#but if you're just talking lines like “I'm tired of you still tied to me” then. yeah. ugh that's so fucking will too

[rotisseries]

p.s. the el hard times edit was almost a willel edit bc i feel like it sums up el's relationship with brenner And will's relationship with henry. I'M TIRED OF YOU!! STILL TIED TO ME!! but there aren't enough s4 will clips that were relevant bc they sidelined him and didn't let him do anything except be gay s4.. rip </3 perhaps i can make one after s5

OH MY GOD YOU'RE SO FUCKING REAL FOR THAT. JESUS. NO STOP WHY WOULD YOU TELL ME THIS😭😭😭

#I said hard times is el bc I focus so hard on the daddy issues aspect of the song #(like. in the edit I entertain in my head I would use more of the song than you did) #but if you're just talking lines like “I'm tired of you still tied to me” then. yeah. ugh that's so fucking will too #god fucking dammit. this is so sad. #ooh also though if we wanna talk taking very specific lines out of context of most of the rest of the song #whenever I listen to strangers and hear #“I tried to be good am I no good am I no good am I no good? with my memory restricted to a polaroid in evidence” + #“when my mother sees me on the side of a milk carton in winn dixie's dairy isle she'll cry and wait up for me” yeah I think about s1 will #like the rest of the song is not will coded obviously. but. y'know #ask #strangeswift

[luveline]

𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

When Eddie asks you on a date, you don’t believe it. He probably meant as friends, right? Spoiler alert — Eddie wants to be more than friends, and he’s willing to prove it. [4k]

fluff, slight hurt/comfort, fem!reader, plus-sized!reader, reader feels undesirable, kissing, obligatory ‘don’t be cruel’ scene, eddie calls you pretty like ten times, requested here

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie has one of those smiles that screams trouble. Every time he looks at you with that smile he might as well have "I'm gonna break your heart," written across his forehead in tandem. 

You sneak a glance at him across the atrium. Eddie’s paused bussing tables to talk to a patron, his customer service voice in play with a matching smile. It isn't the one you mean, but it's bad enough to make you flush red-hot. You cross your arms over the bar, regret it for its stickiness, and let your head rest against the crook of your elbow. 

You've been working together for a long time now, almost six months, and he's your favourite coworker hands down. He cleans up after himself, he brings snacks that you never accept (lest you look like the greedy chubby girl you worry everyone expects you to be), and he talks to you like a real person.

It's horrifying and it's not fair, but being fat means that sometimes guys don’t want to look at you. They don't want to be in the same room with you, and you can tell; they avert their eyes, or simply don't talk to you directly.

You've never had that feeling with Eddie. He meets your eyes, unflinching, and he sends you one of those pretty smiles and you think Fuck, because he should've been a movie star, he has the cheekbones for it, or a rockstar like that band he's always raving about. He'd have a slim LA girl on both arms, no doubt about it. 

He likely wouldn't waste his time with you. 

Not someone pretty as he is. Sometimes he'll lean over and expose the flat stretch of his stomach, his v-lines and the dark trail of hair peeking above his jeans, and you feel acutely miserable 'cause you know you'll never get to touch him. Workplace crushes suck. 

"Hey, are you okay?" a voice asks, a hand dropping against your shoulder. 

You pull yourself up quickly. Speak of the devil, Eddie stands beside you with his hair tied away from his face. He looks more entertained than concerned, his smile unfortunately genuine. 

"I'm fine," you say, stepping back. His hand falls away from your shoulder. "Sorry, just tired." 

Eddie leans into your space, squinting. You freeze up, but he's only checking the time on the clock behind you. "Gotta tough it out. Still an hour and a half 'til closing." 

Which means there's more than two hours of your shift left. Your face must show how unexciting that is —Eddie laughs, warm and quiet, and gives your hand a squeeze. 

"You'll live," he promises. "Are you busy tonight? Maybe we could go get pizza or something." 

"What, nobody else is available?" you ask. 

His head juts back a touch, put upon shock. "And why can't I ask you? I like you and I like pizza, that's a good combination. And even if you don't like me that much, you like pizza, right?" 

You know —you know, you do— that Eddie doesn't mean it as a slight. This isn't some thinly veiled insult on how you look. Why wouldn't you like pizza? Most people do, but his comment twists itself into an evil inky ball in your chest anyways, thick and hot as tar. 

You shake it off. 

"Who says I don't like you?" you ask, steering the conversation away from food altogether. 

His smile gets somehow better, which is to say worse. You're being punished for something, a childhood wrongdoing or a future crime, perhaps. Nothing else could warrant the mental torture that is being so close to him while he looks the way he does. 

"Good. Good, then we should get pizza. It's a date," he says, nodding. 

Morgan the shift manager calls for him to stop distracting you, though the Hideout is abandoned tonight, and there's nothing to distract you from. Eddie stands at full height, with a soldier's salute. "Yes, sir. No more lollygagging." He turns to you when you laugh, and you share a secret smile. 

He and Morgan disappear into the back of house. If you strain your ears, you can hear Eddie complaining about having to keep his hair in a bun, as it's totally against what he stands for, dude, it's stifling his self expression. 

"Count yourself lucky I don't make you wear a hair net, kid," Morgan says.

You turn back to your sticky bar, numb. It's a date? Did he mean, like, an actual date? A romantic date? 

Not a chance in hell. It's a colloquialism. Nothing more. 

Despite yourself, you stare into the silver reflection of a beer tap and try to liven up. You fix your hair, check your teeth, dig a lip balm out of your apron pocket and scratch the corners of your mouth just in case. The entire time you're heckling yourself about delusions. Eddie Munson doesn't like you. He's had a girl come around once or twice, and she'd been everything you're not: slender, confident. You'd wanted to dislike her, but she hadn't done anything wrong. There's no crime in being desirable. 

For the remainder of the night, you man the bar and serve the occasional patron. It's a Sunday night, so most stick to light beer or soft drinks. The live entertainment says goodnight and the Hideout empties like an opened floodgate. You clean the bar, Eddie buses the tables, and the kitchen staff turn on the radio and get to work cleaning. Soon, you can smell cigarette smoke and reheated mozzarella sticks. 

You wander into the kitchen to help. 

"Hi beautiful," Leon says, one of the cooks, "you want something to eat?" 

"No she does not!" Eddie says, helping the dishwasher Marcie with her last round of plates. Suds drip down to his rolled sleeves as he waves his hands around. "We're going to get pizza." 

"Yes!" Marcie says, delighted. 

"Where are we going?" Paul asks, another cook. 

"We," Eddie says, pointing at you and then himself, "are going to Marletto's. Yeah?" 

You startle when you realise he's asking you. "Oh, sure. Anywhere you want." 

His head bobs up and down, pleased. He goes back to his dishes. "Anywhere I want," he murmurs to Marcie, though he's saying it for everybody to hear, "hear that, Marc? I'm spoiled." 

You wipe down a few counters, label some leftover iceberg lettuce and put it back in the fridge. It's easy work, made better by the camaraderie of your coworkers, but you can't settle down. Your heart races at what's to come. "It's a date," is starting to feel less colloquial now Eddie's dissuading the other from joining you. That's how that works, right? He wants to be alone with you.

It might not mean anything. Maybe Eddie needs something from you he doesn't want the others to know about, like money. Maybe he wants girl advice, finally chasing that pretty girl who drops by sometimes. Or boy advice —there's a guy who comes around too, tall and blond and handsome. 

There's a logical solution. Any other girl would hear the word date and take it at face value, but you aren't them. You're you. You can't remember the last time somebody looked at you with desire in their eyes, if they ever have. High school was a shit show and work isn't exactly a hub for romance. Eddie joining the team here is the most excitement you've ever had in your life, for all his gentle squeezes and teasing elbows, his inside jokes and his tendency to burst into an air guitar solo at any given moment. He's a cheeseball, and you like him. It sucks. 

"Hi, are you ready?" he asks, coming out of nowhere. You're kneeling down near the lockers tying your shoelaces. 

It is a horrible position for him to see you in. You can't imagine what you look like, but you know it won't be pretty. You spring up with your shoelace untied still and smile weakly. "Yeah, I'm ready." 

"You need help with that?" he asks, eyes on your shoe. 

You burn with embarrassment. "I– no, I–" 

Eddie kneels down on the floor and reaches for your shoe. He ties it quickly in a double-knotted bunny-loop and pats the side of your ankle when he's done. When he looks up at you, you're in the middle of hoping a natural disaster will occur and put you out of your misery. 

He smiles at you from his position. Does he ever stop? 

"Cool," he says, standing up. He grabs his coat from his locker and doesn't bother closing it. "Let's go! I'm starving, man, Leon needs to mess up more often so I can steal the rejects." 

You follow him in a daze. Through the lockers and out of the kitchen, waving goodbye to the lingering closers and a grimacing Morgan. You aren't looking forward to seeing him again tomorrow. You're more than sure he'll have something to say about workplace fraternising and general dawdling. 

"You okay for us to take the van?" he asks. 

Eddie's given you rides home before, and what felt awkward before has lended itself to a familiarity. You nod your agreement and cross the small parking lot out back, your breath rising in the cold night air. 

Eddie pulls open the passenger door of his van with a strong-armed tug. 

"Been meaning to get the latch looked at. I'd rather it have trouble opening than trouble closing, though, so that's a plus." 

He waits for you to climb the short step and sit before he closes the door. 

“All limbs inside the ride?" he asks. 

You laugh. It comes out weird. You kind of sound like you're being held at gunpoint. 

Eddie gets in the van and makes small talk as he starts the engine and pulls her out of the lot. Your mind isn't there, exactly, or rather it's too close. You want to think about your answers but instead you're worrying about how you look while you say them. You're worried about the seat belt around your stomach, and the way you look from the side. Being around Eddie makes you more self-conscious than usual. 

Marletto's isn't the best pizza place in Hawkins but it's open until three AM. You and Eddie take the first empty booth you come across, and the agony of ordering in front of someone else begins. 

"Meat feast for me, obviously," he says, pulling off his jacket. 

The cracked vinyl seat beneath him crunches with his movement. You dedicate yourself to staying still. 

"I'll get a margarita," you say, glancing between him and the menu for his reaction.  

"Didn't take you for such a bore," he teases. "Drinks? Sides?" 

"Just water will be fine." 

"Are you sure? I'm paying. If you wanna take advantage of me, now's the time."

You shake your head, pushing your cold hands under your thighs. 

Eddie frowns. "If you're sure…" 

He gets up to track down the register. You sit there, wondering why you agreed to this, what possessed you, why you could ever think this was a good idea. You don't wanna eat in front of him, you don't know what to say, he's looking at you like everything's normal but this is so not normal, this is the opposite side of the spectrum. 

Eddie returns with your water and a coke, all smiles despite your clear nerves. 

He puts the drinks down and clambers into the seat with a leg folded underneath himself, his elbows halfway across the table. He looks you straight in the face. 

"That guy just looked at me like I was crazy. I'm hungry, sue me. Three orders of mozzarella sticks is a normal human thing to get, right?" 

"Three?" you ask. 

His hand reaches toward you. If your hand were there, he'd likely squeeze it roughly as he sometimes does, like a playful scolding. "I'm hungry," he repeats. "I didn't get any lunch on my lunch break. What's the point in that? Just sat down in the locker room thinking about it. It was actually worse than working." 

"You should've had Leon make you a burger. He's always offering." 

"Always offering you, maybe. The rest of us gotta fend for ourselves." 

"That's not true. He asks Marcie, too." 

"Yeah, well, Leon's a sucker for pretty girls." 

You look down at the table. 

"I got enough fries for both of us, I know you didn't want any sides but everyone wants fries. I won't be sharing the mozzarella sticks, so if you want some you better speak now." He raps the table with his knuckles. When you look up, his face softens. "Well, alright. Maybe I'll share them with you. I'm a sucker, too." 

"What's that mean?" 

"What?" 

"You know what," you say. 

Eddie crosses his arms across the table. His hands and arms are pale, the ink of his black tattoos stark. You could draw them without prompting, that's how often you've fallen into his trap. When he crosses his arms like this, his biceps bulge up a little bit, emphasising the pretty curves and ridges of his arms and the hints of greeny-blue veins hiding under his skin. He tilts his head toward his shoulder, his limp curls dragging against the table. 

"It means…" he says, holding your eyes, a gentle smile playing on his lips, "that you're pretty. You're so pretty, I'd do anything you asked me to." 

You flinch. You pull your numb hands from under your thighs and cover your stomach with your forearms, glaring at the table between you thoughtlessly. 

"That's cruel." 

"What?" 

"That's cruel, Eddie. You're being mean," you mutter.

"I–" Eddie stammers. "What? I'm just trying to tell you how I think about you– how I feel. I'm sorry if you don't wanna hear it, I'm not trying to be mean." 

Hurt creeps into the lines of your face, your eyebrows pulled down and the starts pulled up, your lips pursed. Heat bursts in your throat as a molten lump takes shape there. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you have to. 

"I thought you were my friend," you say quietly. 

"I want to be more than that." 

"You're making fun of me." 

"No." 

Eddie reaches across the table again. There's nothing for him to grab so he spreads his fingers and presses his palm flat. He ducks his head to meet your gaze. His eyes are ridiculously big, the black of his pupils blown and leaching into his dark irises until they're almost indistinguishable in the fuzzy lighting of the restaurant. 

"Come on," he says quietly, "when have I ever done that to you? I mess around, but I wouldn't say shit like that unless I meant it." His fingers lift off of the table. "I mean it. I think you're beautiful." His voice takes on a raw quality. 

You bite the tip of your tongue, fully frowning now. "I don't believe you," you say. 

"Why not?" he asks, frowning back. 

"Because I'm– I'm– I'm fat." You hate yourself for saying it out loud. 

People hate that word. Usually, if you admit to it, there's a rushed response. No, you're not. Pretty friends talk you down, loved ones wrap an arm around your shoulder and harp about puppy fat or big bones. 

Eddie doesn't do either. He sits back in his seat and smiles hesitantly. 

"Why's that a bad thing?" he asks. He shakes his head at himself. "I mean– I'm sorry, I should've said you aren't, you aren't–" 

"No, I am," you say. 

"You're so pretty," he says again, in a rush. "I don't care what size you are, I really don't. I just think you're beautiful and I wanted to ask you on a real date but I saw you and I couldn't wait anymore." He wraps his hand around the neck of his coke bottles and pulls it towards his chest. "Shit, I've made a huge fucking mess of it." 

You lean forward. Your body doesn't know what to do, the whiplash of hurt smothered by his enthusiastic, sincere compliments.

Why's that a bad thing? means more than anything else he said to you. 

"You really think I'm pretty?" you ask timidly. 

"Drop dead," he says. Hope flickers behind his eyes. "Morgan pulled me aside on my second week, you know that? Said if I didn't stop staring at you he'd put me in the back for the week." 

"He did put you in the back," you say, confused. 

"Exactly." 

Oh. You raise your head properly. Eddie's watching you, just you, obviously waiting for you to speak. The hope on his face is clear as day now, his lips parted, the tiniest peek of his tongue on display. 

"You promise you aren't messing with me?" you ask finally. 

"I promise." He holds his hand out, palm up. "I swear." 

Your heart a hummingbird, you take your hand from your waist and put it carefully in his. His fingers curl around yours like a prince, the tip of his thumb rubbing over your knuckles slowly, half an inch at a time. You exhale out of your nose as goosebumps race up your arm. 

He looks like he has more to say, but the pizza and all his sides arrive. You spring apart like teenagers, blood rushing in your ears. The server unloads his tray.

"Alright guys," he says, looking down at you both with a knowing smile. "Anything else I can get you while I'm here?" 

Eddie sneaks a look at you that holds way too much meaning. "No, I think we're alright." 

There's a tiny, awkward silence. You busy yourself with unfolding a napkin over your lap, not sure what to say to bridge the gap. 

Eddie takes the plunge. 

He slides a basket of mozzarella sticks at you. "Pretty girl privileges," he says.

You feel insecure eating in front of him, but the sheer ferocity of his compliments discourages any shame. He thinks you're pretty. He held your hand like it was made of glass and he got put in Hideout jail for staring. 

"I think you're handsome, too," you say. 

Eddie almost chokes on a handful of fries. "Shit," he says, swallowing roughly, hand thumping at his chest. "Thank god for that. I mean, of course you do. My devilish good looks are hard to resist." 

He's not wrong. 

—

Getting put on kitchen duty isn't half as bad as Morgan seems to think it is. Eddie kind of likes it, the noise, the chaos, the heat. Plus, he can steal fries hot and fresh out of the basket. He's only burned himself once. 

"What're you in for?" Leon asks him.

"Staring." 

"You're a freak, Munson, you know that?" 

Eddie shrugs. "If your girlfriend looked like mine, you'd stare too." 

"Uh-huh." Leon grabs up a spatula to flip a burger, pink meat down and brown side up. Fat sizzles dangerously. Neither man flinches. "She ain't going nowhere." 

"You don't know that. Some rockstar might blaze through here and snap her up. Who would I be to stop her? She should be a trophy wife, she's a stunner." 

"Christ," Marcie says from across the room. 

"How the fuck can you hear us?" Eddie asks. Over the sound of the overhead spray and the sizzle of the burners, Marcie must have superpowers or something. 

"Uh, 'cause you're fucking yelling," she says. 

Eddie looks to Leon for some defence, but Leon agrees. "You are super loud." 

"You would be too–"

"If I had a girlfriend as pretty as yours," Leon says, audibly grouchy. "I know." 

"Don't be jealous that I got there first." 

"How is this fair? You get in trouble and I'm the one punished." 

Eddie blows a big breath out of the corner of his mouth, one of his shorter curls dancing away from his warm face. Ridiculous. They're all awful, and jealous, and nobody wants him to be happy. "Losers," he mumbles. 

He's kidding, mostly. He knows that everyone is actually very happy for the both of you. How could they not be? Eddie's happier than ever and you've turned to mush. It's his favourite thing in the world. 

He thought you were pretty before. These days, you're gold dust incarnate. You see him and smile like you've been waiting for him, no more nervousness (which, he found out, was down to a raging crush on him) (he walked on air for days), no more shying away from his touch. Eddie puts a hand on your shoulder and you don't tense; you melt. Butter in the sun. 

It's glorious. 

And sure, Eddie ends up in the brig a lot. He 'hovers' apparently. So what? He'll say it again, if any of these guys were in his shoes, they'd fall victim to the same compulsion. 

He waits for an opportunity to arise, four dinner tickets and a dishwasher disaster, and sneaks away as silently as he can manage, creeping out of the kitchen and to the bar. You're busy pouring a beer and don't notice him until the customer's left and he's wrapping an arm around your waist. 

"Eddie," you scold lightly, leaning forward to accommodate his weight against your back, "come on. You might actually lose your job." 

"They can't fire me. I'm the best bus boy ever." 

You turn your face to look at him. Eddie wants to put you on TV, you look that sweet. 

"No, you're awful, you," —Eddie interrupts you, leaning down for a quick chaste kiss— "distract me, and you," —he steals a second— "don't actually bus tables when you should," you finish, disjointed. 

He brings his hand to your soft cheek, stroking a badly behaved baby hair back into place. You go lax like he's some kind of quick fix drug, and your eyes contain a tenderness that makes his chest ache. He covers his heart with his hand. 

"You're awful," you murmur. 

He takes your face into both hands slowly. One cups your cheek, and the other slides behind your ear. He pulls your face forward and down toward his chin, his lips by your ear. You smell amazing. His eyes close on instinct.

"A little. It's not my fault. You're just–" 

"So pretty?" you ask. "Yeah, you've told me." 

"I have, have I? Have to let me tell you again." He kisses the skin before your ear, more a press of his lips than anything. "You're beautiful," he mouths. 

You shiver, but ultimately end up planting your hands against his chest and ushering him away from you. 

"Stop it. I mean it! We're in public, at work, and you're gonna mess me up." 

"I want to mess you up," he says easily. 

"I know you do." 

Eddie sighs, agonised, but heeds your warning. "Alright," he says, squeezing your shoulder in goodbye. You smile and squeeze his elbow in return. It's your new thing, silent conversation in fond touches. 

He's a couple of feet away when the urge to turn back is too much. He jogs back to your side, gets his hand behind your neck, and kisses you with enough pressure that your lips part underneath his in shock. He adores the side of your neck with his thumb one sweeping stroke at a time, his nose digging sliding against yours as he inches in further, and further. The dizzy pleasure of your lips can't be understated. Eddie fights back a kiss-ruining smile with all he's worth. 

"Sorry," he says, pulling back. Your lips shine and you blink, dazed. "Sorry," he says again, leaning in to kiss them dry. 

You laugh quietly, a breath against his cheek, and he's a goner, dropping pecks all over your pretty face until you're giggling and sinking into his arms. 

"I really am sorry." He punctuates with a kiss under your jaw. 

"No," you say breathlessly. Your hand twines loosely in his hair. "You're not." 

No, he isn't. He's never felt less sorry for anything in his life. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please consider reblogging, it helps more than you know!! <3 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things fanfiction #fem!reader #eddie munson x plus sized reader #eddie munson x plus size reader

[lesbianloml]

#3 in my GIF/Imagine series

All of my GIFs/pictures will either be from Pinterest or from Tumblr

Type of piece: imagine, one shot, drabble, series

Type(s) of writing: smut, angst, fluff, dark, other

Pairing(s): stepmom!dom!wanda x sub!reader

Warning(s): double strap, reader's side vibrates, clit suction, bulge kink, overstimulation

Summary: Wanda had a rough day at work and she needed an outlet. Luckily, she has her stepdaughter ready to be tied up and ready to be used.

A/N: this is.... dirty. so dirty, its almost nasty

You were laying on the bed, spread eagle, hands and ankles tied, and with your stepmom digging through the drawers beside you. She was ranting on and on about work and how someone names Joseph was being a bitch or whatever. All you knew was that you were about to be in for being used. You were fine with that though. Wanda held up a double ended dildo. "Found it!" She exclaimed. She walked over to you, holding it out. "Oh baby, we don't even need foreplay. I haven't done anything and you're already soaked." She held up the dlido and started sinking it into you. It was huge. Like, huge. As you were gonna protest, you heard "one sound and you don't come."

It was only halfway in when your tummy started to show a bulge. You didn't moan or scream. You just layed there, biting your lip so hard you drew blood. Finally, your side was all the way in. Wanda then grabbed two clit suctions. There was two controls, which Wanda loved. Wanda started to sink down on her side of the cock, which pushed yours deeper inside of you. Wanda descended all the way down on her side, moaning when she saw the bulge in both your tummys.

Then she turned on the suctions. Her's was set to medium, a level that would bring you to an exceptable amount of pleasure. She grabbed your remote and turned it to the highest setting, which was known to have woman coming in two minutes. It was made for overstimulation. "You can talk now, maylsh. Let's see how you do." Then she fastened the suction onto her own clit, moaning a little at the feeling. She fastened it onto your clit and you screamed from the pleasure. "Oh my god! Holy shit!"

Wanda felt as though she needed more, so she began to bounce on the cock. It was hitting your g-spot with every bounce. "Oh my god! Fuck! Mommy! Mommy! I'm cumming oh my god!" You came with a scream. It happened like that 4 more times and Wanda still hadn't came yet. You had come five times already and was yanking at the restraints so you could pull the clit suction off because it was starting to hurt.

Wanda was tired and ready to come so she decided to do something to make you both come. Wanda turned her suction up to high. Then she pulled the cock all the way out of both of you, lined it with both of your folds, and slammed down. You both came at the same time. You screaming, "MOMMY!" and Wanda moaning loudly. "Good girl. Such a good girl. Sweet girl, you did so good for Mommy. I'm so proud of you. Now, let's go shower." She said, standing up and walking with ease. You, on the other hand, stood up and immediately collapsed. "Mommy?" "Yes, detka?" "Help?" She laughed and said "Of course, pretty girl. Anything for you."

Please, request some ideas you have! I would love to do some! Reblogs are much appreciated because it helps me spread some of my work around. Likes and comments are appreciated too! Thanks for reading.

#lesbian #bisexual #lgbtq #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximommy #mommy wanda #dark wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff #dom wanda #dom!wanda #top!wanda #the scarlet witch #scarlet witch #dark wanda smut #mommy wanda smut #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #fem reader #x reader #wanda smut #smut #mommy k!nk #wanda multiverse of madness #multiverse #gif #imagine #wanda maximoff x you #stranger things #wlw

[melodygatesauthor]

AHHH 2K IM SO HAPPY FOR U 🥳🥳

for the celebration: maybe a blurb about steven x yandere!reader 👀

Oh bitch you fucking KNOW I do

NSFW below the cut - non-con - somnophilia - voyeurism- breeding kink if you squint - I'm probably gonna get some haters for what I do to Steven in this so just settle down and remember that it's ff y'all - f!Reader

You're Steven's new neighbor, and it all starts when you run into him on the elevator heading up to your flat. He holds the door for you and you lose your shit. He's so handsome, he smells like old books and cedar, and he's such a mess you just want to know what he looks like writhing underneath you. Your body is shaking with excitement after meeting him for the first time. Holy fucking SHIT you need him.

So you bide your time, following him to work, keeping your distance so he doesn't know you're following him. You watch him picking the spinach from his wrap out of his teeth when he's walking home after talking with his street performer friend. You watch him go into his apartment, breaking your line of sight.

You can hear him from the laundry room jerking himself off and moaning pathetically. What a waste of his delicious cum when you know it's getting spilt into a tissue, just getting tossed aside when it could be inside of you.

When just listening isn't enough, you're staring wide-eyed into his window on the fire escape, watching him slide his palm over his erection. You're drooling on yourself while you plunge two fingers deep into your soaking cunt. You can see him just a little through the gap in his curtains, huffing and panting while he gets closer.

You're so tired of seeing him fuck himself when he could be fucking you.

So you wait until you know he's asleep and you sneak in through his window. You take a moment to take in his apartment, enjoying his scent and being surrounded by his belongings. Steven's a heavy sleeper, you learned this ages ago. So tying him up was easy.

When he finally wakes up, you're straddling him, gliding your dripping folds along his half-hard cock. You make sure to duct tape his mouth closed so his sounds will be muffled. You know Steven though, he would still be noisy as all hell.

He looks terrified at first, so you shush him and touch his cheek gently.

"Steven it's okay, it's me, your girlfriend."

You lean forward, kissing his cheek and wasting no time filling yourself with his fat cock. You groan and grunt, bouncing on top of him. You look at him, seeing his eyes roll back while you fuck him harder.

"Mm, feels good doesn't it Steven? I know just what you like, been watching you for a long time."

You move your hips in the same way you'd seen him move his hand. Slowly at first, but then faster and faster, and then slow again. You kiss his throat, hearing him crying a little. You chuckle, licking away his tears.

"You're the most precious thing Steven, can't stand the thought of anyone else having you, so you're mind now."

"This cock was made for me, it was made to fill me up, not letting you waste another drop of cum in a fucking tissue."

"I want you to pump that hot cum in my tight little pussy Steven, I wanna be so full it's flooding out of me."

"I don't take birth control you know? Not since I started following you. Gonna give you a fucking hockey team, gonna make you a daddy honey."

When Steven comes, he's breathing deeply, just as you'd seen him do before. He's panting, bucking his hips upward and slamming into you. It feels so good you nearly pass out from your own climax. When you come down from you high, you rip the tape from Steven's mouth.

"Oh god-oh god-oh god!" He's shouting. "You...you tied m-me up and-and-y-you...!"

"Steven, my sweet darling, are you really going to act like this isn't exactly what you wanted?" You kiss down his chest, and he moans, arching his body upward toward you.

"You precious whiny thing..."

Your first time together might've been a shock to him, but it doesn't take long for Steven to start seeing things your way...

Melody's 2k Celebration Masterlist

#steven grant #moon knight #steven grant drabble #Steven grant imagine #Steven grant smut #moon knight smut #moon knight x reader #moon knight drabble #moon knight imagine #melodys random thots #steven grant x reader #steven x reader #steven grant x you #moon knight x you #steven grant blurb #moon knight blurb

[brucewaynehater101]

adding to my last ask, the rest of the album is so similar to the Batfam

Loves like Ghosts - Batcat or BruTalia

Until the Night Turns - Dick (the vibes esp)

Dead Man’s Hand - Jason

-> pretty obvious why 💀. I see it as Jason talking abt his old self with the “tired of a life that never felt like his” line

Hurricane (Johnnie’s theme) - Dick, Jason, and Steph(Cass)

-> I mostly saw it as Stephcass but there were definitely lyrics that applied to Dick (thrill) and Jason (dying lol)

La Bella Fleur Sauvage - DickBabs

The World Ender - Steph (with the romantic lines being shaded between Cass and Gotham) or Jason (with the romantic lines being completely abour Gotham)

-> I feel like it fits Jason better bc it’s literlaky abour being back from the grave but alas

Meet Me in the Woods - Tim(Bern)

The Yawning Grave - ALFRED AND BRUCE ALFRESH AND BRUCE. This is so important to me omg

Cursed - where “she” is Gotham and the speaker is any of the Batfam (sans Cass I think)

Way out There - Damian (“I’m just wearing old bones from those who came first”) (“you” being Dick) or StephCass from Cass’s pov

The Night We Met - the BatSiblings (sans Duke bc he wasn’t adopted yet) during Bruce’s death

There weren’t any I could connect to Duke specifically but yeah 😞

Loves Like Ghost definitely gives of Talia to Bruce vibes. The lyrics of "what ain't living can never really die. You don't want me baby please don't lie. Oh but if you're leaving, I gotta know why." "And if I can't have you then no one ever will." "Baby in my eyes you do no wrong. I don't feel it till it hurts sometimes. So go on baby hurt me tonight."

Until the Night Turns is a cool song. Perhaps you would elaborate more on why you think it fits Dick? The vibes are pretty on, but jot too sure about the lyrics.

Dead Man's Hand does fit Jason. "Sure as hell he was dead as they come and he was already starting to smell. Just a kid with his hair slicked back and a knife tucked into his belt. Was he unforgiven or just tired of living a life that never felt like his?" "I know I'm dead but I don't wanna lie in a grave out here where the coyote's cry. I stared right into the endless void and I ain't going back if I got any choice. I know how to live, I don't know how to die and there ain't no thrills in the afterlife."

Hurricane. I do think that all of the batkids are adrenaline junkies but I do see how the lyrics fit those ones especially.

La Bella Fleur Savage - Google says Fleur means both flower and resilience. I can see how that fits Babs and how the song resembles her love with Dick.

The World Ender - I love this song for Steph. She deserves to get her revenge. She did kind of die with Black Mask, but she didn't really do a revenge thing like Jason. On the other hand she "won't ever feel the embrace of the grave" because she revived before being buried.

Meet Me in the Woods - I see how this is TimBern especially because Bernard isn't in the vigilante business (so he won't really understand what Tim's been through).

The Yawning Grave - Alfred warning Bruce not to become Batman, of its dangers, of the likelihood of him dying, fits so well. He told him when he was a kid, but Bruce still went down with this path

Cursed - I agree that Cass isn't tied to Gotham like the others. If "she" was Gotham, that does fit the others. I raise you, though. What if "she" was their mission or vigilantism? That then fits all of them.

Way out There - Oof. That definitely fits Damian and I love that analysis of him.

The Night We Met - I agree, however, there's a tik tok that has an animation of this song. It absolutely kills my soul every time I see it. It has Bruce singing this about Jason: "I had all," Jason as Robin, "and then most of you," Jason dying, "some and," Jason's grave, "now none of you," Jason as Red Hood. "Take me back to the night we met." The tire jacking night.

We definitely need some Duke songs out there. If anyone has any songs that fit Duke, feel free to comment or reblog with them!!!!

#dc comics #dc universe #jason todd #tim drake #bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne #cass wayne #steph brown #barbara gordon #thank you for the ask!!!!

[persephonememes]

* (  GOOD RIDDANCE BY GRACIE ABRAMS /  SENTENCE PROMPTS.

These may have been edited for clarity or length or to better apply for roleplaying.

❛ i was bored out my mind ❜

❛ you're the worst of my crimes ❜

❛ i never was the best to you ❜

❛ i used to lie to your face twenty times in a day ❜

❛ it was my little strange addiction ❜

❛ i destroyed every silver lining you had in your head ❜

❛ we were too different ❜

❛ you were so sensitive ❜

❛ now i feel terrible about how i handled it ❜

❛ now i bet you resent all of me ❜

❛ i don't forget all of my fault in this ❜

❛ i deserve it though ❜

❛ you were there all the time ❜

❛ how am i supposed to put that gently? ❜

❛ down the road you will love me until you resent me ❜

❛ what if i'm not worth the time and breath i know you're saving? ❜

❛ the whole facade seemed to fall apart ❜

❛ part of me wants to walk away till you really listen ❜

❛ i hate to look at your face and know that we're feeling different ❜

❛ cause part of me wants you back, but i know it won't work like that, huh? ❜

❛ why won't you try moving on for once? ❜

❛ i know we cut all the ties but you're never really leaving ❜

❛ i'm thinking everything you wish i wasn't ❜

❛ the call was tough but you're better off ❜

❛ so won't you stop holding out for me when i don't want it ❜

❛ won't you stay for a while ❜

❛ i wish that you'd never leave ❜

❛ i know i know better ❜

❛ if you asked me to run away i'd go easily ❜

❛ i'm codependent but trying hard not to be ❜

❛ do you think we could talk? ❜

❛ yes, i know that he's my ex. but can't two people reconnect? ❜

❛ i'll always choose you ❜

❛ where do we go now? ❜

❛ there's nothing left here ❜

❛ i wasted my breath when i tried to console you, didn't i? ❜

❛ i know that i should hate you ❜

❛ i pulled the knife out my back, it was right where you left it ❜

❛ i just drank something strong to try to forget, but it wasn't right ❜

❛ i almost crashed my car ❜

❛ all i ever think about is where the hell you even are ❜

❛ i swear to god i'd kill you if i loved you less hard ❜

❛ after all of this time, i still get disappointed ❜

❛ it's kinda funny when it goes from all to nothing ❜

❛ you have to laugh before you start to cry ❜

❛ now i stop myself from holding on to something that makes me feel a little less alive ❜

❛ i see through you ❜

❛ where did you go? ❜

❛ why'd it feel louder when all of it went unspoken? ❜

❛ all i can do is hope that this will go away ❜

❛ she doesn't know i'd let her ruin all my days ❜

❛ i'm just scared of that commitment ❜

❛ i really think sometimes there's something that i'm missing ❜

❛ i should probably go back home ❜

❛ i hope i wake up invisible ❜

❛ i guess i'm just difficult ❜

❛ you were everything to me ❜

❛ i've been drinking and staying up too late reliving bad decisions ❜

❛ what am i supposed to do when you used to be my lifeline? ❜

❛ i've counted all the days since you walked away ❜

❛ i never could've seen you coming ❜

❛ i think you're everything i've wanted ❜

❛ you make me really nervous ❜

❛ i've never felt this close to someone ❜

❛ what if you're my weakness? ❜

❛ i feel homesick ❜

❛ i'll say whatever you want, but i've become such a liar ❜

❛ i used to follow my gut, but now i'm just getting higher ❜

❛ i've been thinking way too loud ❜

❛ i wish that i could block me out ❜

❛ i think i'm burning alive, but nobody sees the fire ��

❛ 'cause when i open my mouth, i seem to be stuck in silence ❜

❛ i thought of leaving tonight, but i couldn't drive this tired ❜

❛ plus after all of this time, i should be a pretty crier ❜

❛ in my head, i make a mess of it ❜

❛ i'm getting tired of feeling delicate ❜

❛ i used to try, but nothing's helping it ❜

❛ it's not their fault, but i've found that none of my friends will call me ❜

❛ every voice in my head is trying its best to haunt me ❜

❛ i should be cool but i panic ❜

❛ words seem to cut so much deeper right to the bone ❜

❛ it's a sort of funny quiet feeling ❜

❛ lately i don't know what to believe in ❜

❛ i drove 100 miles an hour to forget you ❜

❛  how'd you walk away so easy? ❜

❛ you won't even look at me ❜

❛ i hate the fact that i miss you around ❜

❛ why's it feel like you don't even know me? ❜

❛ how are you looking at me like a stranger? ❜

❛ i took up walking to turn it all off ❜

❛ it doesn't feel bearable guess i thought when i left it would all stop ❜

❛ did i fall out of line when i called you? ❜

❛ when i told you i'm fine you were lied to ❜

❛ how could i think that all that i gave you was enough? ❜

❛ cause every time i get too close i just go mess it up ❜

❛ i heard that you're happier ❜

❛ i hope that you're sleeping well, knowing i'm not ❜

#rp meme #rp memes #rp prompts #ask meme #meme #memes #roleplay meme #ask memes #lyric meme #lyrics #gracie abrams #gracie abrams lyrics #good riddance

[ruinedbylanadelrey]

King of Your Heart

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 4 "She, her"

summary: All that Frankie has ever wanted to be was your everything. After years of being best friends one phone call changes everything between the two of you.

inspired by The King by Sarah Kinsley

warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, age gap (reader is 28-29, Frankie 38-39), friends with benefits -> situationship, Frankie isn't a dad, jealously, best friends with benefits, reader is lowkey toxic, reader wears makeup, reader has long hair, self-hate (both characters), smut, oral (m. rec), frankie deserves the best head, unprotected sex, yearning, mention of ptsd, military talk, paranoia, secrets, no y/n, pet names, switch!Frankie, switch!Reader, blind dates, possessiveness, triple frontier boys, Tom is dead, reader is a flirt, praise kink, reader has complicated relationship with her body, Frankie is a dick (later)

inside the world of king of your heart

playlist

series mainlist | main masterlist

taglist: @hiroikegawa

The roar of the tires and the crickets in the night filled Frankie's ears. His fisting gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. The wind roared through the driver's side window, the speedometer keeping a solid 70 mph, flying through the traffic lights, hues of yellows and greens streaking through the windshield. 

A sharp right turn onto the street where Benny resided, Frankie throws the truck in park not giving a second for it to entirely stop and taking off the seatbelt. He frantically opens the truck door and stomps his way to the welcome mat. His fists pound once, and a light inside flicks. Benny is half asleep and in his boxers with bite marks on his chest. "Fish what the actual fuck?" Benny raises his hand covering his eyes due to the brightness of the dim lamp.

"When she is under your supervision, you look out for her no matter who you're with!" Frankie gritted as he pushed Benny against the door frame. Frankie is heaving like a madman and Benny is fully awake now still processing what Frankie is saying. "Hey! You know her...she can stand her ground but I get it man I wasn't being a friend," Benny raises his hands in defense hoping Frankie would calm down. 

"Doesn't fucking matter...if something happened to her it would be on you." Frankie continues his rant, Yes he knows you would do whatever it takes to protect yourself. But a friend will step in at any moment to help. That's what Frankie would do, beat the guy until was bloodied in the face.

"Do you love her?" Benny finally got out of the bruising grip Frankie had on him. He looks at the blonde and finally emerges from his rage trance, "I-I...This isn't about me. This is about her. Her safety. She's our friend for fuck sake," Frankie tries to level his breathing, gazing at the ground and looking at how his boots weren't tied. 

"No more blind dates. No more set ups." Frankie brings his line of sight to Benny's eyes, face scrunched in confusion and he finally sees the face Frankie had on. It was possessive and dark. Benny has never seen this side of Frankie, ultra-protective, and very much in love.

"Okay man," Benny agrees and helps Frankie back to his truck. "If you love her...you have to tell her. She isn't a mind reader." Benny said goodbye and closed the driver-side door. "We are just friends" Frankie mutters to himself and starts the engine. Benny watches Frankie drive away and is still confused about the events that happened. 

Frankie felt the guilt creep up into his mind when he arrived home and you were standing on the porch, arms crossed, with an exasperated look. He walks up to you like a puppy with their tail tucked between his legs. "I'm-" "You had no right to go after our friend like that" You narrowed your eyes and snapped in Frankie's face. He lifts his head and looks you in the eye, he knew he didn't have the right to do that but he couldn't help that his emotions drove him to do that. 

"Benny called me saying you showed up and yelled at him for not protecting me. Fish I get where you were coming from but Benny is right. If I needed help I would've called out for him...we will talk in the morning,"

You and Frankie walk inside and expecting you to leave, you go to his bedroom and crawl back in bed. Frankie sat on the bed and took off his boots before getting under the blanket and sheets. You turn to face him, your hand cups his face, and your eyes look up at him. Frankie's face remained emotionless. 

What is she thinking? What am I to her? 

You lay a light kiss on his lips before turning your back to him and pulling the blanket over your shoulders. 

What is he thinking? Are we something more?

You waited for sleep to take over, but your mind was racing making a list of questions you had for Frankie, On the other side of the bed Frankie fell asleep with tears falling down his nose. This protectiveness wasn't out of the ordinary. He was always hyper-vigilant with you, making sure you were okay and safe. 

The moon and the clouds painted the sky with an ombre of black and a dark gray. 2 AM. The silence ringing in your ear, waiting for Frankie to wake up and reach over for you. You were sitting up against the headboard, looking at Frankie dead asleep with a scowl naturally built into his face no matter if he was awake or asleep. "Fish, wake up" You nudged him, Frankie's eyes flew open grabbed your hand, and you barely flinched. You were completely used to it, knowing how to handle Frankie and his habits from the PTSD. Your faded perfume on your wrist wafts into his nose. Frankie releases your hand and wipes away the sleep from his eyes. 

"Sorry, princess," Frankie mumbles and sits up next to you, adjusting the blanket over his bulge due to you being in his bed and the wet dream he was about to have. You sigh waiting for him to spew out whatever is racing his calculating brain. "I'm sorry for overstepping but Benny was not being a friend and the guys, we have an agreement to always keep one eye on you whenever you're with us...due to you know what happened in Colombia...I know this is just my paranoid brain...but you don't who is working with a cartel or not...it can be just anyone..." Frankie rambled on more about how you can't trust anyone, people talk, and all it takes is one person to ruin a life. 

You kept your thoughts about his paranoia to yourself, but you understand the way his brain thinks. It's always working, observing, listening, and making sure there is always a way out. Frankie also made sure that he knows you can defend yourself but don't have the military defensive training that replaced all of the guy's bones when they were in Delta. Your mind is clouded with attraction, getting off on Frankie and how protective he is of you. Always worried about you and never about himself. 

It was the protectiveness you had growing up, your father being ex-military and making sure you were always taken care of, engraving your mind with that you hold all control. The warmth that you always put out, now growing into a full flame. Frankie looked into your eyes and could see the fire burning inside of you. He didn't want you to start seeing him as some kind of hero, because he isn't. He's a bad guy. He has done bad things. He is a liability to you. "Please don't look at me that way, princess," Frankie cups your face and he starts to cry. You quickly straddled his waist and hugged him, holding him close to your chest. "Fish, what are you talking about?" You leaned back to look at him. 

He sighs and blinks away the tears. You hold the same look, "Like I'm more than just a friend," Frankie winces, and you feel your heart pull towards him trying to escape and run off with him. "Like I'm privileged enough to call you 'mine'." Frankie is talking so low, his breathing is heavy and his eyes won't leave yours. Frankie is breaking down slowly trying to get a glimpse in your mind.

What is she thinking? Does she know what she does to me? She's too smart to play oblivious. 

"Fish, you know we are more than just friends, " You were truthful and Frankie froze beneath you, he was trying to make sure he wasn't dreaming. His gaze shifted between your lips and eyes, wrapping your legs around his waist, his arms sliding from your back to your neck. He captures your lips with his, it was messy, teeth hitting each other, tongues fighting for dominance, your fingers running through his dark curls tugging on the ends. "Let me make you feel good, pretty boy," You pushed Frankie flat on the bed, pulling out his heavy cock, and you licked the pre cum from his blush tip. 

"F-fuck you have such a pretty mouth, princess" Frankie moans, sitting up on his elbows and watching you take in his hard cock into your mouth. You swirl his thick length in your mouth, taking him deeper down your throat. Your nose meets the curly hairs on his mound. His hand pushes you closer to his pelvis, having you gag around him. Frankie whimpers as he felt your throat close up around him. You focus on breathing your nose, you bob your head up and down before taking him down your throat again. Frankie's thigh twitches when you tap the tip on your tongue, just swirling your tongue around it and kitten licks on the slit. 

"I want you to cum all over my face, baby," You rasp, sucking on the tip. Your hand wraps the rest of him that was hanging out your mouth. Frankie grunts at your touch, he was in pure bliss watching you suck him off. Frankie fists your hair in a makeshift ponytail and pushes his cock into your mouth. You moan around him, loving how Frankie can still be dominant under your control. 

"I'm gonna come, princess, f-fuck rightt noww" Frankie pulls you off of him with a small 'pop' sounded off while you catch your breath. Frankie fists himself, and your hands quickly take charge of jerking him off. White ropes paint your face, his hot cum splattering your cheeks, dripping from your nose to your lips.

You smiled as your hands milk his cock, letting the last few of spurts pool on your tongue. Frankie felt like he could come again from the sight of you with his cum on your face looking so happy. "Swallow it, be a good girl, and swallow my cum," Frankie pants, you swallow it and moan as his cum goes down your throat. He kisses your lips, tasting you and him on your tongue. 

After cleaning up you and Frankie stare at each other, you are yelling at yourself for slowly falling for him. This isn't like you. He's your best friend. More than just friends. What now? You know you truly love Frankie for everything that he is and anything that he has. But why is your gut telling you to run?

You and Frankie could be the end all be all. He is worth holding on to. Is it time to cut the bullshit? Time to finally settle down? Going through the honeymoon phase? Meeting his parents? Showing others you have a weakness? 

What does 'more than just friends' mean? Still, what am I to her?

#frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fluff #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x f!reader #pedro pascal

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

I said November and I didn't lie to y'all see? Update.

-9- Ties that Bind

As for the birds, Dawn followed them to a clear spring where she refilled her canteen and picked from a grove of fresh fruit until the birds swooped down, blinding her with their wings. She dropped her collection to shield her face and the fruit burst, spilling a sickly yellow fluid with a foul scent like putrid pus. If she had eaten that shit... She sighed, hungry. Why the hell was she in the middle of the forest again? Find him, her brain replied. Find him quickly and trust the birds. 

She followed them day and night, ending up in an open clearing the size of a football field. Wildflowers and overgrowth stretched on creating a scene that she'd never found in the concrete jungle of New York. It was open and beautiful, but that left less places to hide.

There, in the distant line of trees, stood a shadowed figure that she nearly missed until she did a double take. Spotted, he stepped forward. It was the man she'd been combing the forest for. She wasn't as prepared as her mind tricked her into believing. Her breath caught. Comparing the angles of his face to the images in reoccurring visions, he was exactly as she recalled. She'd gotten it right down to the detail. His crimson eyes beamed like lights, and the only change in his appearance was his locs, which had grown to his shoulders.

Within a blink, he was but a yard away as though he'd never moved. Dawn felt a sudden tinge of fear like she was standing on thin ice in the dead of winter with danger lurking beneath the frozen surface. She was hesitant to blink. It was a fleeting feeling that wouldn't bloom enough to be addressed. As soon as she felt it, it left. She didn't understand why, nor did the thought linger.

"It's smaller than you'd think, but constantly changing," Dawn replied, the uncanny feeling once again on the backburner. "These your birds?"

"You're alone."

N'Jadaka looked to the clear orange sky as the sounds of the forest amplified through the silence. He'd assumed that his compulsion would eat at her a little longer before she caved, a few more years perhaps.

"Is the outside world so frivolous?"

Or was his compulsion just that strong?

N'Jadaka's attention remained on the changing orange sky as the sun was gradually setting.

Dawn took a bold step forward, looking at his upturned eyes. He was still with no visible change or response. It made her her feel impatient. She'd come so far.

"Okay...," Dawn squinted. She didn't care for being ignored. "You did something to me," she accused. "I can't get you or this place out of my head. Seems you started a process you didn't care to finish, and now I'm tethered to you from a different country. Care to explain?"

Silence.

He looked at her then, visibly skeptical. "This meadow. What do you think of it?"

"Nothing?... You just gone stand there like I'm not talking?"

Silence.

She glared, waiting for a reaction. This was not the reunion she'd imagined. She finally kissed her teeth, ready to turn around.

"Like you don't look at the same damn thing every day."

"Uh, it's cool?" She shrugged. "The sky is probably the best part."

"I never get tired of this sky."

"Do you get any feelings in this meadow?"

Dawn sighed. Here she was after a year, and he was focused on the damn sky. Though it was beautiful.

She too stared upward, under the darkening sky.

"How did you feel when you awoke?" His question caught her off guard.

"It was a rush," she admitted. "When you gave me your blood, I felt intense energy inside of me. How did you know to do that? Did you know what it would do?"

Dawn sighed, closing her eyes briefly. Again with the sky and the meadow. She started walking away in the opposite direction, annoyed, but stopped. "You don't understand, I had to find you again. Something in me said find you, and I don't know why, but here I am." 

It was like he'd teleported within another blink. He was behind her, his face at her ear. She should've been terrified, but the feeling couldn't fully register.

"It's okay to admit you're taken with the idea of eternal beauty and grace. Who doesn't want to live young forever? Poor thing. A human life is lackluster. So fleeting." 

"It's the ties that bind," his honied voice came, his attention not on her but on the presence hiding in the trees ahead.

Someone had followed him despite his directive. As for who, it wasn't difficult to guess. She wasn't good at hiding her presence.

"Just a small taste, and you're hooked," his fingers slid feather-light over Dawn's sleeves and over her the shoulder straps of her backpack. He knew Deanna was watching.

How frightened she must be. Let's play a trick, shall we? Don't move, he willed Dawn as his hand slid snugly across the front of her slender neck. Dawn hadn't moved a muscle, rendered unable by his compulsion.

"The heightened senses. The newfound glory," he teased seductively in her ear. "You like what my power does to you. How it makes you feel. You feel renewed... Alive." 

His voice was hypnotic, like a spell. He was too deep in her head, the subtle suggestions masquerading as her own thoughts.

She could feel his sharp nail pressing into her throat like a knife threatening to slice at any moment.

"You want this," he whispered in her ear as he lightly stroked the bonnet she wore. "I assure you, death is quicker than falling asleep."

"Careful, servant, or you might eat those words."

Finally. There she was, revealed from the trees. Deanna appeared, walking into the open and lowering herself to the ground. "I swear on my life I would never disrespect you, my prince, but I-"

It was light rebuke, but Deanna hid her face. Her fear of the prince ran deep, yet here she was, spying to keep a protective eye on Dawn.

Semi was the next to emerge, only he was furiously eyeing Deanna. "You insolent!!"

"Semi, why is a subject in my presence when I've asked to be alone? Do I need concerned to the point of re-evaluating your position?"

"No, my king." Semi bowed modestly. He had followed Deanna to the clearing to deal with her defiance. Now, he was forcing her to her knees at the prince's feet.

Dawn opened her mouth to speak, but Deanna's brief look paused her. Her body was bent to the lowest degree. "I beg you," she pleaded, "Spare her life. Take mine."

"How dare you continue to speak to me," N'Jadaka spat in disgust. Something about Dawn caused others to forget their place.

He could feel Semi staring. "You've got something to say?"

Deanna was now face down with her palms in the grass of her own volition. "My prince, forgive my insolence," she begged, but she did not move, nor did she raise her head even as the prince stepped on it, irritated that she'd go so far.

Part of him was appreciative. It was an odd mix of emotions that were difficult for him to place. That, too, irritated him.

"In respect and concern for your kingdom," Semi straightened. "There is something strange about the girl. You've felt it. We've all felt it. It's my belief that if you are willing, we should investigate."

His words confirmed what N'Jadaka had figured. One, there was serious talk among the palace, and he was not the only one feeling the confusion her random appearances had brought. Two, he couldn't turn her. Something deep in his gut told him it would be the mistake of his life, and he had to explore it.

"Get up," N'Jadaka challenged to the deadly still Deanna. She would not move for fear of what he might do to her if she did, which was a valid fear. He could be impulsive with his punishments. So he called on Semi. "Do what you will."

He needed a moment to think.

"How unsightly," he frowned. "And it's unbecoming to pant." 

Dawn was stunned, and with a dismissive wave like he was over the entire interaction, N'Jadaka retreated, disappearing completely from her sight. She was picked up and whisked away before she could see who grabbed her.

Then she was set on her own two feet inside of the castle where Semi steadied her as she gathered her senses and her balance. The prince was already on his throne with a bored expression, his chin propped on his hand.

"Careful," a stunning young woman with elaborate braids and a canary yellow dress warned with a posh wave of a fan. One sharp side-glance from N'Jadaka sent her eyes to the floor.   

"It's unbecoming to make a black woman lose her bonnet," Dawn side-eyed, trying to return to her body's equilibrium without puking. "Guess we all need etiquette."

"If you were one of us, you wouldn't feel the speed. Semi, show Miss Dawn to her quarters. Maybe she'll find the use of a mirror." 

"RUDE," she yelled as the door shut behind her quicker than she could physically respond. She had a good comeback for the prince that would've made him think twice if only she could've stuck around. The material was there.

The soiree of well-dressed dead chuckled at Dawn's expense as N'Jadaka's haughty brow lifted, triggering Dawn to fire back, but she was no match for Semi's speed. He removed her quicker than she could part her lips.

She was now in the same dim burgundy and gold room she'd been kept in the last time she found herself in the hidden castle.

The door re-opened to a familiar face, one that was full of confusion and anxiety.

"Deanna!" Dawn's excitement spiked.

"Why would you come back!? He almost killed you." Deanna rushed to her, eyes wide as though she were staring at a ghost.

Deanna's eyes dulled. "I sensed the prince's blood in you." She was deeply confused. "But... How did you escape?"

Dawn sighed. "So boom," she justified. "I'm not crazy, I swear, but would you believe that with one drop of the prince's blood," her finger raised, "Everything about me has been enhanced. One drop. Like how am I alive, Deanna? I should've died, and I was planning to, but he saved me. Honest to God. No, no, hear me out! I'm not dead. I'm still me, but my strength and my stamina? Through the roof. The roof!"

"Oh, I didn't. I was near dead when the prince revived me. Was it the third time he's saved me? I'm still breathing."

With a dramatized deep breath, Dawn realized she was missing a brooding voice's interjections. Her brows shot up as she looked left and right.

"Where's Julip? You two were attached at the hip."

Dawn's eyes bugged as she grasped at straws to understand. "Wait, what?"

"Dungeon."

"Hm?"

"The prince has been taking out his frustration on him day and night."

"What did you think would happen, Dawn? He disobeyed the prince to help you."

"He's been in the dungeon since I left?" Dawn was still in shock. "But why, when the prince is the one who dropped me at the edge of the forest? It's gotta be more to it."

"No, Dawn, there doesn't," Deanna's annoyance glared. "I thought you would've known this... Something is definitely off about you."

"Me?!" Dawn pointed to herself.

"Why are you here?"

"Girl!" Dawn kissed her teeth, unable to explain without genuinely sounding crazy. "It's hard to explain. You wouldn't understand."

"Attempt," Deanna glared.

Dawn's voice turned into a whisper as she leaned into Deanna's shoulder. "All I know is I woke up in a hospital feeling better than ever. I don't know why. It doesn't.. It doesn't make sense. N'Jadaka's face has been haunting my dreams ever since."

"You dare use his name? Now I see... He's toying with you."

"I don't think so," Dawn admitted. "He could've killed me at any moment. You saw him. He didn't do it."

"It doesn't mean he won't. I've seen him compel people for his own entertainment before spilling their blood for banquet. It's fun for him." There was clear contempt in her voice as she seemed to remember something terrible. "I was compelled to my death. I didn't have control of my body. It was as though someone implanted thoughts in my head.

Dawn froze, the feeling familiar. "I've been in this haze as though I'm dreaming. I figured it's a side effect of the blood."

"Your fear sense is dulled. That's how he gets in. He makes you fearless so that nothing stops you from running full speed into death." Flashbacks returned as Deanna recalled some of the most simplistic yet cruel deaths she'd witnessed. "Even now, he's compelled Julip to feel pain. It's his way of torture. He compels us all to obey. And I'm aware the prince has compelled me to fear him more than anything. I'm sorry to say, it's likely his compulsion that has brought you back. He doesn't free anyone, ever, and now that you're back, he has you exactly where he wants you."

"Wants me? For what," Dawn frowned. She knew that fear was proper, but she still couldn���t feel it. "What do I do?"

"Escape. Before it's too late." She was silenced when Semi poked his head into the room.

Quickly, Deanna took Dawn into the bathroom and ran the bath, cleansing her of the sweat and grime. "Go with it," she advised. "Whatever happens, don't make him angry. Don't think about me, Julip, or anything else. At the first chance, hide. I'll do what I can."

"Get her ready," he ordered, disappearing.

Dawn nodded her permission.

Dawn's curls were braided down and tucked neatly, adorned with small white flowers. She was put in a long conservative white and gold dress with heavy gold earrings.

"If things go wrong-"

"It's my own fault," Dawn spoke flatly. She wouldn't dare blame Deanna.

"It's not your fault. His compulsion is strong. Dawn. But if things go wrong and he does, in fact, kill you, I hope you stay dead."

This time around, Dawn was escorted by N'Jadaka himself through the darkened halls where he seemed to float like an apparition in the haunted hallway lit with sconces. Huli and Semi stood stiff and intimidating at the large double doors of the massive banquet hall. It was as magnificent as Dawn recalled, an afro-gothic twist on ancient luxury with the kingdom in white tie coming to a pause in reverence of their charismatic leader. He was hand in hand with her, toting her at his side like an accessory. 

"I'll do what I can."

Deanna sighed.

Dawn tried to stop her eyeroll unsuccessfully. Her distaste was palpable. There was a slight smirk on his lips, and the more put off she appeared, the more it entertained him. He was indeed toying with her.

"Welcome," he greeted his audience, exchanging pleasantries as Dawn remained silent. She could feel the shift in power dynamic. The people were bowing to her, though their eyes betrayed a desire to tear her apart.

"Wheel out the main course," Prince N'Jadaka gestured to the opposing double doors across the great room. On cue, the infamous rack appeared, triggering the sight of all that blood. She could smell it. She covered her nose, lost in an intense flashback that had previously been somewhat buried.

"Easy," N'Jadaka whispered, causing the memory to fade once more.

The attention of the crowd was still drawn to the rack as though they'd wheeled out a rich selection of steaks.

"A lovely display of forest fruits indeed," N'Jadaka's dead eyes rested on Dawn's. "Such short lifespans. It's pitiful, really."

"In the interest of manners, I have decided that our honored guest will do the honors this evening," he announced, placing a pristine blade into her palm. He watched her confusion turn to panic. She didn't have the stomach for murder which made it all the more entertaining. Wordlessly, he gestured with the grace of an ancient monarch for her to continue toward the rack of men.

"The empathy you feel," N'Jadaka's eyes burned. "What is that like?" 

Cornered, Dawn wandered slowly through the splitting crowd, getting closer and closer to where she didn't want to be. She couldn't even look the condemned in the eye, knowing the brutal details of their impending deaths.

Dawn dropped the blade, the sound of it clanging to the banquet floor like a pin drop in silence.

"You're the damn devil," she muttered as he watched from his throne with crossed legs. Had he always been so deranged, she wondered. "You'll have to find another can opener. I refuse."

Making her way back toward the stage, she shook her head in distaste. She didn't like this side of him. He'd have to pull his head out of his sadistic ass and fuck off somewhere because this was going entirely too far. "Why are you doing this? To prove a point?"

"No, bump that," she retorted. "Where's Julip?" 

"It's rude to make us wait," he taunted, still finding entertainment in the scenario he caused.

Dawn nodded. She knew how to wipe that haughty look from his mug.

The prince's light expression faded, and from the corner of her eye, Dawn could see Deanna shake her head, no. Do not make him angry. Just go with it, she'd said, but Dawn couldn't do that. In this moment, there was not an ounce of backdown in her body. She wasn't a murderer or a torturer, and just thinking of what Julip was going through as everyone went on with their festivities was becoming more and more unbearable. 

"What did you do to him," she demanded to know.

"Your traitorous beloved is rotting in the dungeon where he belongs. If you're so interested, you can keep him warm in his cell."

"Let him GO," Dawn demanded with authority. Everyone near her stepped back. Deanna cleared her throat aggressively, but Dawn could no longer be contained. 

"Is that... an order?" 

Dawn looked to the crowd. As thirsty as they'd been moments ago, suddenly, they didn't see her. "Did he compel everyone in this room? For a group of undead, y'all are a little too docile for me. One of your own is being tortured for no other reason than your spoiled brat of a prince is lost in his forever pubescent feelings! That could easily be you or your partners."

It was so quiet that she could've literally heard a pin drop.

"How are you all okay with this," she groaned, eyeing everyone in the vicinity. Frustration boiled over as she pointed aggressively to the rack of men. "And this shit? This is some depraved shit! There are better ways to exist, not like brainless animals with no sense or self-control."

"Stab him."

Dawn picked up the pristine blade from the floor in a smooth motion and drove it swiftly into one man's thigh deep enough for him to groan past the gag and bleed. In shock, she tried to comprehend what she'd just done. Her body had moved on its own before she could realize.

"Again."

Her two hands trembled in their effort to stop themselves. She looked to the prince as sweat beaded on her forehead from the intense physical and mental strain. When he didn't move a centimeter, she pulled the blade from the man's thigh and plunged it in the opposite thigh even deeper, hitting bone. Her small cry of revulsion tremored as the man groaned in agony, sweat falling up his purplish neck and face. Dawn gagged as the blood touched her skin triggering those same intense memories as before. She couldn't look.

"I think you're under the impression that my kingdom is a democracy... Again," N'Jadaka ordered. 

The knife sunk into the man's abdomen, and Dawn's knees buckled with the weight of what she was doing. The slick sound of the blade entering flesh, mixed with agonizing grunts, was torture to her ears. She was going to physically be sick.

"STOP THIS," Deanna shrieked as warm crimson spilled down Dawn's forearm. She was seconds from disemboweling a man as her arms shook violently.

"Bring me the blade."

With no control over her body at all, Dawn yanked the knife from the man's gaping stomach, hearing the queasy sound once more. His blood trickled down into a crystal vase as she walked robotically through the parted crowd and up the short column of stairs to the throne. N'Jadaka held out his palm, and she placed the handle of the bloodied blade into it. 

"Thank you," his head tilted, "For the wonderful show. Dawn, is it?" His brow raised. "Huli, I don't believe our guest is hungry tonight. Please escort her back to her quarters."

"So I could be in the dungeon with you," sbe heard suddenly. "No thanks."

Just like that and all at once, Dawn was released from her prior compulsions. The haze broke, and Dawn plunged into the icey deep of all the bad and unsavory memories. There were gaps in time. Where had she been for the past year? It felt like she was just waking up from a dream into a nightmare.

Ejected and carried out, she didn't protest when she was locked in her room because her healthy sense of fear was back full-fledged. Instead, she scrubbed her hands and arms in the bathroom over and over until rage took over. The anger, frustration, and fear were too much to bear at once. She smashed a vase of fresh purple flowers that had been left and threw herself across the bed, falling gradually into an angry sleep where she still couldn't escape the rapidly returning memories. There was no reprieve.

"I followed you to death, you can't even follow me to the dungeon?"

"I wouldn't follow you to the kitchen."

Dawn woke gradually to the sound of two bickering voices.

"Why would I? I didn't get you there."

"You didn't get me out, either. Dawn did."

Dawn's eyes popped open. "Julip?" She sat straight to grab his arm, making sure he was really there, no clear words forming. "Are you- Why would-" 

"Don't strain your brain, you wouldn't understand," Julip sighed, sinking next to her so close that the entire side of his body was touching hers. "Don't talk. Listen."

"I was wrong," Deanna admitted, a plan hatching in her mind as she locked eyes with the confused Dawn. "You're not still compelled, are you? Wake up, girl. Keep up."

Dawn had unknowingly missed much in her compelled state. According to Deanna, part of the effect of someone being compelled was that it was like communicating with a brick wall. Dawn had simply filtered out parts of the earlier conversations that would have triggered her sooner. Now, she needed to catch up. There had been talk in the palace and movements leading to Julip's release.

"Things aren't as we originally believed," Deanna smirked. She had to start from the beginning.

@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens-blog @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @thadelightfulone @sultanabby @mysticalblackhottie @baekhyunbabybunni @fd-writes @richonne4life @goldieccentric @thehomierobbstark @capswife @blackpinup22 @harleycativy @lishabaybeee-blog @playgurlxoxo @beaut1fulone-blog @blackerthings @syndrlla97 @ladymac82 @browngirldominion @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @uzumaki-rebellion

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #black panther killmonger #black panther fanfiction #black fanfic writer

[yamirexic]

chlorine (ville valo x depressed!reader)

warnings: triggering themes, fainting, mentions of anorexia, derealization, hospitalization, smoking, overall heavy dark stuff

growling anticipation. is that the thing that makes me linger at that lean boy in the deep blue of the backyard? i wonder if he ever noticed me like I noticed him. i'm no stalker, don't even think of it, he knows me. he invited me to come over but he probably never thought about me looking at the water droplets pooling down his chest. his dark brown hair sticking to his forehead, almost covering his eyes. i just can't keep my eyes off of it. the muscles moving with each stroke, hitting my line of thought like a lightning. i am such a mess, messy hair covering my face, black eye makeup making me look even more dead, violet blue eyebags glistering through my hair. freckes on uneven sickly pale skin, oversized hoodie covering my ugly body, scars on my left wrist, looking oh so faint. the only one who ever noticed them, only one who asked me about them. black new rocks sitting on my feet like metal tied to dog legs to let them drown. he always stayed in his own mind, gliding so carefree through the liquid madness. he probably has noticed. every normal society creature would've talked about this, pointing the staring out, but he never did. maybe he knew that it was admiration and not obsession. he always was 3 steps ahead of everyone else. eyes feeling tired, head spinning like a screw, body falling limp, falling onto the ground. vision turning black, mind falling down like a chandelier on a piano, hands on focus like in a hollywood movie, last thing able to recognize is skin. pale skin, lean muscles stretching out with every move. touch. his skin. chlorine in the air as this lovely disgusting stench that it is. water dripping down from his wet locks like lean out of a sprite bottle. ears stuffed, every sound seeming so blunt. and again. skin. the skin of a vampire. touching me ever so slightly, lifting me off the ground. everything else blurry. nothing. mind fades black

......what is that?.......

.....epiphany....

....is that....

....the end?.......

I come back to my senses, laying on something soft. opening my eyes slowly, getting used to the blunt light passing the curtains, realising I'm laying in a bed, soft pillows under my head. I turn my head a bit and see him. eyes closed, hair mostly dry and shirtless. I just lay there, my system still starting. how can someone look so peaceful but still so done and tired like he just ran a marathon or was done with life. he slept looking into my direction like he would try to keep an eye on me if something were to happen. oh yeah. something happened. my brain started to process what happened in detail, stopping after being picked up from the ground. but...there was something else...something... good. I remember a voice saying "please, wake up, oh shit, how could this happen", being layed down on the bed and... being pecked. on the lips. even though it was just a short touch, I still remember the feeling of the pink-red lips I wanted to feel for so long now, still slighty wet. was that what my brain processed as this amazing moment or as the "epiphany"? I must be imagining that just because my heart pulls the strings. flutter. flutter. the color of venom stinging my eyes. he reveals his eyes, the glowy green piercing through. my brain finally started to work and...oh shit, did he realise that I was staring at his resting corpse, but the only thing I saw in his orbs was... relieve. his arms circleling around my body like snakes, taking me into a careful hug. "I'm so glad you're awake, how are you feeling?" he asked gently, caressing my hair. "I don't know, my head hurts a bit and I'm a little dizzy but other than that I feel fine." he looked into my eyes, faces not far away from each other. he puts one hand on my face, the metal of his rings cold against my sick appearance. "do you remember...anything?" he asked with a hopeful glim in his eyes. "well, I only remember collapsing and you picking me up. the rest is just a blurry mess in my head but I still remember feeling an "epiphany" of some sort. his eyes look somewhat shocked but also...sensual? like a sensual loving look. "do you know what this epiphany felt like?" "it felt somewhat soft but also slightly wet I think. it was a tingling sensation on...my...ehh...lips." "okay interesting", he leaned in more, lips mere inches apart. "did it feel something like this?" he closed the gap and there it was. skin, his touch, vampire skin against dead skin. my hands found there way into his hair. he held me closer and it felt like the minutes of staring at him while he was gliding in the liquid element. so gracefully, so elegant, so...beautiful. the tingle stayed, even after seperating, faces still close together. "yes, but there is also another things that I remember. I think it was the stench of chlorine?" "it wasn't chlorine, it was the stench of cigarettes. I think your mind just tried making something logical for your line of thought but it only was of cigarettes. when I investigated you, you must have caught the smell in your nose." chlorine...chlorine......

..........."can you hear me? oh god, please say something, give me a sign that you're okay."

......where does that voice come from?...........

.....light.....

white light...

white light...

white light.........

.........eyes, light...

ears, voices and beeping...

touch...

touch...

where is the touch.........

my eyes opened to white light blinding me, muffed voices talking like crazy. I turned my head slightly to see I was laying in a bed...in a hospital bed.was this all just in my head? there is no chance this wasn't real, no there is no way! this can't be fake! I felt it, I know it! or...was it? I could cry just thinking about it. I looked around the room when my eyes arranged to the burning lights. the curtains were open, the city dark with the lights of buildings, stores and enterprises shining like a shooting star, giving me a feeling of bliss and safety. there was also an armchair and something or rather someone was sitting in it...him, it's him, sleeping lazily in the armchair, hair a complete mess and makeup completely smudged. he brought me here. he really did. I tried sitting up, gathering all my strength, seeing injected needles with IV. I carefully took them out, knowing this was probably not allowed at all. I stood up from the bed, going into the direction of the armchair. sitting down on the floor, putting a piece of hair behind his ear to see his face a bit better. he looks so tired, so done with everything. oh darling, how it hurts to see him so exhausted. I got carried away and started playing with his hair, looking at his quiet appearance. then suddenly, he started to move a bit, slowly opening his eyes. letting out a yawn before looking at me, a little smile creeping onto his face. he sat up and held his arms out. me getting the sign, sat down onto his lap, hugging him. he crawls his hands around my whole body up to my head, pulling me into his neck like this would be the last hug in our life. he kept me in his arms for quite a while till he pulled away and looked me in my eyes. I wanted to get my mind in order so in case of being able to do that, I asked him. "what happened? I'm so confused, in one minute I'm in your backyard the next in the hospital." "well you collapsed in the backyard. I hurried to you to see what's going on. you didn't wake up but you still had a good pulse so I just thought maybe you need some rest so I took you upstairs into my bedroom. I accidentally fell asleep as well. you woke up and seemed fine but sometime later, still laying in bed, you fell out of consciousness again so I decided to bring you to the hospital just to be safe." so the things I thought were a dream were actually real. everything was real. "I called one of my friends to pick us up. the doctor already checked on you and said it was mere exhaustion and missing vitamins making you feel weaker. I'll keep an eye on you to be sure that you eat enough and take your vitamins." "thank you" "no problem, I'll always help you out, I'm here for you. come on, lets go home." I nodded and embraced him again. "you can put your arm around my shoulder if it helps you from loosing your balance." I did as he requested, feeling his arm around my waist for more stability. we went to a black car and got inside. the driver - his friend - already knowing what happened, drove us the way home. mind tripping like on acid, feeling dazed in a haze of dizzy vision, leaning onto his shoulder. before anything got processed by my brain, I already drifted off to the world of falling but not dying - at least not always. .........................................................

I felt myself drifting back into consciousness, head heavy like a bowling ball. laying softly on pillows, covered with a blanket. soft and dense breaths next to me, living in imagination and the art of surrealism. and again I can catch myself admiring him. It seems that we slept the whole night through cause the sun is already up...or it's just 5am I don't fucking know. at least I know how to get better and that I'm in a safe environment right now. little curls of dark brown in his face covering his eyes a bit. blank, sleek face, the natural beauty striking through. again, shirless, his tattoo on his abdomen a little visible. I caught myself doubting that this was real again, you can never know but I do have the feeling that everything is just a creation of my consciousness. but in the end, even if it is, for one it's a nice dream. Doing something rude was already in my veins, shaking him a bit till he stirred. "what is it, is everything okay?" he asked quite worried but also kinda too sleepy to care at the same time. "I'm scared that I'm just dreaming this whole stuff, maybe a case of derealization. what exactly happened? in chronical order please." and then again, I heard the same story, almost falling asleep from it or was it just his soothing voice? at least I know that for once I'm really laying in a soft bed, cuddled up with him under blankets. warmth.

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

a/n: this is my first ff on tumblr and I still need to figure shit out, hoped you liked it :). and sorry if there are some typos :,).

#ville valo #ville valo imagine #ville valo x reader #him band #h.i.m #dark art #depressing shit #tw depressing stuff #x reader #rock band #band imagines

[infitsovermisfits]

Lady in the House of Love - Eddie Munson x (GN!) Reader

info: sometimes you get drunk in a park, walk all the way home, curl up and write fucking angst. Want to also mention that my already slow updates will slow even more :0 i start uni again on Monday and will be busy w work :p enjoy feeling!

WARNINGS: gender neutral reader, reader uses they/them, artist reader, season 4 happened, eddie lives, reader had abusive parents, talk of dead parents/ wishing ill of the dead, parental abuse, underage drinking, drinking, alcohol abuse, smoking, angst, hurt comfort, depressive thoughts, suicidal thoughts (hinted), saying things out of anger, ten-year time skip, Eddie lives, Eddie is friends with Max, Eddie is friends with the Fruity Four, dropping out of college/uni, falling out with friends, alludes to smut towards the end, unedited towards the end because i got lazy and tired

word count: 9895

MASTERLIST

"Hey!!" The lead of your pencil snaps when you flinch, startled by the sudden noise in the otherwise relatively silent room. You look up to see Eddie walking in proudly, wielding his guitar in his outstretched arms as he enters the room, walking towards you. Casting him a glare, you glance at your pencil and frown at the mark it left behind on your paper, grabbing your sharpener, "Why're you hiding in here?" He gestures to the empty classroom you were hidden away in, 

"I have to focus on my work," You mutter with annoyance, sharpening your pencil again and letting the shavings drop onto the desk beside you. You were barely passing your math final and wanted to get as much prep done for your afternoon exam as you could. You were still mad at him from the night before: when your closest friend Eddie Munson had invited you over to his trailer to 'study' for said final, you accepted without a second thought. You should have expected that he'd try to distract you with a few new riffs he had written, and ask you about the new campaign ideas. At any other time, you wouldn't mind but now? With your future at Hawkins and in Indianapolis College on the line, you really didn't want ti risk it, "I didn't know you were allowed to bring your guitar here anymore," You say, casting him a glance as the table creaks near you, indicating he had sat on it. With a frown, you look at his grip on the instrument, then to him smirking down at you, 

"I'm not," He winks, and you look back to your work, brushing the shavings off the table and onto the floor, "Hey, I'm talking to you," He says, and you ignore him until he slams a hand over your work. You jump again and he laughs, easily sliding off the table, "Why're you so jumpy today?"

"I'm not talking to you because I'm trying to focus, Munson," You hiss,  watching as he takes a few slow steps around you, rolling his eyes, "Because I actually want to pass this final-"

"God, you used to be fun," He grumbles, sitting on the table behind you and plucking a few of the strings, then reaching to tune them,

"Can you not do that here?" You ask lowly, and he glances up at you. He smirks again, 

"No. It's quiet here," He says, and with an annoyed huff you turn around. It's infinatly more difficult focusing when he's there, plucking the same notes and fine tuning them behind you by ear, even if you try blocking them out, "You weren't in the lunch hall; I came looking for you," He says as he moves on the E chord,

"I can tell," You mutter, 

"What was that?" He stops playing, 

"I can tell," You repeat louder, 

"What?" He asks, prompting you to cast him a glance over your shoulder, "Why're you mad- what did I do?"

"I just told you I left because I wanted to be somewhere quiet so I could focus," Your whole body feels like it's tingling with the first embers of anger, glowing bright in your heart and rapidly spreading through your bones, "You're making a lot of noise and it's bothering me," 

"You've never been bothered before," He states, 

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm super stressed because I know my future is based on this final and I really want to do well," You say, turning back to your work with a grimace, glancing over the algebra equation you moved on to. He chuckles behind you, 

"It is not that serious," He says, beginning to play a tune you recognise- one of your favourite songs, 

"It is that serious Eddie, that's why I need to focus," You tell him, "So can you please stop bothering me for five seconds?" The longer he stayed there, the more angry you got. And the fact that he wasn't seeing it made you even angrier,

"Or what?" He asks, though playful, you sense a hint of venom sliding beneath his words. Something weird had been happening between you and Eddie lately. Though you'd known Eddie since middle school and had been his closest friend, he'd never been like... This. Sure at times he could get annoying, especially when you'd neglect to show him the attention he so craved in the moment and chose to focus on your studies, but he was never this persistant. 

Passive aggressive comments would seemingly come out of nowhere, and they always made you uneasy and confused. Perhaps you were misunderstanding what was going on but recently it had seemed like he was annoyed at you over anything you did,

"What do you think of this?" He asks loudly, breaking your focus yet again and making you forget the formula you were memorising as he plays a riff on his guitar, "Sound good?" He hums along to the riff until you groan and violently stand, tipping the chair you were seated on back and sending it cluttering to the floor, "Woah, what's-"

"Could you just leave me alone!?" You find yourself yelling, glaring at Eddie as he stands too, almost sheepishly, setting his guitar on the table he was sitting on before,

"You just weren't at lunch and-" He tries to say, but truthfully; you've had it. The lunch period is coming to a close as you could see from the clock in the room and you felt like you could barely remember anything you had studied for all night yesterday. Your heart was beating a million miles a minute. You felt ill,

"Yeah! Because I needed to get away from you to focus!" You don't mean to be so harsh but your brain is working too fast for you to even try and be more gentle. He looks hurt by your words, brows furrowing, 

"Away from me?" he asks in disbelief, "You've never-"

"Fucking Christ, Eddie- I couldn't focus all of yesterday because you kept asking me about the songs you were playing and you're doing it again!" You're so angry there are tears prickling at your eyes, " I thought we were going to study and you made it about yourself, like you always do!"

"I said we should study because you wouldn't have come over if I didn't!" He says, finally raising his voice to try and meet yours, "I haven't seen you since the party and I just wanted to spend time with-"

"Oh my god- Eddie, we have finals!" You yell at him, "We're not Freshmen anymore with heaps of free time to waste! I'm sorry if I want to prioritise my future over you," You hurt him now. More deeply than you ever wanted. You can see from the way he flinches and turns his head away, the way his face almost crumples and the way he inhales. He can't meet your eyes; and neither can you, 

"Well don't hold back," He laughs cruelly, "Go on, let it all out," He mocks, 

"What!?" You ask bitterly, "Let what-"

"How much you hate me! How much you don't want to be around me! You've been avoiding me for weeks without a word of 'I want to focus' or 'I want to study'!" He says exasperated, "I mean, why'd you ask me to come along if you didn't even want to hang out with me!?" He asks,

"I didn't!" You remind, voice full of aggression and face furious, "You just came along- like you always fucking do! Don't you have other people to bother?" You huff, turning and slamming your book shut and making an effort to shove it deep into your bag, 

"Wh- What's that supposed to mean?" He asks, voice trembling, but you ignore him. That is until you finish packing your things and he comes to stand in your way, sending you into another rage. He says your name so calmly- and that angers you more,

"I honestly can't deal with you acting like pure trailer trash," The words are venom in your mouth and appear to have a similar effect on Eddie, recoiling back at your harsh tone. You can't take this look on his face you easily slip past him. He doesn't make an effort to slow you anymore, "I can't be around you anymore," You spit as you hurry out, tears stinging your eyes and warming your cheeks as you leave. 

It feels like a lifetime ago since that evening; a lifetime of living with the deepest pain of regret you've ever experienced. That day, spiked vines grew around your racing heart and pierced it anytime you remembered the name: Eddie Munson. 

You passed that final in the end. In fact, you miraculously passed all your finals. Though you had no one to celebrate, you got into an art college far away from this town in Indianapolis, and you lost your best friend all in the same week- a double-edged sword. That summer was the bleakest, having no one to spend it with and instead wasting your days with a shitty day job and getting drunk every night just to sleep because when you had nothing to do, your mind always went to him.

When summer had ended, you said goodbye to your father, filled your car with clothes and other necessities, and left Hawkins for good. You hoped the memories wouldn't track you down like a pack of wolves hunting prey; to your displeasure, they did.

Though a decade had passed since, every day felt like you were still reaping what you had sown. If only you could take back those words, born from built-up stress and blossoming into misplaced anger, you would. Just to have him here with you; just for the pain you felt to go away. He had been the only person you could trust- hell, the only one you ever loved. And he was gone. No matter how many partners you'd have, how many friends you attempted to replace him with, those vines tightened around your heart to remind you of the pain you had caused Eddie, not letting you live a moment's peace without him.

At times, you'd sit and contemplate what you'd want to tell him. Or how he'd react. Perhaps he wouldn't forgive you, and showing up at some point would only rub salt in that wound. Maybe he'd scream and yell that you're a horrible person and he never wanted to see you again. And he wishes you never tracked him down. 

There'd be a small chance he would forgive you but for what? What reason did he have? Maybe he was just better off. Maybe you should deal with the hurt and accept that it'll be like this forever.

That hurt soon morphed into numbness. Your body simply just got used to it and didn't feel it anymore- figures, considering it had been ten years. You had a job now, and you rented an apartment as far away from home as you could get in California. You took long walks on the beach and swam in the ice-cold ocean to clear your mind. You had a few friends, not many, but people to talk to and go out for drinks with on a regular basis. You could listen to your favourite bands again, your favourite songs without them being tainted. But you weren't happy. 

You'd grown to accept the fact that you'd just live a meaningless life and die a meaningless death- maybe you'd drink so much you forgot about the emptiness that hollowed out your chest for a few hours. If it meant you could sleep at night and be alright for the moment, it felt like an alright price to pay.

You didn't expect a single night out at the bar to change that. 

You blamed your friend. He dragged you out to get a few drinks and maybe score that night to your usual place, but when it got too boring, you diverted your path further into the city. It was a cold November afternoon- that's the only reason you found yourself taking shots of the strongest vodka on tap and listening to the local band playing, hardly paying attention to the laughter surrounding you. Maybe you could sneak out and head home,

"And now presenting The Wynerns!" What a fucky name. Perhaps another group of tryhards trying to make it big in Cali. You made a tapped your friend on the shoulder, grabbing your bag and jacket and mumbling that you had to go to the bathroom, missing the first few moments of the song.

Then it all came back. The familiar hurt in your heart, a clenching, tight feeling in your chest at the sound of his voice. He always joked he couldn't sing too well, but since, he'd greatly improved. You recognised the notes being strummed on his guitar, the rings glittering as he played. Even with your half-tipsy, dizzy, distorted vision, you instantly recognised the mess of black curls and bats adorning his arm. Of course, Eddie fucking Munson would cover a Black Sabbath song as the first in his set. It felt like you were the only one looking; staring at him and his bandmates perform. Oh, and there was Jeff! You'd have to catch up with him at some point... After... If... 

The pain only strengthened the longer you watched him perform- it was like seeing a ghost.  Truthfully, you wanted to sit and listen to him play for hours if you weren't busy trying to sneak away. Glancing behind you at your friends, no one seemed to notice your absence. Good. You kept to the darker corners, picking up a drink at the bar and sitting to listen. 

"You called him trailer trash," You wince, downing the rest of the drink in one and letting the glass click against the wood, nodding to the bartender and paying for the drink. Breathing felt difficult. You felt sick at yourself, remembering how much your words had hurt him. You couldn't be here.

You disappeared outside, finding the smoking area mostly empty. The cold air bit your cheeks and filled your lungs, swirling around you. You pulled the large jacket tighter around your shoulders, sticking your hands in your pockets and pulling out your cigarettes and lighter. Remorse flooded your thoughts, along with a decade of words unsaid to your old best friend.

Maybe if you hadn't fought, you would have opened up to him about the blooming feelings towards him. Whenever he'd smile, your chest would warm. Your cheeks would hurt from smiling so much around him and your chest would hurt from laughing. You thought, so innocently, that being in love with your best friend would be the most difficult thing you'd have to deal with. Having to bury those feelings when you fell apart proved to be far worse-

"I really didn't expect to see you out here," His voice. It cut through the chilled air. It felt like every nerve in your body got set on fire in your body all at once. A shiver ran through your spine, tightening your throat and making your mouth dry. Turning, you found he was already walking closer to you, pulling a cigarette from a pack along with a lighter. He was wearing a long sleeve shirt before; now he wore an oversized Leather jacket. The same as always. And the thing that brought tears back to your eyes was how casual he was acting, as if he had forgotten all the bad things that happened. He held your gaze for a moment, brown eyes scanning yours for any signs of remembrance, before he leaned back against the wall beside you. He raised his brows briefly, smiling, and pulling out his own pack of cigarettes. You watched as he clicked a faulty lighter, brows furrowing when sparks emitted from the flint and muttering a 'fuck' under his breath. Against all the negative thoughts running through your head, against all the thoughts telling you to run as far as your legs would take you, you smiled softly. It wouldn't be Eddie if he didn't have a fucked up lighter. Though he stood a foot away, you made an effort to move over and hold your own lighter out to him,

"Here, Munson," God, all the memories that continued flooded back into your brain sent melancholy mixing with your crimson blood. You averted your gaze from his, undeserving of meeting his eyes,

"Thanks," It's strange hearing your last name from his lips after so long,

"You're in Cali," You comment, a hint of awkwardness threading your words together,

"Finally made it," You hear the smile in his voice as he says it, 

"Congrats," You reply, bringing the cigarette up to your lips and inhaling deeply. The burning warmth filling your lungs feels good, 

"Mmh," He hums, "You're here too. I had no idea," He says, "I haven't been following you or anything-" He says quickly, 

"It's fine," You laugh, "Yeah, I mean... Yeah," You shrug, "I guess it's just where the wind took me. I've always wanted to go to the beach and now it's a five-minute walk from my place," You tell him, 

"That's nice," He says honestly, "I'm out here touring around with my band," He explains,

"The Wyverns?" You mention as you cast him a glance. Though his features are more defined, it's still the same Eddie you knew almost a decade ago. Same long hair, same boyish face, same warm brown eyes gazing down at you. You break eye contact quickly,

"Surprised you remembered," He says amused, "They've always been my favourite creatures," You hum in acknowledgement, "I still have that uh... The painting you made me?" You know which one he's talking about. You painted it solely based on his description of the creature. A birthday gift of an overgrown lizard captured midflight with spread wings, a horned sheep tucked between its sharp talons, mouth open and showing rows of razor-sharp teeth captured in the centre of a small canvas. Painted with immaculate details- spit glistening on its canines, sunlight glittering over meticulously detailed scales, even rivulets of blood coating the tips of its claws where it pierced the wool of the sheep, tinted red. He had cherished it greatly, proudly hanging it up in his room next to his guitar, and Black Sabbath posters and little drawings of you and his characters from his campaigns,

"Huh... Wild that you kept it that long," You say, 

"Bet it's worth a fortune now," He smiles as he looks down at you, "Heard you got into that art college you were losing it over? Bet you've got Bowie knocking on your door and asking you to draw up concepts for his new album," He nudges your shoulder. Playfully, you snort, almost toppling over and losing your balance thanks to the alcohol, 

"Sure," You mumble disheartened, letting the conversation awkwardly fizzle out into the night air with the smoke. Your brows furrow. Why is he being so kind now when you were so cruel to him then? Does he really not remember? If not- how dare he? He deserves to yell; scream; beat you into the Earth for shattering his heart and leaving him alone for so long. Instead he-

"Do you have another cigarette?" Your eyes burn from tears unspilt as you glance over at him. Blankly, you hand him one, even passing over your lighter so he doesn't ask you again while taking a long drag of your own. You let the smoke sit in your lungs for a moment, just to feel the burn, almost choking as you exhale a thin plume of smoke. Looking back at Eddie, you notice his thumb is running over the lighter, feeling the scratches of your initials and a small 'Eddie's favourite' engraved into the plastic, "I remember this," He remarks, "You still have...?"

"Sure. It's a good light and it's cheaper just refilling it than buying new ones," You brush off, sighing, "Besides, aren't we supposed to be saving the planet?" He nods beside you and lights his cigarette, handing back your things so you can stash them away. It's on the tip of your tongue- questions about what happened, why he's not angry, if he remembers... And just when you build up the courage to ask you finish your cigarette. You have no desire to smoke more, letting the butt drop to the ground and disappear beneath your shoe, "I should go..." You start to mumble, lifting yourself off the wall,

"Stay," His voice is soft, gentle- hard to argue with. You find yourself leaning back against the wall without much convincing, glancing over at him and watching the end of his cigarette burn as he inhales, "Here- how about I drive you home?" He offers, motioning for you to follow him. Though you want to decline, your friends would hardly miss you. And this is Eddie, who you haven't seen in years. You have all your things, no need to enter the bar anymore. And there's nothing you want more than to feel the comfort of a warm home. Reluctantly, you nod and he smiles. You follow him through to the parking lot.

"So... It's been a while," Eddie says after a while of silence between you. You told him where you lived as you got into his car, and found you didn't live too far from one another. You both agreed it'd be quicker to go to his hotel, 

"Ten whole years, Eds," You acknowledge, leaning back fully in the seat,

"Hmm,"

Never thought I'd spend that long without you, you want to say. So desperately. Your lips move around the words though your voicebox doesn't work, and instead, you lean your forehead to the side, pressing against the cool glass of the window,

"What was that?" He asks,

"Uhh..." You can't tell him the truth, "What have you been... Doing?" He smiles at your question, 

"A few things," He starts playfully, "I dealt up until Rick got locked up. Visited him in the slammer once- told me to sell the rest of his shit, so I did. Let me keep the money and I, uh... Graduated?" You smile at that, "Yeah, thanks. I'm proud of me too... I hung out with Robin and Steve for a bit after and-"

"Steve?" You catch on to what he's saying, "As in-"

"Harrington," Your eyes widen, "I know-"

"Fucking Harrington!?" He nods again, grinning,

"He's a cool guy, y'know," He smiles fondly, "He's nice," You snort at that, "I understand you're weird about him but trust me... He's cool," 

"Uhuh?" You glance over at him with a look of disbelief,

"Uhuh," He mimics you. It doesn't feel like it's been ten years. It feels like it's been a few days since you last hung out with him in his van, driving you across town back home and helping you mellow down from being blackout drunk so your father doesn't beat you half to death, "We all kinda became friends- Steve, Robin, Nancy and I. Then Jonathan and Argyle once they came to Hawkins..." A shudder runs through you, 

"That's still on the map?" You heard tales of the earthquake that quite literally split the ground in two years after you left, though you were never brave enough to drive back. Ask around if everyone made it out okay,

"I mean, it's decimated," He sighs, "Earthquake did a number on it. Tore straight through the trailer park," A haunted look crosses his face and he swallows, 

"Holy shit," You breathe, filled with regret for not checking in on him sooner. You really were a shitty friend, 

"Yeah, holy shit," He sighs, "Wayne and I had to uh... We got relocated out to central Indiana,"

"Oh, shit," You can only say. Who knew you were that close at some point and didn't know,

"Yeah. Government funding is cool and all... Couldn't find you anywhere though,"

"Yeah..." You mumble, "I left Indiana in... 87'?" You say, 

"Yeah. Guess we just missed each other," He says, and you think you catch a hint of sadness in his tone, "I just kinda... Y'know... Did my thing. Learned to survive in a new place like I always do- worked odd jobs where I could till I got enough money to move out. Fixing cars with Wayne mostly,"

"Living up to the Munson name," He grimaces at your comment, 

"Meh. More like trying to clear the name," He sighs, "I was lucky Jeff got into the University of Indianapolis so I mostly hung out with him and his college friends- that's how I met my band," He explains, sighing as he stops at a red light. His gaze turns to you; you can see it through the overhead, "What about you? I tried to find you after... But... I never got lucky, I guess," You straighten uncomfortably,

"I dropped out," He straightens at that too, clearly surprised, "Realised college wasn't 'the thing' for me. Realised I wasn't as smart or talented as these other kids so uh... I left," You say, 

"That... Doesn't sound like you," He says slowly, hesitantly. And when you let out a sharp laugh, he flinches, 

"Yeah, well I guess I changed," You say, looking up as the light turns green, though the car doesn't move on the empty road. The silence hurts and you almost reach for your seatbelt to unbuckle it and walk the rest of the way home, 

"It's just... You know, you were usually the studious and the academic one. You liked learning," He says softly, not trying to start another fight. You aren't looking to pick one either, and you relax your tensed shoulders, 

"Yeah. Liked," You mutter, picking at the skin around your nails. He's quiet, leaving space for you to elaborate, "I don't know, Eddie. College is just... It's very lonely," You frown, "I mean, you watch all these movies with huge college parties happening all the time and big friend groups doing stuff... I thought I'd have something like that too and then, what do you know, I'm drinking myself to sleep on my bathroom floor every night and skipping classes because I feel too stupid to be there," You say truthfully, "So what's the use of sticking around?"

"Damn," He frowns, "If I had known then maybe we could have... I don't know, gone together," He says quietly, 

"Yeah, well..." You shrug him off, frowning, "We uh... Stopped talking," It goes quiet again, and you start feeling uneasy. Maybe he is angry at you still, holding a grudge against you all these years but not wanting to hurt your feelings by not voicing his thoughts,

"So you decided to move to Cali?" He asks

"I went backpacking. Anywhere but home, y'know?" He nods, "I'm glad I'm out of there," You breathe,

"Hear anything about your old man?"

"Dead,"

"Oh, shit I'm-"

"I'm glad he's dead," You say honestly, "Fucker deserved it. Heart attack in '89, I heard. A couple months after I dropped out," You heave a sigh, "Sometimes... I know it's bad- but sometimes I lay awake and hope and pray he did die because of me," You say truthfully. Though you want to look at him, the light turns green and he makes a turn, 

"Good riddance," Eddie murmurs, and you can't help but smile to yourself and hum,

"Remember all those times he threatened us?" He snorts, 

"Yeah. He thought you were super innocent and didn't want you 'messin' with the devil worshipper?'," He makes his voice deeper, still as animated as always. You laugh, though it doesn't last long, sighing in remembrance,

"Look where that got me..." You mumble, disheartened,

"Where?" he asks, and you shrug, 

"Around. I stayed in Arizona for a bit but... Cali seemed most fitting for me," You say, "It's just very... Chill. Compared to Indiana," You say and he hums in agreement, "People are more interesting here. Not huge judgemental assholes," You say, and he nods again. Growing up different in a town that wanted everything to be normal was rough- you were honestly glad you had Eddie by your side growing up. Though it was always just you, you were never lonely. You always had one another to fall back on- after an argument with your dad, or a night spent sprinting away from assholes and hiding out in Hawkins Forest, you were always with him. Being alone with no one hurt more,

"Do you still draw?"

"Hmm?" You'd zoned out, barely registering his question,

"Do you still draw?" He repeats, not in the condescending way your friends sometimes do, chastising you for getting in your head. Simply... Repeats himself,

"Uhh... Yeah. Sometimes. I mean, I work in CVS right now," You say as he parks outside an apartment complex you don't recognise, "When I get the time to, I guess I do,"

"Nice," He smiles, turning the engine off and unbuckling his seatbelt. You missed it as he drove into the parking lot, "I need to commission a new tattoo from you," He tells you, climbing out and closing the door behind him so you have to get out and join him to continue talking,

"What'd you want? Another dragon?" You ask playfully, "How is 'the Beast'?" You ask as he motions for you to follow, and watch as he sheds the sleeve of his large leather jacket, showing you the wyvern on his arm. You want to reach out and run your fingers over the ink faintly showing on his skin, fading from how long it's been there. But you still recognise your handiwork and smile in recognition. You recall how you'd both experimented with stick and pokes, brandishing matching wrist tattoos and fuck-off little pieces on your ankles and hips where no one could see them. This wyvern you had drawn up initially for a campaign he was planning, but he had loved her so much he said he wanted her inked on his body forever. A few weeks later, you found yourself heading to his trailer under the cover of darkness as you escaped home yet again, taking swigs from a bottle of wine you swiped from a picnic in a nearby park. When you entered, he had grinned and introduced you to a 'Friend of Ricks' who was setting up tattoo equipment in Eddie's small kitchenette. You sat beside him as he gripped your hand, squeezing occasionally, but other than that not making a noise and staring blankly at the movie he asked you to put on as the ink pierced his skin. You, on the other hand, stared at the man as he did the tattoo in awe, asking a million questions about the process,

"She fair's well," Eddie teases, "Probably missed you too," He says as he puts his jacket back on and pushes the front door open and waves to the receptionist. This looks like a fancy hotel, but you don't care to pay attention to anything other than the way her eyes linger on him as he casually leads you over to the elevators,

"I'm sure she did," Your voice drips with sarcasm and your brain catches up to what he was saying. 'Missed you too'? Does that mean he-

"So- I was thinking something very symbolic," He says, leaning on the wall next to the elevator as you wait for it to arrive, "Y'know- with like... The lore behind it!"

"Uhuh?" You're not following,

"See this guy?" Your cheeks grow warmer as he pulls at the shirt he's wearing, revealing a black widow inked on his shoulder, "Remember drawing it?" He asks smugly,

"I was probably too high, Eds," He smiles at the nickname as you glance away sheepishly, 

"I loved it so much I got it tattooed too," He tells you as you walk into the elevator. He presses a button and leans against the wall next to the keypad, casting a glance at the large mirror and giving himself a once over, "It's because in my last campaign as leader of Hellfire, the kids had to fight 'The Widow'," He says dramatically, "A hybrid syren, cursed as half spider half woman, who can never find love because she keeps eating her husbands," He says, 

"Right," You say, smiling as you fix your hair in the mirror and turn to look at him, 

"She was cool," He glances away from you quickly, "Kids liked her. I expected them to uh... Hate her- see her as nothing but a monster because, well, she had eight legs," You laugh at that, "But they sympathised for her. I thought they'd try to kill her; cut off her head and take it back to the terrified townsfolk but no... I had to rewrite like... The entire campaign because they became so hellbent on saving this woman from her curse and finding her someone to love," He sighs with a proud smile, "And even though it was a bitch to rewrite, so many sleepless nights... I realised that I'd be leaving them as better people," He said proudly, 

"You're saying you were a positive influence on them?" You ask, 

"It's possible I had that effect," He winks and pulls his keys out of his pockets as you laugh, glancing over as the elevator doors open,

"I think that's really cool, Eds," You say as he follows after you, 

"Yeah. Now I want another," He says, "A symbol of hope and freedom, or something. Still need to read up on-"

"I'll tattoo you," You blurt out, "Do a stick and poke? We'll get matching ones," You say, though he raises his brows, 

"I think that's...." A great idea, you want to agree with him, "drunk you talking. You are going to sleep," He smirks, stopping in front of a door,

"What? No! Eddie," You whine as he laughs, "I'm not tired yet," You say. The door unlocks and you look inside, taking a moment to admire the decorated inside when he flicks on the lights. The room is fairly large, though the bed and kitchen are in one space. There are two doors- one likely leads to the bathroom, the other could be a closet, 

"Soak it up," He mumbles, making you glance up at him. He nods for you to enter and you do, making slow movements as he enters behind you, locking the door, "Yeah, I'm not used to seeing fancy places like this either but," He shrugs, "Oh, and about the tattoo? You don't have to do it. I mean, I'd appreciate you drawing it up and everything but there are so many tattoo parlours I can just go to," He says, watching you. When you feel like you've surveyed the area enough, you turn to see he's removed the jacket and he's watching you expectantly. You remove yours and hand it over, "Besides, I've got enough 'experimental' tats from you on my legs that I look like a doodled piece of paper," You laugh at that, 

"You're pale as hell too. Fitting, really, paper boy," You tease. He grimaces playfully, making you laugh more as he walks to the kitchen, 

"I forgot how confusing you are when you're drunk- one minute we're having a normal conversation and then you say shit like paper boy and-" He smiles as you laugh behind him. He shakes his head pouring you a glass of water, "-See what I mean?" He hands you the water, 

"It's funny when you say it," You say between laughs, 

"What, paper boy?" You laugh so hard your stomach hurts and you grip the counter. Some of the water spills from your glass, "Aww, come on. I don't see you for a decade and you compare me to a piece of paper and make my floor wet?" 

"I'm sorry," You laugh, slowly calming as you lift the glass to your lips, 

"The disrespect!" He says in an exaggerated tone as he reaches for another glass for himself, "Unbelievable," He mutters. Though you laugh, casually leaning against the counter, your eyes can't help but travel down to where his shirt slightly rises, exposing his lower stomach and hips. There's a patch of hair leading down beneath his jeans, and next to it is a small 'x' tattoo you remember doing on him one night. Next to it, his skin is a completely different texture: pinker and wavey, in similar appearance to mountains scarring a map of the world. Then his shirt covers his skin again and your eyes flick up to meet his. Briefly, you catch some pain behind them, but he covers it up with a smirk, "Here I thought all my high school tormenters kicked rocks," He raises his brows,

"I didn't bully you," You point out,

"I'm making a joke," He says, 

"Wasn't funny," You say as you drink the rest of the glass. He glances up at the slight frown on your lips and hir brows crease. He thinks for a moment, 

"Mmh," He hums, "You run into anyone from Hawkins after you left?" He asks, 

"A few people came from Hawkins but uh... No one here in Cali," You say, 

"Hmm. One of my friends used to live in Cali. I think you would have liked her," He says fondly, 

"Another child adopted by you, huh Eds?" You tease, though he snorts,

"'Mad Max' and Hellfire? Nah, that wasn't her thing. She'd skate around the trailer park and we'd hang out. Things got lonely once you were gone for college," He sighs sadly, and you can't meet his eyes, "We'd go watch the new horror movies together... You seen Chucky?"

"Childs Play?" He nods eagerly, "Dude, I watched that high and it freaked me the fuck out," He laughs hard, "Stop laughing! I got so scared, I thought that little shit would show up in the night and kill me!" 

"I loved that movie so much," He says fondly, then his expression darkens and he takes a long sip, "So did Max," He says quietly, 

"Did she... Uh-"

"No! Oh, God, no she's fine! Just... I don't know how to explain without sounding completely insane," He elaborates, and you frown in confusion, "I guess I realised I haven't seen her or the others in a while," He says, 

"Oh yeah, you've been on tour, right?" He nods, 

"I'm surprised you remembered," He says, "Yeah, we-"

"When'd you plan on finishing and going back home?" You don't mean to interrupt, 

"In Cali? We're here till Friday next week. Then we're taking a flight back to Indiana," He explains. His time with you here is limited. Shit, "Kinda glad I ran into you now- no pressure with the tattoo stuff though, you're probably busy," He says, taking your empty glass and refilling it, 

"I can work on something while I work, it's not hard," You promice, "I can start now?" You offer,

"You wanna go sit down?" You nod, "Inside or outside?"

"Inside. It's too cold to be out there," You say as he leads you to the large bed, 

"Hold on-" He says, momentarily leaving. He returns with his cigarettes and an ashtray, setting them on the bed and moving to the closet in the room. When looking down, you see he brought your lighter instead of his, "Put this on," He's standing next to you now, holding out a zip-up hoodie which you gladly accept. It smells like him, "You want me to get you paper and a pen? Or, well, I don't think there's paper here- napkin?" You frown in confusion and he stops looking around, "For the tattoo?" Right. Because this is about that. This isn't a worried friend taking you home from the bar when you've likely drank too much. This isn't reconnecting with an old friend after a decade. This is about a stupid tattoo, 

"Yeah," You breathe, reaching for your lighter and going to place it in your pocket but halt. You should go, "Maybe-"

"Here!" He looks excited as he hands you a bunch of napkins and a sharpie, sitting down on the bed so eagerly, it bounces with the force. It doesn't matter that time has changed you both- Eddie will apparently always act like the blissfully ignorant teenager you knew him as, "I was thinking something like a jackrabbit- but just its skull!"

"Why choose a skull as a symbol of freedom...?" You ask curiously, gathering the napkins into a flimsy pile. Glancing back at Eddie, you see he's thinking. His eyes dart to the napkins and he hums, unceremoniously flopping back on the bed and reaching for a hardcover book tucked into the shelf

"Cause you're like... Free from blood and muscle?" You laugh at that, 

"But you're not. The rabbit is but you're not... Free. Skulls mostly symbolise death so if you want to look at death as a form of freedom then-"

"Nah, too dark for me," He says, sitting back up with a sigh. There's an unlit cigarette clamped between his teeth as he hands you the book to lean on, "Besides, the world has yet to see Eddie Munson in his full glory," You snort and he gives you an offended look, pulling the cigarette from his lip, "What?"

"Eddie 'The Freak' Munson?" You ask amused. He looks away at the nickname, expression fading as you glance at the blank napkin, eyes tracing over the engraved designs, 

"I haven't heard that in years," He hums, tilting his head up, "Might keep it. Has a cool ring to it," He tilts his head to look back down at you with that same smirk that makes your heart race- you hate yourself for it. You make yourself busy with testing how the ink spreads through the thin tissue in the corner, pressing harder and softer and watching it spread, "The Freak..." He hums, 

"I don't think you should," You murmur, focusing on the sketch, 

"Why not?"

"I mean, isn't that like giving power back to those who tormented us through high school?"

"Not really," He shrugs, looking at the still unlit cigarette and glancing behind him to where the ashtray had moved, "It's taking the power back from them and embracing... I guess who I've always been," He says proudly, "See, after some time, words just don't really hurt the same anymore," He moves to put the cigarette back up to his lips, but stops, gesturing with the hand instead, "But... Well, one or two still do..."

"Really?" You ask, "Which ones?" He hisses, shaking his head and setting the glass down on the floor. When had he brought it,

"Trailer trash," He sighs sadly. Your eyes grow wide and the sharpie shifts in your grip, creating a large blot of black ink in the middle of your sketch. But why does that matter when he fucking remembers all the things you said and is only now bringing it up. And he doesn't... Look angry. If you didn't know any better, you'd say that was a look of heartbreak,

"Oh- fucking shit- Eddie y-" You truly can't get the words out, wanting to say a million things but not making any sense,

"It's okay- I didn't expect you to r-"

"No! Just... Give me a second," You place a hand on your head and take a deep breath. Honesty. Honesty, "I'm so sorry. I know that doesn't fix anything, or take back what I said. But for the last ten years, I have not been able to live with myself knowing I... Hurt you. And that I couldn't take it back," You go quiet, afraid that the burning tears will leak down your cheeks. You always hated him seeing you cry. You didn't want the pity- and you certainly didn't deserve it now, "Know you... Seeing how hurt you were by me. Knowing you... I- ugh," You slap his hand away as he tries reaching out to you and turn so your legs are unfolded and planted on the floor. You can run away from him if you need to, "I never wanted to hurt you. I really don't... Know why I called you that. It was so out of place and just awful. And for... For ten years. I lived ten whole fucking years of my life. And not a moment went by where I wasn't regretting not spending a moment with you," It's too late to stop the tears flowing down your cheeks, and when you turn to him, his warm brown eyes find yours easily. From your peripheral, you can see he wants to reach out and dry your face but you beat him to it, roughly rubbing the back of your hand against your skip and causing it to burn with the force, "It's... I shouldn't have left you, Munson. I was a huge asshole to you," You flinch as you feel the warmth and gentle pressure of his hand on your shoulder, your own hands wrapping around your middle because your head is spinning and you feel sick and you really don't want to be drunk-crying and spilling all your feelings out to Eddie Munson of all people,

"Would... Can you turn to look at me? I'm scared you'll run away," He chuckles, but you both know there's truth to those words. Though you suffered at the hands of your father, you never spoke about it to Eddie. At the beginning of your friendship, it was easy to hide and much more embarrassing to explain bruises and cuts and frequent black eyes. How many times is the 'I fell down the stairs' excuse going to work before someone refers you to a fucking optometrist? 

Eddie would ask if it was him. Seeing right through you and, more often than not, catching tail-ends of arguments booming from inside your home, you leaving your house shrieking, slamming the door then sprinting out of the drive and grabbing his arm with your father following you, giving up the chase at the driveway. And though you appreciated that Eddie was always there to... Rescue you, you didn't want to talk about it so fresh in your mind. You ran away, camping out in the woods. Will Byers found you shuddering in his 'castle' one night and would periodically bring you food, lying that it was the family dog, until his mother found you playing with him. 

Eddie saying your name brings you back to the present. You'd zoned out again, fallen far too deep in your brain to clamber out. Usually, it would take a few attempts to get you out, but Eddie just grabbed your hand and you were suddenly very aware of how bright his eyes were,

"Are you okay?" Eddie's voice is too gentle, 

"Why aren't you mad?" You whisper in confusion, 

"Mad? Why would I be mad?" He looks equally confused, 

"Because of... Me! And what I said and did- you should be screaming, yelling, throwing things!" You say desperately, "Here- here!" You reach down to pick up the hardcover book that had fallen from your lap and press it into his hands, "Hit me with that," He stares at you for a long moment, searching your desperate face, before setting the book on the bed slowly, "Wh-"

"I am not going to hit you," He says firmly, yet still maintains his soft tone, 

"But aren't you mad?" You pester him. He blinks slowly, and you watch his shoulders drop, tilting his head, 

"Right now?" You nod, "Not really,"

"Why!?" You ask, "Because- ha! - I don't know- if my only friend fucking left me one day and disappeared for ten years with no contact, I would be fucking pissed! I would... I would never want to see them again! Especially not if they were an asshole to me right before and insulted me!" You glare at him, "Nothing?" He looks too calm, just watching you. 

His face is unreadable, mostly blank but he's smiling slightly as he watches you. You study it, brows furrowed as you stare and try to will your brain to stop spinning so much so you can focus it. That is Eddie. The thing is, he doesn't look smug, cocky, uncomfortable, or condescending he looks... Content. And happy. Slowly, one of his hands moves to rest just gently on top of yours, in fear you'll take off again or brush him off. And you really want to but you don't, feeling frozen. Your name brings your attention back to him, and he lets out a small sigh. Like he's relieved,

"How can I be angry when I got you back...?" His words floor you. The gentleness in his tone; the way he gently squeezes your hand to solidify his statement. He's speaking the truth, "If it matters to you, I accept your apology. I've missed you like crazy- not just because of the tattoo I missed... You. I grew up with you, lived with you for so long that when you left, things were just fucking weird. Everything felt off," You still can't speak, "Damn-" He chuckles lightly, "I just realised if we had just talked to each other instead of being petty idiots, we would have still been friends all these years," He sighs and he's right. He leans back on the bed, staring at the ceiling with arms outstretched, cigarette abandoned on the floor as he contemplates the statement. He glances back at you and worry flashes across his face, "Shit- are-"

"You..." You hardly recognise your voice from how much it's shaking, how broken you sound because you're fully sobbing, covering your face with your hands in a futile attempt to make the tears slow and emotions stop, "You never hated me?"

"No- hey, come here," He says, and you feel his arms enveloping you and it's all too much. Suddenly you're weeping and clinging to him like he's about to vanish and disappear from your life all over again, hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt. His hold on you tightens as you sob into his shoulder and he just lets you. No words he just allows you to cry over him and how stupid of a person you are, "Can you look at me?" He says softly next to your ear when your crying gets quieter. One of his hands moves to your chin, swiping any tears that had collected there off and gently cupping your cheek. Your eyes hardly open from how puffy they are from crying, and you hardly need to blink with how wet they still are. Yet even in this fractured, tear-stained vision, Eddie is still one of the most beautiful creatures to have ever walked this planet, "How could I ever hate you, hmm?" 

 "I left-"

"You had a life to live. College to go to-"

"I dropped out-"

"Plenty of people drop out. Hell, I never went-"

"I didn't talk-"

"I didn't give you my number," You gasp in his hold, and he carefully reaches out to place his hands on your cheeks. They're warm, dry against your wet skin. His thumbs smoothing over the skin under your eyes helps you calm down, "We're okay. You need to stop blaming yourself for the bad things that happened- they're in the past,"

"But-"

"We all make mistakes right? No one's perfect?" He looks at you expectantly and you nod. He smiles softly at that, "I forgive you," He says, taking his hands off your face only to touch his fingers against your hand. Instantly you intertwine your fingers, rubbing at your stinging face with your sleeves and sighing. A headache is forming across your forehead but you smile. And soon your sobs fade to quiet breaths and you laugh to yourself. Relieved, "It's nice hearing that again," He says softly, causing you to glance at him, "You laughing," 

"It's... I'm happy," His smile widens at that. He glances away, thinking, 

"You honestly thought I'd still be mad and hold a grudge against you after ten years?" He asks, quirking a brow. When he puts it like that, it does sound stupid. Eddie's not the type, 

"Not grudge, I just thought that you'd still... Be mad,"

"That my closest friend called me trailer trash?"

"The way I said it though," You grimace, "It was-"

"Hella dramatic," You laugh again, "What?"

"Never say 'hella' again, Eddie, what the fuck?"

"What? I'm in Cali! That's what they say here!" He grins as you move to lay down next to him. He reaches a hand to mess with your hair, 

"Doesn't mean you have to," You tease as he sticks his tongue out at you. You still have the lighter in your pocket, and slowly you bring it up to his face. He takes it, clicking it on and focusing on the flame, "That job of yours at CVS..."

"I hate it," You sigh, "Lady tried returning a used make-up palette to me and started screaming when I wouldn't give her the money back because she 'didn't like the colours'," You sigh as the lighter clicks off, "Some of these people are fucking insane," He hums, "Why'd you wanna know?"

"Wanna quit and move back to Indiana?" He asks, looking down at you. You sit up at the proposition, blinking in confusion, "I mean, you can stay here. It's just that you'll be so far away after I go back," He says, dropping his hand to lay on his chest, 

"Why do... You want me back there?"

"Because I miss you? I thought I made that clear: I miss you, I like you, I-"

"You like me?" He glances over at you shocked, as if not registering what he said, and then rolls his eyes and scoffs, 

"Uh- of course, I like you? I wouldn't be here if not... For you?"

"Here with me now in this room or here in Cali?" You ask,

"Both...?" He gives you a slight smile, "I heard that you moved here from some people in your class- figured you'd go for something artistic. I wasn't stalking you though, or anything. The tour's real. We just ended up in the same bar," He lights his cigarette, 

"What about here now?"

"Hmm?" He hums confused, letting the smoke rise into the air, 

"You're here for me now?" He smiles softly and nods, 

"For you," He says softly, "I missed you," He repeats, watching you smile softly at him. Stealing his cigarette and placing it between your lips, you miss when his eyes dart to look at them, then back to your eyes. You lean back and copy him, inhaling deeply and letting the smoke rise, 

"I like and missed you too Eddie," You tell him honestly. And glancing over, he's already leaning on his side, head propped on his arm and looking down at you. He's staring at you for a long time, unspeaking and almost unmoving, studying your face. You let yourself do the same, exploring how time has changed him when you were apart. 

He looks just a little older. His hair might be a little longer, less messy and tangled. His jaw's more defined and you can see more prominent freckles on his face now that he's closer. His eyes are the same brown, wide and peering down at you. Then he sighs dramatically and leans down next to you, face landing next to yours and nose touching your cheek. You laugh as you hear him breathing gently into your ear, 

"Do... You..." He speaks slowly, so loud in your ear, you can't focus on anything other than his voice, "Remember Andy's party?" Your brows furrow and he lifts his head to observe your reaction, 

"Eds, you should know by now I don't remember any party we went to- I get too stoned to function or too drunk to remember," He smiles, nodding, 

"Mhm- I only got invited because you kept complaining how bored you were so I thought I'll give him a discount when he buys if he lets us go too," He says, "Think he was turning eighteen? One of his older brothers or something got beer and vodka-"

"Oh my god, I do remember!" You smile at him when he grins, "Yeah! This was the one where we all got so drunk and I threw up into the pool?" He nods, 

"Yeah, we both did," You laugh, "It was because of the chlorine,"

"Damn shit nearly burned my eyes," You complain, taking a drag and making sure you don't exhale into his face, realising just how close he was to you, 

"Yeah. Well, he got so mad he chased us out of there and down the street and I dragged you back to Forest Hills,"

"Dragged?"

"You couldn't stop whining about how much your feet hurt," You groan, 

"It was a long walk-"

"I don't drink and drive," He says, 

"Well, you might as well be considering how awfully you drive," His mouth opens in shock, "What did you get your driving licence out of a cereal box?" You grin as he maintains a shocked expression. Smirking, you place the cigarette between his lips and he shakes his head after taking a drag, 

"Says the one who can't drive at all,"

"Touche," You hum, glancing back at him, "Why'd you bring that up? Feels out of place," You comment, 

"Cause I think that's when it started for me," He says, pulling the ashtray close to him so he can let the ash fall there instead of the sheets he'd be sleeping on, "Made me realise how I really didn't need anyone else in the world other than you by my side," Though he doesn't look at you when he says it, you can tell he's being genuine, "I don't want you gone again," He says, dropping his head slightly with a frown, 

"I'll... See what I can do," You say slowly, "About my job. I'd have to find places to rent and get an aeroplane ticket-"

"Here's where we're lucky. One of my bandmates recently broke up with his girl so we already have a ticket. It's yours if you want it," He says,

"I'll let you know, Eds," He smiles, 

"Good. I want to keep you around," He says so softly it sends your heart fluttering. You blink slowly at the ceiling, then look back at him. He's impossibly close, consuming your whole vision, the smell of cigarette smoke still thick in the air though absent from his lips. Then he's moving a hand to your face and touching your cheek and brushing hair behind your ear and trailing his fingers down your face, easily sliding them to tilt your head towards him, "Please...?" He breathes, breath tickling the buzzing skin on your face, 

"Okay," You say softly, his lips at first brushing, then pressing against yours. This was one way to mend your aching heart, setting it into a rapid frenzy as he pulls back for just a moment. You waited too long without him- you link an arm around his neck and lift your head so your lips meet again, earning a pleasant hum from him as he quickly reciprocates with the same urgency as you, teeth nipping at your bottom lip until you part them and the kisses quickly grow hot.

"Hey, Eddie?" You say quietly into the darkness, likely hours later. You don't know. You stopped paying attention to time, letting the evening mellow you down. Even in the dim light, with your head sinking into the pillow beside his, his hair splayed out under him and limbs entangled under the warmth of the covers, his eyes find yours. There's a sparkle of pure joy in them- a look you missed for so long, and feel your heart almost beat out of your chest as he meets your gaze, 

"Yeah?" He asks just as quietly, watching you expectantly,

"I always loved your songs..." And he beams with such pride nothing else matters anymore. Only him and only you.

#eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #stranger things season 4 #stranger things 4 spoilers #stranger things spoilers #st4 #stranger things 4 #eddie munson stranger things #eddie x y/n #eddie my beloved #eddie my love #joe quinn #joesph quinn #joseph quinn

[ilikekidsshows]

Not sure I agree with that last anon. First off, feminists are actaully the most likely group to listen to men's problems than any other group. Tbf not every feminist does that, like man haters and Terfs are a different stories, but feminist who know what they're talking about have a broader view than "man vs woman" and understand that everyon esuffers under patriarchial standards, just in different ways. Non-feminists and especially your typical "dude bro alpha males" will absolutely make fun of any man having any feelings that aren't anger. I'm a man and I speak from peronal experience here.

And honestly I'm so tired of people complaining about how feminism ruined the show bc Mari has more screentime than Adrien. Astruc wouldn't know feminism if it hit him in the face. He just fails to understand that feminism is not "woman strong man weak". Adrien is the focus of most plot lines because he's Marinette's main motivator to do anything. Astruc based her entire personality about liking a boy. Doesn't sound very feminist to me.

The Adrien abuse not being followed more is also not the result of feminism, it's just a quirky little accessory for Adriens character so the fandom doesn't entirely forget he's here. Hell, Adrien being an abuse victim is like the number one reason why he is so popular in the first pace. Gabe's an ass, Adrien is sad, the audience feels sorry for him. There's no substance, no complexity, no overcoming any complicated emotions. And that's not because feminism, it's because the writers have no idea what being abused actually means, especially how the actions of the abusers get constantly excused. Not only Gabriel, but also Audrey and Jagged who abandoned their kids get away scot free. The writers don't care about abuse victims or giving them a character they can relate to, they just use it as a character trait because they don't know how else to make a character likeable and symathetic. It has nothing to do with any narrative about how "white men are predators" or whatever.

I'm guessing you saw my posts as merely a chance to rant about fandom tendencies that get you peeved, but next time, please just say so, instead of trying to make it sound like I said something I didn't. Like, I get it, the Anon messaging me made it sound like they thought the Miraculous crew were radfems, which I also highly doubt. But also note that this message you sent really reads like you're saying I said or implied something like: "feminism ruined Miraculous" or "feminists treat male victims of abuse worse than other people", which I absolutely did not. I'm a queer feminist, but I'm not exactly running a social justice information blog here. Not everything I say is going to sound perfectly eloquent, but my response in that post was literally less than 200 words; you can spend more time reading it if you're going to send me an essay saying things I was trying to say but with more words and defensiveness and countering arguments I didn't make.

I should probably say this: you're not wrong but that doesn't mean I'm wrong either. Yes, feminists are more likely to listen to and advocate for male victims than other parties. HOWEVER, it is still an undisputable fact that many feminists (note: I never said all) hold the belief that men can never be victims, and that attitude is not only present in radical feminists. I don't like it either, but some feminists are jerks and we can't deny that fact. Still, the main point I was trying to make was that this attitude is not tied to feminism or anti-feminism to begin with; it's a more universal societal bias.

I agree with your point that Miraculous doesn't necessarily have anything to do with denying male victimhood, as I said: the writers don't need to villify Adrien in order to not focus on his story. I was merely stating that the subconcious bias around abuse makes it very easy for the writers to just go: "there isn't really a story here." It's true that the Miraculous writers really don't seem to grasp just how much parental abuse happens in their story, which means that the underlying bias we can see in the show might actually be about parental abuse, rather than male victims specifically. While Kagami is getting support over her situation, Chloé isn't, so it might not be tied to the victim's gender. Still, there is clearly a bias in the show's writing where the abuse present in the story isn't being taken seriously as abuse.

I even agree that Miraculous being a girl power show is not some great failure of feminism, even when some issues with the show come specifically from it being a girl power show. "Girl power" is just the most basic way of making a show that's designed to get girls to like it, and it often doesn't lend itself to nuanced storytelling. Girls being the target audience doesn't make this show feminist; it's just what the creators think appeals to girls.

It's just kind of pathetic that all these problems are becoming more prominent specifically in the seasons the showrunners are trying to tell us are going to be more mature and emotional. Not that raising the rating by one bar is that big of a difference, really.

#ml salt

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

somewhat inspired by these posts by @ellies-little-gun and @skoulsons respectively, some Thoughts:

The West gets really windy. You wouldn't think it, with all the mountains blocking weather and breaking up gusts, but it does. It's fantastic in the summer, but makes the winter cold that much worse. Windchill is at least fifteen degrees colder than the base temperature.

So it makes plenty of sense that the first night after they leave Jackson, out alone in what would have used to been carefully-watered fields, the wind picks up. It does that, out there — huge, powerful gusts through the night that by morning are so absent that you're surprised they were every actually there. But while it's blowing, it sucks (yes, it's an oxymoron).

The horse is tied to a nearby tree, contentedly picking through the snow to find old grass to munch on. Ellie, who has grown up in a QZ with absolutely minimal life other than other humans, stands there way longer than she planned to, just stroking the horse's neck and, in all honesty, zoning out. They rode from dawn until just before sundown. She hadn't slept the night before. Her eyes are a bit glazed over from fatigue and the cold, she's still absently petting the horse — who's quite happy with this arrangement, actually — when Joel calls her over.

He's got a fire going, flickering hesitantly like the wind could blow it out at any moment. There isn't a lot of cover, here. Ellie plops down cross-legged and idly stretches her hands out toward the fire. At some point Joel passes her some food. They don't really talk for a while. The wind keeps whistling.

And then- Joel heaves a sigh and says, very stiffly and carefully, "I'm sorry."

Ellie doesn't even think about it, she's a little bit brain-fried and she answers without any hesitation, "I know," and then realizes that's probably not the right way to take what's surely a difficult apology and she just goes "Uhhhhh" for a minute before the right words, "It's okay," finally come out. She tips her head and blinks the growing bleariness from her eyes. Joel is staring at her, a thinking kind of look on his face. Another time she would make a snide comment about how he looks constipated. Now, though, she just waits. He'll probably say something else if she gives him a minute.

He does. "Last night," he continues like it pains him (and honestly, it does). "I was out of line. You were right. I shouldn't have said those things."

Ellie shrugs. Pretends she didn't nearly start crying as soon as she heard him repeat back her own words about not being his daughter. Because if she thinks about that, she has to admit that she wants that. She'd never say it but she wishes Joel was her dad. "It's okay," she says again, because it is, now. All she wanted was to stay with Joel. So everything is okay now that she has that.

"You were right," Joel repeats, more firmly. "You're not my daughter." His eyes soften when he sees Ellie's head whip back up to stare at him, her face screwed up and entire body tense all of a sudden. "That doesn't mean I don't care about you, though. Just I shouldn't be treating you any differently because I already... lost her."

And Ellie relaxes again, heaves a little mirroring sigh of her own, but instead of steeling herself for anything it's relief. She almost says, I care about you, too, or maybe, thanks for caring about me, but finds that she can't. So instead she stands up, steps stiff-legged around the fire, shooting a tired grin at Joel when she steps over his legs, and then plops down on the other side of him so he's blocking her from the wind. She says as much, too, and it gets a chuckle from him. She's never seen him smile as much as he has the past couple days. She still doesn't fully understand what's changed, but she likes it.

And Ellie falls asleep like that, leaned against Joel's shoulder where the freezing wind can't get to her. Joel doesn't dare move her, too stunned by the automatic forgiveness and acceptance she's given him even after he nearly abandoned a girl who's been abandoned, in some sense, by everyone who ever mattered to her. So instead of keeping watch with the rifle tonight, he slowly shifts around so he can pull his pistol from its holster. This, he can manage easier with the small weight of her warm body propped against him.

He doesn't put an arm around her. That would still be too much. It's overwhelming to think about holding her in his arms. She'd rested her head against his back earlier while they were riding and just that had made something in his heart twist, not the way the fear does, something different that he won't put a name to just yet. It's too soon for that, too. Maybe it always will be.

But somehow, with Ellie curled up against him this way, the wind he's protecting her from doesn't even bother him.

#this started out as a vague Thought as someone who currently lives in the IMW and turned into something #closer to a fic than anything else #I might clean this up later and properly post it as a fic idk #Lu rambles #Lu writes #I guess! #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou spoilers

[cobaltswriting]

@camalyng

Hello there, reasonable person!

I'm not entirely sure what you mean by 'clear' but that it might just be that Ashley is noting what she sees. She hangs out in the same area as Garrus and Wrex, and shares the same strength in combat that they bring. Garrus also brings tech and Wrex also brings biotics, but Ashley is just straight out combat strength, according to the stats when you're putting together a team.

I also vaguely remember her saying something to do with Liara, which showed a little jealousy. She just doesn't seem to have much fondness for aliens and of course the "I'm not racist" line, which always raises a few red flags.

I'm also just gonna put a few comments here...

Ashley: With all due respect, Commander, should they really have full access to the ship?

Ashley: I’m not sure I’d call the Council races ‘allies’…

Ashley: I can't tell the aliens from the animals.

You can definitely see why people would think Ashley's racist.

And the thing is, you can't necessarily tell if that's changed by the time of Mass Effect 2. She still works for the alliance, is on a human settlement, and doesn't join up. Pretty much just chews you out for being dead for 2 years and not contacting her during that time and refuses to join you since you're working with/for Cerberus.

I can also see why she wouldn't say much about Tali specifically. Tali keeps quiet and usually stays in engineering, I wouldn't be surprised if Ashley forgets Tali exists at times.

I guess I must have missed that side quest. To be fair, by the time I was getting to the end game I was getting... a bit tired of the first Mass Effect game. I did a few side quests but I didn't explore the galaxy all that much.

And yeah, tolerance isn't her main thing. I actually had to reload my save to save Wrex, because I was hoping if I kept talking to him, we'd get to a point where Shepherd would say 'look, we'll download any data Saren has that points towards a genophage cure while we're infiltrating' and Ashley decided that just shooting him would be the best idea. So I had to reload and just calm Wrex down directly. Luckily it is fairly easy to do if you went and got his family armour back for him.

Appearance wise, it was fairly obvious to me. The hairstyle change, and the pronounced lips just struck me as something that was fairly out of place with the straightforward soldier we knew in Mass Effect 1.

This could be put down to her simply employing a different style because we were on Earth, so she wasn't fighting any wars, but then we get to the mission on Mars... She could have easily tied her hair back, keep it out of the way, but no. She got some armour, yes, but... I dunno. She also just didn't seem quite as straight forward as she was in Mass Effect 1 and 2.

I dunno how else to put it. It just hardly feels like Ashley at all to me.

#camalyng #Mass Effect #Mass Effect 3 #thank you for being reasonable at least

[ripjulie-gone]

5 SONGS THAT INSPIRE YOU TO WRITE YOUR MUSE

I. ALKALINE - sleep token

ooh, let's talk about chemistry. 'cause i'm dying to melt through, to the heart of her molecules. 'ti the particles part like holy water. if anything, she's an undiscovered element. either born in hell or heaven-sent, but either way i'm into it. she's not acid nor alkaline. csaught between black and white. not quite either day or night. she's perfectly misaligned.

II. THE GREY - bad omens

gave you way too many chances, you ran through 'em all. got everything i could want, but it wasn't enough. nobody left for me to talk to, nobody to call. got everything i could want, but i still wanted more. there's not another way, don't let me go. don't dig another grave today. i'll make the same mistakes, i'll never know who i was before i faded away into the grey.

III. PARASITE EVE - bring me the horizon

really we just need to fear something. only pretending to feel something. i know you're dying to run, i wanna turn you around. please, remain calm. the end has arrived. we cannot save you, enjoy the ride. this is the moment you've been waiting for. don't call it a warning, this is a war.

IV. TAKE ME BACK TO EDEN - sleep token

come now. bite through these wires. i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired. reset my patient violence along both lines of a pathway higher. grow back your sharpest teeth, you know my desire. i will travel far beyond the path of reason. take me back to eden, take me back to eden.

V. MIRACLE - bad omens

i wanted to dress a blade up in red with both of our necks but i wasn't able, and i wasn't stable. i guess. but nevertheless, i'm fucking depressed. i hide it with sex, and drink till it's fatal. it's so fucking painful. it's a mess. so give me something beautiful. so give me something else. i need another miracle, i really need some help.

#I HAVE SO MANY #but these are the current ones #DASH GAMES ✧ ⎨ 𝑑𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦 𝑎 𝑔𝑎𝑚𝑒? ⎬ #PLAYLIST ✧ ⎨ 𝑚𝑖𝑥𝑡𝑎𝑝𝑒 𝑣𝑜𝑙. 𝑜𝑛𝑒 ⎬

[mazm-imagines]

MazM week day 5 prompt for family! The time I spent babygirling Alan > his siblings. I love him hes like a milf but not a mother, I love characters that know how to talk to children. Extra below the cut!

For the first time in a good while, Alan had plenty of sleep.

In the middle of the night he would wake up, the stimulant jolting in his blood still. But the exhaustion was finally catching up and he would let his head hit the pillow.

When was the last time he'd ever felt this way? Not since he was 15 that's for sure.

The morning rays shone through the windows and onto his eyes. It looked to be a nice day "Just five more minutes…" It's what he always said in the morning, even if he didn't spare himself those 5 minutes. Any minute wasted would be money docked off his pay. However Messrs Maw had given him a paid leave. After the freak out with the customer and Kate's intervention, they couldn't work him any longer.

Alan had another job, of course he did, how could he pay for his sister's bills if he didn't? But that would be much later in the day. Right now all he needed to do was rest. It was a relief he'd never felt before. Years of working to the bone disintegrated in this cot, as stiff as it was.

Well, he'd have to get up eventually, he didn't want to waste such a beautiful day. Contrary to his normal rushed attitude, he could actually sit down and slowly enjoy every second. Those seconds wouldn't be docked from his pay, those were his.

He placed one arm behind his head to stretch the other, melting as his overworked muscles loosened up. It felt like absolute euphoria, nothing CHC could give.

He looked around the small room, all his siblings slept in small cots lined together. In one he could see his Roisin's red hair poking out. They all had red hair, but he knew who was who. Her broken hand was bandaged up and delicately placed by her head. How could he have ever wished she was dead? He couldn't believe he said that to Kate.

"Do you know what it feels like to wish for your sick family to die? Do you?"

As soon as he had said such a horrible thing, he realized. He never spent time with the family he was trying to feed, he never had the chance.

"Alan!" He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of Roisin waking up. Her round green eyes lit in delight to see him still there. Before he could go to sit by, he tied his long red hair as to not swing it in her face.

"Yes it's me." He said ever so playfully as he got up from his bed and sat down on hers instead.

"You're still here!" "Yes! Messrs Maw let me go for a bit, an accident happened…" He couldn't just lie to her, but if he told the truth… "Is… is it my fault?" The girl whimpered. "No no no- it's not your fault." Before she could cry, Alan took her into his arms. "How's your hand?" "It hurts a little less but…" She sniffled ever so quietly, but nothing got past her big brother. "If it's about work, it's okay, we'll think of something, but you don't have to think about it right now." He gently patted her back, hushing her worries away. "Ahhh, I'm tired again…" "Alright, I'll put you back, is there anything you want to eat?" "Hmmmm, I heard Maeve wanted raisin pudding… let's eat that together."

With that she finally dozed off. Alan placed her back into bed and pulled the blankets over her.

It felt like a normal day, he brushed his teeth, showered, and got dressed. Yet everything was much slower, it gave him time to soak it in.

The pantry was empty like usual, that just wouldn't do. The Maws had given him a little extra money for his troubles alongside the paid leave. He could go out to buy food and a little extra for his sisters.

"Alan!" "Alan!" A duet of voices chimed, Sean and Maeve had caught him in the kitchen. "Calm down you two! Everyone else is still asleep." He bent down to reach their eyes, giving them small pats on the head. "Do you two want to go out with me?" "Yes yes yes! Where are we going?" "It's a little boring, but we have to go buy food again." "We'll go anywhere with Alan!"

Holding their small hands in his own calloused ones reminded him of why he tolerated it all in the first place. He really did love them with his heart, and he missed this feeling.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Messrs Maw, he should go pay a visit. "Alan don't you work there?" "I wanna see!" "You two, I'm sure there's better places to be." "No, we wanna go!" The children's voices brought the attention of Mrs. Maw from behind the storefront. "Alan?" "Y-yes ma'am?" Her shrill voice always commanded him, he still felt guilty for what he did. "I hope you're doin' well. It looks like you are." "Yes ma'am. Thank you so much for letting me go…" "You can thank Kate for that. I'm just relieved you're not broken beyond repair there." "I'll stay off of it, I'm sorry for leaving." "It's fine, it was about time. Take care." And she left as fast as she came. He'll stay off of many things now, he will in fact, take care.

#mazm #mazm hyde and seek #mazm week #alan brown #mod gwaaaaar #gwaaaaar art #gwaaaaar writing

[teenagedirt]

Kissing in cars (11)

CHAPTER 11- I kissed the scars on her skin.

Warning!- mentions past selfharm. And the scars. Talks about past relapse. please skip this chapter if it will trigger you.

A/n I don't know if the word bunkroom is real or not but I'm using it so it doesn't matter. I know that the line "I missed the scars on her skin" isn't about selfharm but I wanted to kinda write this into this little short story. Because this is something I've struggled with, and I wanted to write something that would be comforting for me.

The next couple of weeks flew by. Tonight is the last show of the tour. "Hey,y/n I'm gonna go ahead and do sound check with Tony and Jaime, just come to the venue when your ready. I sigh quietly, and poke my head into the hallway.

"ALRIGHT" I shout back. I hear the bus door open and close. I continue to search for something to wear. The only thing I've found was shirts and a Tshirt. The shirt isnt the problem, its the shorts. They are quite short. Meaning they'll show my scars. My past isn't a secret, I've talked about them before on social media, but they are still one of my biggest insecurities. I sight looking in the mirror. They was no point in trying to cover them. "Shit" I say to myself. Knowing vic, he'll notice that there's a couple more scars than there were two years ago. He didn't take the time to notice when we slept together, he was focused on my lips, and other various parts of my body.

I roll my eyes and walk out of the bathroom. I grab my shies and slip them on. When I get my hightops on and comfortably tied, I grab my phone and walk out the door. I jog to the back entrance of the venue. "Hey y/n" tony says waving,I wave back and make my way to find Vic. I hear his voice so I follow the sound.

I find him on the phone so I wait for the call to be over. " Allright, bye mom. I love you too" he speaks into the phone. I smile at the sight.He turns around, he sees me and jumps back slightly. "Jeez I didn't know you were there" he says grabbing his heart in a dramatic fashion. He laughs at himself and walks over to me.

"You're so dramatic" I say. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me in for a quick kiss.

"You should come on stage tonight. During 'new national anthem'" I stand thinking about it.

"Alright" I say and he hugs me once again. I check the time. "The show starts in forty-five minutes" he nods. We sit on the edge of the stage, looking out into the arena. I notice Vic distracted and try to pull my shorts down as much as possible to cover as many scars as possible.

"Whats wrong baby?" He asks.I don't say anything I simply look down at my thighs. He looks as well. I hear a sigh, "there's no need to be insecure darling. I have scars too, a lot of people do. I nod and rest my head on his shoulder.

Around thirty minutes pass and the show is now starting. I walk off stage and wait like I always do. Except today while Vic is singing 'new national anthem' I'll be up there for everybody to see. My scars on full display.

They are almost finished with the set when Vic calls for me. I don't know why he wants me up here. He points at the place he wants me to sit so I quickly comply, I want to get it done and over with. He sings the majority looking st the fans, occasionally glancing at me. This quickly changes he walks right in front of me, squats down and grabs my hand. "And if I ever catch the one who hurt you. I'm hoping that God looks away this time."he sings to me. The fans scream and cheer, at this. I smile with warm tears coming down my face.

As he finishes the song he pulls me up, and wraps his arms around me and engulfs me in a tight hug. He pecks my cheek lightly and we walk off stage together, the others following.

"Hey Vic me and Jaime are going to go to a bar, you wanna come?"Tony asks after giving Vic a high-five. Vic sighs and shakes his head no.

"Nah man I'm tired, sorry" Tony nods and walks off with Jaime. We walk to the bus in comfortable silence. He opens the door, "after you" he says and I walk up the stairs into the bus. He follows and closes the door behind himself.

"Can we talk about what going on" I sigh and nod yes. He leads me to our bunkroom. He sits on the edge of the bed, so do I I turn and face him. "You used to say that your scars are proof that you've held on. What's changed" he asks. Tears bubble in my eyes. I don't know if I have the heart to admit to relapsing last year. "Well, I guess with all the things people tend to say it made me hate them. Hate how they made me look. Hate the way will forever be there. " I say tears slipping put of my eyes.

His eyes fill with tears, but he quickly blinks them away. "Your scars are beautiful, but let's not make more. You're perfect." I start to cry, so he pulls me into a hug, tightly embracing me, rubbing my back. When my sobs got worse he would softly whisper "Shh, Darling it's okay to cry but you're going to make yourself sick".when I stopped crying he grabs my hands and looks at my wrists. The few faded scars there is he kisses them gently.

He looks at my thighs. "May I" he asks. I nod,he turns my body slightly. He runs his hands up my thighs. He gently rolls my shorts up. He leaves wet kisses on my scars as I start to cry again. He places my hands on my hips. As he finishes kisses them. He whispers into my neck, "you're perfect don't forget that", he kisses my neck. We lay together, embracing each other, whispering how much we love each other.