#the wicked witch of the waste | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cosmicanakin · 3 months

Text

blast from the past | part two.

pairing. vinnie hacker x female reader.

outline. shopping for groceries late at night, coincidentally vinnie and his possessive bimbo girlfriend are there too.

contains. angst, violence, toxic relationships, strong language, unhealthy coping mechanisms, trust issues.

authors note. i love reader in this one she's such a badass. not proofread !!!

part one.

a week had passed since that disastrous night at the charity gala. you've been trying your best to keep busy and occupy your mind elsewhere, anything to avoid dwelling on memories better left buried. inevitably though, thoughts would drift back no matter how hard you tried shoving them down. the sting of betrayal lingered sharpest from vinnie, someone you never thought capable of such blind trust in strangers over you.

tonight found you wandering the aisles of the local supermarket down the street, needing essentials to fill your empty fridge now that work consumed all hours. late evening meant fewer crowds ideally, wanting solitude to wallow in the peaceful sounds of the freezer humming. headphones drowned out the world as you aimlessly surveyed options, pausing by the mozzarella to snap a pic for inspiration.

checking your phone brought a notification, some silly video your friend had sent to lift your gloomy mood lately. laughter died abruptly in your throat at what appeared next in your peripheral vision, however. vinnie stood not 10 feet away, equally frozen as startled eyes met yours across the dairy aisle. he looked as taken aback by the chance encounter as you, and hovering behind a cart steered by none other than the wicked blonde witch herself.

blood turned to ice in your veins at the smirk unfurling across her glossed lips, recognizing you with unabashed glee. meeting vinnie's gaze again you quickly turn on your heel, determined to escape before venomous words can fly.

"y/n wait!" his voice sounded behind you as feet shuffled in pursuit. refusing to give him or the bitch further satisfaction, you picked up your pace eyes fixed ahead unwaveringly. a hand grasped your shoulder to spin you around, meeting empty air as you sidestepped nimbly out of reach.

"what do you think you're doing chasing after her, vinnie? don't you remember what she did to me at the gala? that slut isn't worth your time."

you froze in your tracks at her sardonic tone carrying easily the short distance, blood slowly beginning to boil at the audacity. slowly turning around, you saw the blonde grab vinnie harshly by the wrist to drag him back, he struggled against her iron grip to no avail, equally taken aback by her words. neither noticed your approach until you stood only inches away, leveling a withering glare her way.

"i may be a fucking slut, but at least i'm not a crazy possessive cunt. and you should work on how to keep that mouth shut before you end up in a body bag, bitch." without awaiting a reply you shoved vinnie aside with enough force to send him stumbling into the shelves.

the blonde lunged at you with claws outstretched and you swiftly deflected, delivering a swift right hook to her pert nose that crunched satisfyingly. she howled clutching her face as blood poured between slender fingers, knees buckling to the slick floor tiles. not wasting the opening, you straddled her torso raining down blows with practiced form and efficiency, releasing weeks of pent-up rage and hurt.

distantly you registered vinnie's shouts to stop somewhere in your red haze of adrenaline and endorphins. it wasn't until strong arms circled your midsection forcibly yanking you off the whimpering mass of fake tits and extensions that your assault relented. still panting heavily as the world swam back into focus, you glanced down at the mess of smeared blood and makeup staining your knuckles with a rush of satisfaction.

shaking off vinnie's hold roughly, you scanned the aisle as people watched the spectacle unfolding. forgetting your discarded basket you marched past without a backward glance, leaving the store and its chaos behind in your wake as whispers steadily grew louder in the distance.

arriving home still a wired mess, you attempted to steady your whirring thoughts long into the night. raw feelings still simmered just below boiling point, exacerbated further by unwelcome memories refusing to leave you be. how could vinnie so quickly side against you even after everything, believing her manipulative lies over your history together?

it was well after midnight when your phone buzzed on the bathroom counter as you cleaned up your knuckles so they don't get infected, the screen illuminating vinnie's contact photo. against better judgment your thumb slid automatically to accept the call, holding the device weakly to your ear.

"y/n, i know you're angry but please we need to talk. meet me at the overlook from our first date..." without waiting for a reply he hung up, leaving you little choice but to drag your exhausted body back into restless motion once more.

the overlook held a dear place in your heart, somewhere vinnie had first taken you during happier times together. perched atop the hill it afforded gorgeous sweeping views of la's twinkling skyline as stars shone brightly above, serenading lost souls who found solace beneath its glow. you couldn't deny the poetic justice or closure meeting there again may provide, no matter the fresh pain it stirred.

parking alongside vinnie's car just as the time on your dashboard struck 12:30, you stepped out into the chill night air slowly making your way toward the rusted bench. he sat waiting silhouetted against the cityscape, head rising as footsteps crunched gravel announcing your arrival. you gazed out over the glittering city wordlessly, keeping distance and walls firmly in place.

"y/n...i know apologizing can't make up for the shit i pulled or how badly i hurt you. stephanie, she's...trouble, to say the least. but none of that should have given me excuse to turn on you like that when you've never given me reason not to trust you with my life." his tone held unmistakable remorse, struggling to find the right words under your stony silence.

"my actions were inexcusable and you didn't deserve the shit she caused. i was a coward for not standing up to her manipulations sooner. you have every right to still be angry with me and i won't blame you if you never forgive what happened..."

honestly you didn't know how to feel or process the jumble of warring emotions wreaking havoc inside. some small, neglected part craved wiping the slate clean and jumping right back into the familiar comfort of his arms. but trust once broken could take lifetimes to genuinely mend if ever, and your dignity wouldn't allow walking right back into the line of friendly fire so easily.

"i appreciate you owning up to being a fuck up vinnie, don't get me wrong. but actions speak louder than any amount of sorry's. you looked me dead in the eyes and CHOSE to believe her crazy accusations over a person who loved you unconditionally for years. that kind of betrayal cuts deeper than you seem to comprehend..." you sighed wearily dragging fingers through tangled locks.

"all i ever wanted was for you to have my back without reservation like i did for you. what's to stop the same thing from happening again down the road if some other new face comes along manipulating the situation, vinnie?"

he hung his head in shame, lips set in a grim line comprehending the enormity of damage wrought maybe for the first time. a painful beat of silence stretched between you like a great chasm, each wrestling their own tumultuous internal demons in solitude.

"you're right, y/n. as much as i want to make things right between us again someday, the trust and security you need from me after all this is more than i can give or deserve from you right now. all i can do is promise to do better learn from my mistakes, and be a man worthy of your forgiveness someday if you'll grant me the chance to slowly earn it back."

turning to face him fully you offered a small, sad smile cradling his downcast features tenderly between your palms. leaning up you pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek, letting the multitude of emotions pouring from your touch convey what words couldn't.

"take care of yourself vinnie. maybe with time and distance to heal...we'll find our way to each other again. but for now i think space is what's healthiest, no matter how badly my stupid heart wants the comfort of nostalgia."

turning you walked away slowly back to your car without looking back, leaving vinnie and shattered remnants of your past silhouetted against the city that raised you both. it would take dedicated work on his part to regain even an ounce of your trust moving forward, if ever possible again. but closure and clarity wherever it may lead was the first step toward accepting messy realities and finding inner peace.

187 notes · View notes

persephinae · 1 year

Text

“You hear people talk about witches being burned, but I don’t reckon many real witches ever did get burned unless they were tricked in some way; I think it was mostly poor old women. Witches are mostly too soggy, and it was probably a wicked waste of good timber. But it’s very easy to push an old lady down to the ground and take one of the doors off the barn and put it on top of her like a sandwich and pile stones on it until she can’t breathe anymore. And that makes all the badness go away. Except that it doesn’t. Because there are other things going on, and other old ladies. And when they run out, there are always old men. Always strangers. There’s always the outsider. And then, perhaps, one day, there’s always you. That’s when the madness stops. When there’s no one left to be mad."

- Terry Pratchett (I Shall Wear Midnight)

#discworld #terry pratchett #i shall wear midnight #i think about this quote sometimes

979 notes · View notes

angelwithdemonictendencies · 1 year

Text

every morning i check my knees for blood; i must have crawled back to you a thousand times while i slept.

tz11 x reader: in which you’ve been here before (part two to make him you)

(warnings: blasphemous filth, oral sex (f on m), penetrative sex (m on f), choking (guess who’s back?), hair pulling (hell yeah), spanking (refusing to cringe), degradation, praise, idk like he licks your tears? crawling? crazy shit?, toxic relationship, obviously dirty talk (give the people what they want) please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(long a/n: dramatic swan song aside, turns out i’m not done yet. so here i am, because some lovely people reminded me that i can be here. and if i’m not writing, who will put choking in every story? who will treat jack as a fictional punching bag? i have a purpose here, witches. you don’t need to be reminded that trevor is for sure not capable of this, but i’ll remind you anyway. maybe it will inspire the ducks to win, perhaps. yeah, right. they’re tanking so they’ll get that boy in the draft. anyways, didn’t check for typos. obviously be kind. i’ve got more stuff coming. thanks for reviving me. the wicked never die. we live in the cracks of gravestones and in between the lines of explicit fanfiction. enjoy. see you soon.)

you truly, genuinely, held off as long as you could. to be fair to jack, sure, but also to be fair to yourself. trevor wasn’t good for you, you weren’t good for trevor, but you were inevitable, like some worldly truth in a language only you two understood.

you kept jack around as long as you could stomach, but eventually it became impossible to see him as anything other than a vacant mirror, cracked just enough to make you realize he wasn’t trevor, and you couldn’t glue his pieces together to make him trevor. it wasn’t fair to either of you, so you ended it.

and, inevitably, you knew exactly who to search out to put your own pieces back together.

thankfully, tonight, as soon as you made eye contact with him across the room, you knew how tonight would end, because you had decided it would end that way.

so why would you rush it? you drank a bit, caught up with friends, spent most of the night dancing.

and at some point, you felt a pair of hands squeeze your hips, a grip you would recognize no matter how many times you had tried to forget. he clasped his hands in front of you, swayed with you while pressing his front into your back.

you shivered at the sensation of his breath on your collarbone, settling there like a heavy fog over a dark lake. you slid a hand up into his hair, still swaying, faced away from him, gently traced your nails across his neck.

“you miss me, sugar?” he rasped into your ear. you turned to face him, looped both arms around his neck, felt his crossed arms rest on the lower curve of your back.

you looked up at him, searched his eyes for something specific and found it in spades. “so what if i did?”

he smirked, pulled you closer, leaned down to your ear. “you ready to be mine again?”

he knew your answer before you had even bit your lip and nodded, wasted no time in pulling you to a private room with a searing grip on your wrist, an all-too-welcome cuff.

he pushed you up against the inside of the door, reached a hand around you to lock it. you raised a brow, to which he unexpectedly kissed your cheekbone, then traced where his lips had been with his thumb. “just you and me this time, sugar.”

his sweetness ended there, as he turned and walked to the foot of the bed, leisurely sat on the edge. you made to follow, but he stopped you with a “tsk” noise. you stilled. “you know better,” he drawled, eyes alight. and you did. you knew it wouldn’t be so easy. he wouldn’t let it be. and wasn’t that what you had craved to begin with?

he leaned back, resting his weight on his elbows, legs spread wide. he gave a slight, awaiting nod. “go on, sugar,” he said, “show me what’s mine.” his gaze was patent as he began to palm his cock.

you took a deep breath before you began to slowly undress. moving your hands at a tantalizing pace, like any fast movement might set off an explosion. the air was charged enough for it. you soaked in his attention, his longing. he groaned when you revealed your bare chest to him, something guttural escaped him when you were finally and completely exposed.

you could see how hard he was, could all but taste his mouth, could practically feel his cock in your hand, inside of you. you waited patiently for a tell of what to do next.

“hm, all for me, sugar?” he rasped. you made a sound in assent. “c’m here,” he said, “won’t make you wait any longer.”

his gaze coated you as you moved. he shook his head. “no,” he corrected, “crawl.”

you ran your tongue along the inside of your teeth, reluctant. “don’t be bad for my benefit,” he said, “or i won’t let you cum.” amusement lit up his face. “and we both know you’re too desperate for that.”

that was enough. you dropped to your hands and knees, stomach fluttering at the heat his eyes immediately became saturated with. you became acutely aware of just how wet you were as you crawled to him, settled in between his legs, relished in his groans.

“go on,” he said as you rested your elbows on his knees, “take what’s yours.” you immediately pulled him out, hot and thick in your palm, winced beautifully as his grip tangled itself in your hair. you pumped him up and down before taking him in your mouth, felt your stomach flutter again at his moans.

he cocked his head back at the familiar feeling of you, one he couldn’t find anywhere else. he pulled your hair harder, smirked as you moaned around him, forced you deeper.

“love my cock in your mouth, don’t you, sugar?” you hummed in response. “yeah? love when i fuck your throat, yeah?” he pushed your head down until you gagged, then snapped his hips up and back. you held your jaw open and let him. let him reach the back of your throat, take what he could from you.

he groaned from his stomach, you watched it flex and tense in a tell that he was close. you braced yourself for his finish, but he suddenly stopped and pulled you off of him by your hair. you caught your breath, smiled, noticed your face had become damp with stray tears at his force.

“aw, sugar, these for me?” he cooed, running a thumb across your cheek before bringing it to his lips and enveloping it in his mouth. he smirked. “tastes like you.” you smiled. “c’mon, give me a kiss.” a language only you two spoke. this is your worldly truth. this is the only truth.

he pulled you up to his level, grasped the side of your face in a hand as your lips met. you snaked a hand into his hair and tugged lightly at the long strands, bit softly at his bottom lip, smiled into his mouth when he moaned. you pushed his chest forward until he was resting on his elbows, leaning back again. you placed one knee on the outside of each of his hips.

his laugh sent a shiver down your spine. “aw, sugar thinks she’s in charge,” his expression was pitiful. “you forget yourself already? it’s only been a couple weeks.” in a swift, fluid motion, he wrapped an arm under your thigh and spun you until your cheek was pressed into the bed, your hips lifted up into the air. “you forget about me, hm, sugar?”

“no,” you tried, “wanted to, trevor, couldn’t.” he slapped a hand across your ass, smiled at your whimper.

“thought so,” he murmured smugly, dragging two fingers through your folds before slapping your ass again. “love those pretty noises you make.” he thrust into you abruptly, chest rumbled as you squeezed him. “now scream like the slut you are for me.”

you complied, moaning loudly as he thrust in and out of you at a brutal pace, one hand’s grip digging into the flesh at your hip, the other wrapping around your throat and pulling your head up off of the bed. your vision swam deliciously.

“poor sugar,” he grunted, accentuating his pace and force, “such a needy slut and no one can fuck her right but me.” he squeezed your neck a bit tighter. “isn’t that right?”

you moaned, nodded, to which he laughed. “you can do better than that.” he let go of your throat and brought a hand down to just barely ghost over your clit. “tell me, sugar, or i won’t let you cum.”

you summoned the words in desperation. “no one can fuck me like you, trevor,” you whined, “wanted you so bad, pretended he was you every time.”

you could picture his cocky smile as he finally indulged you, carefully rubbed circles on your clit. “always tell me just what i want to hear, sugar.”

you moaned, clenched around him. the corner of your mouth ticked up at the growl-like noise he released.

“that hungry for my cum, are you, slut?” he rubbed you faster, thrust harder. “tryna milk me for all i’m worth, yeah?”

you whined, felt yourself grow impossibly closer. “cum, then, sugar. waited long enough.”

he kept his pace and rhythm, moved the hand that had been squeezing your hip to your lower stomach, pressing up, knowing exactly how your back would arch, how your head would roll back, how your eyes would flutter shut, how you would grip him tight and gush around him, moan out his name.

just as you knew how his pressure on your stomach would increase, how his hips would stutter, how his other arm would come to wrap around your waist, hold you to him as he came, groaning deeply.

like some kind of beautiful clockwork, everything played out exactly as you wanted, as he wanted, because you both had decided it would.

except this time, he didn’t walk away right after you fell back on the bed, breaths heavy. he pulled you to him, kissed your cheekbone again.

no one had to say anything. you both knew. that undeniable truth sat between you: that as much as you were his, he was yours, just as truly.

and didn’t you both know it.

fin.

#hockey #hockey smut #nhl #nhl smut #smut #trevor zegras #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes smut #anaheim ducks #quinn hughes #auston matthews

555 notes · View notes

gliyerabaa · 3 months

Text

I think that the musical's choice to have Glinda and Fiyero engaged/married was an excellent choice made for the wrong creative reasons

Like, you have two young adults from powerful families, serving in high capacity to the Wonderful Wizard of Oz, (but neither of them truly *want* to be there!!)

And both of them have history with Public Enemy Number One, the infamous Wicked Witch of the West..... there's so much social tension and drama here, and political intrigue, and potential for a genuine love triangle! The potential is limitless!!!

But noooo they had to go with the "boy dumps pretty girl to be with conventionally unpretty girl" early 2000's catfight bullshit. Like I get it's a product of the times but still.. the wasted potential annoys me

#wicked #wicked the musical #gelphie #fiyeraba #gliyeraba #analysis #I might have more to say about this later #idk

73 notes · View notes

misseviehyde · 10 months

Text

WICKED WAX

Jordan had always known that his best-friend Micky was a total bullshitter - but this time the stupid douche-bag had got himself into real trouble. Inventing an imaginary girlfriend called Ashley and telling everyone at school they were dating was one thing - but bragging to the school bully that he was bringing his girl to the pool party and wagering $300 on it was crazy.

"Look Micky - when 'Ashley' doesn't show up at the pool party with you, you're gonna owe that ape $300 ," groaned Jordan. "You don't have that kind of money and the bastard is lining up practically the whole school to humiliate you tomorrow."

"Which is why it is totally going to throw him when she actually shows up and I actually humiliate him," grinned Micky.

"But Ashley isn't real you moron. You downloaded her photo off a website, the real girl probably lives thousands of miles away - she might even be in a different country!"

"Relax bro," smirked Micky pulling out the offending picture from his wallet where he always kept it. It showed an incredibly hot and busty teenage girl standing next to a car, her huge breasts barely contained within her tight white top. Her nails were long and sexy, and her eyes had a sexy intensity to them. She was the hot girl next-door and then some. Most of the guys at school had enjoyed drooling over the photo - Jordan had been no exception.

Placing the photo down carefully, Micky opened a box and pulled out a candle inscribed with strange symbols. He turned to his friend and grinned. "You see Jordan, Ashley is gonna become real."

"What the hell are you talking about you total cretin," scoffed Jordan as his friend lit the candle which burned with a pinkish flame.

"My aunt is a witch. I convinced her to give me this magic candle. All you have to do is burn a picture in the candle flame and you will become the person pictured. I just need you to burn it so you turn into Ashley."

"Are you nuts? Magic isn't real dude... and even if it was, I don't want to turn into a girl."

"Sure you do. It would be fun. Are you telling me you'd really pass up the chance to be THAT hot? Look, all you'd have to do is turn into Ashley for a couple of hours. Just long enough to show up with me to the party and get the $300. Then we'll burn a photo of you and turn you back! I'll give you half the cash, you can't say fairer than that."

Jordan winced. This was crazy, but his friend seemed dead set on it. "Tell you what. I'll go through with your stupid plan, but you have to give me 20 bucks when it doesn't work, just for wasting my time. I can't believe you're going to get me to burn this picture... it's so hot."

"Yeah, but soon you'll be her and YOU'LL be that hot. Go on, I've been dying to see this in action..."

Jordan reluctantly took the photo and held it into the candle flame. It took almost instantly, burning bright pink and rapidly being consumed. To his amazement the flames didn't emit any heat and the smoke that gathered from the burning, instead of dissipating, began to writhe and coil around him. Something magical was indeed occurring. "Woah, what's happening?"

Micky watched in amazement as his friend was completely obscured by smoke... cocooned in it. From inside the haze he heard grunts and groans, his friends voice seeming to radically change and get sexier. "Oooooh, oh wow, ohhhh Micky, you gotta try this ahhhh I feel... mmmmmmmmh ohhh amazing!"

Inside the smoke Jordan was transforming and altering. He felt his fingernails lengthen like those of the girl in the picture and he suddenly felt smaller and sexier. His hair tickled his shoulders as he felt an insistent weight on his chest and looking down was amazed to see his chest was swelling and pushing out! The magic was real! He was turning into a girl!

"OHHHHH FUCK!" groaned Jordan as he felt a strange absence growing in his crotch area and his skin tingled prettily. His clothing seemed to be changing to match his new body and he could taste lipstick on his mouth. This was weird... but kinda nice. His insides tingled and his features transformed, his mouth breaking into an infectiously cute smile. He reached up to his face to feel soft, smooth skin... impossibly soft. "Ohhhh yeah," he moaned in his new softer voice - turning himself on at how girly and sexy it sounded.

As the last of the photo was consumed and vanished, the pink flames spluttered and the candle wick went out - leaving it ready to be used again sometime...

The smoke began to clear and Jordan sat down on the bed with a squeak, his plump new ass taking the weight nicely. His new sexy mouth curved into a grin as he examined himself and giggled. His formerly male body was completely transformed. He was now dressed in a tight, barely decent pink boob tube and had a light teal skirt on. His formerly hairy legs were completely smooth and he had a big pair of big boobies bouncing on his chest. He was incredibly sexy and feminine - he had become Ashley.

"Micky, this is awesome!" laughed Jordan in his funny new girls voice. "For the first time ever in your life, your bullshit has turned out to be true!"

"See! I told you my aunt really was a witch. Pretty cool huh?"

"Oh my God, my dick is totally gone," gasped Jordan with a hand down Ashley's skirt. His fingers felt the elastic of a pair of panties and he rubbed his flat front, gasping as he touched his new pussy for the first time ever. Ashley's was totally smooth and shaven and it felt so good to touch. Even better than a dick. He began to massage his clit, groaning as his nipples got hard through his top - before realising where he was and what he was doing!

"Oh shit, sorry," he blushed realising what he was doing and snatching his hand out of his hemline. "Sorry dude, it's just weird. Fuck, my tits are huge... I mean, I look so feminine now! I must have bigger boobs than every girl at school. Wow, these nails are super long too... are these those gel nail thingy's all the girls at school are always bragging about?"

"I guess so," grinned Micky. "Do you like them?"

"Hmmm, strangely... I do. I never really noticed before, but long nails are kinda hot."

"I meant your tits!"

"Oh, yeah... sure, God... is that all you can think about?"

Standing up from the bed, Jordan walked over to the mirror. Even his walk was different now. He held his arms differently and his hips swayed when he moved. He looked like a real girl.

"Hey, why am I dressed differently to the girl in the photo? I thought I was gonna turn into a copy of her, shouldn't I be in that white top and daisy dukes?"

"Well, the way my aunt described it - you didn't just become a copy of Ashley - you ARE Ashley. Reality has altered to fit you in. So you're wearing what she would be wearing right now under normal circumstances... carrying what she would be carrying. For the time being Jordan has ceased to exist and no one will remember him. If you were to go home now, you'd find your room is now a girls room. Look you even have a handbag."

Spotting the handbag on the bed, Jordan pulled it open and found an iphone and a purse. Inside was a drivers license for 'Ashley Hilton'. He guessed that was him now - he was Ashley Hilton. Unlocking the phone, he found he had contacts galore for various girls - many of them the popular girls from his school. There were plenty of messages from them, one or two of their half-naked boyfriends sent to the rest of the girls to check out. Looking at a picture of the star quarterback with his rippling muscles on show was kind of weird... and kind of sexy. There were plenty of private messages for Ashley. Quite a few of them were variations on: Hey Ash... looking forward to seeing you at the party tomorrow... XXX

It was clear that Ashley was pretty fucking popular... which made Jordan think. Now she was real and reality had changed... did that change this entire situation?

"Micky - if this thing changed reality, does that mean that Jackson won't have made the bet with you and this is all for nothing? I mean it kind of looks like Ashley goes to our school, so why would he bet $300 dollars on her turning up at the party tomorrow?"

"Oh crap, that's a point. Well ummmm, hopefully the bet is because he doesn't believe she would ever date a loser like me. I better check though." Micky began doing something with his phone whilst Jordan inspected his new body and prodded his face. Looking through the handbag he found some lipgloss, mascara and some tampons. "Holy shit, I get periods now! Oh fuck, I hope I'm not on one at the moment..."

Opening up his phone and checking the calendar, Jordan breathed a sigh of relief as he saw 'Ashley' had marked her times of the month carefully. Looks like he didn't have to worry about that right away!

"Okay dude, I just checked with some of the guys and the bet is still on. It's pretty much like you thought though, you aren't my 'imaginary' girlfriend anymore... everyone knows you exist, it's just no one can believe we are dating. Damn it - that's going to make things harder though."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, you can't just 'show up' at the party anymore. You're gonna have to tell people we are dating and maybe kiss me to prove it..."

"KISS YOU! You have got to be kidding!"

"Hey... am I that bad looking?"

Folding his arms under his boobs and giving Micky an irritated look, Jordan shook his head. "Forget it. I am not kissing a boy."

"Why not? You are a girl now, and if the candle worked right you should have a healthy female sex drive and sexual orientation."

"WHAT! You fucker! You didn't tell me it was going to do that!"

"Well I was hardly going to tell you that as well as changing your body, the candle would transform your mind was I? I knew you'd freak out! Haven't you noticed that you're already acting more feminine? The way you're walking, the way you are talking? It would hardly be of much use to either of us if you needed months of preparation to pass as female. The spell made you Ashley and Ashley you are becoming."

Jordan stamped his foot in annoyance. He should have known not to trust that little shit - this spell was fucking up his mind as well as his body. That would explain why he had known the unlock code for Ashley's phone... why when he thought of some of the girls that were messaging him, he suddenly knew things about them he had never known before. Details and events of a life that was now his were hazily beginning to appear in his mind. For instance, he knew he had a hairdressers appointment next week and he also knew that he was meeting the girls on Monday to go shopping at the Mall. The longer he stayed as Ashley, the stronger those memories would become.

"Don't worry, we'll turn you back before those memories becoming too overwhelming, it's only for today and tomorrow."

Jordan suddenly pursed his soft lips and looked at his friend in dawning horror. "Hang on though - we need a photo of me to turn back though right? And since this stupid spell just transformed reality and made it so I have always been Ashley, surely all the photos of me will have changed too?"

Micky felt his stomach lurch and a flush of panic creep into him. Grabbing his phone, he began looking back through his albums, but to his growing alarm - every photo of Jordan was gone. "Ohhhh fuck, I didn't think of that."

"YOU IDIOT!" screamed Jordan. "YOU MEAN I'M STUCK LIKE THIS!?!"

"NO! Of course not. There has to be a way to turn you back - I just need to errrr, talk to my aunt!"

"You better," screamed Jordan. "I'll see you at this fucking party tomorrow and if you don't have a way to turn me back to normal, you're going to regret it!"

Turning on his sexy new heels, Jordan stormed out of the room and Micky ran to the window as he watched his friend run away, fighting back tears, to a cute red convertible, climb in and screech off in a cloud of rubber.

"Oh shit..."

****

Micky had never felt so nervous in all his life as he arrived at the party, butterflies in his tummy. He'd hardly slept a wink last night and he had desperately wanted to call Jordan and check his friend was okay, but to his annoyance he found he didn't have Ashley's number in his phone and he had no way to contact her!

Urgent phone-calls to his aunt had been made, but so far there was no response. He just had to hope that he could see Jordan, promise his friend everything would be okay and do whatever he could.

Arriving pool-side, Micky looked around urgently and gulped in relief as he saw Jordan. His friend was sitting by a group of gossiping girls and Micky's eyes opened wide in amazement at how sexy Jordan was looking. He had dressed Ashley's body in a tiny pink plaid bikini set and his hair and makeup looked incredible. He was perfectly made up, from the sexy white gel nails still on his fingers, to the glittering belly button ring in his navel. He looked every inch a hot girl.

"Give us a moment will you girls," commanded Ashley as Micky slunk over. "I need to have a quick chat with this loser."

"Oh yeah, your so called 'boyfriend'," giggled one girl - Chloe. "Give him hell Ash... what a fucking loser. Imagining lying to the whole school that he was dating you, what an idiot. See you later 'Little Micky' hehe... "

"Hey what did you tell them?" asked an embarrassed Micky as the girls walked off shooting his venomous glances and giggling to themselves.

"Ohhhh, just girl talk... don't worry about it 'tiny'. So did you find a way to turn me back?" asked Jordan almost disinterestedly.

"Jordan... I'm sorry, I'm waiting for my aunt to call me..."

"It's ASHLEY, now loser. Since you've trapped me as a girl, I may as well own it," sneered Ashley as she inspected a nail. "I had a feeling you'd let me down, so I'm going to have to go to plan B."

"Wh... wait... what's plan B?"

"Well you see Micky... the longer I stay in this body, the more comfortable and girly I feel. I was pretty upset with you last night, but once I got home and started thinking about it - I realised this isn't so bad. The longer I stay this way, the more I get to like it. I can feel Jordan slipping away... soon I'll just be Ashley."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that if I'm stuck as Ashley... I may as well BE Ashley. I'm not going to waste anytime feeling sorry for myself... I'm going to start enjoying being a hot girl right away. Being this way does come with certain advantages after all."

"But Jordan, my aunt might still be able to..."

"Fuck your aunt and fuck you. You are such a selfish prick. You just wanted to be the big man and show off your super hot girlfriend. You thought you could use me to make £300 dollars and get the reputation as a stud you always desired. But your little plan has totally backfired you dweeb. You've made me into a hot, spoiled, party girl - but I have zero interest in helping you out. In a way it's a shame. You've turned me into your dream girl - but guess what... your dream girl isn't interested in your scrawny body and pathetic personality. She prefers a real man. A man like Jackson."

"WHAT! You have got to be kidding, that douchebag..."

"That douchebag is the richest boy in school, plus he's handsome and ripped. Why wouldn't I be interested in him instead of you? Since you've turned me into this superficial slut, I may as well act like one."

"Jordan - please dude... I know you're mad at me. It was an oversight, I'm sure my aunt can help us out. Please don't do anything crazy... we're best-friends."

"We WERE best-friends. I don't feel anything for you anymore," sneered Ashley. "In fact, it's kind of a turn on to betray you and fuck you over like this. Just talking between the two of us, I don't think I'm a very nice girl, and I'm probably just gonna get badder the longer I stay like this. It kinda makes my pussy wet to boss the other girls around and be the hottest one here. I think I'm a bitch... and once Jordan fades away completely I'll just be a naughty slut forever. Oh by the way, Jackson just showed up and he's coming over here... looks like you're in the shit..."

Micky turned round in horror as he saw Jackson was approaching. The strong confident boy smirked as he saw his victim and easily read the cold body language between him and Ashley. "Yo, dickweed. I guess this is the moment that Ashley here tells me you are dating and I pay you $300? Or maybe not?"

"Me? Dating this loser," sneered Ashley like a cold-hearted bitch, "you must be kidding."

"Guess you owe me $300," laughed Jackson. "I can't believe you would make up such a stupid rumour. Why would a hot girl like Ashley ever see anything in a loser like you? Have you got my money with you?"

"I ummm, I'll get it you tomorrow," squeaked Micky as Jackson lifted him up by his shirt and leered into his face.

"You better... or you ain't gonna be able to walk for a month." The bully turned to go, but Ashley suddenly smiled at him and beckoned him over.

"Hey Jackson, whilst you are over here, I'm trying to avoid tan lines on my back. Will you do me a big favour and rub some lotion into my back?"

"What are you doing?" hissed Micky to Ashley as she enticingly pushed out her chest and flashed her perfect smile at the bully.

Loosening her bikini, Ashley smiled at Jackson and the bigger boy grinned back. "Well would you look at that Micky, look's like your 'girlfriend' needs a real man to help her out." Grabbing the lotion bottle he squeezed it out onto his hands and sitting up behind Ashley began rubbing it into her back. "Fuck you have amazing skin Ash," he grinned, "feels so soft and smooth."

"Mmmmh, that feels nice Jackson," purred Ashley like a cat. "Ooooh, I don't suppose you could do my front too?" Grabbing his hands she pulled them slowly and irresistibly over her shoulders and onto her tits. "Oooooh, whoops," she giggled.

"Holy shit Ashley, what are you doing?" groaned Jackson as he found his hands full of her boobs. "Are you trying to get us kicked out?" His hands slid down her body and Ashley helped guide one into her bikini bottoms.

"I'm so fucking wet Jackson, I need you to fuck me so badly."

"Mmmmh, we'll go inside and fuck there. Make that dweeb Micky act as our look-out... he won't dare tell on us."

"Ohhh yeah, that's such a hot idea," giggled Ashley. "Make him watch as you fuck me like a real man."

"Jordan, what the hell are you doing? This is INSANE!"

"Who the fuck is Jordan?" asked Jackson in confusion.

"I have no idea," moaned Ashley, "this dweeb is such a little freak. Lets go and fuck, I can barely stand it anymore. I need your cock inside me."

"Come on Micky, you're gonna stand guard at the door whilst I bang her brains out. I'll give you a one day extension on my money as a reward... plus you get to watch the show. This little bitch is begging for it."

Micky had no choice as the bigger boy bullied him into following them inside and finding an empty room led them inside. Making Micky stand by the door to watch out for other guests, Jackson continued fingering Ashley and they kissed passionately - Ashley moaning in pleasure as she got hornier and hornier.

I can't believe that's my friend! Why is he doing this? What a bastard!

"Mmmmh, let me suck your cock baby..."

Sinking to her knees, Ashley eagerly pulled down Jackson's jeans and cooed happily as she saw his large penis. It was already huge, but it could only get bigger and her mouth was already watering at the thought. Grabbing it in her sexy hands she began to jerk it and suck on it, her big tits jiggling as she went to work on pleasing her man.

"Ahhhh, fuck that feels amazing. Mmmmh looks like she likes it huh Micky? Damn girl, you suck cock good."

"Mmmmh his dick is so big," giggled Ashley turning to her former friend with a slutty smile on her face, "so much bigger than a loser like you."

"Shut up and suck it bitch," groaned Jackson, forcing his dick back into her pink mouth with a pop. Ashley eagerly obeyed, she loved sucking dick.

Grabbing Ashley's head, Jackson helped her suck his dick... the moaning slut gagging happily and sucking wetly as she bobbed her pretty head up and down. Watching her give him head, Micky felt sick... a few days ago this had been his friend, now he was acting like some dumb spoiled cum-slut. That wasn't the worst of it though... if he was being truthful, the real problem was he was jealous. He'd give anything for Ashley to suck his dick instead. It looked amazing.

"God damn it, I need to feel that tight pussy. Stand up slut, let me fuck you and show our friend here what a big cock does to a hot bitch like you."

Grabbing Ashley and ripping off her bikini bottoms, Jackson spun her around and smacked and squeezed her ass. She moaned in pleasure, and submissively used her hands to spread her ass cheeks... revealing her dripping hole and pushing it out to tempt him. Jackson knew she was wet and ready, his fingers had already been deep in her slit.. he grunted as he pushed his massive dick slowly inside her tight cunt, and grabbing onto her tits began to fuck her.

"OOoooooh YES! Fuck me Jackson, mmmmmh, ohhh your big dick feels so good!"

Ashley was facing Micky directly and her face was one of ecstasy as her lover began to roughly pound her from behind. She moaned in pure pleasure, pushing back to take him deeper as they got into a rhythmn and hot wet slaps filled the room.

"Ohhh mmmmh, this... is... how a real man... uuggggh fucks a girl," she cried, looking Micky directly in the eyes without even a hint of shame. "You'll never get to know how good this feels."

"Damn Micky, her pussy is the tightest I ever had, fucking hell she's amazing. Mmmmmh, it fits like a glove."

"Ooooh, I love being filled up with your big cock," screamed Ashley juices running down her legs as she got fucked so good. "I... I... OHHHH YESSS DON'T STOP OHHHHHH FUCCCCCCCCCKKKKK!" Ashley's eyes rolled as she cummed and Jackson grinned as he grabbed her hair and began thrusting even harder and deeper into her, not even giving her a break. She continued to orgasm, moaning and screaming as she cummed repeatedly on the giant dick inside her and squirted over her lovers cock.

Meanwhile Micky felt sick to his stomach. His friend had totally transformed into a naughty slut and it was all his fault. Worse, she was making him watch all this... and it was making him hard. He wanted to cum his own pants, but he could barely watch as the couple continued to fuck, trying different positions out and filling the room with the stink of hot sex and cum as they rutted like animals in heat.

Suddenly he became aware that his phone was vibrating in his pocket and grabbing it out saw that there was an incoming phone call from his aunt.

"Micky, it's your aunt. I'm so sorry, I only just got your messages."

"Auntie, please... you gotta help me, Jordan used the candle and he turned into a girl. Now he's stuck!"

"Don't panic Nephew. It's easy to reverse. You just need to completely burn down the candle you used and everything will go back to normal... well... just so long as nobody had sex."

"Thank God... ummm, sex? Wh...what do you mean?"

"The magic locks and becomes permanent if anyone who has transformed has penetrative sex. Just so long as your friend hasn't fucked anyone, he should be fine."

Turning around, Micky groaned as he watched Ashley slide Jackson's cock out of her pussy with a pop and jerk it till her came over her face and tits. Hot cum dripping down her body, the slut luxuriated in the glow of sex as she basked in her new sexuality and power. "Mmmmh, I fucking love being a slut... I feel like such a dirty whore and I love it. Being a hot girl is the best, I'm so glad I got stuck this way. Jordan is dead... that loser is nothing compared to me."

Looking into Ashley's wicked eyes, Micky wanted to weep. His friend was lost forever now and she didn't even care. Ashley had consumed Jordan and turned him into a wicked, popular slut. Her corruption into a bitch was complete. Micky would never again see his friend - he had been completely replaced by her. And worst of all... he owed her new boyfriend over $300.

"So then Micky, lets talk about how you can get me my money," grinned Jackon as Ashley eagerly sucked the last of the cum out of his cock. "After all, looks like I have a new girlfriend to pay for and I'm guessing she has expensive tastes."

This was not going to be a good year...

****

THE END

#evie hyde #m2f transformation #corruption #m2f corruption #bully #candle #magic candle

187 notes · View notes

rfswitchart · 3 months

Text

A Lesson From Owl House That Gets Overlooked

So, I don't know if you know this, but I used to have a tendency of bottling things up. I was scared of people being angry and upset with me, so I pushed everything way down and tried to not let things get to me. And the things I've been through are horrific at the kindest appraisal. I think you know why I'm bringing this up... So let's not waste time and just talk about the two most self-conscious characters in the series; Luz and Willow.

I don't know if you noticed this through the series, but Luz internalizes EVERYTHING. Even before Hollow Mind and the whole "I accidentally helped a genocidal maniac carry out his wicked plan" thing, Luz was quietly baring the burden of grief and trauma. We don't know the full scope of the bullying she endured, it was probably hellish and certainly isolated her. Not only that, but she was carrying the pain of losing her father, which she also internalized.

Because of this, along with the bullying and the lack of support from adults in her life (save for Camila,) Luz doesn't really have a great support system until she meets Eda and King. And even then, it took Willow, Gus, and especially Amity for her to really open up about things.

Meanwhile, Willow was browbeaten by virtually everyone in her life. Amity, Boscha, teachers, everyone looked down on her, calling her 'Half-a-Witch,' forced into learning Abomination magic by her dads instead of the Plant magic she excels at. And of course, instead of that pain manifesting as grief and misery, Willow's internalization of her emotions turns to anger, frustration, and self-loathing as we see the first time we meet her.

Of course, she befriends Gus and Luz and things start to get better, but they depend on her strength and wisdom too much, which allows her to mask her feelings in favor of helping and supporting her friends. We see that it doesn't help that much, especially after Amity once again hurts her by accidentally burning all of her memories.

Granted, things worked out between them, but Amity (subconsciously, as she was genuinely concerned and cared about Willow) was looking down on her much later. And yes, Willow gets to be in the Plant track and becomes the Flier Derby captain of her dreams. However she's still hard on herself, still keeping herself from letting things out... Oh, did you guys not notice that in For the Future? Because Boscha was egging her on and antagonizing her in a moment of weakness, Willow was going to probably hurt or even kill her bully out of sheer anger.

Yeah, if that scene played out any further and she wasn't rendered unconscious by sleeping nettles, Willow was going to do something incredibly bad. I think Elijah (not-so-average-fangirl) saw that too, which is why she said "Willow, are you ok?" during that scene. I know from personal experience that Willow was at her absolute breaking point and when you realize that, it's terrifying. She was going to let out her anger violently on someone who deserved it, but not to the extent that she was clearly going to go with it. It's also why Willow does indeed breakdown after that. She can no longer control her emotions, especially after seeing her dad puppeted and the guy she clearly had feelings for die in her arms...

Of course, we know how both Luz's breakdown in Reaching Out and Willow's breakdown in For the Future resolve. They both talk about it or let out their emotions, and they do so in front of the people that matter the most to them.

For Luz, she tells Amity about her dad. She cries over it in front of her and they resolve their first real fight since going out. Then, they both make flowers and cast them off over the Boiling Sea, continuing the tradition of Luz and her mom without being in the Human Realm. Amity's also the one that tries to comfort Luz the most after learning about Belos, because even if our hero isn't feeling great about what happened, she still someone who truly loves and supports her.

For Willow, it was a need for someone who doesn't rely on her telling her that it was ok to let it out. Someone who could stop her and beg her to never call herself 'Half-a-Witch' again. Someone who truly understood all the pain she was going through and was willing to both support her and let her vent. Now who could that be...?

Of course, Gus did obviously help in that scene, but Willow needed to hear it from Hunter. She needed someone who has only ever seen her as strong who didn't depend on her for support to just say 'you've been holding in a lot, haven't you?' Granted, I won't say you need romantic love to let your feelings and pain out to, but I am saying that a strong enough and supportive enough person can help with that. That's why Gus being there in the Willow breakdown was important. That's why all of Luz's friends telling her that helping Belos wasn't her fault was important. The most important thing about bottling emotions is to have someone there to talk to, be it friend, family, lover, or therapist.

#the owl house #luz noceda #willow park #mental health #bottling up emotions

57 notes · View notes

wheels-of-despair · 1 year

Text

Fucking Fireworks Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie doesn't like fireworks anymore. Contains: Angst, panic attack, me torturing this sweet boy just so I can comfort him like the wicked witch I am. Word Count: 1.5k-ish

Fucking fireworks.

You've always hated them. They're loud, they're obnoxious, they're a waste of money. If you buy fireworks, you're basically just setting your money on fire for a few seconds of sparks.

In the past, you'd tolerated them because Eddie loved them. They were loud, they were obnoxious, they were free entertainment because they were everywhere.

Last Fourth of July, you'd brought a carton of ice cream and two spoons up to the roof and occasionally fed each other until the show began. Yeah, yeah, you two are so in love it's disgusting, you're aware.

Last New Year's Eve, you'd huddled with him under a blanket and kissed when his watch beeped at midnight, then laid your head on his shoulder and watched the fireworks from a distance.

But that was before.

Eddie doesn't like fireworks anymore.

He won't talk about it, but you see him flinch when a light bulb flickers or a barely-running car turns the corner while riding their squeaky brakes. He buries his face in your neck and squeezes his eyes shut during thunderstorms. He froze when some idiot kids set off a few firecrackers nearby on Halloween.

New Year's Eve was going to be a challenge. Trying to shield him from the fireworks without him knowing what you were doing was going to be a bigger one. You're familiar with the snap of "I'm not a fucking baby!" But he is. He's yours.

The snow worked in your favor. Too dangerous to get on a roof covered in snow, you could slip and break something. Too cold to go anywhere. You'd suggest staying home where it's warm and trying to sync Metallica's Ride the Lightning album with the countdown, so that "For Whom the Bell Tolls" would begin when the clock strikes 12. A genius idea that your sweet metalhead wouldn't be able to refuse.

He went for it.

You'd gone to Family Video and brought home a pile of his favorite movies to watch that evening, along with a case of beer, a bag full of snacks, and a pizza. At midnight, it would be just the two of you and the greatest album ever recorded. Loud. Very loud.

You'd timed everything almost perfectly.

The two of you had finished off an entire pizza and nearly half the snacks by the time the last movie ended at 11:27. You were scheduled to press play on Ride the Lightning at 11:48, so you even had a few minutes to clean up.

It was a great plan… until it wasn't.

At 11:43, while you were washing the last dirty dish, the power went out with a pop.

"Eds?"

Silence. He was on the couch a minute ago.

You fumbled blindly for the flashlight in the junk drawer, letting out a shaky sigh when your hand finally closed around it. You clicked the button and felt a flood of relief when it illuminated the kitchen. Pointing the flashlight at the floor, you made you way over to Eddie.

He was frozen in place on the couch, hands clutching at his sweatpants in a white-knuckle grip.

"Eddie? Are you okay?" you ask softly, sitting on the coffee table in front of him, careful not to shine the light in his eyes. He doesn't respond.

You envied the people in movies, who always made this look so easy. There's nothing easy about it. You feel helpless, because all you want to do is take care of him, and you don't know how. There's no guide book called How to Recover from Nearly Dying in an Alternate Dimension. Maybe you'd talk to Nancy about writing one next year.

Okay, what caused this? The dark. How do we fix it? More light. You suddenly remember a camping lantern that should be in the hall closet. "I'll be right back, Eds," you say with an eerily convincing calmness, considering the panic you felt inside. You lay the flashlight on the coffee table in front of him and angle it toward the hall.

Miraculously, the lantern is not only where it belongs, but it has batteries in it. This wondrous little contraption, received as a Christmas present last year and immediately banished to a cluttered closet, filled the small room with light. You brought it back to the couch, sitting in front of Eddie once more. "Eds?"

He blinked. Blinking is good. You slowly extend your right hand, palm up, toward him. He stares at it, and after a moment, releases a hand from the death grip on his pants and places it in yours. You exhale for the first time in what felt like hours.

"It's just your standard, run-of-the-mill, Hawkins-Sucks power outage, babe. It's okay. You're okay," you say with a smile you hope looks comforting. He's breathing normally, but his eyes are still stuck in a blank stare. Your thumb rubs circles on the back of his hand.

A few minutes pass, and you move a little closer, sitting on the edge of the coffee table, his hand still in yours. You can see a little color coming back into his face, courtesy of the greatest Christmas present anyone has ever received. You can also feel the inside temperature beginning to drop from the lack of heat.

"Eddie? You with me?" You squeeze his hand, and his eyes finally meet yours. There he is. Your face breaks into a grateful smile.

"It's getting cold. What do you say we move this party to the bedroom?" you ask, wiggling your eyebrows for effect. He gives you half a smile, and you feel warmth surge through your whole body. He's back. He's okay.

You hand him the flashlight and slowly rise with the lantern, still not letting go of his hand, and lead him toward the bedroom. You stop at the junk drawer again, shoving extra batteries into your pocket, just in case.

You're both in sweats already, so all you need to do is get him into bed and keep him occupied until the power comes back on. You reach for Eddie's flashlight before he crawls into bed. You switch it off, placing it on the bedside table near the still-lit lantern and spare batteries, and climb in to face him. The lantern fills the room with a comforting glow, the pile of blankets you're under is quickly warming up, you can handle this. You give him a reassuring smile and reach over to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear.

And then the fucking fireworks start.

His body tenses. His eyes widen. You are going to calm him down, and then you're going to go murder everyone who's doing this to him.

"Eddie. EDDIE. It's just fireworks. It's a new year. It's just people celebrating." He doesn't blink. He doesn't move.

What caused this? The noise. How do we fix it? Drown it out with more noise. Why can't we do that? Because the Hawkins power grid is a piece of shit. How else can we fix it? Think, idiot, think… if we can't drown it out with noise, maybe we can drown it out with silence.

"C'mere, baby." You roll from your side to your back and extend an arm, drawing him to you. You're a little surprised, but thankful, when he lets you guide his head to your chest. Your right arm wraps around his back, your left palm presses firmly to his ear to help drown out the sound. You hold him tight, because you don't know what else to do.

He seems to relax after a few minutes, and you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Your right hand begins moving up and down his back, and you press a kiss to the top of his head before resting your cheek against his fluffy locks. You'll stay in this position all night if you have to.

After what feels like an eternity, the crackles and hisses and pops begin to die down. You begin counting when you think you've heard the last of it, not daring to move until you get to 100. You have to restart the count four times before you're finally able to get there, hoping that whoever was supplying this endless exploding nightmare would blow a hand or a dick off. Finally, it's over.

You move your hand off his ear. Is he asleep? His breathing is steady and he hasn't moved in a while. A few seconds pass before his hand finds yours… and moves it back to his ear. You bite back a chuckle and squeeze him, kissing the top of his head again. He groans sleepily and nuzzles into your chest. He's still here. He's okay.

No thanks to those fucking fireworks.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #writings of despair #eddie i'm sorry i don't know where this came from

406 notes · View notes

dilatorywriting · 1 year

Note

(just a thought I wanted to shared thinking of grandpa Vil) Howl's moving castle au, Vil's beautiful so you think he'd be howl but no, he's an old grandpa crying about his beauty, you think the poor ol guy has started losing his marbles and let him in to live out his days traveling

Vil: "I used to be so beautiful, royalty envied my beauty, I was a muse!"

reader: "Okay grandpa, lets get you to bed, I'll bring you some tea" :)

Holy fuck holy fuck. Howl’s Moving Castle is genuinely my favorite movie. This is killing me. Also I know this is definitely going in a very different brain direction BUT LIKE. I CAN’T HELP IT

Vil as the Witch of the Wastes, desperately doing everything he can to maintain his youth and beauty. Neige as Suliman’s young prodigy, who easily sweeps in one day to take his place, leaving the once first choice to be the Royal’s Head Wizard as nothing more than a bookend. Vil who after losing access to all the grand magics of the Academy trades his soul away and begins dealing in the inexplicable in order to maintain even a fraction of the powers Suliman tried to strip from him.

Vil, who becomes a living legend and a nightmare—feared so well by all the little town folk that no one ever bothers to even think of getting in the way of his slowly building atrocities. Until one day he curses a poor, innocent, hat shop keeper he sees Neige leading through a waltz in the sky. Curses them to be old, and ugly, and everything he fears. Except after he no doubt ruins their miserable, little, life, they just keep running into each other. The Hat Shop Idiot just doesn’t know what’s good for them. Has sought out powerful magics without thinking to harness it for their own advantage, talks with a fire demon like its a pampered little pet, walks into danger with a stiff upper lip and an even stiffer, tackier, hat. They trade insults with him—as he deserves, who is he kidding—until the both of them are standing at the Gates of Suliman’s castle.

And then that tacky little idiot helps him when his magic fails. Cheers him on with genuine kindness and offers him an arm when his muscles are put under the strains of his real, battered, body for the first time in ages. When Suliman strips him of everything he has left, the poor little Shopkeep he once cursed out of nothing but cruelty takes him with them—saves him too. Gives him his own room in a magic castle and access to every, forbidden, thing he’s been hunting with such wicked fervor. And you, stupid hatter that you are, treat this real, ugly, version of himself with so much gentle kindness that how could he not finally see why all these other magical men and monsters have fallen in love with you too?

#Asks #Vil x Reader #Howl’s Moving Castle AU #Brainrot #vil schoenheit

263 notes · View notes

munsons-maiden · 2 years

Text

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕 ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖 ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎

I hope you enjoy this chapter! - Love, Kiki 🖤

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Eddie Munson x female reader

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | THEN. You’re the only survivor among the Mind Flayer’s victims, thanks to your friends - but after the Battle of Starcourt, you find yourself adrift in a sea of nightmares. Until an encounter in the woods with Eddie The Freak Munson offers an unexpected life line and turns your world upside down. NOW. Four months have passed since the winter night you walked out of Eddie’s trailer and his life for good. But when the mysterious headaches and nightmares return full-force and something wicked stirs in sleepy Hawkins, starting a witch hunt against Eddie, you realize that there are two things in this world that might be more persistent than you’d thought: Evil…and love. The story is told in two timelines: the past (after the Battle of Starcourt) and the present (during the events of season 4).

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | angst with a happy ending, fluff, smut, it turned into a fix it fic for ST4

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (you need to be 18+ to read this story!), angst with a happy ending, attempted assault, bullying, canon-typical violence

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 6 k

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | allusions to SMUT (only read if you’re 18+ years old! virgin!Eddie x virgin!reader), mentions of attempted assault, canon-typical gore & violence, blood, mentions of spiders

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 & 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ♡

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕 ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖 ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎

[Monday, March 24th, 1986. NOW.]

“You’ll die,” Steve said.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathed, “Probably. Go. Be ready to get her out of here.”

And he didn’t wait a second longer – because there was not a single second left to waste.

Amidst the rising flames, fierce determination flooding him, Eddie flung the warlock’s strap over himself, his gaze lifting to you, levitating above the ground, higher and higher towards the ceiling, an eerie vision in the growing inferno eating away the creepers, the furniture, devouring the dark mirror of his trailer like they’d devoured the boathouse.

Eddie ripped the guitar pick necklace from his neck, the snap of the chain drowned out by the hissing and shrieks of the burning creepers, the roar of the growing flames as his eyes locked on your ghostly white ones.

“Kick this son of a bitch’s ass and come back to me, sweetheart,” Eddie breathed.

And he began to play.

***

Loss.

Grief.

You’d felt it all before. How could you not?

Barb would always be the first person you’d failed to save, her death the first one to mourn.

And that November night last year had broken you in a way you’d never thought you could break, after everything you’d been through the summer of ’85 and the winters before.

But nothing compared to this agony spreading through you at the sight of Eddie, his lifeless body dangling from the vines wrapped around the pillar, the beautiful umber color of his eyes stolen like Vecna had stolen his life, tears of blood drying on his pale cheeks.

The sound of Eddie’s neck snapping echoed like a thunderclap in your mind.

No matter the horrors you’d faced, fought, been forced to commit those past three years – none of them had been able to break you. There had always been enough left to fight for, to keep you from giving up even in your darkest hours.

Nancy and Steve and Robin, the weird kids which suddenly belonged to this family of monster hunters you’d found, constellations of stars amidst the dark.

But Eddie…in those two months you’d gotten to know him, Eddie Munson had become the sun to chase away the darkness you’d found yourself plunged into, a supernova to light up the darkest hours, keep the horrors at bay – and put a warmth in your heart you’d never felt there before.

Eddie Munson with his unapologetic weirdness, his humor and kindness, the gentlest soul beneath the rough and menacing exterior…he’d shown you that there was good, so much good, even in the darkest of nights. And despite all the ways it had destroyed you to do what you’d done that night in November, Eddie had still been there. Alive.

And now he wasn’t anymore.

This time, there would be no getting back up, collecting the pieces and making the best of it.

You only wanted it to stop.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, on the sliver of a chance that Eddie would be able to hear the words wherever he’d gone. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.”

Make it end. Make it stop. Make it all stop.

There was no fear in your heart when Vecna’s spidery fingers folded over your face.

Only relief.

Vecna’s pointed nails, claws, dug into your temples, piercing the skin, a stray droplet of blood slowly rolling down the side of your face.

Your eyes fell close as you waited for the pain, of eternal, peaceful darkness to claim you. And maybe, just maybe, bring you wherever Eddie had gone.

A sound floated through the air.

***

At the edge of town, back in Little River, at a lonely crossroads cutting through the fields, there had been a bar where Eddie’s old man had usually met clients to sell his pixie dust, or to play poker – and sometimes, he’d taken Eddie with him.

Eddie had hated those nights.

He still remembered how small he’d felt, a five-years-old alone at the bar between all those menacing looking men, most of them drunk long before sunset – and more often than not, there had been fights. Real fights. Fights which sometimes had ended with glass being smashed and one time even with a gun being pulled.

Eddie remembered how usually, the barkeeper – a grumpy old man who’d always looked like the zombies in one of the movies which always ran on TV late at night – had given him a pen and a paper napkin to draw and pass the time, which he’d done, until the napkin had been filled with doodles and Eddie had lacked the courage to ask for another one. Or move, for that matter. “Stay where you are, don’t move, and just wait til I’m back,” his old man had instructed before he’d disappeared into some backroom like the belly of a beast.

That night, though, there had been no doodles in a quiet corner at the bar, hidden by a wooden pillar so none of the menacing looking men would start talking to little Eddie like they’d sometimes done when they’d been drunk, the sour stench of cheap alcohol making it hard for him not to flinch away or scrunch his nose when they’d told stories of his dad.

No, that night, there had been a band.

Five men, with long hair and bandanas on their heads and funny looking clothes with leather and ripped denim and buttons with names of bands Eddie had never heard of before.

And the music they’d played had been loud enough to drown out the drunken talk and raucous laughter and angry shouts which had usually filled the dingy place. It had been different than anything Eddie had heard before, so different from the Country and Jazz music he’d been used to.

Better. So much better.

Something about it had went straight into his soul, the tunes vibrating through his bones and making him smile as he’d watched the musicians perform on the little stage at the back of the bar, his heartbeat thrumming alongside the tune of the guitars and drums and the scratchy voice of the lead singer as he’d watched them perform song after song, time flying and his fascination growing, overpowering his fear until the stinking, menacing bar around Eddie had blurred and there had only been this strange new kind of music.

It had been the night five-years old Eddie had fallen in love with Heavy Metal. The night he’d first known that all he’d need to be happy would be a guitar in his hands and a song on his lips.

When Eddie let the guitar pick glide of the strings of the guitar in his hands now, he wondered if fate had led him there that night back in Little River, to the dingy, dirty bar at a lonely crossroads at the edge of town.

Because had he not fallen in love with music that night…would he ever have tried to learn how to play a guitar?

Right then, with his eyes fixed on yours, eerie white amidst the quickly growing flames and thickening smoke, Eddie needed to believe it had been fate – because if it had been, then he was meant to save you.

Then it would work.

There were so many songs he could have played.

But Eddie chose the one which’s lyrics he felt deep within his own heart, the things he’d wanted to tell you back at the boathouse, at Skull Rock, and had been too cowardly to utter.

It couldn’t have given better voice to his heart if he’d written it himself.

He would. It was a silent promise he made to himself as the first notes of the guitar riff floated into the air. He would write you a million love songs, all the cheesy, sappy things he’d always wanted to tell you but had never been brave enough to. No matter where you went after this, no matter with whom you’d find your happiness, Eddie’s heart would forever be yours – and so would his songs. Each and every single one of them.

Please, let it be enough, he quietly begged every higher power that would listen.

His fingers were flying over the strings of his guitar, weaving the melody of the song to drown out the shrieks and hisses of the burning creepers, the noise of the growing flames morphing into a roar.

Let me save her.

And fierce determination flooding him, his eyes locked on your eerie white ones as your body was lifted into the air by the invisible strings of Vecna’s curse ensnaring you, Eddie began to sing.

***

It was quiet at first, that sound, and even with your eyes squeezed shut, you could feel Vecna still in front of you, the tips of his claws digging into your temples as he froze to listen.

Like a whisper, rising and building like a tide.

The ghost of...

A melody.

A melody as beautifully familiar by now as the pattern of dark specks in the umber hue of Eddie’s eyes, a melody you’d listened to every single night to help you find at least a few hours of rest in Morpheus’ metaphorical arms, wishing they were Eddie’s.

With the first few notes floating into the air, your eyes flew open.

The guitar with which’s strings those notes were being woven was as familiar to your heart as the boy it belonged to.

And with those first few notes, all the memories came rushing to you like a swarm of beautiful butterflies to match the ones in your chest whenever you thought of him.

The picture which had engraved itself into your mind, of Eddie’s lifeless form, eyes white as the drifting particles all around and wide with eternal terror as he was dangling in the creeper’s chokehold…it was chased away by another image.

Of Eddie, dark curls falling over his shoulders and into his face as his fingers gently worked to tune the instrument, his rings glittering in the sparse orange glow of his bedside lamp, an absentminded smile playing on his full lips while his long dark lashes cast soft shadows over his pale cheeks. So happy with his beloved guitar on his lap, as he got ready to play.

And a voice pierced the air.

A beautiful dark voice, lacing with the melody of the guitar as he started to sing.

“Here we stand

Worlds apart, hearts broken in two

Two

Two”

With a hiss, Vecna whirled around, his hand falling away from your face.

“Sleepless nights

Losing ground, I’m reaching for you

You

You”

Eddie.

“Feeling that it’s gone

Can’t change your mind”

This broken, lifeless figure in the creepers wasn’t Eddie.

Eddie was alive.

He was alive and singing to you and if he was alive and singing to you –

This wasn’t real.

“If we can’t go on”

It was a nightmare like all the others Eddie’s music had kept at bay for you all those Saturday afternoons with his songs.

“To survive the tide”

Just as he was doing right now.

“Love divides”

The bats. The horrible things Eddie had said to you, accused you of, calling you a monster before these things had pounced on him and dragged him away…none of it had been real.

The only real thing was this lair, this collection of horrors you’d so willingly entered because Vecna had once again lured you into a trap, elaborately woven with the skill of a spider spinning its web for the stupid little butterfly to catch in its sticky filaments.

And now you were dying and Eddie…Eddie would have to watch it.

Watch your bones snap, and your eyes sucked into your skull and your broken body fall from his ceiling just like Chrissy’s.

“Someday love will find you”

Vecna – Henry, One, whatever you called him now – whirled back around to you, bound to your own pillar, firmly in his grip, and his forget-me-not-blue eyes locked on yours as understanding passed between the two of you.

“Break those chains that bind you”

Fight him. You could nearly hear Eddie utter those words. Fight that son of a bitch, monster slayer. That’s what he was telling you right now, with every note and every word of the lyrics of this song he was singing for you.

Like a spell breaking a curse, the fight returned to you full-force.

A blazing wildfire fueled by your love for the boy with the guitar who refused to give up on you, and by your hatred for the monster in front of you who wanted to take him away from you.

“One night will remind you

How we touched and went our separate ways”

And with a roar of fury tearing from your throat, you ripped free of the creepers, making them hiss and screech as they were torn apart.

Vecna’s clawed hand shot out to grab your face once again. To finish what he’d started.

“If he ever hurts you”

Your own hands shot up, fists wrapping around his spindly, elongated fingers; one around his index finger, the other around his pinky, bile rising in your throat at the touch of his cold, rotting skin.

“True love won’t desert you”

“Fuck off,” you hissed – and twisted.

Hard.

As hard as you could.

The sound of bones snapping made grim satisfaction course through you as it rang through the air.

With a scream – of rage or pain, you couldn’t tell – Vecna reared back, his hand pulled from your grip as the rest of the vines fell away, a chorus of blood-curdling shrieks rising in the foggy air.

“You know I still love you”

You fell to the ground.

Though we touched and went our separate ways”

And you ran.

Ducking beneath Vecna’s arm as, with a roar that boomed through the air of his lair like a clap of thunder, he moved to grab you, but you were too fast.

Eddie was alive. Alive, alive, alive and singing to guide you home, back to him.

It would be okay. It would all be okay because he was still there, you could still save him, make it all right.

All you needed to do was make it out of this living nightmare, back to Eddie, and tell him the truth. All of it.

“Troubled times

Caught between confusion and pain

Pain

Pain”

And no matter if he would leave, no matter how he would react, he was alive and that was all that would ever matter because a world with Eddie in it was a world worth fighting for.

“Distant eyes

Promises we made were in vain

Vain

Vain”

You raced along, through this place of unspeakable horrors, through the forest that wasn’t a forest but a collection of horrors, beneath a sky that was crimson and a moon that was a broken clock, raced towards Eddie’s voice, the siren’s song that would guide you home, out of the raging storm and drowning depth and back to safer shores.

“If you must go

I wish you luck”

His voice drowned out the horror of the mutilated stolen souls strapped to their pillars all around you.

It propelled you forward, guided your way through the chaos of this dark heart of Vecna’s realm.

“You’ll never walk alone”

Vines reached for your ankles, lashing out like snakes in your path as you zigzagged and jumped out of their trajectory.

“Take care, my love”

If they got you, they would drag you back to that place, deeper into the vision, and it would be Game Over.

“Miss you, love”

Lungs on fire, muscles burning and your mind latching on to Eddie’s song, his voice, the fact that he was there and fighting this demon alongside you right now, you kept running, running, running –

Until you broke out of the maze of pillars.

There was the door, the crimson petals of the stained-glass roses visible through the fog which curled all around you like more of those creeping vines, and you raced towards it faster than you’d ever run in your life.

For the first time you were relieved to see it.

Your fist wrapped around the brass knob, ripping the door open.

Vecna’s roar of fury barreled through the lair behind you when you slipped through.

***

The flames were growing, eating at the black creepers which had been climbing over the walls of the trailer, devouring everything in their path as they spread in a circle around your hovering form, your spine pressed against the trailer’s ceiling now, arms spread like a pair of wings and milky eyes unseeing like a scene right out of one of Eddie’s horror movies. The beautiful maiden in the demon’s satanic grip.

White particles danced on the thickening smoke that forced its way into Eddie’s lungs with every breath, choking and burning, reflexes kicking in to make him cough and gasp for more of the receding oxygen in the smoke-laced air, but he couldn’t, because he needed to keep singing.

Until the end.

However it would look like.

Eddie would keep singing, playing his guitar, because it was the only chance you had.

***

You’d expected for the door to lead you out of Vecna’s lair, back to the top of the hill.

Well…you were outside.

The freezing November night was biting your skin underneath the fabric of your sweatshirt as you lifted your head to look at the myriad of stars splattered across the night sky arching above.

You were standing in the middle of the roof of Eddie’s trailer.

Surrounded by doors.

Dozens and dozens of doors suspended in a circle all around you, a sea of stained-glass roses.

“Did you truly think you could escape me so easily, little thief?”, Vecna’s voice boomed through the air, deep and distorted like the chimes of his broken clock as it vibrated straight through your bones, mocking and taunting because…yes. You had.

Max had done it after all.

“Max never belonged to this place the way you do,” Vecna’s voice drawled, so much louder now than Eddie’s song.

You ripped open the door you’d stepped through – and froze at the scene behind it.

The memory.

Of a girl writhing on the ground, struggling against the jump ropes binding her wrists and ankles. Duct tape over her mouth was muting her cries for help as you watched her try to break free of her restraints, the wheat blond color of her hair dulled by the dirt on the old steel mill’s floor, sticky with the blood running from a cut on her temple.

“Do you remember me?,” Your own voice, hollow. “Because I remember you, Stacy.”

“Do you remember how good you felt, taking revenge for that day when she locked you in that closet, little thief?”, Vecna’s voice crooned in your ears. “Because I do.”

You did. There was no point denying it.

You’d always known that the dark satisfaction you’d felt the moment the Mind Flayer – Vecna – had gotten the girl who’d made your life a living hell for those three years of middle school, had all been your own.

“You never told your songbird about this dirty little secret for a reason, hm?”

With a scream, you slammed the door closed, whirling to try the next one, dreading what you’d find behind the stained-glass roses.

It swung open, the wood creaking on its hinges, revealing the mutilated figures behind.

Chrissy, Fred and Patrick – and a fourth one, red hair spilling around her pale, blood-smeared face like flames, her eyes sucked out of her skull.

“Max,” you whispered.

“You have killed them. All of them,” Vecna taunted. “Max carries my mark. Just like your beloved songbird. They’ll be mine soon enough, no matter how hard you fight me.”

You slammed the door shut, tried to block out Vecna’s words as you scrambled to the next.

“I doubted if you were suitable, for what I needed you to do,” he continued to drawl, this horrid, bodiless echo surrounding you. “But you are. You are like me.”

And with these words forcing their way into your brain like a swarm of locusts…Eddie’s voice was fading.

As if you were sinking to the bottom of a lake, further and further away from the surface, slipping away from him.

No. No, no –

��No,” you choked, ripping open door number three, despair clawing at you as you darted through, away from Vecna’s droning, taunting voice –

No.

Not this memory.

You whirled around to escape, but the door was gone. All of them were gone.

And you were back on the clearing, the night sky winking down at you through the crown of trees above, leaves rustling in the breeze which carried the residual scents of summer lingering in the air, cool as it brushed over your bare arms and legs peeking out from your cheerleader uniform, the sweater and jeans you’d worn gone.

“EDDIE!”, you screamed. But of course there wouldn’t be a reply.

Eddie couldn’t hear you, and you…you could barely hear him anymore, either.

“Aw, don’t be shy,” a voice crooned, and you whirled around to come face to face with Jason’s razorblade-grin, the predatory gleam in his eyes, face so close to yours.

The stench of stale beer and sweat forcing its way into your nostrils made you want to retch.

“Go away,” you breathed. “You’re not real. You’re a monster in a memory.”

It didn’t feel like it, though.

He’d wanted to hurt you.

And he would have, probably more than Vecna and the Mind Flayer ever could.

Fear was freezing you like a deer in the headlights as Jason reached out. You felt the tug of the green silk ribbon coming lose, and your hair spilling free. Like a punch to your gut.

“I always thought you looked prettier with your hair down.”

“Don’t you want to make him pay?”, Vecna’s croon echoed through your head.

Yes.

Not for what Jason had tried to do to you, though – but for what Jason had done to Eddie, and what he’d have done had you not set the boathouse on fire in your despair.

Jason and Vecna, the Mind Flayer. Two monsters used to taking control from others to wield it themselves.

“You could have burned him to cinders. You would have. Do you want to know how I know? Because we are alike, little thief. And you know it. That’s why you never told your songbird the truth. You know he could never love the thing you truly are.”

You watched helplessly as the green silk ribbon fluttered to the dead leaves on the ground at your feet on the late-summer breeze, like a lonely paper-streamer left after a party.

And as Jason closed the distance towards you, something wrapped around your arms from behind, pulling you against the picnic table, the impact of the wood against your lower back so forceful that the wind was knocked out of you and the scream died in your throat as the creepers around your wrists tightened their iron grip until you felt the bones might snap underneath their force.

Shackling you.

Jason was right in front of you now, that vicious, predatory smile curving his lips.

Your eyes squeezed shut with terror, this horribly familiar feeling of helplessness. Always so damn fucking helpless.

“He wouldn’t want you, if he knew the truth, little thief.”

While he spoke, Jason’s voice morphed, growing deeper, distorted, until it wasn’t his anymore but Vecna’s, reverberating through the clearing along the stench of rot filling your nostrils and making bile rise in your throat.

And when your eyes flew open to lock on his, the steel-blue of Jason’s irises had made room for a deep forget-me-not blue.

Muted tears of horror were streaming down your face as Vecna, wearing Jason’s face, tilted his head.

Your mind was racing, grasping for the blurred tunes of Eddie’s song, so incredibly far away now, your lifeline in this deadly storm which was threatening to drown you.

“Do you truly think your songbird would be singing for you if he knew the truth?”, Vecna crooned, and with horror, you watched him morph, watched Jason’s freckles fade and his skin grow paler, lips softening and his hair growing darker, longer, curly bangs falling into his forehead until it was a dark reflection of Eddie standing in front of you, wearing Henry Creel’s forget-me-not eyes, the vicious smile on his lips so utterly wrong as his lips moved and Vecna crooned, “He cannot help you. He’s not strong enough. Nobody can. Do you want to know why, little thief? Because you’re bound to me. You did that yourself – and now you’ll make a beautiful addition to my collection.”

The twisted dark connection you’d felt standing at the shore of Lover’s Lake, beneath the gate in Eddie’s trailer…you knew Vecna was telling the truth. Whatever ties bound you to the monster, Eddie’s song wasn’t strong enough to sever them.

The spider had you ensnared too tightly in its web.

Still wearing Eddie’s face, Vecna raised a disfigured hand peeking out from the sleeve of Eddie’s leather jacket, the two spidery fingers you’d broken snapping back in place with a sickening crunch before he caught a stray tear rolling down your cheek.

Bile rose in your throat as the cold skin of his knuckle caressed your cheek.

“Don’t shy away. You wanted him to touch you so badly,” Vecna cooed.

Your head fell forward, gaze drifting to the fallen leaves at your feet because you couldn’t stand to see those blue eyes in Eddie’s face, the vile smile on his lips, the image of your love distorted by Vecna like the reflection in a funhouse mirror – and your eyes locked on the green silk ribbon, curled on the ground at your feet.

And a memory was triggered.

Not of that September night, when Jason had pulled the silk out of your hair.

But of another night.

“You’re beautiful.” Eddie’s whisper in the freezing night air as he was gazing down at you, beneath him, in his arms. The warmth shining in his eyes. The genuineness. And something else, something so much more.

“Even with my hair tied up?” The sting at the memory of Jason’s vile words, the image of a silk ribbon drifting to the ground, caught in the breeze – a memory Eddie had chased away with his beautiful confession.

“You always look beautiful. God, you have noooo idea how often I was watching you in the hallways, at lunchbreak…you were always reading. And you don’t wanna know how often I just…sat there, daydreaming about walking up to you and asking what it was you were reading and saying something, anything, to make you smile just to have this smile directed at me once. Like, I was sure if you ever gave me that radiant smile of yours, I’d just…I don’t know, go into cardiac arrest or shit. And then one day on a game day I accidentally ran into you at lunchbreak, and the entirety of your strawberry Jell-O was spilt all across your cheerleader uniform and for that split second, I thought, that’s it. I was pretty sure you were gonna snap at me to look where I was fucking going, call me a freak, the usual reaction people have even when I don’t do anything – but you didn’t. You laughed. And you smiled at me with this stunning smile and said –“

“’I was thinking the shirt could use a bit more color’”, you finished Eddie’s sentence, echoing your own words from that day on a whisper.

That had been two years ago. You’d been so sure Eddie had forgotten it, this tiny fleeting moment during lunchbreak. A lifetime ago.

“You remember that,” you whispered, the widest of smiles on your own face, and Eddie gave you a soft laugh before he replied, “Remember? I was a total goner. You could have asked me to braid Steve fucking Harrington’s stupid hair while singing Madonna and I would’ve done it, no questions asked. Like, that moment? I didn’t think about anything else for months. Not – not in the creepy way,” he added with a nervous little laugh, “Promise, not in the creepy way. Just…it was playing in my mind on repeat. Like, constantly.”

Eddie.

Sweet, kind, gentle, dorky Eddie. Who climbed tables and doodled bats all over the pages of his notes, who hummed to himself while reading and who carried music in the way he spoke and the rays of the summer sun in his smiles.

Eddie, who was singing for you right now, playing his beloved guitar to free you of this curse, the melody growing louder again, his beautiful voice clearer until the words of the lyrics rang through the air of the clearing.

Eddie had saved you from Jason. He’d given you back what Jason had taken that September night – with every kiss, every shared touch and whisper underneath the November stars.

And with this one memory, more flitted back to you like fireflies in the dark.

The woods around Lover’s Lake on a sunny late-summer’s day.

“Well, looks we’re in the same boat now anyway. The slut…”

“…and the freak,” Eddie finished your sentence with a cynical little half-smile of his own. “Or is it the slut and the perv now? Am I even still the freak or did they upgrade me?”

You laughed. “I guess we’re a team now.”

“Someday love will find you

Break those chains that bind you”

It grew louder. Eddie’s voice, his song, cutting through the fabric of Vecna’s chokehold over your mind.

“One night will remind you

How we touched and went our separate ways”

You clutched on to it, a green silk ribbon in your mind tethering you to Eddie’s voice.

Letting yourself sink into the warmth, the joy and happiness you’d felt every second with him, stored in each memory like strings of fairy lights to light the way home Eddie’s beautiful singing voice was paving for you.

“If he ever hurts you

True love won’t desert you”

Eddie, grinning at you as he walked backwards, umber eyes sparkling and curls painted a soft hue of chocolate in the sunlight filtering through the foliage of the woods around Lover’s Lake, his grin faltering as he tripped over a tree root, laughing it off.

“That was a test to see if you got my back, by the way.”

“Did I pass it?”

“You could have jumped a little faster to my rescue, but you made up for it with enthusiasm.”

Eddie, his sunshine-smile all for you as he opened the door to his trailer, curls ruffled.

His hands wrapped around a bottle of Yoo-Hoo, rings glittering.

“It’s water. With chocolate,” you exclaimed with a playful tone. “Who puts chocolate flavor into water? That stuff belongs into milk! It’s so wrong!”

“What’s wrong with you-hoo?!” Eddie taunted, and you laughed, before he added mischievously, “Despite, I’m pretty sure we could sue them if we found a single kernel of actual chocolate in there. Plus –“ he paused for dramatic effect, “You first put the chocolate flavor into water and then –“ he waved the Honey Comb carton in the air, “You add these. It’s a specialty. I can’t start the day without it. Since, like, forever.”

“You know I still love you

Though we touched and went our separate ways”

Eddie at Reefer Rick’s boathouse, haunted and scarred yet giving you the most radiant, softest smile as you’d raised the bottle of Yoo-Hoo you’d brought him, the old joke never forgotten. “You-hoo remembered.”

Eddie, kissing you beneath a myriad of stars that formed a halo of silver around his mane of curls, the strands black like the night sky in the pale glow.

“Just…I want this to…count. I want this to mean as much to you as it means to me.”

There were Vecna’s spindly fingers clamped around your jaw, forcing you to look at him now like Jason had done at the boathouse as he crooned, “When I’m done with you, when I have taken back what is mine, what you stole from me – I will take your songbird. I will break him, bone by bone. And when I’m done, I will shatter his mind the way you shattered his heart, little thief. And maybe then…I will put him out of his misery.”

The hatred blazing through you for this…this rotten creature in front of you, still wearing Eddie’s face, was enough to raise an inferno to match the fires of Hell themselves.

But you didn’t need an inferno.

“Oh, someday love will find you

Break those chains that bind you”

Letting your fury sear through you, you could feel the heat on your arms, your hands – and with blood-curdling shrieks, the iron grip of the creepers loosened.

And just like that night in the woods with Jason, your fist connected with your attacker’s jaw, so hard that you could feel the painful impact of the punch reverberating along your own bones.

Caught in momentary surprise, Vecna took a step backwards.

It was all you needed.

“True love won’t desert you

You know I still love you”

Pushing yourself away from the table, you darted around Vecna, anger twisting the features of the face he’d stolen from Eddie.

A door had opened right behind him.

No crimson stained-glass roses – but of worn-out wood, the paint flaking off, rust eating away at the frame.

The door to Eddie’s trailer.

Home.

“I still love you, girl”

It swung open as you raced towards it, your legs guided by Eddie’s voice, the song he kept spinning for you with his guitar.

“I really love you, girl”

He was there.

On the other side.

Standing in the middle of an inferno.

Fingers dancing over the strings of his guitar, dark curls flying as he threw his head back, umber eyes meeting yours through curling smoke rising all around him.

“True love won’t desert you”

And while the final note of the song floated into the air…you jumped.

***

You didn’t register the moment your body hit the ground, or the acidic burn filling your lungs and stealing your oxygen, your vision strangely contorted, red and yellow flickers dancing amidst a wall of fog.

For a second, you thought you were back on the hill. Still caught in the sticky spider’s web of Vecna’s trance.

Then, your name floated through the air on a broken scream, distorted and drowning in the roaring noise all around you, and so far away – before arms wrapped around you, and the ground shifted.

“I got you,” someone sobbed. It sounded hoarse, broken – but you would have recognized his voice in a crowd of a million people. “I got you, monster slayer. You’re safe, ‘kay? I’ll get you outta here –“

“Eddie,” you whimpered. It hurt to speak.

There was a flash of umber swimming in front of your eyes before they fluttered close, consciousness starting to slip out of your grasp as you were lifted off the ground.

“HARRINGTON! WHEELER! I GOT HER!”

“COME ON MAN!”

There was a chorus of voices rising around you, shouting instructions, words blurring and bleeding into each other until you couldn’t understand them anymore.

All you knew was that it hurt. Every breath singeing your lungs, throttling you. Every nerve in your body, ablaze with pain.

But you couldn’t wait a single second longer.

Eddie needed to know the truth. They all did.

“Vecna,” you whispered. “He’s…the Mind Flayer. Henry Creel. One.”

“What do you mean?!”

“Does that matter now, Nance?!”

Eddie’s voice, interrupting the others. “It’s okay. He can’t hurt you –“

“Four gates,” you whispered, the images Vecna had shown you alive in your mind, mingling with the horrors of his lair. You needed to warn them. Needed them to know – “Four killings. He’ll…tear down the barrier. Hawkins will fall. I did it.” The world was fading, consciousness slipping away like water running through your fingers. Quick. Too quick.

“Yeah,” Eddie choked, “Yeah, you did it, sweetheart. You’re safe –“

“No,” you choked, a weak cough ripping through you as your burning lungs failed. “I opened the door. I let him in.”

And then, the tide of darkness reached you.

Immersing you whole.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐

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

Sorry for the ten-days wait, lovelies. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I’m so excited for you to read what I have in store next for this story ♡

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things eddie #eddie munson fix it fic #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #joe quinn

966 notes · View notes