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queenie-ofthe-void · 2 months

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Stuck

~1.5k words || rating: teen || cws: dissociation; unlabeled neurodivergencies and mental illnesses

He’s never quite sure how it happens, seeming to always sneak up on him. One minute he’s up and moving around, usually cleaning, organizing, or just meandering around the house. The next, he’s lying on the floor in the middle of the living room. He tries to move but can’t. Not because he’s physically restrained, like when the rope from the Russians cut into his wrists or how the vines constricted his neck.

No, Steve’s just lying here on the floor, trapped in his own mind. His eyes are raw, stinging with dryness. Painful tingles pop throughout his right arm from where his head rests heavy on his bicep. His hip and shoulder ache. He can’t move or talk or blink. Can barely think. He’s not in his body.

He’s lost. Stuck.

Getting stuck means losing time, chunks of days lost to a void. It means missing meals and unanswered phone calls. Growing up, it felt like an escape. A safe way to pass the time between eating and sleeping. He’d come back to himself, sometimes hours later, sore and hungry, mustering up energy he didn’t have. Once, his parents discovered him frozen on the ground. Mom’s yelling and Dad’s foot shoving his side brought him jolting back into his body. Like waking from a nightmare, rising from the dead chased by panic.

It happens less now, but still catches up to him when he’s exhausted. He thinks today it was the kids– they were particularly obnoxious. Yelling excitedly about Eddie’s new campaign ideas, trucking in snow from outside after building a demo-snowman. Cooking for them, cleaning after them, getting them home safe.

Yeah, he gets how he maybe overdid it a bit.

But with Eddie here, it’s easier. His sweetheart always knows how to help, usually checking up on him after stressful days. Hopefully he comes to check on him soon.

Because Steve can’t move. Or talk. Or even blink.

The sun is starting to set.

~~~

The Party were extra chaotic today, pushing him to the fringes of patience. He’s thrilled they’re excited about his newest campaign ideas, but god, did they have to be so unbearably loud about it? Dustin’s screeches are still rattling between his ears. Not to mention the soreness he feels from helping the kids build a snowman demo-thing and the ensuing snowball fight.

The idea of an occult campaign has been percolating in Eddie’s brain for weeks, and after the day he’s had, he’s lost to the research. Perched on a chair upstairs in their bedroom, books are scattered across the desk and onto their bed next to him. Typically, creative deep-dives restore his energy after a long day. But when he’s well and truly exhausted, he’ll lose hours at a time to the work. Getting stuck, according to Steve. And yeah, Eddie can see how that fits.

Growing up, Eddie would lose hours throwing himself into his latest and greatest project, whether it be drawing, playing guitar, writing campaigns, reading or even the time he tried juggling. Entranced by his newest obsession, his surroundings would fade into the background. He’d forget to do his homework, to eat or drink. Hell, sometimes he’d forget to pee. Wayne’d drop a gentle hand to his shoulder– pulling him back to reality– and he’d take off like a shot to the bathroom. Every sensation hitting all at once: bladder about to burst, stomach rumbling, dry mouth, headache, body stiff and achy.

As he gets older, it’s still a frequent occurrence. So Robin had given him the idea of setting alarms, saying it helps her remember to take breaks while studying. And he’s thankful, because it works like a charm when he actually remembers. But when he forgets, his Stevie takes care of him.

He’ll find Eddie crouched awkwardly by the desk, eyes manic, only seeing what’s in front of him. Eddie will eat or drink anything Steve gives him, barely tasting whatever it is, just as long as he can see it. And Steve lets him be for at least a few hours so he can burn energy into whatever project he's lost himself in. All Steve cares is that he’s fed and hydrated. Usually, Eddie comes to slowly, with Steve’s fingers gently carding through his hair, or soft strokes up and down his spine.

Now Eddie breaks his own musings, eyes strained, hungry, and needing to stretch. He can’t help but wonder why his sweetheart hasn’t checked on him.

Moonlight is shining through the window.

~~~

It’s eerily quiet as Eddie makes his way down the stairs. He half expects to find Steve stress-baking, but the kitchen is dark.

So he checks the garage– the car is still here. And the backyard– he never sits by the pool alone. Then the front porch– maybe he went out for a smoke.

Guilt eats at Eddie as he finds his beautiful boy on the living room floor, curled into himself.

Stuck.

He hates finding Steve like this– stuck and lost like Eddie’s engrossed fantasies. Yet so, so different.

The first time Eddie found him, unresponsive and immovable, he spiraled into a panic so strong Steve had broken free of his own melancholy, finding Eddie hyperventilating and sobbing in the midst of a flashback. Too much like Chrissy. Like Patrick and Nancy.

They'd talked about it. And Eddie had appreciated afterwards how Steve struggled to describe what being stuck feels like, why it happens, what to do about it. It'd helped.

So on grey days, long nights, the holidays, or when the kids are extra rowdy, Eddie looks for the signs. He's been good about getting Steve to slow down before it's too late.

But on rare occasions, there will be a day like today. When it’s too much for both of them.

Eddie doesn't know how long his baby’s been lying here. Doesn't know when he ate or drank or even blinked. Because he’d holed himself up, desperate for time alone to just think. To be with himself after spending all day surrounded by people. But he forgot to set an alarm, assuming Steve would be there.

He focuses on his sweetheart, slowly kneeling down next to him so as not to startle him. Remembers all of the tips and tricks Steve needs.

"Hey honey," Eddie whispers, close enough to be present but not overwhelming. "Don't worry baby we'll get you unstuck I promise. I'm going to reach out and grab your hand now ok?"

He continues to whisper gentle praises and reassurances as he holds Steve's hand. It's limp for a time, and Eddie is hungry, but he doesn't stop. Time is lost to them both again, until he feels a slight squeeze on his fingers. Steve finally blinks, slow and hard.

"Hey big boy, love to see those pretty, long eyelashes.” He smiles down at his baby, honeyed hazel eyes slowly refocusing. “Alright, once for no and two for yes: do you want me to help you onto the couch?"

A full minute passes before Eddie feels two gentle squeezes to his fingers.

"That's great sweetheart. I'm gonna tilt you to sit up and we'll get you settled. Then I'm going to ask if you want anything. Ready?" Two squeezes.

They finally get to the couch, and Eddie can already feel a strong sense of relief at just seeing his baby move off the floor. He hears Steve's back pop as they stand, decides he'll give him a massage later.

It goes on. And on and on. Eddie follows the process of squeezes until Steve is unstuck and back in his body.

"Water?" Two squeezes.

"Food?" One squeeze.

"Blanket?" Two squeezes.

Eddie's patience always pays off. He's got Steve set up on the couch, hydrated and relaxed, with his favorite movie playing softly. He’s managed to grab a bowl of cereal for himself. They're cuddled and warm with Steve’s head in his lap. Eddie glides his fingers up and down the sore side of Steve’s body, gently squeezing as he goes.

~~~

Steve comes back to himself surrounded by love.

His eyes sting and his mouth is dry. He doesn't know what time it is, but notices the sun has long set, moonlight shining through the curtains. The bones in his neck crack and his joints pop as he stretches.

But he's warm under the blankets, tucked into his boyfriend's chest as they watch the teddy bear Star Wars. Eddie's loosely twirling the hairs at the nape of his neck, lightly tugging and sending tingles down his spine. There's a glass of water and crackers on the table in front of him.

Getting stuck inside his head terrifies him, something he dreads as much as the night terrors.

But with Eddie, it's easier, happens less often. And when it does, he always wakes up to love.

This was a pure self-indulgence fic. An exact recreation of my relationship with my partner. It fits my headcanon for the boys perfectly (though I'm obviously biased haha)

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington whump #hurt/comfort #steve harrington does not feel his feelings it's practically canon #steve harrington is my favorite self insert and i will continue to do so until i get so sick of writing myself i go back to canon #rinse and repeat #eddie munson #eddie munson is the personification of adhd #have you seen that man's bedroom? it's definitely canon #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things ficlet #QueenieWritesStories

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justgrey · 3 months

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Hello! I’d like to request the mercenaries with a fem mercenary reader who is a shapeshifter and has a pretty chaotic personality? Basically Nimona from the movie Nimona lol

Watched the movie finally, and now I'm gay for ballister. Thanks for that xoxo. be on the lookout for something on him because i want to chew him and hit him like a tennis ball

Also, it's safe to say I got a little stupid with this one 💀

Mercs with a chaotic! reader

Warnings : swearing, light mentions of gore, talk of body parts, medic.

CHAOS CHAOS CHAOS *jevil laughter*

Probably get along really well with Pyro and Scout not gonna lie because Pyro likes to burn shit (Even though I'm pretty sure they think they're spreading joy and colour) and Scout is pretty hyper in general, willing to go along with anything as long as it's fun.

*burns down barn*

"huddah huh huu hud."

"Yeah, loving the colour too, pally. Really makes the wood boom." *evil chuckles*

As soon as Pyro learns about your shapeshifting ability, they're all over you. They want you to play 3 different characters at their tea parties simultaneously and transform into a unicorn so that they can ride you into battle and fulfill their wildest dreams

"Hud hudda hu hubuh huuuuh HUDDAH!!"

"Okay, okay, fine!" *transforms into a unicorn* "Get on."

*excited hu noises*

"HUDDAHHHH!!"

Besties 💗🌈🔥✨️

Some of the older and quieter mercenaries are NOT gonna be having a field day with you and your silly little personality.

Sniper hates it THE MOST. He doesn't like people that much in general and can barely keep up with the hyperactive chaos that is you, so he mainly sticks to watching you burn shit down from afar.

"Did'ya really have ta' do that much?"

"Yeah. Why, you not liking it, pissboy?"

"..."

"That's what I thought. Don't be a hero, buddy."

Although he doesn't appreciate your snarky attitude, he likes how you can shapeshift. He really likes animals and will sometimes scope in on you when you transform, nodding with approval and whispering a little, "cool" that he hopes nobody hears.

Spy thinks you're a nuisance around the base but definitely sees the usefulness in your shapeshifting abilities since he kinda almost does the same damn thing, just with his goofy masks. He respects you for that, if anything, at all.

Do not ever expect to replace him or get remotely close to him in espionage, though. If you are at the same level as Nimona, you're not great at directly impersonating humans, and he will tease you about it.

"What was that, today?

"What was what?"

"The 'Oh Mon deu! Ack! Oohh! I dropped my baguette' if that was meant to be an impersonation of me, know that it was terrible, and my lawyer will be contacting you."

"I dunno, I think it was pretty accurate." *shrug*

Medic loves you. Sorry, not sorry. Loves you. Does get tired of you sometimes, but not all the time. He's generally also very *bzzz bzzz chaos organs* so he's happy to indulge in whatever you want to do which usually involves the absolute destruction of everything.

Medic is also incredibly fascinated by your shapeshifting ability. Do not sleep around this man while shape shifted because he's poking and prodding everywhere while you're out.

"Ohoho... how peculiar" *pokes open nerve*

"YEOUCH WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"

*nervous chuckle as he hides a bucket of blood and from your view*

Engineer tries to be that guiding light he thinks you need. He's a friend, a father figure, a colleague, whatever you need. He's a nice Southern gentleman with a slightly insane twist. Encourages you to be careful around the others, but if you aren't, he's not complaining. Makes the job easier if everyone listens.

Heavy is pretty chill with you. He's neither annoyed nor pleased that you're around. He relatively keeps to himself, medic, and his guns.

Actually, do not touch his gun. Do not pretend to be his gun either.

Soldier and Demo like your charisma. You can be a pretty fun drinking partner for demo, and a nice soldier when you're willing to follow orders (which isn't usually) but as long as you get the job done with as much destruction as possible, Soldier is saluting you almost as much as he does the American flag that is hanging next to his bed.

"ANOTHER GREAT DAY, TODAY! KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK AND I MIGHT RAISE YOUR STATUS, CADET!"

"SIR YES SIR! or something I dunno, fuck this is weird..."

*walks with soldier, ignoring the screams of the dammed behind you*

He makes you transform into an eagle and has you sit there on his arm for a while, admiring you fly. It's brought him close to tears on many occasions.

Whenever he gets married to Heavy's sister, Soldier is making sure that you are THERE as an Eagle. He'll pay you to fly across the sky and make majestic bird noises.

Overall, some very mixed experiences. But a fun concept either way.

#nimona #tf2 #team fortress two #tf2 x reader #tf2 scout #platonic tf2 #tf2 medic #team fortress two x reader #tf2 engineer #tf2 spy #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 sniper #tf2 soldier

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omar-bb · 1 month

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notes & quotes from omar's live today

he wanted to release Red Light sooner but he and his team wanted to get it right

he's excited to headline at Gröna Lund - gonna be playing a new song there and at his other shows this summer!

"one of my favorite songs. i'm telling you, you will fucking choke when you hear that one. it's dark, it's dirty, it's groovy..."

"should I leak some of it? it would be fun for you to be able to sing along..."

"i hope it's fine by my team that I just leaked that"

"maybe it'll be the next single after Red Light. only maybe. I'm not promising anything"

someone asked about an Asia tour - "I cannot be live bc I'm gonna leak a lot of shit. But you wanna know something funny? This song .... it is actually a k-pop pitch song from start. it was made with k-pop in mind. it is not fully k-pop and now that i've been doing my touch on it, it is a little less k-pop but.. they actually wrote the song k-pop in mind."

teased doing a tour in the future

another "leak" - "I was actually meant to go to korea like right now or a month ago, like after the oscars ... i was supposed to go to korea. but it never happened. i was very sad. but maybe one day.

he had a scared moment where music started playing in the other room and he thought it was an unreleased song but it was just his alejandro tiktok lol

inspo for red light? "I didn't write the song ... it was a demo that got sent to me. at first ... it was a girl singing red light, and when i heard it the first time i was like yo this sounds like fucking rihanna ... i was like is this a long lost rihanna song? this is the greatest thing i've ever heard. and then i just fucking took it. i was like this is my song before rihanna takes it from me. and now it's my song."

Red Light music video when? "we shot a visualizer, so it's not a music video ... it's very beautiful. very stunning. i've never done anything like that. ... it's not a real music video. it's more visuals for the song."

will be doing red light on 25 may and also a new song

"you'll hear a whole new omar when you hear that song"

he has been replying to messages in his community on whatsapp and sms. they'll be leaking more stuff through there

new OMR Beauty product when? "....................... stay tuned"

"you will die when you see the next launch of OMR Beauty. that's all I'm saying. Next!!!"

will he start a fashion brand? "i don't really have the time for that unfortunately. ... not for now"

thinks he is not gonna bleach his hair

Someone asked red light spanish version when? and he sang a bit of it in spanish

omar backflip when? "when i'm in heaven"

is he going to act again?"i'm actually reading some scripts right now. just reading, it's not anything happening really yet, just testing the waters. we'll see, i would love to act. i actually miss acting, it was a fun time ... nothing will ever be like YR obviously, but just the thought of meeting new ppl, new friends, being together for a few weeks or a few months, and filming smth very special, that would be so much fun. ... i'm actually reading a really cool script right now" but more focusing on music right now

he has 40-50 new songs from the last year apparently??? Maybe i misunderstood this

album when? "don't know, we'll see" - he has a lot of songs and could drop an album but he wants it to be perfect so it'll be awhile

there will be red light merch this summer

he and edvin hang out sometimes

not doing Rix FM this year

there will not be 12 red light remixes lol "but maybe a few"

Eurovision 2025? "absolutely not. sorry not sorry." something about always being thrown out of the competition

he's stopped drinking coffee regularly and drinks matcha instead

someone suggested hoemars as the fandom name and he laughed lol

a lot is happening in May he says !! "y'all better eat good, sleep well" lolol

he said he might do another live next week once Red Light is out

#finally caught one of these!!!!#he's so funny #no word on the project with edvin #omar live on tiktok #omar on tiktok #omar rudberg

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syuga-s · 3 months

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the art of seduction... and hair pulling

w.c. I genuinely don't know around 2.6k (???)

pairing. Oikawa x female!reader, implied Makki x reader & Iwaizumi x reader i'm sorry

genre. crack, suggestive

a/n. haikyuu girl what are you doing here!!! I got carried away. A lot. I was planning on doing a blurb, a short imagine for fuck's sake, BUT HERE WE ARE. be wary of guy friends who will tug on your hair with no warning, they're out there ☝️ curse words here and there 👍

Friends since high school, you and your close-knit group, the infamous Seijoh Four and your best friend Momo. It was just supposed to be a night out with your friends. Those four plus you and Momo. A casual night out. You had gone to one of your fave spots in town, an outdoor brewery, one of the few calm places where there was a table big enough for all of you.

Oikawa was deep into a conversation with Makki and Mattsun while you were talking with Iwaizumi beside you and Momo in front of you. Each group in their own topic. Tonight you were in the middle of Oikawa and Iwaizumi, while the other side sat with Mattsun, Makki and Momo in that order.

Momo leaned in conspiratorially, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "So, have you heard about Iwa's last ex?" she begins, her voice dropping to a hushed whisper.

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow, clearly not thrilled about the direction the conversation is taking. "Oh, not this again," he mutters.

As Momo's words hang in the air, you can't help but lean in, curiosity piqued. "spill it," you urge, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Iwaizumi lets out a resigned sigh, knowing there's no escaping the impending gossip. "Fine, but keep it down," he says, glancing around to make sure no one nearby can overhear. "What about her?"

"Oh, I've got to hear this," you declare, unable to contain your excitement.

Iwaizumi lets out a long-suffering sigh, shooting Momo a playful glare. "You know what, I thought we agreed to leave my dating disasters in the past," he grumbles with amusement in his eyes.

Momo waves off his protests with a dismissive flick of her hand. "Oh, come on, Iwa-chan, it's all in good fun," she insists, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

In the same table you could also hear,

"I'm telling you, guys, it's all in the wrist action," Oikawa insists, his voice laced with a hint of smugness.

Makki chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. "And here I thought you were just born with that perfect hair-pulling technique," he teases, earning a playful shove from Matsukawa.

Oikawa and your other two friends were talking about the proper way to pull someone's hair while you're at it, Oikawa was pretty sure, if not a 100% sure, he had the supreme technique, the mother of all of them.

"Alright, so picture this," Oikawa begins, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he leans in closer to Makki and Mattsun. "You're with a girl, right? And you want to add a little extra... to the moment."

Makki nods eagerly, a grin spreading across his face. "I'm listening," he says, leaning in closer to catch every word.

Oikawa flashes them a confident smirk before continuing. "So, you start by gently running your fingers through her hair," he explains, his voice taking on a theatrical flair. "And then, just when she least expects it, you give a little tug."

Matsukawa raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "And what's the secret to the perfect tug?" he asks, crossing his arms with an unamused tone.

Oikawa grins, clearly enjoying being the center of attention. "Ah, my dear friends, that is the million-dollar question," he replies, his voice dripping with faux wisdom. "You see, it's all about the timing and the angle. Too hard, and you risk pulling her hair out. Too soft, and it's just not as satisfying."

Makki and Mattsun exchange amused glances, barely able to contain their laughter at Oikawa. "Write that down, write that down," Makki chuckled while hitting Mattsun’s arm.

Having you next to him was perfect for the coming demonstration.

Unbeknownst to you, Oikawa's claims of expertise would soon be put to the test. In a daring move, he seized the opportunity to demonstrate his supposedly flawless technique, entangling his fingers in your hair and giving it a sudden tug. The shock of the unexpected sensation rippled through you, and a soft whimper escaped your lips, instantly catching the attention of your friends.

The air crackled with silent acknowledgment, each member of the group acutely aware of what just happened.

The suddenness of the noise caught you off guard. After that sound came out of your mouth, your eyes flew open in shock. Shocked of having done that noise? While in front of all your friends? Did they hear? The truth was – they had. Of course they did. Only someone who wasn’t paying attention didn’t get to hear you. All of the people in this table got to hear you whimper with the little action your dear friend over here did.

A single thought echoed in your mind. Oikawa what the fuck?

You blinked a few times. As your eyes met with Momo's amused gaze, you saw she was having a hard time keeping her laughter to herself. Next, you turned to Iwaizumi, noting how he was clenching his jaw and the subtle movement of his Adam's apple as he avoided meeting your eyes. Now Makki. His hand was covering his mouth not actually in shock, but with both of his eyebrows raised, you could see a blend of amusement and disbelief, a mirror to your own expression, while Mattsun's swift return to his beer signaled his desire to move past the subject.

“See? I told you it works. I’ve perfected it over time.”

You jerked your head to the side, eyes wide as you tried to process the startling words of this fucker. A fucker who dared turn you on in front of all your friends.

Oikawa's audacious declaration jolted you into reality. His casual demeanor only fueled the disbelief and arousal swirling within you, leaving you speechless and utterly flustered.

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back,”

As you excused yourself to visit the bathroom, the scolding at the table started, with a newfound focus on nagging Oikawa for his move. Momo took the lead, her voice carrying a playful reminder as she wagged her hand at Oikawa. "Oikawa, you can't just go around pulling people's hair like that!" she chided, though a glint sparkled in her eyes, softening the scolding tone. Iwaizumi chimed in with a mock-serious expression, his deep voice laced with amusement. "Yeah, next time, at least buy her dinner first or something," he quipped, earning a round of laughter from the group.

Makki and Mattsun joined in the teasing, their playful banter serving to diffuse any tension. "Come on, Oikawa, we all know you think you’re smooth and all that, but that was a bit much," Makki teased, his grin infectious as he hit Oikawa's shoulder. Mattsun, ever the voice of reason, poked some fun too. "You're lucky she didn't slap you," he joked, raising his glass in a mock-toast to their friend's boldness.

Oikawa’s gaze lingered on the spot where you had disappeared to the bathroom. An impish grin tugged at the corners of his lips. He pushed himself away from the table, something naughty about his aura.

‘I’ll be right back,’ he announced casually, his voice barely above a whisper but loud enough for his friends to hear. Without waiting for a response, he sauntered away from the table, his steps purposeful as he made his way to find you.

Makki and Mattsun exchanged a knowing look, their grins widening as they watched their friend’s calculated move.

“Do we all know where he’s off to?” Makki mused, his voice low enough to make the remaining ones at the table hear him.

Mattsun chuckled softly, taking a sip of his drink before offering his own theory. “Probably to continue his little game with y/n,” he replied, a hint of amusement coloring his tone. “That man doesn’t know when to quit.”

Their conversation was punctuated by Momo’s playful jab, her eyes alight with mischief. “I think Oikawa enjoys stirring up things with her just for the thrill of it,” she quipped.

Iwaizumi couldn't help commenting “Honestly, I think y/n knows exactly what she’s doing too,” he remarked. “She’s always had Shittykawa wrapped around her finger,”

"Wouldn’t surprise me if she gets him about to bust one before we even leave this place,”

"Yeah I remember that time y/n whispered something in my ear that had me blushing for hours. She fucking knows how play with you" Makki smirked.

Mattsun chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. “I guess we've been spared from y/n’s mischief so far,”

“Right, Iwa? Momo?”

Iwaizumi’s lips quirk into a knowing smirk, his gaze flickering briefly to Momo before returning to Mattsun. “Oh, yeah that's right” he replied cryptically. Plainly brushing him off.

Back in the bathroom you couldn't suppress the laughter bubbling up within you at the absurdity of the situation. Despite of having felt embarrassed for a couple of minutes. That actually turned you on. Of course, Oikawa and you have flirted a few times before. It was in both of your natures but tonight it opened a door. You bit your lip as you fixed your hair in the mirror, a mischievous glint danced in your eyes, reflecting a latent desire stirring.

Just as you left the bathroom, to your surprise, there stood Oikawa, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. His presence caught you off guard, yet you couldn't deny the rush of anticipation that surged through you at the sight of him. "Well, well, well, look who it is," he teased, his voice laced with amusement as he leaned against a door frame, his gaze locking with yours.

As Oikawa began to close the distance between you, his presence seemed to fill the entire room, enveloping you in a heady mix of excitement. You couldn't help but feel small in comparison to his commanding presence, his height and confidence casted a spell over you. Your eyes traced the lines of his figure, taking in every detail, from the confident tilt of his head to the way his shirt clung to his muscular frame.

The air between you thickened and got hotter. Feeling small under his imposing presence, you let your eyes roam over his figure, taking in the way he filled the space around you.

Now it was your turn to toy with him. In a moment of daring impulse, fueled by the charged atmosphere between you, you decide to trace the contours of his torso, your fingertips trembling with anticipation as they hovered over his defined muscles.

As your hand traced him, lingering over the defined curve of his pec, you felt a surge of boldness wash over you. With each deliberate touch, you reveled in the sensation of his warmth beneath your fingertips, relishing the way he responded to your teasing caress.

Oikawa was battling within himself, torn between the desire to reciprocate and the temptation to let you take the lead. He longed to tangle his fingers in your hair once again, or to feel the warmth of your skin beneath his touch. Yet, a voice of restraint urged him to hold back, to savor the moment and revel in your boldness. Wrestling with his impulses, he decided to wait, allowing you to dictate the pace for now, but eagerly anticipating the moment when he could fully engage in this game between you two.

Your eyes, locked in a magnetic gaze with his own, refused to waver, captivated by the depth and intensity of his caramel-colored irises. It was as if they held a secret language, speaking volumes without uttering a single word.

You could feel the heat radiating between you, a palpable energy that pulsed in the air around you. You edged closer to him, close enough to have him smell the intoxicating scent of your freshly shampooed hair mingled with your perfume, the very same perfume he found utterly irresistible and loved since years ago. It was a scent that consistently drew him to your side, the very reason he always sought out the seat next to you in any setting.

Your lips got dangerously close to his own, and he could swear that the same soft whimper you let out a few minutes ago was going to escape his mouth.

With a teasing smile, you leaned back slightly, the warmth of your breath grazing his lips tantalizingly. "See? I have my own tricks too," you whispered, your voice a playful melody that danced in his ears.

As your lips parted from his, a surge of anticipation rippled through him, leaving him longing to clash his lips against yours. But before he could act, your mouth moved to his ear, your words sending a shiver down his spine. "I had to even the score, don’t you think?" you murmured, the gentle tease laced with a hint of filthiness.

As you both return to the table, you notice a fresh round of beers waiting for you, courtesy of your friends.

Their eyes flicker between you and Oikawa, a knowing grin spreading across their faces as they take in his subtle change in expression.

Momo raises an eyebrow playfully. "Looks like someone's got a lot on their mind," she teases, her voice laced with amusement. Iwaizumi offers a knowing smirk, his gaze lingering on Oikawa for a moment before he takes a sip of his drink. "What's got you all worked up, Oikawa?" he asks, his tone light but not passing on the opportunity to embarrass him a bit.

Makki and Mattsun, sharing a silent chuckle as they await Oikawa's response.

Oikawa chuckles nervously, trying to maintain his composure as he feels the weight of everyone’s gaze on him. “Oh, you know, just contemplating the mysteries of the universe,” he quips.

“Bullshit my guy,” you finally said. Pride written all over your face.

Makki's mischievous grin widens as he leans in, unable to resist adding fuel to the fire. "Don’t tell me you’re actually blushing bro," his tone light-hearted but teasing. Oikawa's cheeks flush even more at the remark, and he shoots Makki a mock glare.

Matsukawa chimes in with a smirk, "I thought you were the 'Grand King' Oikawa. Can't handle a little friendly ribbing?"

Between his nerves and his brain recovering from what you did to him, what Oikawa actually heard was, “Can't handle a little friendly rubbing?" And Oikawa's eyes widened slightly, a subtle shift in his demeanor as he realizes the implications of Matsukawa's words.

Oikawa’s voice raised an octave in panic, “WHAT DID YOU SEE?”

Iwaizumi’s smirk widened as he saw his friend's reaction, "Relax, Oikawa," he replies. "We didn't see anything, but your reaction says it all.”

Makki, always the one to jump in with his comments, couldn't resist adding his two cents. "y/n, honey, remind me to never play with your hair," a playful wink sent to you.

bonus. because i'm in love with iwa-chan and i couldn't help imagine this part even though it doesn't fit the story anymore

As the night went on, Iwaizumi found himself gravitating towards you more often than usual, his protective instincts kicking in. Whether it was subtly adjusting his position to make you more comfortable, offering you his jacket when the evening air turned colder, or simply engaging you in conversation with a gentle smile, his actions speak volumes about his care and concern for you. You can't help but feel a warmth spreading in your chest each time he looks out for you. Iwaizumi ended up leaning over and pulled you into a sideways hug, his arm draped casually around your shoulders. With a warm smile, he squeezes you gently, his voice soft as he says, “You feeling okay?” Not sure if he meant something regarding your alcohol intake or something about what happened tonight. Regardless, feeling the comforting weight of his arm around you, you lean into his embrace, grateful for having him in your life, like this.

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angelsanarchy · 3 months

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Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 34 {END}

Tagging: @ophelialaufey @madamemaximoff06 @forever-not-gonna-sink@ajmiila02@liquidsmoothdomme@shady-the-simp @auggiethecreator @tempt-ress @blacksoul-27 @shroomje

Oystein sat at the typewriter, drafting up a letter for Mayhem's fans. It had been at least nine months since Helvete was closed down, Varg had started his own label and had already put out a demo for his new band. They had auditioned all over Norway and beyond to find someone to re-record their album and they were in the final stages of putting it together.

Oystein didn't expect to fall so seamlessly into living with Y/n but life had been good. He felt like they lived a normal, surprisingly uneventfully fun life together. She decided that she wanted to quit her jobs and start studying in healthcare. He found it noble of her to want to focus on psychiatric care in such a time when people didn't take mental health serious in the slightest.

He had finally taken her home as his girlfriend for the holidays and his family was over the moon excited that they had finally gotten their stuff together enough to be a couple, no one more than his sister. She had made them matching bracelets to wear and made sure Oystein's was black.

Oystein had done exactly what Y/n had suggested and let the sting of Helvete closing burn off before he started looking at other buildings he could lease. Now that they were wrapping up the album, they planned to start the search for Helvete's new home.

Oystein heard the front door open and didn't bother looking up from what he was writing.

"Hey baby, I picked up dinner because I did not feel like cooking tonight." Y/n greeted him putting the food on the table and dropping her bags on a chair. She walked over and wrapped her arms around him from behind and looked over the letter he was proof reading.

"What do you think?" He asked looking it over.

"I think Black Metal is about to get one hell of an album." She kissed the side of his face and he smiled as she bumped his glasses with her lips. He spun around in his chair and put his hands on her hips.

"How was your day beautiful?" He asked pulling her into his lap.

"It was exhausting. I want to get in the bathtub and just soak for like an hour." Y/n rubbed circles into Oystein's chest and his eyebrows went up.

"Sounds nice although you don't look nearly dirty enough for a nice long soak." Oystein teased gripping her hips a little tighter.

"Oh yeah? You want to help with that I'm sure." She smirked at him as she grinded her hips down into his semi-hard cock.

"You know me, I'm a helpful guy." She laughed at his response and she leaned down to kiss him.

"Your dinners going to get cold." She warned as she started to get off his lap but he held onto her wrist.

"That's what the oven is for." He reminded pulling her back onto his lap. She laughed running her hands through his hair.

"Are you gonna leave you glasses on if I let you fuck me?" Y/n teased making Oystein purse his lips at her.

"Let me? You think you get to let me fuck you?" Oystein gripped the back of her neck holding her in place. She bit her lip as he moved his free hand between her thighs and felt the damp spot on her panties. He pulled them to the side and started to play with her clit.

"I fuck you whenever, wherever I want because you belong to me." Oystein sucked a spot on her chest that was exposed. She started to thrust her hips into Oystein's hand but the closer she got, the more she needed him.

"Oystein..." He was equally desperate for her as he tossed her legs off of him and started to undo his belt buckle and jeans. Y/n scrambled to pull her dress over her head and step out of her panties. She practically hurdled his hips to straddle him in the chair. She lowered herself slowly onto him letting out a groan but there was no patience in Oystein's hips as he started pistoning his cock into her. She bounced on his thighs, the sound of her skin slapping his and her moans filled the apartment as she held onto him for dear life.

"F-fuck.." Oystein whined. Y/n put her hand around his throat and squeezed making him look up at her. His glasses were slightly fogged from having his head against her chest.

"You full so good baby. I want you to cum inside of me. I want it. Please." She begged and Oystein's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he continuously slammed his cock into her. When he did cum, Y/n swiveled her hips feeling his load dripping out of her and onto his thigh. He hummed as he tried to come down from his orgasm and she smiled. Once he was able to look at her, he chuckled at the fog covering his lenses. She pulled the glasses off and smiled giving him a sweet kiss.

"Hold on." He said making her throw her arms around his neck as he got up and shuffled them towards the bed. She laughed as his feet squeaked along the floor before she landed on her back on the bed. He silently went back to rubbing her clit and using his fingers to bring her to the same ending as he was. He wasn't sure what was his cum and her own release as it leaked onto the bedspread.

"Don't stop baby. I'm gonna cum." Y/n cried out and Oystein kept his eyes on her face as she came on his fingers, waiting for her to grip his wrist to stop him from overstimulating her.

The two of them lay next to eachother and smiled.

"I think that's the first time we've fucked at your desk." Y/n pointed out. Oystein nodded his head.

"All the time we've been here and we haven't fucked at my desk, kind of hard to believe." Oystein chuckled.

"Well that's your work station. I don't usually like to bother you when you're working on something." Y/n pushed some of his hair off his face and he smiled.

"If you think riding my cock is a bother, I'm clearly doing something wrong." He joked.

"We'll have to make a list of the places we have left to christen around here." Y/n looked around and Oystein agreed.

"We've got plenty of time for that...for now, I need your help getting out of my pants so we can heat up dinner." Oystein looked down at his legs and Y/n laughed seeing the mess of pants, underwear, loosened belts and boots around his ankles.

"You're a mess." She teased helping him take his boots off so he could slip his legs out of his pants.

"Yeah but you love it." He lifted her chin with his thumb and she smirked as he held her chin.

"I do...to hell and back." He smiled at her before kissing her sweetly.

END

#R!Euronymous #R!Euronymous x Y/N #Films: Lords of Chaos #Alkaline #Alkaline Series #One Shot Series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #END #I can't believe this is over #sorry if the ending is corny

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sillymercury · 3 months

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Stolen Lullabies

Summary: When war returns to Pyrthian the inner circle finds themselves on the losing side. In a desperate attempt to turn the tides three brother perform a forgotten spell to call forth a great power through time and space. What happens when that ‘great power’ is a human girl who knows nothing of magic? Will she be of use or has destiny abandoned them?

Word count: 4.5k

Part i (Prythian Version)

Part i

New York ver.

Este let out a deep breath as she analyzed her outfit for what felt like the millionth time, observing her pieces over and over again. One minute she hated everything and the next she thought she was God’s gift to earth. Being a perfectionist has its downsides, especially when running behind schedule. She could probably add and take away accessories, try on different shoes, or switch out the jacket over and over again for hours.

The leather mini skirt she had on was her favorite of the night and the studded belt and silver chain that hung off her hips were the perfect add-ons. The top was a beige mesh corset that made Este’s modest chest more boisterous, she also had a long leather jacket that cleared her skirt and landed at her mid-thigh. With her neck and wrists layered in silver jewelry, she threw on some suede calf boots that matched her corset. Her hair was falling to her mid back in tight black curls. With her outfit out of the way she began to play around with her hair: up, down, half up-half down.

The sound of the phone ringing pulled her attention away from her reflection and had her diving into her bed to grab the cell phone that lay atop. It was her manager, no doubt asking where she was. She swiped across her screen to answer the FaceTime call.

“There’s my favorite pop star!” Shayla’s voice rang loudly out of the iPhone speakers. Shayla, the aforementioned manager and team leader, had been taking care of Este for the past couple of months since she signed with her Music company. Signing with the company was a dream come true for Este, after 2 of her songs went massively viral on nearly every platform she was offered a 15 million dollar deal that she immediately accepted. The company was most indulgent with artistic freedom, whether her demos were rock, hip-hop, or alternative, they accepted it all with open arms. After spending the last couple of months perfecting her first EP it’s finally dropping tonight at midnight. All of the effort put into her outfit was for the release party, Shayla tried to offer up a stylist but Este declined and ranted about being ‘authentic.’ “Are you ready for me to pick you up?”

Este shook her head, “I’m still figuring out my hair and I need to do my makeup. I’ll be ready soon Shay-Shay La-La”

“Uggghhhh, I swear to god you were born late,” Shayla exaggerated, “but seriously you don��t need makeup, and just leave your hair down it’s literally gorgeous.” Shayla was always dishing out compliments so Este just shook her head with a small laugh and pushed her single blond curl behind her ear before nodding. “I’m coming now to get you.”

“No!” Este responded slightly too quickly, earning a confused face from Shay. “I just mean it’s only a couple blocks… I want to walk.” Este’s stomach had been doing flips all evening and she blamed it on nerves but some primal part of her told her this anxiety was different. Like it was warning her of something that was on its way… something big. She wanted to be alone for as long as she could to ground herself before mingling with artists, executives, influencers, and whoever else may be at her party.

“Oh… everything all right?” Though they hadn't known each other too long, Shay knew that when Este insisted on going for a walk it meant her soul was feeling heavy.

“Yea… Yea! Just nerves you know,” Este did her best to make herself sound perky and excited even though she felt like her stomach was about to fall out of her ass. “I need the walk to bring myself back down to earth and I'm actually about to leave now!”

“I thought you-” Shay narrowed her eyes and brought her phone closer to her face, Este just smiled as she was being observed. “Okay, okay.” Shayla saw right through her but decided to leave it, Este thanked a metaphorical god for this. “I’ll see you there princessa!”

Este kept from breathing out a relieved sigh and responded cheerily, “Perfect see you there!” She went to hang up but a nagging question lingered in the back of her head and stopped her from pressing that big red button. “Actually um,” she paused, not knowing how to ask casually, “Did my mother ever get back to you? Do you know if she’ll be there?”

Shay took a minute before responding, the hard line that her mouth was set in gave Este her answer. “She read the message but she didn't RSVP… I'm sorry Este.” Este just shook her head as Shay went on, “But hey! There is going to be like a million and one people there who are excited for you and proud of all the work you've put into this.” Shay was nodding, trying to get Este to agree with her, “Let’s have fun, yeah?”

“Yes! Lots of fun,” Este’s enthusiasm was too over the top to be natural and they both knew it. “I'll see you there,” was the only other thing she said before quickly hanging up. The sigh Este was holding in finally shoved out of her mouth as she shoved herself off the bed and out the door, into the street. The wretched smells of the city attacked Este the moment she stepped outside earning a scowl.

New York was the perfect place for an upcoming artist but having been raised in the country side- Este had a natural distaste for the city. The sounds kept her up at night, the smells nauseated her, and the trash was…everywhere. While she loved walks through the city it seemed she never had an enjoyable one; always getting catcalled or stepping in something she didn’t want to identify. The worse part of it all was every single experience, whether she liked it or not, was locked away in her mind and kept in mint condition.

Though today Este’s mind was too busy to think of all the things she hated, she had that horrible nagging feeling eating away at her gut. Maybe that nagging feeling was her mother’s fault, she pondered.

Este had always been the apple of her mother’s eye, the perfect, gifted genius. Her mother would refer to her as “The mind of a generation” and tell her that she was going to revolutionize science and bring the world into a new era. No one ever attested to that notion, Este had an eidetic memory that much more resembles hyperthymesia and an IQ of 186. She was indeed amongst the greatest minds of her generation.

Everything changed when Este started making music. It became an obsession that consumed every waking moment. She had always loved music, having a taste for every genre, but her intense studies never allowed her indulgence. Her world changed when she met an unimportant boy who taught her how to hold drum sticks. He was totally useless other than the few free lessons she got out of him. After she dumped him where she found him, she began learning multiple instruments and how to produce music in a matter of weeks. It soon became all she did, she even began to neglect her schoolwork. Her mother reprimanded her many times, at the time she was 19 and a 3rd-year doctoral candidate, telling her that she worked too hard for too long to throw everything away for a “silly hobby.”

She tried to tell her mother that the silly hobby was her passion but was shot down every time. She insisted that Este had a duty to her gifts and it was her job to make the world a “better place” somehow. It was then she realized pursuing the scientific field was her mother’s dream for her and not her own. Everything came to a head when Este announced she was dropping out of college to focus on her music. If her mother ever was going to give birth to a cow, it would've been that day. The reaction consisted of screaming, crying, a couple of broken household items, and words that could never be taken back. One explosive fight later and she hasn't talked to her mother in 8 months, not when she got signed, not when she was featured on a top-charting song, and not even on her birthday.

Her mother had made it known how disappointed she was, claiming that she was throwing her life away and she wanted nothing to do with it. She said she would only talk to Este if and when she “came to her senses.” Her father didn't take her side either but he had given up on her when she made it clear she wasn't using her genius to further the American military-industrial complex. Her older brother… well after being compared to Este for the entirety of their life she couldn’t blame him for walking out and rejecting the entire family completely. The only one who stood behind her was her younger sister but May had idolized her ever since she was old enough to understand the term “greatness.”

Este shook her head hoping the thoughts of her familial drama would dissipate. She shoved her hands in her pocket and commended the version of herself from an hour ago that threw a lighter and spliff in there. She put the joint between her lips and as she lit it she scoffed thinking about how her mother would react to her newfound habit. The world would gain another cow.

Her pace slowed to a leisurely walk as she enjoyed the burning sensation from the marijuana and how it numbed her brain and body as well as mask the smells of the city. Her brain felt uncontrollable at times but the effects of the drug slowed down her cognitive function enough to feel normal.

The hotel where the party was being hosted was less than 4 blocks away but Este decided not to take the straight shot. She still had 45 minutes before people would be showing up and figured that was enough time to take a spill around the plaza so she did exactly that. As she walked around she focused on the bustling crowd, the wind that pushed and pulled the foliage, and the many sounds of the city. The weed now infiltrating her system had mellowed her out enough to actually be able to enjoy her city and not have a cynical response to everything in her path. So the walk did what it was meant to, she felt lighter and less stressed as she sat on the edge of the fountain to finish off her spliff before heading to the hotel.

She opened her phone and was faced with the paper she had made it halfway through, even though she wasn’t studying it anymore she still loved science. When you spend years of your life completely devoted to something it’s hard to leave completely in the past. The paper was published by the DOE detailing their breakthrough in nuclear fusion ignition, this controlled reaction was the future of clean energy on this planet.

She read the details of the intricate lasers, they contained 2.05 MJ of energy and when shot at a nucleus made up of two light nuclei the fusion reaction produced 3.15 MJ of clean energy. She had a particular interest in the experimental design, reading up on the diagnostics, target fabrication, and the computer simulations that were used. As she read the back of her mind was coming up with ways to apply this breakthrough to day-to-day life, the cynical part saying the US military would probably be the first to apply the concept to some unnecessary war machine.

“That one seems to like you,” a gentle voice came from her left. Reluctantly dragging her attention from her phone, she lifted her head to see an older, stout man. He was probably in his late sixties and based on the bag of nuts he was throwing around for squirrels she assumed he was enjoying his retirement. He had a crooked finger pointed at Este’s feet and when she looked down she noticed a single squirrel circling her her. There was a plethora of squirrels around the old man but this particular one did seem to like her.

“Hmm, looks like he does,” Este chuckled in response. She stood up and took a few steps and the squirrel seemed to follow her, she was laughing now. The influence she was under had her laughing a little harder than she should but she didn't care, the squirrel was adorable.

“Here,” was all the old man said as he handed her a small handful of nuts, Este took the nuts in her hand and thanked the old man before sprinkling some on the ground. The squirrel ran around greedily gobbling up every single nut. She placed a small pile on the lip of the fountain where she was just sitting and her new little friend jumped right up and went to town.

“Oh my gosh,” Este gushed as the joint hung lazily off her lips and she pulled out her phone for a photo. She giggled as she snapped away, getting plenty of angles to show off to whoever would pretend to care at the party later. With the phone mere inches from her face she noticed through the screen some abnormal movement in the fountain behind the squirrel. “Woah,” she let out as she dropped her hands and focused fully on the fountain, cursing the laziness that kept her from putting in her contacts as she had to squint. “Does it usually do that?”

“Well, most squirrels only come up to people they know have food but-” the old man was in the middle of answering before Este shook her head wildly. She stepped closer to the fountain and the sight became more clear.

“No, not the squirrel. The fountain,” Este grabbed the joint and used that same hand to point at the water that was moving rapidly now.

“Oh- Huh?” The old man glanced over his shoulder at the water before shaking his head, “Do what?”

Este looked at the man incredulously, the water was glowing now. It looked like someone had melted gold, added about 50 pounds of glitter, and was now mixing it about the fountain. “That!” Este exclaimed, pointing again, “Swirl and glow.” She moved closer still until she was leaning over the lip looking at the wild water.

The man stood up this time before turning to look again, “What are you getting at!” The old man threw his arms in the air as he exclaimed but Este was barely even listening. A harsh wind was coming from the water and blowing her hair about wildly, the wind seemed to wrap around her and pull her in closer. The water was humming, a melody that felt familiar but she knew she has never heard. It was inviting, and comforting, the sensation felt perfectly safe as she reached a hand out to touch the top of the liquid gold. She could vaguely hear the old man raving about smoking too many funny cigarettes when all of it was drowned out the moment her finger came in contact with the water.

The sounds of the city turned to warbling as she was yanked into the fountain, but she never hit the bottom, she just kept falling. The warbling turned to whooshing as she fell faster and faster. The water felt thick and warm as it encompassed every inch of her being, All of the exposed skin had the sensation of pins and needles, she tried to reach her hands out to grab something, anything but the dense substance made any voluntary movement nearly impossible. She couldn't do anything except let herself fall, so that's what she did.

The end was closing in as she seemed to slow and the warbling sound came back, Este was fully expecting to fall next to the fountain but when she fell on her ass it wasn’t onto concrete.

Este groaned after she hit the ground, it wasn't a hard impact but enough to hurt. She rolled to her knees and as she was pushing herself up she noticed the cold wet floor. It was covered in jagged rocks and puddles. She pushed herself up and looked around. It was hard to see, but she made out that she was… in a cave? There was cold wind blowing off the rocks, water dripping from the ceiling, and a damp earthy smell all around.

Este felt her heart rate rise as she looked around, it was incredibly dark and stuffy. The smell caught her off guard and the breeze had her clutching her body. The light from the swirling water she just appeared from was above her head on the ceiling of the cave and the glow was fading. The only thought in Estes' brain was confusion. She looked down at the joint that was somehow still lit in her hand and noticed she was completely dry. The fountain and the old man were nowhere to be seen.

Okay, she thought, hallucinations?

She looked at the joint again before aggressively throwing it down and stomping it out. “Jesus Christ,”she muttered as she stomped. When she turned around she realized she wasn't alone, her body reacted instinctively and she jumped back, letting out a yelp at the sight. There were three men in front of her, three very large men. Este herself was tall, standing at 5’8, she was still a good foot shorter than the shortest one. With the glow gone, she could barely make out rippling muscles and… wings?

Her eyes bulged before squinting, the only light now was barely glowing red and blue LEDs that were strapped to two of the men’s chests. She couldn't make out anything other than the outline of their body, not their facial features or whatever those huge things on their back were.

“It’s a girl,” echoed off the wall. It was a deep and rough voice, an intimidating voice that held a hint of confusion. Este instinctively took a step back. “A tiny girl.” The voice now had a slightly mocking tone and Este’s blood ran cold. Her head filled with terrible and violent visions of what three strange men might do with “a tiny girl” like her.

Stumbling backward her back hit the wall of the cave and she felt trapped, the part of her brain that hadn’t switched to fight or flight was grappling for an explanation. The majority of her brain was trying to come up with a next move, if she ran their long legs would catch up to her in a near instant, but if she stayed…

She clocked the silhouettes once again and decided fighting was off the table. She tried to control the shaking that had taken over her body as she pushed her brain to come up with something, anything. She contemplated screaming, throwing rocks, and biting sensitive body parts when the middle one spoke.

“Don’t worry,” this voice was smooth and silky, it sounded comforting but Este’s logical brain wouldn’t fall for it. She could vaguely make out hands that were held up in front of him as he took a step forward. “We brought you here… to help us.”

Este didn’t bother to try and understand what the man was saying, her a-million-miles-an-hour thoughts were halted. Something else had caught her attention. A black mass had begun moving behind the men. It looked like it was seeping out of the cave walls, twisting and swirling in an unnatural way. Her eyes would have caught it if its darkness wasn’t so potent.

The mass was darker than dark, so black that it stood out against the rest of the inky environment. Este’s shaking became more violent as she watched the mass, it seemed to grow and was now surrounding the men and pooling unnoticed at their feet. Whatever comfort was in the second man’s voice was stolen by the eeriness of the creature.

“We won’t hurt you,” he stepped forward again and Este didn’t care, her focus stayed behind him. She saw something in the mass, she squinted harder trying to understand what she was seeing. It looked like the mass was producing sharp blades, tens of them layered on top of each other. No. Not blades. Teeth.

She meant to speak, to ask about the ominous mass but her voice betrayed her. She was only able to point, to gesture to the thing moving around them. She made out three heads turning over their shoulders and took the opening.

Este ran. She didn’t know if she was running deeper into the cave or towards an exit but she didn’t care. She just cared to put distance between her and that thing, getting away from those men was a plus. Behind her, she heard a low “Shit,” that matched the first voice. There was also the unmistakable sound of swords unsheathing.

“What the hell? What the hell? What in the hell!?” was what she screamed in her head as she was taking off. She had weird dreams but swords and monsters? She hadn’t conjured anything like that since her juvenile years.

Ester cursed the heels on her feet, not only were they slowing her down but they were loud. That thing or those guys could easily just follow the sound of her steps. She didn’t let up though, she pushed herself as hard as she could, thanking Shay for buying her that gym membership.

She glanced over her shoulder to see how much distance she had gained but upon glancing she saw the man with the blue LEDs was a few paces away from grabbing her.

The shock of seeing him so close made Este stumble and trip over her own frantic feet. A second yelp fell from her lips but she never hit the ground. Strong arms wrapped around her torso and she was pressed into a steely warm body.

A terrible scream tore through her throat, and flailing began “Help! Help m-“

Este was cut off when a large hand firmly covered half of her face. The action was so rough it restricted her airflow from her nose and mouth. Knowing it was futile she still tried to break free anyway. Nails digging into the foreign skin and legs kicking about wildly. She tried to drop her weight and fall out of his arms but he held firm.

She felt a warm breath on her ear that covered her neck and shoulders in goosebumps as it carried a harsh shh. “Screaming like that is going to get us killed.” This voice was a new one, rich and heavy. It was the kind of voice that conveyed an intuitive pensivity. The kind of voice that would stop people in their tracks and drag their attention to whatever was being said.

The coolness of the cave was lost on Este as her body raised many a degree. Her rational brain told her it was the lack of oxygen and the energy she was exerting in her struggle.

She had two options: give in or pass out. She was sure the man knew this too. Deciding not to be unconscious in the company of a strange man she started smacking his arm ferociously. The man uncovered Este’s nose but not her mouth. She jerked her head about trying to get him to uncover her mouth too but he responded simply, “Sorry, I can’t take that chance.”

Este took greedy breaths through her nose and the mildew smell was long gone. It had been replaced with a plentiful teakwood scent, a sweet honey-like undertone, and an uncured resemblance to a freshwater stream. The relaxation was involuntary, her tense muscles relaxed and this time she was dead weight against the chest instead of trying to fall away from it. The man let out a low hum that reverberated through her body and eased her soul. She closed her eyes and took a few more deep breaths before pensively grabbing the hand on her mouth. The man must’ve clocked the change in Este’s demeanor because he let his hand fall away.

She turned and was faced with a chest, craning her neck she couldn't make out any details of his face. He was encompassed in darkness with only the faint flickering blue light to illuminate the bottom of his face. She could see strong cheekbones, full lips, and a sharp jaw but the rest was just shadows.

“Where am I?” Her voice came out as a faint whisper. His body heat was rolling onto her in waves and she had to physically hold herself back from sinking back into the stranger’s warmth.

“We’re-“ he started but then his lips fell into a thin line as he assessed her, “It’s a long story.”

A man of few words. Normally Este would appreciate that but now she was in a strange dark cave with a strange dark man and any story is better than the one she was concocting in her head. She thought up a schizophrenic break, a weird new drug that was slipped to her without noticing, or maybe a bizarre and realistic dream.

“I’m sure I can keep up,” Este spoke firmly. No nice smell or body heat was going to keep her from rationality. She wouldn’t go with him, at least not willing, without an explanation that made sense.

“We need to get out of here,” he pushed past her, clasping a large hand around her wrist, essentially dragging her behind him.

“What? No! I’m not going anywhere with you.” Estes' volume had increased so showed her sincerity. She tried to rip her hand away but alas his grip was strong. Although she was sure wherever she was being led was better than here her stubbornness wouldn’t let up. She dug her heels into the ground in an attempt to keep from being dragged any further.

He turned around and she didn’t need to see his face to know he was annoyed, it was dripping in his voice. “Either you can come with me or I can throw you over my shoulder and you can come with me. How do you want to do this?” His grip on her wrist tightened and he yanked her arm pulling her close to him again.

She pushed back against his chest and he let her step back, ‘how courteous’ she thought sarcastically. “I’m not going anywhere with you! I don’t know you, or where the hell this is, or what the hell is going on. And if you’re not going to tell me tha-“

He cut her off with his hand again, grabbing her and turning her back to his chest again as he assessed the cave. “Shh! Don’t make a sound. Don’t even breathe.” His voice was so low she wasn’t even sure it could be considered a whisper. It was quieter than the dripping sound coming from somewhere deeper in the cave and she’s sure she wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t so close. His demeanor had shifted and that scared Este, not necessarily of him but of whatever caused the shift.

She tried to assess their surroundings as well but her eyes couldn’t make much of anything out. The man took a step forward, the action forced Este to step too, and when she did her heel clacked against the floor. They both froze at the sound and Este looked down at her boots, cursing them. Este wasn’t sure why but she knew she just fucked up. It was confirmed by the stranger's sharp breath and newly rigid body.

When Este looked up she saw the mass, the creature from before. Or maybe it was a second one. The teeth, the swirling darkness, it was all much closer than the previous one. This time without a wall of men in between, this time she was the wall. A primordial fear seeped into her bones she couldn’t help the shaking. She had premonitions of what that thing would do to her, and she was sure the stranger would throw her into it for a chance to save himself.

His grip loosened and she took that as confirmation of her fear, a soft sob stole from her lips as she felt the hot tears of fear prickling her eyes. That thing must be attracted to sound because the sob was enough for the mass to start rushing forward. It was swirling in on itself as the dark mist cleared the the short stretch between them.

The man did indeed shove her but not into the mass. He shoved her out of the way into the cave wall. He must’ve underestimated his own strength because she hit the wall- hard. Her head made contact first and the last thing she heard was a sword unsheathing as unconsciousness engulfed her.

A/N: Here we gooo, part i(New York version) from Este’s perspective. I’m excited to write this multi part fic and if one person enjoys it I’m happy😭

If you got this far I love you and if you want to check out part i(Prythian version) you can find it here

Also to all my NYC homies I’m so sorry, i really do love your city but it’s important for Ms. Este to dislike it, pls forgive meeee

Masterlist

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aces-and-angels · 5 months

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countdown to 2024 @choicesfandomappreciation

deadlines? we don't know her😗💅🏼 so many works to shoutout- so brace yourselves gang- this'll be a long one

now- without further ado- here are some writers that made my year:

🖤@thedistantshoresproject

sending love to the whole team on board who are working tirelessly to finish this magnificent project. i was so excited to read the demo this year! knowing how long the journey has been and reading the updates each week- i realize how weary yall must be and hope that i can convey my gratitude for bringing back our favorite pirates in one awesome sequel 🖤

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🖤@bloodboundsiege

another demo for the books- and another fanmade project that i am rooting for; i personally have only read through finn's demo but i'm already in love with all the characters. plus- who wouldn't be excited for the chance to romance gaius??? there is a ton of lore in op's blog for all the new lis that i 100% recommend to read through. excited to see what's in store in the new year!

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🖤@hashiedraws

the way i ran to play this story when it dropped😭 if yall are fans of ilw- then you may know that one of the artists released this wonderful vn this year. it's a story that keeps on serving 🎾 the artwork is incredible and the accompanying story is an absolute treasure. i was on the floor- in tears- jaw-dropped. trust me- it was an experience. one i recommend yall take too 😊

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🖤 @lovehugsandcandy

the queen of colt- and tbh- one of my literary muses. your writing is such an inspiration to me and having you back on the dash this year for blades was definitely a highlight 🖤 a snippet from one of my favorite fics this year:

read 'bound' here "Of course. We have plenty of time for that... don't we?" “Because you’re not leaving?” He squeezes her hand. “I’m not leaving.” It’s a whisper more powerful than any rope.

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🖤@jerzwriter

the heart you have is so warm and inviting- and it shows with each work you've shared🖤 i've cherished reading your works for trystan x carolina- picking one to highlight seems cruel but i'll give it a shot lol. their banter/dynamic is so beautifully portrayed and never fails to bring a smile to my face:

read 'tricks and treats' here “There is no Trystan,” he snickered, playfully pulling her close. “Only the Big Bad Wolf..uh.. no.. I mean Grandma! I’m Grandma, trust me.” “Grandma? What big paws you have!” she beamed as he nuzzled into her neck and playfully growled. “The better to paw you with, my dear...” “Well, you can paw me once we get to the party. We’re very late.”

---

🖤@theoriginaltortuga

your four part series- 'responsibility, rage, and recent resurrection' was such a good read and deserves some love. it ain't a secret i'm a big ilw fan- and a sucker for bonus scenes. reading a more fleshed out version of connor's eventual turning was *chef's kiss* immaculate- i shamelessly go back to this fic from time to time:

read 'responsibility, rage, and recent resurrection' here Grief and terror had been a part of Connor since the night Devon died. The feelings came and went, but they never left completely and Connor worried that he would never feel peace again. With Devon alive but unconscious, a massacre set for a few days, and the man who’d killed his mother on the loose; those feelings were more overwhelming than ever. Not to mention the anger that had been festering in his chest since his mom was killed. All of it led back to one simple thing: Westchester wasn’t safe.

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🖤@linkysmommy

mother lincoln- i wanna thank you for blessing me with not only ilw itself but ilw fics (and some other works of yours i've recently had the pleasure of reading😉) though, imma pivot real quick from ilw and actually give some praise to another project of yours- and the reason i downloaded storyloom in the first place- open heart: a toxic situation. what a story full of mystery, romance, and ✨bryce✨ (there are multiple lis to choose from- i just really love bryce lmao)

read this beauty right here

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🖤 @saibug1022

the angst legend- i go to you for the hurt lmaoo. but really- it is a talent to write the way you do and i'm lucky to reap the benefits of reading your work. the time you put into crafting your mcs- making them fully fleshed out blorbos- then giving the most heart-wrenching scenarios to deal with- incredible✨ here's some love for the villain stories out there:

read 'a funeral of faith' here “I had no place in Undermount while humans and orcs treated me like an outsider. I was kidnapped and tortured while my friends and two of the men I loved gave up on me and left me to die. And the other man I loved used and betrayed me for power and disappeared when I still forgave him.”

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🖤 @professor-abeloved

prepare to be adored, admired, and appreciated- your mcs are everything to me. the way you write is so special and uniquely you- and i love your work dearly. i've got your fics seared in my brain- here's one of the many (bc we as a fandom silently agreed that linc angst just hits different):

read 'lincoln's bad day' here “Sorry,” Ro called out for what felt like the nth time with an awkward grimace. “You okay? I can get an ice pack or a salonpas or—” “It’s fine,” Lincoln says, clutching his aching jaw. In some weird way, it’s surprisingly… therapeutic? There’s something about a being confronted with such raw, unimaginable Power that has the capacity to utterly destroy you if it chooses, but instead it’s draping a small, lilac cardigan over your shoulders as it looks you over for bruises. read 'lincoln's bad day' here “Sorry,” Ro called out for what felt like the nth time with an awkward grimace. “You okay? I can get an ice pack or a salonpas or—” “It’s fine,” Lincoln says, clutching his aching jaw. In some weird way, it’s surprisingly… therapeutic? There’s something about a being confronted with such raw, unimaginable Power that has the capacity to utterly destroy you if it chooses, but instead it’s draping a small, lilac cardigan over your shoulders as it looks you over for bruises.

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🖤@mydemonsdrivealimo

bless your beautiful, magnificent brain- atp your hcs are my canon lmaoo. bryce and jensen are so special to me and it's no secret how much love you've poured into them through your work. slowly but surely, i'm getting around to reading all the fics of theirs. the ones i have read were amazing. time to shower praise for your most recent work (also i'm rooting for you- writer's block is a biatch):

read 'halloween' here “Hey, sorry,” Bryce said, giving his waist a quick squeeze before unceremoniously flopping into one of the chairs, the force sending it back enough that Jensen had to pull him closer. “You’re lucky I didn’t lock you out and eat it for you,” Jensen said with a quick wave to the food in front of him, taking a seat in his own chair. “M’fucking starving.” He was already shoveling crab rangoon into his mouth, ignoring the steam coming off of it.

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🖤 @aria-ashryver

a ray of sunshine- you deserve the world and more🥰 one thing on my to-do list for the new year is to finally sit down and read SICSIG. from the snippets i've seen, i know i'll treasure the heck out of it. when i do- i apologize in advance for the person i become lmao (give it up for the poly romance yall)

read 'snow in crimson, starlight in gold' here

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🖤@me

self-love, amirite? reading through old works is either a hit or miss for me lol- but the process of writing has been a welcome journey of mine. from the frantic word vomit to staring at a blinking cursor- it's been a ride. and i'm thankful to everyone above for inspiring me to keep moving forward 🖤

read whatever yall want here

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this list could go on and on and i'm definitely missing some people- but to the writers out there: you are the heartbeat of the fandom and we are lucky to have you 🖤

#playchoices #choices #choices countdown to 2024

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lemoncrushh · 2 months

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The Entertainer - Track 02 - Looks Like Rain

Summary: Set in the 70s, Sky Jones, a young woman from L.A., meets Harry Styles, an up-and-coming musician and frontman for the band Wildfire. Told in first person from Sky’s point of view, she shares her journey and what it’s like to fall for a rockstar.

STORY PAGE

Track 02 Word Count: 2.5k

“He likes you.”

“He does not.”

“Yes, he does.”

“Likes me. What are we, twelve?”

Halo scoffed. “Then why do you think he keeps coming over with Mitch?”

“For the free beer and pot.”

“Gimme a break, would you? He likes you.”

“He hasn’t even tried to kiss me, Halo!”

“Have you tried to kiss him?”

“No.”

“Why the fuck not?”

I stopped drying off the plate I was holding and gave her a dirty look.

“He sleeps on the couch.”

“So what? Go out there sometime and show him what he’s missing.”

I scowled, threw the dish towel on the counter, and walked out of the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Halo called. “We’re not done.”

“I am,” I plopped on the sofa and pouted.

“Sky,” Halo said, following me into the living room, “sometimes you have to make the first move if you wanna get laid.”

I looked up at her incredulously.

“Maybe I don’t wanna ‘get laid’,” I mimicked, using air quotes.

“Really? ‘Cause…he’s really fucking cute.”

“I know he is!” I shouted, throwing my head back and covering my face with my hands as I groaned.

“Then what’s the problem?”

I listened to my breathing until it slowed. Then dropping my hands, I opened my eyes and looked at Halo.

“He acts like I’m just one of the guys. We talk about music and all that, and honestly, I really love that, but…I just feel like he thinks of me as a pal.”

Halo glared at me for a minute before rolling her eyes.

“I still think he likes you.”

And with that she turned back to the kitchen to finish the dishes.

For the next two weeks, Harry spent more nights at my place than his own. I blamed it on the fact that Mitch was with Halo and that we’d stay up late and he didn’t feel like going home alone. But part of me wondered if there wasn’t another reason. I did consider Halo’s statement that Harry liked me, but I just couldn’t believe that was true. Not when he hadn’t done much more than lay his head on my shoulder. He did hug me after a show one night, but I chalked that up to joy and adrenaline.

One time when Harry stayed over after a night of beer drinking games, I woke up and had to pee really bad, so I tiptoed out of my room, sneaking a peek in the living room. I watched Harry sleep for a minute or two, admiring his calm face and the beauty of his shut eyelids before making my way to the bathroom. On my way back though, he stirred and rolled onto his side.

“Hi,” I heard him say, or at least I thought he did. I wondered if I’d imagined it when I whispered “hi” back, but got no other response, so I simply returned to my room and closed the door behind me.

The next Friday night, Wildfire was playing at The Troubadour. It was a big deal. Word had it that their demo was making the rounds and several record executives, producers and managers would be attending. Halo and I took on the job as honorary band promoters, which basically meant we were cheerleaders. It wasn’t hard to do. The band was on fire that night. I mean, they really lived up to their name.

I stood at the front, next to the stage, singing along to all the words since I knew them already. I caught Harry smiling at me a few times, which only made me all the more excited.

After the show, I followed Halo backstage where she was in Mitch’s lap within two seconds, even though he hadn’t even bothered to remove his sweaty shirt yet. I leaned against the wall trying my best not to watch them neck when I heard someone give a wolf howl behind me. Harry appeared with his arms held high, a beer in each hand.

“Rock and Roll!” he cheered. The rest of the band hollered.

“This is fuckin’ it, man!” exclaimed Lee. “That was the best show we’ve ever done! And at the fuckin’ Troubadour, man!”

The band continued to whoop and howl until Harry finally noticed me standing there, looking like a strange little wallflower with a crooked smile.

“Here you go, darlin’,” he held a beer out to me. “Let’s have a toast. To music. To this fuckin’…AMAZING BAND!”

Everyone cheered again and we clinked beer bottles, guzzling it down as fast as we could.

“Party at your place?” Harry raised a brow, pointing at me.

“Wh-well…I…”

“Yeah, let’s go!” squealed Halo, her arm around Mitch’s neck.

The rest of the crew followed them out of the dressing room, leaving me and Harry.

“I don’t think we have any more beer,” I commented.

Harry chuckled. “No worries, love. We’ll think of something.”

The party was in full swing before Harry even arrived. The band had to tear down and pack up their gear, so Halo and I stopped at the store and bought a few things. We didn’t really need to though. By the time we got home, a keg was being delivered. The rest of the band soon followed, but no Harry.

“He was talking to some guy when we left,” explained Lee. “He told us to go ahead, he’ll be along shortly.”

Shortly, however, turned into over an hour later. There was a loud bang at the door, and I rushed to open it, afraid it was a neighbor complaining about the noise, or worse, the cops. But it was Harry. He almost fell into me, his body swaying like a swinging door loose on its hinges.

“Hey!” he greeted with bloodshot eyes, his hand still on the door frame.

“Hey yourself,” I muttered, nearly catching him before I shut the door. He was clearly drunk. “How did you get here?”

“Don’t remember. Oh yeah. S’mebody gave me a ride.”

“And something else apparently.”

Harry held up a finger like he was going to protest, or at least explain himself, but then quickly dropped his hand. “Yeah.” Then he saw the display of liquor on the counter. “Oh hey, let’s do shots!”

“Um, Harry, I think maybe we should go this way. I can fix you some coffee. Or tea.”

Harry yanked his arm from my grasp and gave me a dirty look. I’d never seen him look at me that way before. It scared me.

“I said I want shots.” He walked around me toward the other side of the counter and began to pour brown liquor into a glass.

“But…don’t you think…”

Harry whirled around, stopping me in my tracks.

“Y’don’t fuckin’ own me! Alright? Y’don’t get to tell me what t’do!”

“O-okay.”

I couldn’t breathe for the lump in my throat as I watched Harry drink another shot, the alcohol not even affecting him. Then he grabbed the entire bottle and crossed the room. My chest felt like it was closing in, and I needed some fresh air. I made my way to the patio, shutting the sliding glass door behind me.

I took a few deep, much needed breaths as I stared out into the early morning sky. It wasn’t quite dawn yet, but the clouds told me there was most likely rain coming. Very fitting, because I felt like a big storm was brewing already.

I heard a burst of loud music and turned around suddenly to see Harry stepping onto the patio. He said nothing, merely glared at me, the sound of “Purple Haze” being muffled as he closed the sliding door. I stared at him as he stepped closer, gripping the handrail next to me. He swayed back and forth, and for a moment I wasn’t sure if he wasn’t going to try to jump over, throw up, or both.

“You okay?” I finally asked, my concern never faltering.

“Fine. Just needed some air.”

“Me too.”

We were both quiet until I took another deep breath.

“I like when the sky’s like this,” I commented.

“It’s grey,” said Harry sharply. “Looks like rain.”

“I know. That’s why I like it. It’s like my name.”

“I didn’t think that was your real name.”

I could detect the tone in his voice and knew without looking at him that he was not being curious, but rather mocking me. I played it cool.

“It’s not my birth name, no. But I think it fits me better than any other name I could’ve been given, don’t you? It’s because of my eyes,” I explained, turning to face him. I urged him to look at me…hoping he’d notice and give me one of his smiles that I liked so much. “The color of them. They’re like a cloudy sky just before the rain.”

Harry scoffed and shook his head. “Some lad you fancied told you that?”

I froze in my spot, simultaneously wanting to punch him and cry and run away. Why was he being so mean?

“No,” I replied, my bottom lip trembling. “Halo came up with it. I thought it sounded pretty.”

Harry rolled his eyes and turned to go inside.

I think if the door hadn’t opened a few minutes later, I would have eventually started crying. But I’d been trying to hold myself together, willing myself not to let some stupid guy get to me. Not some dumb musician who’d been sleeping on my couch and drinking all my beer. I wiped my eyes of the nonexistent tears and turned around.

“Oh, you scared me!” I exclaimed when I noticed it was Halo.

“Sorry. What are you doing out here?” She joined me at the railing, pretending like she was watching the clouds with me, but I knew better.

“Please don’t say I’m a hypocrite, Halo.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t be in there with him.”

“Who? Harry?”

I nodded. “He took something, I think. Before he showed up. He’s acting…different.”

“Really? What do you think he’s on?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t like him like that.”

Halo turned around, leaning her back against the railing. “Why would I think you’re a hypocrite?”

I side-eyed her.

“We smoke pot, Sky,” she rolled her eyes. “That’s not the same thing.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No. And we’ve done ‘shrooms a few times. It’s no big deal. Cocaine isn’t even a big deal anymore.”

“I don’t think he’s high on coke,” I declared. “He’s…kinda mean. I offered to make him some coffee and he told me I don’t own him.”

“So he’s being a dick tonight,” shrugged Halo. “He’s probably just high on adrenaline and being cocky.”

“No…it’s not that.”

Halo sighed, pressing her lips together.

“I don’t think Harry does hard drugs, Sky.”

I furrowed my brows. “How do you know?”

“I just do. Something Mitch told me.”

“Halo!”

She sighed again. “Okay. I gotta tell you something, but swear you won’t tell Harry I told you.”

“What is it?”

“Swear?”

“Okay, I swear!”

“Harry’s best friend, Simon, was Wildfire’s original lead guitarist. He died a year and a half ago. He overdosed on heroin.”

I dropped my jaw, speechless.

“Mitch said Harry took it hard, wouldn’t talk to anybody for nearly a month. He said he never did anything as hard as heroin, but he’s sworn off all hard drugs. Music’s most important to him, so he doesn’t feel like he needs that, you know?”

“Then why?” I wondered aloud. “Why is he acting like he is?”

“Maybe he’s just really drunk. Maybe some record exec bought him some drinks after we left and he’s toasted. Just…try not to take it personally, alright? He’ll sleep it off on our sofa and be the same ol’ Harry again tomorrow.”

I blinked hard, trying my best to understand and agree with her. She patted me on the arm and stood up straight.

“I’m going back inside, okay? Do you need anything?”

“No. I’m just gonna hang out here for a few more minutes.”

Halo gave me a tight, understanding smile and returned to the party. I sighed. Maybe she was right. It was nearly sunup and Harry would probably be crashed on my couch soon enough.

Deciding to rejoin the party myself, I opened the door and was hit with the smell of marijuana. It was a scent I knew all too well, and I found my tension easing up already. Most of the rest of the party was sitting in a circle in the middle of the room, a joint being passed around. Harry sat in a chair, his eyes heavy yet focused on something straight ahead - me. He looked like Jim Morrison sitting there, his arms slung over the arms of the chair, his hair falling around his face, framing it like some rock god. The radio played Gary Glitter and for a moment I was trapped in a fantasy in my head.

“We’ve been here too long tryin’ to get along Pretending that you’re oh so shy I’m a natural man doin’ all I can My temperature is runnin’ high”

“Hey mate,” I heard Deacon say. “You want another hit?”

“No,” replied Harry, his eyes still on me. Then he lifted his hand and pointed. “I want her.”

What? My eyes about popped out of my head as I felt everyone else’s eyes on me. A smirk grew on Harry’s mouth as he turned his hand over and beckoned me with his finger.

“Do you wanna touch (yeah!) Do you wanna touch (yeah!) Do you wanna touch me there”

No! I mean…yeah…I mean…

I shook my head, my hair falling over my eyes as I ran for my bedroom and slammed the door. I fell face down on my bed, Gary Glitter’s (and probably Harry’s) question ringing in my ears. And although I knew in truth that they weren’t, I could swear I heard the sound of everyone laughing at me.

I dozed in and out of sleep for the next couple of hours. I heard the front door closing a few times, people saying their goodbyes. I heard Halo knocking on my door.

“Sky? Sky! Please come out. Everyone’s leaving. Don’t you wanna say goodbye?”

“Sky! Please. If you’re not coming out, then let me in.”

“Okay, fine. Harry’s sorry. He says he’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sky? Are you asleep?”

I finally opened the door around seven in the morning to go to the bathroom. The inevitable rain had come and was pelting against the window and the glass door to the patio. Harry was sprawled out on the sofa, his bare feet hanging over the side as usual. And as usual, he looked peaceful. I took a detour to the kitchen and brought back a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin, leaving them on the coffee table.

When I awoke the next afternoon, Harry was gone, but he’d left me a note. At the top, he’d drawn three scribbly rain clouds.

Sky ~

I’m sorry. That wasn’t me. I’ll explain tomorrow.

H x

Songs mentioned:

Jimi Hendrix - Purple Haze

Gary Glitter - Do You Wanna Touch Me (Oh Yeah!)

Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is love x.

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vendetta-if · 1 year

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Snippets and Sneak Peek (Chapter 6) Pt. 2

Hey guys 👋 Time for the second and last sneak peek at Chapter 6 Part 1 before the update. And just as a reminder, the Chapter 6 Part 1 update will drop on 22nd of April (GMT +8), which is around 22 hours or so from now (the time I posted this) 😁

So, I kinda mentioned how MC will hear again about what they did when they helped the mother and the kid in the alleyway. I'll show the news segment here and it'll vary in parts based on the options you chose.

For the sake of this sneak peek, we're going to assume that MC killed the guy with gravikinesis and that MC wears their mask but tells the kid their code name 😄 Oh, and also that MC is interested in becoming Vigilante first or only interested in becoming Vigilante.

Chapter 6 Part 1 Early Access demo is now up on both Patreon and Ko-fi!

* * * * *

The conversation tapers off and you reach forward to turn up the radio a bit to fill in the silence, just in time to catch the tail-end of the song that has been playing. A news jingle immediately follows it.

"Good afternoon, citizens of Elysium City! I hope all of you are having a wonderful day because today, we have some news fresh from the oven and no, it's not about the Superheroes or the Nemesis Project this time.

"Last night, the ECPD was met with another gruesome crime scene in the Lower South Acheron District after what seems to be an act of vigilante-ism was taken too far. The criminal killed was suspected to be the same one who had been terrorizing the area for months now.

"Right now in the studio, we have two direct eyewitnesses—well, no, they actually almost became the victims of this criminal last night. May I present to you, Miranda Martínez, a staff here in the Voice of Elysians radio station, and her ${mc_son}, Jules Martínez."

"Hey, Camille."

"So, Miranda, can you tell us a bit about what happened last night?"

"Uh, yeah. So, it was pretty late last night, and we were walking home. I was starting to regret my decision to not take a taxi instead, but we were getting pretty close to our apartment by that time, so I took ${mc_his} hand in mine and we basically power-walked to try to get home as fast as possible.

"But when we were only two blocks away, a man stopped us and pulled us into one of the alleyways. I was so scared, but I tried talking to him, to negotiate. He said he wanted everything I owned, so I handed him my purse; I didn't want to risk both Jules' life and mine. But still, he won't let us go. I'm still not sure what else he could've wanted—"

"And then I tried attacking the man so he would let go of Mama! But I was too small and he easily beat me… He threatened to burn my face, but I was not scared!"

It was undoubtedly the little kid you saved last night and they still sound as excitable as they were last night.

They continue, "It was then, ${mc_he} came to save us! $!{mc_he} came out of the darkness and then—and then, I don't know how, but ${mc_he} threw the bad guy to a wall without even touching him and then, a few seconds later, the bad guy's head popped like a balloon!"

"Jules—!" $!{mc_his} mother tries to scold ${mc_him} but is cut off by the host.

"Oh! Can you tell us more about this mysterious vigilante? Do you see what ${mc_he} looks like?"

"Yeah! $!{mc_he} told me ${mc_he} goes by the codename "$!{codename}"! Which is really cool!"

"How about ${mc_his} appearance? Did you catch anything?"

"No… $!{mc_he} was wearing a mask so we couldn't see ${mc_his} face at all. But the mask was very cool! It was like, pure black and it looked kinda alive!"

"Aww, that's too bad, but at least we know what to call our vigilante: "$!{codename}", which I'm pretty sure I haven't heard before, so watch out criminals and villains, because there is a new vigilante on the block and ${mc_he} @{mc_plural don't|doesn't} seem to be the type to play around. How about you, Miranda? Do you have anything else to add?"

"Nothing, really. Like Jules said, the vigilante was wearing a mask and we couldn't discern anything about ${mc_his} physical appearance. But, from what I've seen of the ability ${mc_he} used, ${mc_he} is probably a really powerful telekinetic."

"Really interesting… Well, how do you feel about ${mc_him} killing someone in front of you and your ${mc_son}? It must've been a traumatizing experience."

"Oh, yeah, yeah… It was really gruesome and I was just frozen in place in fear. I thought ${mc_he} was going to hurt me and Jules next, but ${mc_he} didn't. $!{mc_he} handed me my purse back and even gave us four hundred bucks to treat Jules' wounds…

"I wouldn't lie, I probably won't be able to scrub the image from my mind for the rest of my life, but in the end, I am really grateful to ${mc_him} for saving me and my ${mc_son}. Who knows what would've happened if ${mc_he} wasn't there to intervene. And the money ${mc_he} gave… It was such a blessing. It really covered the bill to get Jules treated."

"Yeah!" Little Jules chirps in again. "Thank you so much, $!{title} $!{codename}! You're my true hero and I wanna be like you when I grow up!"

You really try to keep your face straight, but a slight smile still tugs on your lips against your will after listening to the interview and the adorable thank you from Little Jules. To know that you have saved people from what could've been a disastrous life-changing event and helped them directly… It surprises you a bit on how good it feels.

You're really lucky to be able to catch a glimpse of what your future as a vigilante would be like and how it would make you feel, and you know you're making the right choice. This experience just makes you even more determined to become a vigilante, spending the nights patrolling the streets, saving innocent civilians, and protecting them from the criminals and villains infesting the city.

#writing updates #sneak peek #chapter 6 #if: vendetta #vendetta if #if vendetta #if game #if wip #dashingdon #choicescript #choice of games #hosted games #cyoa #cyoa game #interactive fiction #interactive games #interactive story #interactive novel

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enam3l · 11 months

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love, lola / chapter nine pt.1 / going solo (5.7k)

Eddie’s arrived in California, leaving you behind, to start his new life as a rockstar.

thank you for 1.2k of you kind angels!!!??? and thank you guys for your patience, life has been hectic with work and school and after the anniversary of eddie’s death (but not in this fic baby) i thought fuck it imma post what we got for chapter 9 - I hope it’ll all be worth the wait

a/n: sex drugs and rock and roll - no fr there is graphic sex here

series masterlist / follow #enam3l love lola for instant updates / my other work / now available to read on AO3!

comment for tag list. requests open for prequel stories.

California is too fucking hot. That is what Eddie Munson has learnt since moving. Far too hot for hair like his and definitely far too hot to stay hidden behind the safety of his leather jacket. After years of the mind numbing mundanity of Hawkins, Eddie was propelled into the fast pace L.A. mindset. Each morning for a moment his heart hammered, wondering where he was until the palm trees outside the window reminded him it definitely wasn't Indiana. The apartment the record label had set him and rest of Kraven up in was definitely not the trailer - maybe the size of every single one in the park combined.

So far, everyone had been nice; a niceness you're not usually privy to when you're known as 'The Freak'. Kraven were excited he accepted the offer and their label and manager had heralded him the hero of the hour. But a nagging part of Eddie couldn't ignore the feeling that this wasn't really his band, he was a replacement. There was a brotherhood between the bandmates long before his arrival and it's hard to ever truly assimilate with a bond like that. Regardless, he was there, escaped the confines of his small town and now living the dream of becoming a rockstar. This was always the fantasy, wasn't it?

September 2nd 1986

For the first time in his life, Eddie is sat in a real life, high tech, actual recording studio. A far cry from Gareth’s egg box insulated garage. An egg shaped chair swallows him whole which feels tediously symbolic of his time so far in California. Everything is much bigger than him. As the band and producers play him the demos they have already, with hopeful looks on their faces, he resorts to anxiously twisting the rings on his fingers. They're a tangible reminder of home. He thumbs them in order. Skull. Pig. Cross and bones. Mom's. But now there's a new edition - yours.

It made its way onto his finger as you said your final goodbyes in the airport terminal and it hasn't left since. Between runny noses and weepy eyes, Eddie frowned as you withdrew from a hug that had already lasted several minutes (which was still not long enough).

'I have something for you, Teddy,' you confess as you sift through your bag.

'You already threw the party, sweetheart. Whatcha wasting money on me for?' He sighs.

The protests were not what you wanted clearly as he's met with a silencing finger until you finally found what you were looking for. Now you chew your lip anxiously, fumbling with a little velvet pouch.

'It's not for going away... it's - well, I gathered, this will be the first time since we met that we've not spent our birthdays together...'

Eddie's stomach drops, he had not gathered that. 'Oh...' he murmurs.

'So, I thought I'd give you your present now. I guess. If that's okay?'

Totally thrown, he only blinked and nodded. Taking his hand, you lay his palm out flat and shake the pouch until Eddie hears a little clinking, then feels cool metal on the skin.

'It's the big 2-1, y'know. I wanted us to have something special. I couldn't think of anything to buy. But, I - uhhh - I could think of something to make.'

Finally, he moves and inspects your gift closer. Two silver rings, perfectly imperfect. Carefully, he spins them round until he can finally see what the feature of them is. It causes him to gasp and you to resort to nervously stumbling over your words.

'I was taking a silversmithing class at college and I was thinking about your rings and then I thought I could make you one. Then I thought I could make us some. Matching ones. For our birthdays. It's silly. They're not professional or anything. Y'know a little wonky. Just thought it'd be nice...'

Eddie balls his fist up, clutching the precious contents and closes his eyes to swallow up a sniffle. One ring has E for Eddie on, the other identical except for your initial.

'Wonky? Y/N... they're perfect. This is, holy shit, this is the most amazing thing anyone has ever given me...'

The compliment makes your insides fizz.

'Are you sure? I mean, I was gonna tidy them up more but when you were in hospital. When I went back to New York... I brought them back with me. Just incase... y'know...'

Just incase Eddie never made it to his 21st is the unspoken ending to that sentence that you both understand. Eddie takes your hands in his and squeezes. The rings shielded by your conjoined palms.

'Thank you, sweetheart. Thank you... put it on me! Go on! Make me your little hand model m!'

As usual, Eddie's theatrics ease the tension and force you into giggles.

Carefully, you slide the E ring over Eddie's finger. He prompts you to place it on the bare one next to where his Mom's old ring resides. Then, he takes your hand and delicately places your own ring onto the matching finger. To the rest of the people in the airport, it must've looked like the exchanging of vows between two lovers being forced apart. Really, they wouldn't have been entirely incorrect.

‘So what do you think man?’

Eddie breaks his daze to be met with a room of hopeful eyes.

‘Huh?’ He murmurs.

‘The demos!’ The manager Chris encourages, ‘for the album! These are what the guys have put down so far. Love em?’

Eddie’s brain stumbles over what will be the correct thing to say. The songs bad? God no, there was a reason the bad were signed. But were they what he would do? Not really. It was clear they were angling as more commercially marketable, less niche like metal, a more digestible rock. Taylor was more Iggy than Ozzy.

‘Yeah, yeah they’re tight,’ Eddie scrambles, praying he didn’t appear rude.

Already though, his brain has calculated how he would rearrange each element of the songs, what lyrics he’d tweak, how he’d make it his own - but he has to remind himself that’s not why he’s here.

‘We want a single out for Christmas. Make a big splash over the festive season. Hit the talk shows, the radios. Get you boys out there. Build up the hype for a Valentine’s album release,’ Chris cheerfully continues.

‘But don’t forget, none of these songs are finalised,’ a rough voice from the corner of the room interrupts Chris’ ambitions.

Riz, the producer, sits like the mastermind behind the console in his swivel chair. His skin weathered and tanned, littered with scribbled tattoos not unlike Eddie’s own. Tired eyes that have seen too many young ambitious bands and their teams come in and out of his studio, are concealed by thin tinted glasses. A mane of salt and pepper curls, some formed into dreads cascade past his broad shoulders. A real old school rocker.

‘Oh well, yes, yes of course,’ Chris fumbles, ‘plenty of room for your inputs Eddie.’

It’s clear Chris is entirely intimidated by Riz’s presence. His clean cut Armani suited self a direct contrast to the producer’s rough look. One is the face, the other is the real brains.

‘Speaking of, Chris, why don’t you take Taylor, Spike and Keith to lunch. Use that gold card the label bestowed upon you whilst me and Eddie get accompanied?’

Eddie shoots round to look at Riz, used to his name being called out as the signal he’s in trouble. But when he meets his eyes, they only offer warmth and a small smirk; something Eddie had yet to see him crack so far.

‘Oh are you sure?’

‘Yeah, yeah, lots of technical things I need to adjust now Eddie is with his. Go on,’ Riz practically shoos Chris out the door. The rest of Kraven following suit, amused by their manager’s nervous babbling.

Finally, once the door is shut and locked, Riz returns to his throne, spinning round and looking at Eddie expectantly.

‘Well, come on then,’ he chuckles, smacking his tattooed hand against a leather chair beside him. Eddie immediately scrambles over, Sweetheart safely in her case towing behind him. There’s an awkward silence as Eddie toys with his guitar case, desperate to avoid Riz’s piercing gaze.

Nonchalantly, Riz swings his feet up onto a nearby stool and reclines in his chair.

‘So… you hate the songs,’ he chuckles.

Eddie finally looks up to gawp, scrambling for a response.

‘No, I don’t, it’s not, I never said I-‘

‘It’s cool brother. You’re a metalhead. They aren’t a metal band. They’re not your first choice, no sweat.’

Riz, in just a few minutes of knowing each other, has called Eddie’s bluff. The tone in his voice is not anger or judgment, it’s just matter of fact with a hint of amusement.

‘They’re not my first choice either, sound wise. I’m a lot more old school myself, personally. But, fuck, you know what, those boys got more star power than anyone else who’s been brought to me in the last two decades.’

Eddie nods eagerly. There’s a reason he was honoured Kraven had asked him, they were really fucking good and most surprisingly - nice. Riz eyes the boy before him, big brown soulful eyes that scream there’s a story behind them.

‘I think you’re an old soul like me though, Munson. Let me guess… you’ve got notebooks full of lyrics in that case of yours?’

A beetroot blush flushes Eddie’s cheeks, he’s been rumbled and stutters an agreement.

‘And I bet you’ve never shown anyone either, huh?’

Two for two.

‘No, never. They’re all a little… personal,’ Eddie murmurs.

‘All the best stuff is. So what you’re gonna do is get them out and show me who the musician Eddie Munson really is.’

With an eagle eye, Riz combs through the tattered pages of scrawling lyrics. Words dating back years. The afternoon flies by as Eddie demonstrates the melodies he wrote for each with Riz adding his own input.

‘Well, Munson. I don’t think Kraven or the label know what they’ve accidentally come across with you,’ Riz scoffs. His fingers gloss over the stacks of song lyrics Eddie’s unveiled.

‘And you better be marrying this girl you’re writing about. Ain’t heard love songs like this in a lifetime.’

The way Eddie nervously shrinks in on himself over his words isn’t lost on Riz, things rarely ever are.

September 21st 1986

‘TWENTY ONE MOTHERFUCKER’

Raucous laughter and cheers manage to erupt over the booming club music. The fine spray of champagne, more expensive than his trailer, soaking Eddie’s curls. The women that had crowded the booth, struggle to get in the stream of booze. Liquid gold dripping from their open mouths and exposed cleavage. No, this was not the usual Munson birthday set up.

Despite attempting to keep his twenty-first birthday a secret, Eddie had been rumbled. Chris’ assistant Sammy had discovered his impending celebration after going through files. That was spilt during bedroom talk with Spike the bass player who she’d been hooking up with. Spike then mentioned a small night with the boys to Taylor and Keith to celebrate, which was overheard by manager Chris. So now due to Chris’ inability for subtlety, the boys found themselves in an exclusive WeHo club, surrounded by bottomless bottles, scantily clad girls and yes men - all courtesy of the label. Eddie was light years away from where he’d usually spend his evenings round humble drama room DnD table or with lukewarm beers in Gareth’s garage.

After three weeks of locking themselves in the studio when the sun had begun to rise, only leaving well after, the band were finally letting loose. The guys had all told Eddie their tales of L.A’s debaucherous rock’n’roll night life; the secret places where other musicians mingled, where dealers made their money and girls got the memorable nights they went looking for. But so far, he’d yet to experience it and now he was, Eddie wasn’t sure it was for him. A rainbow of pills scattered the table without discretion, he could tell they were far better quality than the shit he used to sell. Servers came with an endless supply of bottles, money no question. A far cry from the gruff, stingy bartenders at The Hideout. The clientele is a far cry as well. The girls that had flocked to their booth looked straight off a Hollywood set. One busty blonde sat on a bewildered Chris’ knee, his eyes desperately trying not to focus on the cleavage that bobbed below his chin. Spike was making it clear he and Sammy weren’t exclusive as a brunette and a redhead sat either side of him as they purred in his ear. Taylor had disappeared into the crowd, ever the life of the party, surely feeling the effects of the pills he’d let fizzle on his tongue. Out of everyone, the only person Eddie felt envious of was Keith.

Nestled happily in the corner of the booth sat Keith and his fiancee Grace, lost in their own little world. The pair had scoffed when a girl had tried to luck with Keith, knowing hell would freeze over before he left Grace. High school sweethearts who had made it work as he’d followed the path of wannabe rockstar. She was no eager groupie or ditzy model, Grace was a lawyer; officially Kraven’s lawyer. Put together, fierce and completely soft on Keith - reminding Eddie of you. Although, they were a real couple, best friends and lovers, exactly what Eddie had failed in making the two of you. When they whispered private jokes or sleepy appeared from their bedroom, his heart panged with envy. Mind racing with questions of how they managed to make it work. Who made the first move? How did they know it was mutual? How did they know it wasn’t a mistake? All the questions he fretted over when his lips burnt with desperation to meet yours.

Eddie’s wishful gaze is interrupted by a sudden touch to his thigh. Eyes wide with confusion, his head spins round and are met with a fluttering pair staring right back at him. The stranger’s fingers tucking rogue curls behind his ear causes Eddie to freeze. A touch too intimate to receive from anyone but you or his family.

‘Your hair is nearly as long as mine,’ the girl drawls. Long nails still trailing up his shredded jeans and now up his exposed bicep. Whether she hadn’t noticed Eddie’s bewildered look or had just chosen to ignore it, the girl pressed on.

‘The boys told me you're the new lead guitar… I think you’re definitely an upgrade, honey.’

Eddie gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. So far he had been able to avoid interacting with these legendary California girls. Throwing himself into rehearsals with the band and his own late sessions with Riz long after the rest of the guys go home. Women weren’t on his radar. Everyone dull in comparison to the shine he knows radiates off you.

‘Urm, thanks,’ he mumbles, trying to squirm out of her grasp.

‘And he’s a little shy?’ She giggles, ‘sooo cute.’

Eddie’s eyes, wide like saucers, scan the surroundings rapidly, desperate to escape this uncomfortable encounter. He wasn’t interest in a hook up, the thought unimaginable and he definitely didn’t want this. He’s desperate for you more than ever now, wishing for your soft touch, wishing it was your tipsy words being whispered in his ear. His birthdays weren’t for sharing with random hookups, they were always reserved for you. After being separated by your college, Eddie was giddy at the thought of getting to spend your birthdays together again. But now you were torn apart again, now even further apart.

Finally, Eddie spots his opening. The girl leans over to the table to pour another drink, her grip on him loosening. Quickly, he darts up, hopping over everyone’s legs and abandoning the booth as the girl calls after him. Eddie’s feet seem to take him away before his mind is even sure where he wants to go. Hand’s planting on the bar top, causing an unexpecting bartender to jump, Eddie pleas,

‘Is there a phone anywhere I can use?’

The bartender nods, finger jabbing to a corridor beside the toilets. Shouting a thanks behind him, Eddie shoots off in the direction of the promised phones.

Frantically, he punches in a number he’s known by heart for most of his life. Ringed fingers twist round the cord anxiously and the dial tone hums over the vibrations of the club’s speakers.

Eddie’s breath hitches as the other end picks up and fumbling can be heard.

‘H-hello?’ Your sleepy voice croaks.

It’s the best noise he’s heard since he arrived, better than anything he’s heard in the studio.

‘Hi,’ he whispers shyly, ‘it’s me, it’s Eddie. I’m sorry, did I wake you?’

Your giggle makes his stomach churn.

‘I know it’s you, Eds or should I say birthday boy? No, no, it’s okay. I was already awake.’

‘Are you okay? Are you sick?’ He enquires desperately. For a moment, Eddie is sure he hears a hesitation in your voice.

‘No, no, I - urm, you know, just one of those nights. I’m fine! It’s nice to hear your voice.’

Eddie for once is grateful for the distance that separates you for seeing the blush that spreads across his cheeks.

‘It’s really nice to hear yours too. I’m sorry I’ve not been keeping up with the calls, it’s all just -‘

You interrupt before he falls into a spiral of apologies.

‘Eds, it’s fine! You’re a rockstar in training, I don’t expect you to be missing all the fun to be calling me every second.’

‘But, I want to, sweetheart… I wish you were here,’ he sighs.

‘I wish I was too… but this your adventure. This is everything you’ve ever dreamed of.’

Eddie desperately wants to let the alcohol coursing through his system to take ahold of his tongue and confess no, you’re everything I’ve dreamed of. But he doesn’t. Your voice chirps up again, trying to dispel the sad silence that took over the line.

‘So, how’s your birthday? How is being 21? Are you not out and drowning in booze and those Cali girls?’ You’re chuckling but he doesn’t laugh.

‘No, no I’m out with the guys. But, urm, no Cali girls. Definitely not.’

Eddie’s not sure if you let out a relieved sigh or it’s just wishful thinking.

‘You’re out?! Eddie, what on earth are you calling me for!’

Your scolding tone makes him grin. He can picture perfectly how your brows are furrowed and how if you were in front of him your hands would be flailing animatedly.

‘Cos birthdays are our thing. You’re much better than this club full of fuckin’ posers.’

‘Yeah, they are. Am I now? Are you trying to flatter me, mister?’

‘Always, sweetheart.’

The pair of you giggle down the phone. His dimpled cheeks aching from the grin you inspire. As the giggles finally subside, Eddie hears you attempt to disguise a yawn and remembers how once again distance keeps you apart.

‘Guess I should let you get to sleep then, huh sweet?’

‘You should go and enjoy your birthday more importantly!’

Eddie huffs, knowing such a thing is impossible without your presence.

‘I’ll try… I’ll speak to you soon, promise.’

‘Don’t worry about it, Eds. Whenever you have time!’

‘I’ll always have time for you. I’ll make sure I at least call you on your birthday.’

‘You better,’ you sleepily smirk, ‘it’s two days after yours, you’ve got no excuse to forget.’

‘How could I?’

Eddie rakes a hand through his curls, knowing he needs to hang up but it’s too hard to let you go.

‘Get some sleep, sweetheart. I miss you.’

‘Goodnight Eddie, I miss you too.’

The line goes dead and once again the only sound filling his ears is the throbbing base. Trying to replay your words in his head, Eddie flops against the wall. Eyes closed tight as he wishes it was you he was breathing in rather than the cloud of perfume wafting from the women’s bathroom nearby.

It’s only when he can feel a presence beside him does Eddie open his eyes. A woman mirrors his position against the wall but faces him, a wicked glint in her cat-like eyes. Taken aback by her close proximity, Eddie jumps causing her to giggle at his squirming.

‘Whatcha waiting for cutie?’

Eddie continues to shuffle away, the phone your warm voice once echoed out of, now uncomfortably sticking into his back.

‘Was just… just using the phone…’ he murmurs nervously.

‘Oh?’ she cocks her head, auburn waves tumbling, ‘and here I thought you were waiting out here for some fun.’

A slender manicured finger reaches out, tugging at a bewildered Eddie’s bottom lip. He stutters as his brain scrambles for a response. Another awkward round of full frontal flirting from random girls. The thought of supermodel groupies throwing themselves at him was somewhat appealing when he was a raging hormone of a teenager. But even then, you were still in the back of his mind on a pedestal, now you live there front and centre. Eddie recoils from her touch, swatting her hand away.

‘No!’ he surprises himself with the firmness in his voice, ‘M’sorry, not looking for anything.’

The girl scoffs a ‘whatever’, rolling her eyes and flouncing off. Just as Eddie finally feels his body relax, a snigger from the corner catches his attention. A frame steps forward from the shadows.

A man, also in his twenties, grins an infectious smile that makes Eddie feel a little giddy. Shorter than himself, but broader, tanned muscles that glistened with sweat from dancing.

‘I think she’s a little disappointed,’ the guy chuckles.

‘I really was just using the phone!’ Eddie insists.

Gradually the two move closer towards each other, Eddie drawn in by the piercing pale eyes that never leave him. Despite the corridor being much cooler than the dance floor, heat bubbled between their bodies.

‘So… Eddie, are you definitely not looking for any kind of fun?’

October 31st 1986

Now in the depths of autumn, the madness of life had only increased. Kraven had found their sound with the addition of Eddie, days spent mastering their sound in the studio. When out of the studio, the boys sat round meeting tables listening to suits spew corporate jargon about their mastermind ideas for selling the band. That was his least favourite part, hearing his existence and passion whittled down to money making schemes. It’s also where Eddie was forced to tackle the idea of fame. Seeing his name in small print under photographs of the band, plastered in pages of music magazines about the next hot thing. Personally, he found it mortifying but Wayne insisted it was proof of him achieving his dreams, whereas you cackled down the phone at the surrealness of it all.

At the end of the day, Eddie buried himself in sheets of paper, attempting to put into words the feelings that brewed inside. Trying to heal the internal wounds the events of the year had left, whilst being a thousand miles from the people who actually understood. Vocalising the sadness he wished he didn’t feel over achieving his dreams of making it but not with his own band. Then as ever, trying to find an outlet for the love he felt for you that bubbled with fervency in your absence and

with every stolen phone call. Then, a couple of times a week, Eddie would present his lyrics to Riz to make sense of, during after-hours at the studio. A secret project the two of them found themselves falling into outside of Kraven. That was another source of guilt, that his heart and soul weren’t invested in the band in the same way Taylor, Spike and Keith’s were. That he reserved the heartfelt work for himself, letting his real passion erupt during the late night sessions with Riz.

Then there was another output Eddie found for his pent up frustrations about his overwhelming emotions and suffocating new lifestyle. A way to let go in a way that didn't leave him ashamed as if he had betrayed you. The guy at the club on his 21st birthday had opened up possibilities that Hawkins had limited. Small town life was oppressive, he didn’t need the rumour mill buzzing with fresh stories that the satanist Munson was also a sodomist. Whilst Taylor and Spike drowned in girls, Eddie became comfortable seeking out something else in the bars and clubs they’d frequent. It was easier, less intimate. He didn’t need to worry about coy teasing, didn’t need to exchange names and take girls home. Eddie could find release down the back of another guy's throat, quick and hot in dark corners and back allies. He was unsure if his bandmates had realised and was anxious that they’d reject him for it but that was another issue forced to the back of his mind, stored in another box overflowing with anxieties.

Halloween was decided as a good marketing angle for the band. Their name added to the line up of hot new rock bands performing at an infamous West Hollywood Halloween party. Something thrown by a record executive’s tabloid covering daughter that had become notorious enough to be spoken about on MTV. Eddie being no stranger to a costume and outlandishness being second nature to Taylor, the pair had put themselves in charge of putting together the band’s costume.

‘This is pretty hardcore you guys,’ Spike admitted, ‘didn’t think you’d pull it off.’

The four cramped into a backstage room at the venue, getting ready for their performance. Eddie’s tongue stuck out in concentration as he finished painting Spike’s body. All four of them were skeletons. Leather trousers and boots embellished with white paint, creating the illusion when on stage they were void of flesh. Their torsos mostly exposed aside from frankly decorative scraps of leather. Spike in long leather sleeves that covered wrist to arm and left the entirety of his chest exposed. Eddie and Keith both in tight leather waistcoats. Then Taylor, naturally, entirely topless aside from some leather wrist cuffs and mask that made him appear as a devilish gimp. All exposed skin had bones painted on top which was now Eddie’s current job.

‘Of course we did,’ Taylor boasts, ‘you really doubted our little DnD nerd’s ability to put together a costume?’

Eddie splatters paint in the singer's direction. Even if they weren’t his friends from home, his band mates had become real friends. Their bantering is interrupted by the door opening and a fallen angel with a clipboard appearing.

‘You guys gotta be outta here in like a minute, the band on stage are wrapping up and you’re next.’ Her sentence is finished with a pop of her bubble gum and the slam of the door.

After final adjustments to the costumes, the boys file out to the side of the stage. Eddie’s chipped black nails gripping at the neck of his guitar. The usual pre-show jitters causing his stomach to flutter.

‘You good brother?’ Keith whispers, a reassuring firm hand bracing Eddie’s shoulder.

‘Yeah, yeah, all cool, I mean y’know aside from usual pre-show nerves,’ he shrugs. Keith nods with understanding, spinning his sticks - a nervous tick Eddie has come to notice.

‘Damn, you better at this fuckin rockstar shit than me. My heart feels like it’s about to fall out my god damn asshole knowing who’s in that audience!’

Quirking an eyebrow, Eddie warily responds,

‘What do you mean… who’s here?’

Keith’s eyes bulge at his bandmate’s obliviousness.

‘Holy shit, you got no gossip rags in that little town of yours? This party is infamous. It’s some real Motley Crue as shit out there. Full of rockstars fuckin heiresses n shit! Little Miss Clipboard said mother fucking Slash is here!’

Before Eddie can even clear his now dry throat to respond, the sound system booms with the excited announcement of the MC.

‘Next up is rock’s hottest new band… Kraven!’

The cheers are muddled by the ringing in Eddie’s ears, his body seized up until Spike nudges him along. With a gulp, he steps out into the spotlight, trusty axe in one hand whilst the other spins the ring you made him.

Dripping sweat causes the paint to bleed down Eddie’s exposed skin. Unsteady hands grab one of the bottles of whiskey thrusted upon them once the band exited the stage and merged into the party. Eddie’s ear’s still buzzed with the raucous applause and hollering that erupted once Kraven finished their set. Immediately after they were mobbed by names he’d read on the backs of cassettes he couldn’t afford in record stores. Producers, lyricists and fellow musicians, all congratulating and praising him - Eddie the freak Munson, the kid who grew up awkward, poor and unwanted. The change of pace in his life was surreal; after a lifetime of critical fails, he’s been rolling nat20s.

A soft evening breeze provides Eddie with as much needed respite as California weather can. The surrealness of inside was getting to him. Skin sticky from sweat induced by the growing crowd of important people with his name on their tongue. His name. Eddie Munson.

‘Eddie Munson?’

It takes a moment for Eddie to realise that voice wasn’t coming from inside his head. A few feet before him, leaning against the roped barrier a guy peers with his head cock. Soft flopping quaff falling into his curious eyes. A cowboy. Blue wash denim waistcoat with nothing underneath exposing taught tanned muscles. A tanned cowboy hat pushed back so it hangs off the back of his neck.

‘Uh, yeah, yeah… can I help you?’

The guy shrugs, hands sliding into the back pockets of tight jeans and rocking on the balls of his cowboy boots.

‘Nope. Just thought it was you. Saw you perform, you were great. More talented than most of these rockstars,’ he scoffs.

‘Oh, I - I don’t know about that. Thanks, I guess,’ Eddie fumbles over his words, eyes focused downwards at those damn cowboy boots.

With a chuckle the guy responds, now daring to move forward, strong hand adjusting Eddie’s waistcoat.

‘See, you just proved me right. Most of those guys would’ve agreed and definitely wouldn’t thank me…’

His fingers brush over Eddie’s jittering own.

‘Need a light for that?’

He pulls up Eddie’s hand that holds a long forgotten cigarette that remained unlit. Gulping, he nods. The mystery cowboy draws nearer, a zippo and a cigarette for himself materialising from inside the waistcoat.

‘I’m Max by the way,’ he smiles as he takes Eddie’s cigarette and places it into his agape mouth for him.

‘I’m Eddie…’

‘I know, babe,’ Max whispers, his own cigarette in his mouth now.

The tips of both cigarettes almost kiss as the distance closes between the two men. The zippo crackles alight, the flame illuminating a pair of wide chocolate eyes staring at a charming pair of green, both sets of pupils dilated.

‘Holy fuck, I knew you were big. Could see it on stage in that tight ass leather,’ Max groans. Metal scrapes on marble as Eddie Munson’s ringed fingers grip at a bathroom countertop as the man he met moments ago pumps his aching cock. Finally the tension built up inside him from the pressure of the evening was on the brink of dissipating. Huffs of air escape his mouth as Max drops to his knees, long tongue flicking at the drip of precum.

‘Knew you’d taste good as well,’ he smirks.

‘God damn, shit,’ Eddie pants as warm lips caress his tip, he struggles to contain himself. His hand lunges out, grabbing at Max’s soft locks. ‘Shit, my balls, suck my fucking balls.’

Pliant, Max does as he’s told, firm balls popping into his mouth causing wild bush to prickle at his face. After a few luxurious sucks, he’s hauled back to his feet and Eddie’s previously shaking hands are nowhere to be seen as he swiftly unbuttons denim.

‘I can’t be the only one to play show and tell.’

Eddie smirks as he watches green eyes flicker in bliss as his fat cock is released from its denim cage. Tanned to match Max’s toned body with a pretty pink head, fair pubes trimmed neatly. A real pretty boy.

‘No wonder you were so confident,’ Eddie chuckles, ‘knew you had that ready and loaded, huh?’

Max whimpers now he’s the one to receive relief from another’s hand. Eddie tugs his chin to force eye contact. Only a moment can they maintain contact before both men are chest to chest, jerking the other off, a mess of precum leaking between them. Open mouths and tongues flickering at each other, spit swapping. It’s dirty and hot and far too filthy for this fancy carpeted bathroom.

Pushing aside a wail of pleasure, Max uses a free hand to fumble inside his waistcoat until he brandishes a foil square. Eddie arches a brow.

‘Jesus, just, just fuck me before I cum,’ Max pleads.

The desperation makes Eddie snigger but it’s mutual.

Quickly, the man is bent over the counter, ass exposed as Eddie’s warm spit drips down. Groans echo as his thumb circles over Max’s tight hole, slipping in as both men’s dicks twitch in suspense.

‘P-please, fuck me,’ he grunts.

‘Alright, alright. You ready cowboy?’

Moans echo off the tiles as Eddie eases into Max’s asshole. The pair’s eyes meet in the mirror they face until he tops out and his head drops into denim. After a moment, Max begins to wriggle beneath, fucking himself on Eddie’s cock until the message is received. Eddie braces himself, fingers digging into hip bone as he begins to drag his length in and out.

Eventually the air is thick with heat and the sound of skin on skin. Full balls slapping against each other. A ringed hand against a plush asscheek. Feral groans and whines of pleasure. So loud that no head is turned when the bathroom door bursts open.

‘What the fuck is this shit?!’ A new voice booms off the tiles.

Eddie and Max’s heads snapped round to the figure in the doorway. The pair caught, trousers round their ankles and Eddie balls deep in a stranger. The image is too incriminating to be anything other than it was. He was exposed and the sweat from the impending orgasm now runs cold. There was no hiding.

-----

damn who tf at the door? my man didnt even get to nut in the hot cowboy

tag list: @tlclick73 @probablyin-bed @fangirling-4-ever @booksarekindaneat @azydrateanatomy @sadbitchfangirl @fluffybunnyu @big-ope-vibes @beam86 @midnightsgetawaycar @stevieharringtonswife

#enam3l love lola #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x best friend reader #rockstar eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson is bisexual #rockstar eddie munson x you #eddie munson series

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togetherhearted · 1 year

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hiiiii!! i was wondering if I could request a prompt with pino from lies of p with the “you need the rest, my love.”? if you don’t want to write this you don’t have to, but thank u sm if you do!! pino deserves some love fr

Pino deserves more love for real ♡

Really excited to play the game! In hope to see a demo at some point.

MILESTONE SPECIAL:

You need to rest,my love

Red drops hit the white sheets. With a huff your body fell on the soft mattress. You clutched your side with a hiss. Pinocchio dropped, on the corner of the badly illuminated room, your weapon without care. With seconds he was by your side. He ripped your shirt to see the injury. You almost smacked his head for being careless, but he couldn't feel any type of hit on him. -You need to rest, my love- He looked with his vitreous eyes the cut on your hip. You took a breath;a long one;to calm yourself. -Yeah...no shit- -Language- You hissed again when he splashed water on your injury before pushing you back on the mattress -No, now you rest- You rolled your eyes and looked outside the window. There was no time to waste;the automatons could find you at any time now.

#lies o p #lies of p x you #liesofp x reader #lies of p x reader #liesofp #lies of p #lop x reader #lop #pinocchio #pinocchio x reader

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hauntedestheart · 1 year

Text

Artist Development (Male Possession)

Fame can change people. More specifically, fame can change people into me.

Who am I? I'm nobody and everybody. The biggest star in the world and a complete mystery at the same time. I've sold millions of records without anyone learning my name– you've heard my music, you just didn't know it was mine.

Wondering how this is possible? Let me tell you. I will remain anonymous and names will be redacted, but here's the tea on one of the industry's best kept secrets.

I was just a kid from Nowhere, Iowa (so to speak) who thought music was going to be my ticket out, and I was so sure about it that I dropped out of school and chased my dreams all the way to LA. After all, I was a great singer, played twelve instruments, wrote my own songs... surely I had everything it took to become the next big sensation in music!

Cue the laugh track.

Labels were always excited to meet with me after hearing my demos, but the second they saw my face they couldn't get me out of the room fast enough. I wasn't ugly, just... plain. Unremarkable. Average. And labels aren't interested in signing someone you could see walking down the street.

See, the sad thing about the music industry is that talent is only about 10% of what it takes. Maybe 15% on a good day. Having a successful career is 50% image (a fancy way of saying "being hot"), and that was something that I lacked.

But that remaining 40%? That's how willing you are to play the game, and that ended up being my saving grace.

My career was going nowhere fast, and after years of being beaten down by the industry I was on the verge of calling it quits and limping back home to Iowa. Then I got a call from a label (that shall remain nameless) asking for a meeting.

After years of rejecting me they were now offering me a deal: a guaranteed album release, collaborations with the best writers and producers in the business, a national tour, and a multi-million dollar marketing push.

The catch? I wouldn't be doing it as me.

Apparently the label had snapped up some kid that they were convinced had tons of star potential, but executives were nervous that he was a bit too green to succeed in the industry and they had come up with a radical new solution that could revolutionize artist development. Their r&d team had developed certain technology that could transfer consciousness from one human to another, effectively allowing them complete control over another person's body and live as them indefinitely.

The plan was to implant someone else into the kid's body and have them bear the brunt of his early years– someone with talent, experience, and most importantly, someone desperate that they could control. Someone just like me.

Though what we were doing was entirely legal (just a tip to any aspiring artists out there, always read the fine print in your contracts), for obvious reasons the label wanted to keep it on the down-low. The deal was that I'd "help" him through his first album, and then disappear into the shadows... but during that time I'd get to be a superstar.

Naturally I was conflicted. It was a tempting offer, but it was strange knowing that none of the success would truly be mine. No one would ever know my name. Was a hollow victory better than a defeat? Was I willing to sacrifice my artistic integrity for success?

Turned out the answer was "yes."

What sealed the deal for me was when they showed me a picture of the kid... a tall, strapping white boy who looked like he was built in a lab by thirsty gay men. I'd get to live my dream, and I'd get to do it looking like that? I'd be an idiot to pass that up.

So I accepted and turned him into the superstar he is today. Perhaps you've heard of him.

I spent two years piloting his body while he got his career off the ground, and with his face and my talent it wasn't long until I was topping the charts... and plenty of groupies as well. Fame is the ultimate aphrodisiac, but having tight abs doesn't hurt either! His penis was actually smaller than mine (bummer) but the rest of the package more than made up for it; the face of the boy next door with a body built for sin.

After years of being unremarkable, being a star went to my head fast and I'm not ashamed to admit that I became a bit of a slut... but trust me, if you could experience what it's like to be the hottest young thing on the scene, you'd do the same. I used that guy's body to fuck men and women in every city across America, and I even managed to do it without tarnishing his good boy image.

As long as I never missed a show or appointment, the suits were happy– and it helped that I was sucking them off behind their wives' backs.

(Like I said, you have to be willing to play the game.)

Eventually my contract ended and the label allowed the artist to resume control of his own body, but they were so pleased by my performance that they asked me to help them out with someone else– an established artist whose wild behavior was becoming a bit of a liability. Would I mind stepping in for him for a bit and helping get his career back on track after a few scandals?

And since then my life has been a whirlwind of different bodies. I've become the industry's invisible hatchet man, the enforcer who gets called in to deal with singers who need a bit of extra attention.

I've done it all: broken in newbies, rebranded stars, stood in for legends. I did a year in South Korea as a Kpop star– didn't speak a word of Korean, but that doesn't matter when you're as beautiful as he was. Name a boy band, I've probably spent at least a week as one of their members. I'm everywhere.

By this point I've lived so many lives that it would be pointless to list them all, so I'll stick to the greatest hits.

I took over the body of the frontman of a rock band who didn't want to "sell out" by going in the more sexual, commercial direction that the label wanted for them– which I, of course, had no qualms about. His shirt came off, and everyone was happy about what was underneath.

The other members of the group were skeptical at first, but I can be very persuasive when I put my mind to it. A lot of their fans wound up absolutely hating the new music, but hey, that wasn't any of my business!

Being onstage as a rock star is electrifying, when the music pounds and the crowd screams I feel like an absolute god. When I was up there shaking that wiry body around I knew that every single person in that room wanted to fuck me, and the second I got offstage I did my best to let them. Even if they didn't like the music, none of them complained when I invited them back to my dressing room.

And let me tell you, alt-rock groupies? They're freaky.

A lot of the artists I get assigned to are skinny young men (because every label thinks they're going to launch the next teen idol) so it's always a treat when I get to work as someone a bit more... let's say mature.

Once a popular r&b singer got into a dispute with his label over not wanting to film a certain feline related movie, so I was brought in to smooth things out in my own special way.

His voice wasn't that great but damn, could he move. I had to take a crash course in dancing but thanks to his body's muscle memory in a few weeks I was doing flips and splits I'd never dreamed of. The things his body could do were insane, and I took full advantage of that.

Strictly speaking about bodies, his was the best I've had. He was big in a way a lot of the other guys weren't, huge biceps and rippling pecs that I loved to show off. A hell of an ass too, though I didn't get much use out of it because he had the biggest penis I'd ever seen on a man and I wanted to cram that elephant trunk into everything I could.

A lot of the time, when I look in the mirror at the bodies of these superstars, I wish that I could suck on their dick. But in his body? If I bent over I actually could.

Honestly I hated the music I made as him– but man, I miss that dick.

I had similar motivations for spending a few months as an up and coming country music star– a bit more indie than my usual jobs, but I jumped at the chance to try out being a bigger guy (because let's face it, there aren't enough of those in the industry).

After years of cycling between bodies with abs it was a bit of a shock to suddenly have a gut, but the experience was even better than I could have dreamed. It's sensual in a different way– the feeling of all that soft flesh sliding under my hands still haunts my dreams.

Plus he was openly gay (another rarity, look at that) which meant I didn't have to keep my usual nighttime escapades on the down low. I didn't feel any less sexy– quite the opposite actually, I've never had people worship my body as hard as the guys I hooked up with when I was a scruffy bear cub.

Being gym trained hunks isn't exactly a hardship, but I did tell my management to keep an eye out for any more jobs like this one.

But probably my favorite experience was when I spent eight months helping a certain reggaeton artist break into the US market. The sex I had using that body? Out of this world.

I'm not sure what it was but his body was just built for sex. It oozed out of every inch of him, from those bulging tattooed arms to the hefty seven inches (soft!) he was packing down below. There was even a music video where someone sucked on my toes, because apparently even his feet were sexy.

This was the closest I ever came to getting fired, but I couldn't help it! I was constantly horny, all I could think about was drinking and screwing. I ended up overindulging a bit and the paparazzi caught some snaps of me stumbling out of a party naked and well... even though this guy had nothing to be ashamed of, it wasn't my proudest moment.

My ass was saved because the pictures blew up on Twitter in a good way, so his management decided that having a sexy bad boy image was actually good for him. Getting paid to party, have one night stands, and dance around shirtless? I have the best job in the world, and I never want to lose it.

Currently I'm assigned to a new guy, some viral online sensation that the label is worried will be just a one-hit wonder and needs the help of my special brand of direction.

I'm excited because I'm already seeing tons of "potential" in him... we're gonna make sweet music together, I can tell.

Gif sources: (x) (x)

#male possession #male body swap #a bit of a longer one and I'm not sure how I feel about it but I like the concept #any resemblance to artists real or fictional is a wacky coincidence (and a great compliment)

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angelosearch · 5 months

Text

here is a weird little ramble about how weird and obsessive I am about this damn videogame.

You know that quote from Laguna at the beginning of disk 2 where he is like, "Oh, please let it be this room when I wake up! Please let me be in this puny bed when I wake up!"*?

I get that feeling sometimes. When you finally feel safe and happy and loved, it's hard to believe it will stay. Sometimes it's hard to believe I even deserve for it to stay. So I start and end each day with the fear of it all disappearing, and it's hard to hang on to gratefulness when you're doing that.

Right now I have so much joy and fun and creativity in my life. I spent so many years in a deep depression that I forgot I could be excited like this. I didn't know I could still feel so strongly about things. And while I spent a lot of 2023 seeing all of my mental health treatments/work paying off, I didn't feel truly whole until I rediscovered Final Fantasy VIII in July.

And my "puny bed" is just that - being engaged with Final Fantasy VIII. I get scared that one day I will be uninterested. But I never want to be unobsessed again.

I have loved Final Fantasy VIII at least since I was about 11, but I think I loved it since the first time I watched my brothers play the demo. It has been an important part of my life - playing the game influenced all my interests going forward; making fanfiction taught me how to write; going on forums to discuss the game helped me learn how to socialize online; and honestly I could go on.

But I've gone through cycles. I was very obsessed from 11 to 13, then someone made me a cake with the Griever necklace on it for my 16th birthday (WHICH WAS SO COOL) and all I could feel was embarrassment. My interest had gone completely dormant. It reemerged at 19 with the help of my Final Fantasy XIII roommate in college and went on long enough for us to go to see a Distant Worlds concert together, but faded again when she left for Amsterdam.

The first five years of my young professional life I am not sure I had any interests at all, being so busy and detached from myself, so Final Fantasy VIII was nowhere in my vocabularly. Which meant my wedding had not a drop of FFVIII in it. Even though my husband suggested it. Even though we learned how to dance for it, and could have done the waltz for the moon.

Strangely enough, about two days before the remaster dropped, I was inspired to look up FFVIII for some unknown reason. It was as if I felt the new opportunity to play in the force and when I found out a remaster was coming out, I absolutely had to play it.

And I did. And I enjoyed it. But that was when I started to fall down a dark spiral. The love was very quickly strangled.

When I was at my very worst, I kid you not, I could not even bring myself to think of FFVIII. I very clearly remember one December night in 2020 I spent manic in a psych ward, scared and uncomfortable and unable to fall asleep. I tried to focus on fanfiction ideas so I could maybe be relaxed enough to doze, instead of spending hours in the darkness wondering if my meds would ever work, if my heart was going to explode, if I would ever be "normal" again, while people opened my door at random intervals to shine a flashlight on my face. I tried to conjure Squall's face, or quotes from the game, and it all collapsed into nothingness.

And that was how it was. From then until mid-2023, FFVIII was shut away from me by the tomb of my own illness.

Then, I think it was March or April, my therapist and I were talking about ways to tackle my insomnia that didn't involve additional medication. It came up that I used to make "fake bedtime scenarios" about characters in this videogame I liked and that would not only help me fall asleep, but make me excited to go to bed.

"Why don't you play the game again?" She asked. I know I said "I can't" but I don't remember why. But it was enough to plant a seed (SeeD?).

As the spring continued, I started listening to the music from Final Fantasy VIII. Then I started going on the Reddit. I found this "State of the Arc" podcast that reviewed FFVIII. I listened to it on a roadtrip and, while I enjoyed it, I also found myself yelling at the dashboard because I disagreed with the hosts about something.

When I reached my destination, I found I could not fall asleep. I turned over a lot of things in my brain. I thought about Squall being a high-functioning depressed person with a lot of repressed feelings, like I once was. And how as your brain develops and you have issues like that, especially with CPTSD, it sometimes doesn't matter if your life is good now - the pain demands to be felt and the body remembers what you thought you forgot. And then I wondered, what if he was happy and with Rinoa after FFVIII but had a massive mental breakdown in his late 20s? And so, for the first time in three years, I could think about Final Fantasy VIII to fall asleep again.

After that, I was hooked again, and in a big way. I played the game again and found Reddit wasn't enough anymore. I may be even more obsessed with the game now than I ever was. So I joined Tumblr, and I guess you guys know the rest.

Since bringing this amazing videogame back into my life, I've been happier, more easy-going, and just... able to sit with myself. It makes me want to write, and draw, and sing, and play card games. I find that when my anxiety gets the best of me, I can shift to thinking about Final Fantasy VIII as a way of thought-stopping. And then I've met some amazing people on here that are so interesting and talented and supportive. I literally look forward to coming on Tumblr.

Today I was out and about a lot because I am with my in-laws and I am sort of on vacation. Because of that, I wasn't on Tumblr all day, and, more significantly, I didn't think/talk about Final Fantasy VIII. I mean, it wasn't completely absent from my day as I wore my "Compression of Time" tanktop and Squaket... but irrationally I feared I was somehow "not doing enough FFVIII" today.

And that is silly, of course. And I think in the big picture I am most afraid of being that disconnected and lost again. I could probably find joy in another fandom... maybe.

I just want to keep waking up here, in this cozy place that makes me feel connected and at home.

*btw in google this quote I found out Laguna is a brand of bed frame???

#Essay #personal essay #final fantasy viii #Little mental illness things

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venus-haze · 2 years

Text

My Fading Voice Sings of Love (Vampire!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: You’re catapulted to stardom when the release of your debut album becomes an overnight hit. With so much attention on your still blossoming career, a residency at the International Hotel seems like a good way to start putting on your own shows. It’s not just the world’s eyes that are on you, though, as a hauntingly familiar and unsettlingly strange man decides to take you under his wing and guide you during your successful residency at the International. Until, inevitably, like all good things, it comes to an end.

Note: Read the warnings for this fic before interacting! This is based on a request by @brotherhood-of-feels and Jeff Buckley’s song Grace, which is where the title of this fic comes from (please for the love of god listen to the song). Reader is a woman and definitely naive, but no other descriptors are used. This takes place in the 90s because the existence of smartphones would complicate things. As for the Phantom of the Opera AU aspect, I figured instead of doing the mask thing, it’d be more fun to have him hide in plain sight as one of the dozens of Elvis impersonators in Vegas. Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Dark themes such as emotional blackmail, death, blood, and obsessive and manipulative behavior, which some people may find disturbing or triggering. Brief mention of suicidal ideation. Explicit sexual content that involves coercion. Some corruption kink. I’m going to give a warning for bloodplay, but it’s oral sex while the reader is on her period so it’s not too intense(?) Do not interact if you are under 18.

You tried not to shake too much as Aileen, your makeup artist, applied glittery eyeshadow to your eyelids. It was only a rehearsal, you had to remind yourself as much, but you felt like you didn’t deserve it. The astronomic rise in fame and popularity you experienced in the blink of an eye seemed too good to be true, especially when within a few days of your debut album releasing, your manager, Chiara, informed you that the International Hotel in Las Vegas had reached out, interested in booking you for a residency there. The two of you looked over the contract with the lawyer from your label, and after some back and forth with the hotel, you’d accepted the offer of a three month residency playing two shows a day, four nights a week.

Chiara used to manage some up-and-coming Disney starlet, but dropped her as soon as she heard your demo. Her faith in your ability as a singer kept you motivated, even when you felt hopelessly overwhelmed by the music industry. It was all unfamiliarly cut-throat, and you had known your chances of being successful were slim. Between Chiara’s connections and your natural talent and work ethic, you’d generated enough interest in your first album through singles and interviews with every radio station and TV channel that offered. When it was finally released, your album was one of the most successful debuts in history. Chiara said it was all you, but you thought it was just a fluke.

Much to Chiara’s excitement, the first two weeks of shows had completely sold out. Though you forced a smile for her sake, you couldn’t help but feel the pressure overwhelm you. In your opinion, you still had so much to prove and lose. You didn’t deserve to take such a coveted spot from a more established artist.

You figured at least you’d get to spend a few months in a hotel room that was nicer than any apartment you’d ever rented. The penthouse suite was inaccessible due to renovations, at least that was the excuse on paper. You’d heard from one of the stagehands, however, that the penthouse had been pretty much unoccupied for years, and the old wiring meant the lights would turn on and off and the automatic curtains would sometimes open and close on their own. It didn’t help either that the elevator closest to the showroom was broken, the International Hotel’s management unable to give you a timeline as to when it would be fixed.

When Aileen let you know she was finished, you thanked her, letting out a shaky breath as you took in your appearance. The sparkling outfit complimented your body type and skin tone perfectly, with tastefully placed cut-outs that you had to talk Aileen out of applying body glitter to. Your hair was styled perfectly to suit the outfit and your face. In all honesty, you’d never felt so beautiful. Still, it wasn’t enough to calm your nerves as you made your way on stage.

The only people sitting in the showroom were Chiara and Aileen, which should have made you feel better. On your signal, the backing band began to play your opening song. When it was time for you to actually sing it, you only managed to open your mouth for a moment before clamming up. Shaking your head, you waved at the band to stop playing.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I just—you know I’ve never done anything like this before, putting on my own show.”

“Well get used to it, because this is gonna be the rest of your career,” Chiara said.

“What if they’re all disappointed? I mean, I’ve only ever opened for other musicians. Now all of these people are going to be here just to see me.”

“Don’t even think about that. It’s just us, Y/N,” Aileen assured you. “There’s no one else here.”

Being the most recognizable man in the world meant Elvis Presley didn’t have the same freedom that the dozens of other vampires in the world had, able to roam as they pleased as soon as night fell. In truly the most twisted irony, the only place he could do as he pleased was Las Vegas, a city so full of people pretending to be him that he was practically invisible. The crowds of tourists that flooded the city each night hardly looked his way, except to request the occasional photo and comment on how good of an impersonator he was, to his amusement. He supposed it worked out, though he hated Vegas and being tethered to the International Hotel, there were plenty of unsuspecting victims out and about, an endless buffet if he so pleased. He didn’t feed often enough to impact the city’s unsolved murder statistics that much, anyway.

Sometimes he’d wander the streets of Las Vegas until the sun teased its beautiful amber rays on the horizon. It was the closest he could get to seeing it again, as he discovered exposure to sunlight even through windows or tinted glass would result in painful burns on his skin that would take days to heal. Another unfortunate plus side to being a vampire in Vegas, it was a city full of windowless rooms where he didn’t have to worry about sunlight exposure. He missed the sun’s warmth and beauty, though, and in his second decade of loneliness, he increasingly considered staying outside as the sun rose, letting the fire consume him.

He could never work up the nerve to do so, and would slink back to the International Hotel before dawn. His enhanced abilities as a vampire were useful in threatening Kohn into allowing him to reside in his penthouse suite indefinitely, but he found little use for them besides that. Few, if any, of the hotel’s staff knew the truth about the penthouse’s mysterious resident, and he preferred to keep it that way.

Other artists held residencies at the International through the years, but they hardly interested him. Even if their music was to his taste, he could hardly stand to bring himself to the showroom where he had so many terrible memories. He missed performing, though, and playing piano or guitar alone in his suite didn’t give him the same thrill as putting on a show for a crowd of adoring and energetic fans.

In all of the years he’d been at the hotel, though, he never saw as much chaos leading up to any residency besides his own until you came along. He found himself staring at the crisp, colorful poster that announced your shows to support your debut album. He’d never heard of you before, but he figured Y/N Y/L/N had to have been something else to snag a residency with only one album out.

He stood in the shadows during your rehearsal, catching the subtle tics that betrayed your nerves after you fumbled your first attempt at opening the show. Despite that, you were breathtaking, and as you gained confidence, your vocals blew him away. You sang passionately and earnestly, and he could have sworn you looked right at him with an adoration that made him feel alive for the first time in nearly twenty years. You finished your performance with an exaggerated bow and a giggle that was just as musical to him. As soon as the two women sitting near the stage began clapping, he retreated back to his suite, his mind overwhelmed by thoughts of you.

Chiara and Aileen stood up to applaud you and your backing band, with Aileen jokingly shouting for an encore. You had another week to rehearse, and even then, Chiara had assured you that the good thing about your Vegas residency was that you could see what worked and what didn’t for the audience and adjust accordingly. You only hoped that the rehearsals would be enough to quell your anxieties about performing.

The following day, you arrived at the showroom three hours before the scheduled rehearsal time, hoping to practice a bit more on your own and not embarrass yourself as you did the day prior. Even though everyone had told you that you��d done a great job, you could hardly sleep as your mind replayed every time you fumbled over your own lyrics or missed a cue. The residency was so much bigger than just yourself, so many people were relying on you to do well and sell out the rest of the shows. People’s livelihoods were on the line, and for the first time, you found yourself half-regretting pursuing music as a career.

As you dropped off your things in your dressing room, you could hear the faint sound of a piano accompanied by singing. Furrowing your eyebrows, you wracked your brain for who else could be in the showroom too. When you walked onto the stage, you were taken aback to see an Elvis impersonator sitting behind the keyboard, playing Unchained Melody as he sang along. He sounded beautiful and sang with a confidence you were envious of. Even more strange, he looked almost exactly like him if you didn’t know any better. In fact, you found yourself staring at his face, studying his features until his downturned eyes looked up at you through thick lashes, catching you in his gaze as a smile spread across his lips.

When he finished singing, you were in awe, unable to articulate anything coherent. “You were incredible–I mean, hi, I’m Y/N, and–”

His voice was velvety as he acknowledged you. “I know who you are, mama.”

“That’s great,” you said, rocking on your heels during the awkward silence that followed. “I’m sorry–are you supposed to be here?”

He nodded, getting up from behind the keyboard and walking over to you. “I’m gonna help you with your show. Nerves used to get to me too.”

“Chiara didn’t tell me she was bringing in a musical director.”

“Yeah, real last minute thing,” he said.

“Do you always dress like that?” you asked.

He raised an amused eyebrow. “My clothes?”

“Yeah, the whole Elvis impersonator thing,” you said. “I mean, you do a great job of it. You look just like him, really. Sound like him too.”

His answer was a noncommittal shrug. You felt kind of ridiculous accepting his help, like you were in the plot to some corny made-for-TV movie where an aspiring starlet is mentored by an Elvis impersonator, only for it to actually be him as an angel or ghost or something, disappearing by the end of the movie after she’s learned whatever generic lesson about friendship or being humble. When you asked what his name was, he even told you to just call him Elvis. You hoped Chiara knew what she was doing by hiring him, but she hadn’t led you astray yet.

To your surprise, he was a good mentor, giving you pointers on your performance and advice in engaging with the audience during the show. You found it odd when he asked you not to tell anyone else that he was helping you with your performance, assuring you that he was updating Chiara on everything himself. Even when you brought up that his advice would be useful to the backing band or stagehands, he insisted he was supposed to be mentoring you only.

You felt out of your element when he suggested you keep things light-hearted by joking around with them every few songs. You could certainly see his point. It’d endear them to you, make you that much more relatable if your nerves meant your singing had some hiccups here and there. The jokes and quips you’d written down were mediocre at best, with songwriting undoubtedly being your strong suit.

“I wrote some, I don’t know, jokes for the audience. I don’t think I’m much of a comedian, what do you think?” you asked.

He took the paper from you, and you cursed under your breath as the paper cut the delicate skin on your hand.

“Y/N,” Elvis whispered upon seeing the blood bead up and then drip down the side of your hand. He stared wide-eyed at the wound as if afraid of it.

“Hey, it was an accident. Don’t worry about it,” you said.

Just as you were about to pull your hand away, he grabbed it so quickly that if you had blinked, you would’ve missed it.

“Does it hurt?” he asked softly.

“I mean it stings a little,” you said.

He nodded, and in a move that made you feel like you were losing your mind, brought your hand to his mouth and licked the blood away, moaning as he did so. You’d never had an experience like that in your life, and you hated how the sound and sensation went straight to your pussy. Out of all the warning signals blaring in your mind at just about every interaction you had with Elvis in the few days he had been mentoring you, that was the blood red flag that stood out the most.

Looking up at you with hooded eyes, he kept his hold on your hand. “How about now?”

Unable to speak, you shook your head, disappointed when he released you at your confirmation of your well-being. You could hardly focus the rest of the evening, and when you returned to your suite later that night, you replayed the incident over and over in your head as you played with your clit, unaware of the voyuer who could hear you moaning his name as you brought yourself to orgasm at the thought of him and your own blood.

He didn’t bring up the incident the next time you saw him, which you took as your cue to not mention it either. As the next few days led up to opening night, you spent more time on stage with your backing band than with him. Though Chiara and Aileen assured you that you were ready, showing so much improvement from your first rehearsal the week before, you only truly felt ready when Elvis told you he knew you’d do perfectly–as long as you did what he told you.

“You’ll be there tonight, right?” you asked.

“You might not see me, but I’ll be there,” he promised.

You let out a sigh of relief. “Good, I think I’d cry if you said no.”

“Go on and give ‘em one hell of a show, baby,” he said, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

While you still felt nervous on stage, you didn’t let it get to your head as Elvis’ words the previous night echoed in your mind. They wanna see you do good, baby. That’s what they’re there for. Your backing band went right into your opening song, and to your relief, you started off strong, that confidence staying with you through the rest of your performance. It was fun to watch audience members react to your music, especially the ones who stood up from their tables and started dancing along.

The jokes you and Elvis had come up with were corny, sure, but they got a good reaction from the audience, and even the few you made on the spot landed well. Throughout your performance, you scanned the crowd for Elvis, but he was nowhere to be found. You were disappointed, but didn’t let it show as you introduced your last song of the evening.

You ended the show to a standing ovation, crying as Chiara handed you a bouquet of flowers from her seat in front of the stage. It went better than you could have imagined, and as the curtain dropped, you hugged every member of your backing band, thanking them for sticking by you despite the rocky start. Backstage was flooded with people fighting for your attention, but Chiara pushed her way through to give you a hug.

“You were amazing! Holy shit, I can’t believe you ever doubted yourself.”

“I couldn’t have done it without Elvis,” you said.

Chiara looked a bit confused, but nodded with a smile anyway as she continued congratulating you. As much as you appreciated everyone’s congratulations and well wishes, there was one person in particular whose opinion you desperately needed. Barely able to slip away from the pandemonium, you found him near the broken elevator. He gave you a dazzling smile when he saw you, making his way over to you.

Elvis pressed a kiss to your forehead before engulfing you in a hug. “You were perfect, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

You beamed at his words, squeezing him tighter against you. “Thank you. You’re coming to the afterparty, right?”

He released you from the hug, giving you an apologetic glance. “I can’t tonight, mama. You have fun. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

When he turned around to leave, a smirk spread across his face at the dejected look you gave him when he told you he wouldn’t be at the party. With every day that passed he became more convinced that you were the companion he needed to keep the loneliness of being one of the undead at bay. He couldn’t rush it, though. The incident with your hand was a risk he had taken far too soon, and he considered himself lucky that you actually enjoyed it instead of being scared away.

The next few months were consumed by you. He spent as much time as possible with you, or would lurk from the shadows to observe jealousy as you socialized with everyone who wasn’t him. You didn’t seem to notice that just about every man who made a pass on you at the hotel’s bar or casino disappeared not long after without a trace. Sooner or later, the message would get across that you were off-limits, and he was perfectly fine feeding on whatever bastard tried to get in his way of being with you.

Your residency was going fantastically, and you even had to work on an encore set because audiences started demanding it. Every time Elvis praised you or told you he was proud of you, it felt like getting struck by a bolt of lightning. Usually you and Elvis would work together before your nightly performances, as you found being around him gave you the confidence and motivation you needed to perform well.

For one reason or another, the two of you decided to work on one of your days off from performing, but as soon as you got to your dressing room, you regretted it. Knowing whether or not you’d get bad period cramps was a crapshoot, and unfortunately, they were especially bad that day. As much as you tried to mask it from Elvis, he could see right through you.

“You alright, mama?” he asked.

“My cramps are killing me today,” you said, wrapping your arms around your torso. “I took aspirin earlier, but I don’t think it’s helping.”

He responded with a silent, intense stare, and you interpreted his reaction as disgust.

“Don’t be immature. It’s natural.”

“I don’t disagree with you at all,” he said. “You know, opera singers don’t perform when they’re on their periods. Somethin’ about it messin’ with their vocal range.”

“I didn’t know that,” you said, wincing as you sat down to yet another cramp.

He licked his lips, inhaling through his nose as he added, “You know what really helps with all ‘a that?”

Yes, you knew exactly what he was referring to, and one more than one occasion had masturbated to relieve especially painful period cramps. In fact, you had considered doing so earlier, but you weren’t sure you’d have the time before meeting him.

His voice was so dark and deep you wanted to drown in its depths when he offered his assistance in alleviating your discomfort. It almost embarrassed you how quickly you agreed and ended up naked on your bed, his head buried between your legs as he lapped at your pussy. You gasped as you felt teeth graze your folds, but nothing more. His moans put the one you’d gotten off to before to shame, you wished you could record it–put it as the backing track for a salacious song like some of the metal bands you indulged in did.

He rubbed your clit with his thumb as he ate you out, his pace relentless as you could feel yourself reaching orgasm. Still, it wasn’t enough; you needed more. Sometimes you liked to drag things out, edge a bit to amplify the pleasure when you finally did come. In this instance, however, you allowed your greediness and desperation to guide you.

“Elvis,” you whined. “Elvis—fuck, faster.”

Elvis. You wished you knew his real name, feeling like an idiot helplessly moaning the name of a dead rockstar while getting eaten out by a man almost twice your age who dressed like him for a living. Regardless, you carded your fingers through his greased up black hair, pressing his face closer against your cunt. Just weeks ago you would have considered the thought of this disgusting, but now, seeing your blood on his face only turned you on, and you were too determined to find release to even begin thinking about what that said about you.

An all-consuming ecstasy sent white-hot waves of pleasure through your body that verged on being painful. More intense than anything you’d ever felt before, the moan you let out was guttural, coming from a place of depravity inside you that you weren’t aware existed. You couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, only feel as you orgasmed and then promptly passed out on the bed.

Still in your state of unconsciousness, Elvis continued eating you out like a man possessed. Truly, he may as well have been, because every time he tried to pull away, the taste of your blood on his tongue went right through him, until finally, he had to force himself to stop. His eyes gazed over the blood that was smeared on your body, and he swore he’d never seen anyone so beautiful in his life. Cursing himself for not having a camera to capture the state of obscenity he’d left you in, he made a mental note to keep one for next time.

Feeding had become sexual, the release he craved in lieu of actually being able to fuck, one of the things he missed most about being human. Taking blood, taking life sent orgasm-esque waves of pleasure through his undead body that he long since stopped feeling guilty for. If tearing someone’s throat out was sex, going down on a woman when she was on her period was foreplay, the least he could do before the inevitable.

As you lay unconscious beneath him, he reached out, gently caressing your warm cheek. He didn’t want to kill you, it’d be such a waste. Between your beauty and talent, he finally felt close to the sun as he could in his endless night. There was no way of knowing if anyone like you would cross paths with him again, and so, resisting the instinct he’d developed, he pressed a bloody kiss to your cheek before leaving to find a way to satiate his bloodlust before sunrise. Just his luck, she looked almost like you.

The late morning sun peaked through your curtains, waking you up to your bed looking like you’d been murdered in it. You felt nauseous with embarrassment at the thought of housekeeping seeing, let alone cleaning, your sheets. Elvis was nowhere to be found, and while you figured as much, you still found yourself disappointed by his absence. Knowing the ‘do not disturb’ sign was still on the door handle outside your room, you hoped a quick shower would help you brainstorm what to do with your damn sheets.

Your legs wobbled beneath you as you tried to stand up, stumbling like a fawn into your bathroom. As soon as you flipped on the lights, your eyes widened at the state of the lower half of your body. Dried blood smeared across your thighs and legs, and as you turned to inspect the damage, you could see where Elvis had held your hips from the bloody fingerprints that painted your skin.

Using the wall for support, you closed your eyes as you let the shower run until the water was warm to the touch. The blood didn’t immediately wash off your body as you’d hoped. Instead, you had to scrub to get it off, watching the rust-colored water pool at the drain. Even expending this bit of energy exhausted you even more than you already were. Throwing your washcloth aside, you sat down on the shower floor, resting your head on your knees until the water turned cold.

You got out of the shower, drying yourself off with a towel before putting on your bathrobe. Standing in front of your bed with your hands on your sore hips, you still had no idea what you were going to do with your sheets. In a fit of nervous adrenaline, you grabbed them and ran out of your room to the nearest laundry chute, sending them down in hopes the sight of them wouldn’t trigger a homicide investigation.

When you met Elvis at your usual time, in your usual spot, later that night, he greeted you warmly with a kiss to your forehead, pleased to hear you were feeling better. You had so many questions, especially about the previous night, but unsure of how to articulate them, went about business as usual as he continued to mentor you through your residency.

The intimacy that you had developed with Elvis confused you. He wasn’t your boyfriend, yet he’d become frighteningly irate and disagreeable when you’d mention interest in other men, even in passing. Calling him your lover felt odd, as the only time the two of you did anything remotely sexual was when you’d be on your period, and he’d ravage you like it was his last meal and then act like nothing happened. The two of you were far too close for you to brush the relationship off as casual—casual had long since up and gone in the context of you and Elvis.

No one knew about him, though. He had asked you not to tell anyone about him, and whenever it seemed like someone would find the two of you out in some way, they either diverted course or he successfully disappeared into the shadows. Despite all of the time you spent with him, you hardly knew anything about him, long since giving up asking him any personal questions since he’d answer as if he were Elvis himself.

You could admit to yourself that the situation was fucked up. There was nothing normal about it, and you almost wondered how you ended up in that spot in the first place. Still, you weren’t sure if your residency would be as successful without him. Whenever you incorporated one of his suggestions into the show or followed the direction he gave, Chiara would tell you that critics were raving about the changes, and audiences couldn’t get enough—that much was true, as you found yourself having to work out elaborate encores. No one wanted you to leave. At the same time, the rest of the world was growing restless at your residency being confined to Las Vegas.

Chiara had excitedly approached you one evening before your first show of the night with a small stack of papers. As you flipped through them, she explained that your label had put together a report of cities with the most interest in you bringing your show to them as well as offers from international venues that wanted you to perform. Finally, she added that the label had pre-approved your next three albums—so long as you accompanied each one with a show similar to your Vegas one.

It was almost too much to take in at once. The money would be unbelievable, though, especially the international venues which were offering amounts that made your eyes nearly pop out of your head. The next decade of your career was practically set, and you gladly joined Chiara when she brought you to the hotel bar, ordering a bottle of champagne for the two of you to split in celebration.

You wouldn’t have to worry about a thing again, and you knew a large part of that had to do with Elvis. Breaking the news to him wouldn’t be easy, as Chiara had made no mention of him in the plans she had thrown out about your tours, and you wanted to keep true to your word that you wouldn’t bring him up. You supposed it meant he was only helping you during the residency and nothing more.

He was taken aback when you sheepishly told him the following night about the label’s offer and the plans to tour.

“I wanted to thank you for everything,” you said. “Chiara said the label wants me to take the show on tour–”

“You’re leaving?”

“I still have two weeks left of shows, but I couldn’t have done it without you. I mean, I’m pretty much set for life.”

He scoffed. “I’m sure you are. Let me tell you somethin’ mama. There are people out there who ain’t as nice as I am, ain’t lookin’ out for you the way I do.”

“Do you want me to just stay here forever?”

He shook his head, storming out of your dressing room. You didn’t see him again for several days following that altercation. Ever since you gave him the news about ending your residency, his direction was hostile and he withheld the usual praises he poured on you. During your last few nights of shows, he disappeared again, to your frustration.

You couldn’t bring him with you, no rational way to explain the odd relationship you had with Elvis. Chiara had hired him to mentor you, not be your overbearing–fuckbuddy? lover? bootycall? Not to mention, if he was this volatile, you weren’t sure the rest of your team would appreciate having him around. Still, the thought of leaving him made your chest ache. You’d miss him terribly, as much as it pained you to admit it.

You sat in your dressing room after the second to last night of shows during your residency. When you heard the door open and then close behind you, you could tell by the sound of the footfall that it was him. You almost wanted to chew him out for ignoring you the past few days, but when you turned around, he beat you to the punch.

“Y/N, I’ve been thinkin’ about it, your tour and everything,” he said. “Well, you’re not goin’ on it.”

You scoffed, after how he’d been treating you, now he suddenly cares again? “I don’t think that’s for you to decide.”

He smiled, in on a secret you were about to find out. “See, that’s the thing, it is.”

“And what sway would an Elvis impersonator have over my career?”

“I’m no impersonator, mama. I’m the real deal.”

Before you could respond, he bared his teeth, revealing unnaturally sharp canines. Your heart leapt to your throat, which you covered with a hand. Like stars that had aligned, everything made sense to you—his odd behavior, all of the anomalies in his stories and excuses, and most of all, his sexual inclinations. Just as quickly, those stars exploded into an uncontrollable supernova that overtook your mind as the reality of the situation caught up to you. Whether he killed you or turned you, you were going to die.

Your lip trembled as he approached you, hunger in his eyes and the slightest hint of a smile on his face. Using his finger to lift your head, he leaned down and kissed you slowly, sensually. Though the sensation made you feel dizzy, you couldn’t help but keen into his touch, opening your mouth the slightest bit to allow him access, to take what he wanted. If this was the face of death, you welcomed him with open arms.

“You wanna stay with me, don’t you, baby?” he whispered. “Want me to keep you all to myself?”

“Yes,” you breathed, gasping as his sharp fangs poked at your bottom lip. “Elvis, please.”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your lips. “How can I say no when you ask so nicely?”

He pulled away from you, wrapping an arm around your waist, and without protest you allowed him to guide you to the broken elevator. He pulled a key out of his pocket, turning the access lock next to the elevator doors, which suddenly came to life as they opened before you. The button to the penthouse lit up when he pressed it, and you let out a weak laugh at the revelation that the off-limits suite was his.

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