year

Text

「 SCREAM FOR YOU ! 」 . . . 📁 HALLOWEEN SPECIAL

scream : billy loomis, stu macher

wrd count : 822

⊹˚.⋆ synopsis . . . a brief flashback into [name] & billy’s history

⊹˚.⋆ starring . . . billy loomis, stu macher, & male reader

Stu, Billy, and I were walking side by side as we walked down the bustling neighborhood. Kids our age and younger were running around in brand new Halloween costumes carrying big bins of candy.

It was our final year in middle school together, so we decided to go all out for trick or treating. Billy was dressed up as the Candyman since it had been his favorite horror movie since we all saw it together in the movie theater. Stu had gone for a more comedic look dressing up as Carrie. Although the two wanted me to join in on their horror themed costumes I was dressed up as Fred from Drop Dead Fred.

The night felt like it was never ending with more houses begging for us to take their delicious candy as we turned down each corner of the neighborhood. Stu definitely had the most between the three of us though with his boundless charm and charisma with the parents who tried to subtly give him extra candy without Billy and I noticing. Those efforts failed; however, with our observant eyes noticing everything and anything.

Although it didn't feel like it the night did have to come to an end eventually. Our trio sat on the large porch of Stu's house munching on the large amounts of candy filling up our bags as we talked about meaningless things like most teenage boys do.

Except for the fact Billy and Stu were not like most teenage boys I knew. They had an obsession with horror films so strong it was slightly concerning. Their obsession had bothered me at first, but as time went on and they dragged me to more and more horror movie seeings at the movie theaters I learned to love horror films as much as they do.

Which was ever so apparent now as the two boys sitting next to me argued over Child's Play 3 for the billionth time.

Stu wasn't one for plots, but rather enjoyed the goriness of the film, "Okay, but this film had too high of a standard to live up to! Child's Play 2 was a masterpiece, so of course this one wouldn't be as good, but it's still fun to watch!"

Billy, on the other hand, hated mindless slasher films with no substance, "This is the weakest film in the franchise so far. I mean the death scenes are fun, but the plot lacks real substance."

A delicate smile was spread across my face as I watch the two boys argue. I admired the fierceness on their faces as they argued over their stances.

Sadly, our fun was interrupted by Stu's mom calling him inside. Billy and I shared a frown as we waved bye to Stu as he stood sadly at his front door. The light escaping from the open door died out as his mom shut it closed, leaving Billy and me alone in the darkness.

The darkness that filled our surroundings made me tense. It was embarrassing that at the age of 14 I still had a fear of the dark, so I usually kept it to myself. Billy gave me a concerned look, but just shrugged it off when I flashed him a forced smile.

The two of us walked along the bumpy, countryside road as we left the huge Matcher house. I stuck close to Billy too scared to be far from him in the dark.

Our hands would touch ever so slightly, but when it happened it sent my naive, preteen mind wild. Billy was cute. His cuteness wasn't helping my disdain towards my recent feelings towards him. Recent feelings bottled up inside of me that I wasn't sure I was allowed to feel.

The touch of our hands broke me out of my thoughts. It was different this time. Billy's hand was now holding mine. I glanced fearfully at our hands before glancing up at Billy.

He held a look of certainty in his eyes that was opposite of mine.

With a stride forward he pressed our lips together. My blood ran hot at the feeling, and panic was coming over me like a tsunami. I pushed the boy away, and he fell to the ground with an oomph as his candy spilled around him.

I ran harder than ever away from Billy's shaking body. Cries for me to come back echoed into the emptiness of the night, but I paid no mind. I just ran.

The scene of Billy smooshing his lips against mine played in my head like a broken VHS tape. I didn't want to watch it anymore. The feeling of his lips pressed against mine was still present, and I prayed the wind blowing against my running body would smear the feeling off.

Billy Loomis wasn't supposed to be my first kiss. Not in a million years.

✎ notes . . . yes, this is a repost. tumblr deleted my old acc >:( ⟡ . ⛪ ◦ ✺ 4.5 ⇿ 05

#☆ — sethcertified #☆ — scream for you #x male reader #male reader #scream #scream x reader #scream x male reader #scream 1996 #billy loomis x male reader #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #stu macher #stu macher x male reader #stu macher x reader #ghostface x male reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader

154 notes · View notes

duhragonball · 2 months

Text

Neon Genesis Evangelion 02

I’m honestly not sure if I knew beforehand about the penguin. This is one of those “wacky” anime tropes where it’s like “Uh-oh, we have a kooky thing in our show! Wokka wokka!” and I’m pretty sure it’s in so many different titles that I probably heard about the penguin and got it mixed up with some other show’s wacky animal. Anyway, let the record show that there is a penguin in this anime.

So last time Shinji Ikari got voluntipulated to pilot Eva Unit 01 in battle against an “angel”, a powerful monster that occasionally shows up in this world. All we really know so far is that the angels are hostile and only the Eva machines can stop them, if they have a compatible pilot to operate them. I guess the NERV Agency built the Eva machines, and recruited Rei Ayanami to pilot one of them, but she’s been hospitalized, so the NERV director, Gendo Ikari, has brought in his son, Shinji, to pilot another Eva unit in her place.

And he reluctantly agrees, despite having no training or prior experience. Hell, it’s not even clear he had any idea what he was getting into today. Anyway, he seems to have a gift for controlling his Eva, but the angel still overpowers him and starts kicking his ass. One of its powers is some sort of energy piledriver thing it uses to batter the head of Eva-01. Shinji can feel the damage, even though his own body isn’t physically harmed.

In the NERV command center, everyone’s freaking out because this clearly isn’t working, but there’s nothing they can do about it. Well, everyone except Shinji’s dad, Gendo. He doesn’t seem to care much one way or the other.

Then we flash forward to after the battle, when Shinji wakes up in bed. The middle of the episode just moves on, and for a while it’s unclear what the hell happened.

A bunch of big shots have a meeting in a darkened room, talking in circles about how expensive it is to fight the angels and all the projects they want Gendo Ikari to work on. I feel like I’ve seen this a hundred times. Pop Team Epic spoofed a scene like this, and this whole show reminds me of the not-funny parts of the Excel Saga manga. All these vague references to things the audience couldn’t possibly know about, and flashbacks to lines delivered earlier in the same episode. I don’t know if Evangelion was the inspiration for a lot of this stuff, or if it was just using tropes that were already familiar in 1995. Certainly the giant robots vs. giant monster thing is nothing new.

Anyway, nothing really gets settled in this scene. The authorities want Dr. Ikari to handle this crisis, and from what I can tell he already is. He’s a callous prick about it, but none of these guys seem to care about his attitude. They briefly ask why it’s so hard to find compatible pilots for these Eva Units, but we never get a clear answer. And Gendo has no reaction to their posturing, so this scene really doesn’t advance his character at all, unless the point is to show that he’s just as indifferent towards his superiors as he is to his subordinates.

At some point Shinji is released from the hospital, and Misato sets him up to live in this city. He wasn’t injured from the battle, but he was shaken up pretty badly. On their way, they briefly run into Gendo, who just stares at Shinji, who looks away in frustration until the elevator door closes. Soon enough, Misato learns that Shinji won’t be living with Gendo while he’s here. That doesn’t seem to bother either of the Ikaris.

So Misato arranges to have Shinji live with her, since she doesn’t like the idea of him being in a place by himself. She tells Ritsuko about this, and jokes that she isn’t planning to seduce the kid, and Ritsuko is upset at the very thought of it.

Misato was only kidding, but yeah, that’s kind of a messed up thing to kid about. It’s not even a case of the joke aging poorly, because Ritsuko takes offense in the very next line of dialogue.

On the way to her place, Misato finally explains to Shinji what this place is: Tokyo-3, a fortified city designed to repel Angel attacks. I think I can make an educated guess about what happened to Tokyo and Tokyo-2. What I don’t understand is what good the city does. It didn’t protect anything, and it was up to Shinji to defend it. Maybe it’s just easier to clean up and repair than a regular city.

Anyway, they get to the apartment and there’s empty beer cans and trash everywhere. Shinji is uncomfortable being here, he’s uncomfortable eating instant meals with Misato, and when he doesn’t immediately relax like she wants, she brow-beats him over it.

I guess that’s the point of all this. Misato’s the only person in this show so far who even tries to treat Shinji like a person, and she’s frustrated that he isn’t more like the kind of person she’d like him to be.

I mean, the additional frustration of living with an adult woman must be stressful as well, and the penguin probably doesn’t help matters.

Okay, so this is kind of a thing. At night, Shinji lies in his bedroom listening to his mixtape or whatever, and it switches from track 25 to 26. I was reading a Twitter thread that mentioned this, and how he only listens to those two tracks over and over, so I think that becomes important later. Anyway.

At last, we finally flash back to the battle, and learn how Shinji survived. Somehow, his Eva went berserk and began fighting back all on its own. Or maybe Shinji was controlling it unconsciously or whatever. The Angel is quickly overwhelmed, and it tries to self-destruct, but the Eva survives unharmed.

The NERV crew mention something about the Eva’s “true form”, which I guess explains whatever this thing is that we see beneath it’s helmet. Shinji gets a look at it through his viewscreen and they stare at each other for a while before he blacks out from terror.

Before turning in for the night Misato stops by to tell him what she feels she should have told him earlier: that he did a good thing by saving Tokyo-3 from the Angel.

I don’t know, it didn’t quite hit me until now, but yeah, it’s kind of fucked up that no one bothers to thank him until well after the crisis has passed. I mean, if Tokyo-3, the NERV Agency, and all the rest are so crucial to the future of humanity, then you’d think there’d be more gratitude towards Shinji. I think part of the disconnect here is that the Angel problem is a lot bigger than this one attack, and the characters are too busy worrying about the big picture to appreciate a single act of heroism, no matter how important it might be.

Anyway, that’s it for now. Join us next time when... actually I have no idea. I watch the next episode preview, but I couldn’t make much sense of it. I’ll find out soon enough.

#neon genesis evangelion #2024ngeliveblog #shinji ikari #gendo ikari #misato katsuragi #ritsuko akagi #pen-pen

13 notes · View notes

trashmouth-richie · 2 years

Text

WE’RE THE LAST IN LINE: 2

W.C 2.6k

Pairings: mechanic!Eddie x fem!Reader

Warnings: NO MINORS: talks of masturbation, sex

Part: | 1 | 3 | 4

The night after the whole fiasco with Jason, Eddie knocked on your door around around 6:30pm. You had called Pete earlier and told him you needed a few personal days. He was cool with it. So you spent the rest of that day sitting around listening to sad music and trying to feel better. You open the door to see Eddie with a shy smile on his face. “Hey I uhh, didn’t know if you’d be home but I have some info from Chief Hopper.”

You smile up at him and slide behind your door, opening it wide for Eddie to walk in. The smell of stale cigs, motor oil and notes of burned cedar wafts in behind him. He’s holding a Manila envelope in his hands as he scoots back a bar stool at the kitchen counter and sits down. He’s wearing a pair of faded jeans and his converse are tucked up underneath the stool crossed at his ankles. A white waffle knit shirt is adorning his arms, peeking out small flashes of his tattoos.

“I’m just brewing up some coffee if you want a cup? Or do you want a glass of lemonade? Bottle of water?” You ask, peeking glances at him as you stand in front of the fridge.

“Uhh well normally I’d love some lemonade but the heater was out in the shop today so I’m freezing, coffee for me please.”

You grab two cups from the tall cupboards and get the creamer from the fridge. You dump a generous amount of coffee into each cup and slide the creamer towards him, offering a spoon to stir. “Thanks” he says with a smile as he grabs the cup and tips it back to his mouth. “How are you feeling? Were you rable to sleep?”

You stand in the kitchen across from him leaning against the stove. You take a long sip of your coffee letting the hot liquid burn down your throat. You want to tell him that no, you hadn’t slept at all actually. You kept having flashbacks of Jason’s hands on your legs. Your hair was wrapped on top of your head like a birds nest. You were wearing slippers and the same clothes he saw you in last night before he left. You were pretty fucking far from okay but you didn’t know how to say that to a complete stranger. You wanted to tell him everything, but instead you went with “mhmm.”

He smiles at you with a silent agreement hung between the pair of you. “I uh.. yeah so Hop went over the tapes and said it was pretty cut and dry the evidence was there and he would make an arrest this evening. You might have to go down and sign some papers but for the most part this is what he wrote up.” Eddie opens the envelope and skims his fingers against the paper clip removing it entirely. He goes into detail on paper about the things he saw and what else happened that night. Your breath hitches in your throat as you read what Eddie had seen.

“Sounds good,” you say as you turn away, your eyes about to give away that you’re not okay.

You hear papers shuffling as Eddie puts them back into the envelope. Tears are running down your face as you try your damndest to chase them away with the sleeve of your shirt. A small noise escapes your mouth as you set your coffee down and bury the heels of your hands in your eyes.

It was just too much. Reading what had happened felt like you were violated all over again. You hear Eddie scoot back out of the barstool and the squeak of his sneakers on the tile beside you. “Tell me what I can do to help you.” He nearly whispers.

You turn farther away from him and choke out through sobs “I’m- s-sorry! I j—- ”

Eddie closes the gap between you and rubs your back gently. You throw your body forward towards him leaning on his chest as your body shakes with violent sobs. It takes a minute before Eddie’s arms wrap around your back and his chin rests on the top of your head. “You have nothing to apologize for,” Eddie whispers, “you did nothing wrong, he’s insane, and he’s going to be put away for what he did to you.”

The sobs breaking from your body get louder still as you claw at his shirt, leaving a mess of wet tears on his chest. You are so overwhelmed and tired you could barely see straight. Everytime you closed your eyes you imagined you were shoved up against that wall, fighting Jason off of you, pleading and begging him to let you go. Eddie is stroking your back with light finger tip touches as you cry into him. “Come on, you need some rest.”

Eddie guides you over to your room and pulls back the blankets so you can lie down. He’s sitting on your bed rubbing your back as you face him. For the first time tonight you finally get a good look at his face. His eyes are full of concern as he gazes down at you, his eyebrows knitted together. His hair is falling beautifully by his face framing his sharp jaw. His pillowy lips parted slightly. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it but I just want you to know that I’m here if you —uh ever want to talk.” He scratches his neck and smiles weakly. He is the sweetest man, how could someone you just met be nicer to you than any other piece of shit in this town?

“Tell me something, anything to get my mind off of it”.

“Okay, uhh, I didn’t pass my senior year on the first try.” Eddie admits. Your eyebrows raise in curiosity as Eddie goes into detail, “yeah I —long story short finally pulled my head out of my ass on the third go around, it’s okay to laugh it’s funny… now.” He says with a wide smile.

Your lips stretch as a smile spreads across your face. You try to hold back a laugh but it escapes from your mouth. “I’m sorry I don’t mean to laugh,” you explain. You needed a good laugh, something to distract you from the imposing doom of reality.

“Like I said, it’s funny now,” he chuckles, “but back then, my uncle was ready to kick my ass.” A slight pained expression starts in his eyes as he shakes his head as if to deter his demons away.

“Everything okay?” You ask him as you sit up leaning your back on the headboard.

He swivels his body to face you, throwing an angled leg onto the bed. “Yeah, I um— it’s just been a wild ride since high school. Actually high school was a wild ride, now I’m just on cruise control with the windows down, well on most days.” That Cheshire Cat grin splatters his face, “but I don’t want to bore you with my troubles.” He stands to leave and bends backwards cracking his back as he does, his shirt lifts a bit and you see the delicate hairs of a treasure trail dipping into the waistband of his boxer briefs. You want him to bother you with his problems, hell- you’d listen to anything he had to say. “I should go so you can rest,” he says. He hesitates as he looks around your room, eyeing the small trinkets on your dresser and the polaroids you have strung along your walls lit by dainty fairy lights. A poster of The Lost Boys hangs on the wall by the closet. An array of succulents are perched below the window on various sized stands, craning for sunlight.

Eddie leans forward to get a better look of one of the pictures. You eye him as you realize which one he’s looking at. “Yeah that’s …from my 21st birthday” you say embarrassed, your cheeks burning red. The picture was of you riding a mechanical bull wearing a pink feathered cowboy hat, drunk out of your mind and your chest heaved out of a black bedazzled bralette. “My friends dragged me to Nashville.”

“Oh well you uh— look like you’re having a nice birthday.” Eddie chokes out as his cheeks fade to pink. A small smile creeping up his face as he hides it with a cough. “Well, I’m— yeah, I’ll see you later? I mean if you want to? I don’t know— okay I’m— bye.”

Eddie stumbles out of your room running into the wall as he turns to wave bye.

”Holy shit!”

“I’m okay!” He says rubbing his forehead, “D-do you have a pen?”

You lean over to your night stand and fish out a pen. You toss it to him but the toss ends up being higher than anticipated and hits the wall above his head. Jesus Christ could this get any more awkward.

“Alright Major League, be right back!” Eddie runs into your kitchen and runs back in with a small piece of ripped Manila envelope. Scrawled across it is Eddie’s phone number. “Y’know’ in cause you need some sugar”

Eddie’s face goes red at his realization.

“Like you need to borrow some— for baking not like sugar as in— sex— um okay bye.”

Eddie leaves with a small click of your door shutting. You hear someone scream “what the fuck!” And then nothing.

You stare for hours at the 10 digits that make up Eddie’s phone number. You take out your phone and add it in as a contact. Staring longingly at his name in your phone, as you finally drift to sleep.

—

The next morning you are woken up to the annoying buzzing of your phone. A number you didn’t recognize but the location read Hawkins, IN.

“Hello?” You croak as you search for the water bottle on your nightstand.

“Mornin’ is this Y/N Y/L/N?” A voice gruff though the phone.

“Yes it is”

“Y/N this is Chief James Hopper, I’m going to need you to come down to the station at noon today to fill out paperwork and do a line-up.”

“O—okay, I’ll be there.”

“Thanks”

The line goes dead indicating Hop hung up. You distract yourself with the impending shit day by taking a shower. You do your entire shower routine that you learned from tiktok. You play your favorite morning playlist and just take it one minute at a time. Stepping out of the shower onto the plush bath rug, you decide to call Eddie and tell him you’re going down to the station today and maybe see if he wants to go with you. Innocent enough right? Drying your hair you hum along trying to calm your nerves before you call Eddie. Would he say yes? Fuck would he even answer?

You get dressed in a simple black pair of jeans, your high top converse, an orange flannel and a tan beanie. You scroll to the E’s in your contact list and thumb on Eddie’s name. It rings twice before he answers.

“Yeah?” Eddie answers in a quick annoyed manner.

“Hi, Eddie this is Y/N” you mumble in a panic.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry!” He says immediately changing his demeanor, “I though you were… someone else what’s up, you calling to borrow that cup of sugar?”

You stifle a giggle, “no but I’m going to have to sweet talk you into doing me a favor,” you say as a prickle of blush rises on your cheeks.

You explain to Eddie what Chief Hopper asked you to do today at noon, he listens and immediately says yes when you ask him to go with you. “You don’t have to—if you’re busy I totally get it.” Silently hoping he wasn’t too busy to go with you.

“Nah, I’m just at work, I’ll tell Rob I need to leave early today. I’ll pick you up at 11:45 okay? Wear a coat, it's kinda cold on the bike today.”

You had never been on a motorcycle before but the thought of Eddie picking you up to ride with him was putting butterflies in your stomach. You open your closet and find the vintage leather jacket you picked up at a thrift store a few months back. You wait outside for Eddie to show and right at 11:45 he rises into the parking lot. You walk out to him and he throws the visor of his helmet up, winking at you. He takes it off revealing a black bandana around the top of his head, “Hey, you look, wow.” You blush a little at his compliment.

He puts the kick stand down and throws a leg over the bike and stands next to you. He reaches in the back compartment of the bike and wrestles out another identical helmet. “Hope you don’t mind wearing this, ya know safety and shit.” He glides the helmet delicately over your head being careful of your hair. It’s snug around your face and comfy. Eddie slides his back on and suddenly you hear him in your ears. “Luke, LUUUKE I AM YOUR FATHER!.. Bluetooth! Pretty cool right?”

You laugh hard at his joke, “this is awesome, I feel like the pink Power Ranger!” You say while laughing.

“Kim? Oh she was hot, total spank bank material.” You laugh even harder at Eddie’s admission as he shakes his head.

“Sorry I uh— shit let’s go.” Eddie hangs his head in defeat of his own mouth as he climbs back onto the bike, you swing your leg behind you and sit comfortably as Eddie shows you where to put your feet. “Alright now hold onto me tight and don’t worry, I’m an excellent driver I’m so good that they keep stopping me to tell me about it, even having me sign their fan mail!”

If this is how the rest of today would go, your stomach would be hurting from laughing in no time at all.

Taglist: @boomhauer @munsonficdump @sidthedollface2 @b-irock @manda-panda-monium @tlclick73 @creoleguurl

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

#eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things x y/n #stranger things #mechanic!eddie #tattooartist!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst

239 notes · View notes