#god what could have been if they wrote an entirely different story

[bioaccumulation]

Rewatching the first season of Loki and the writing is so much worse than I remember and I remember it being not that good

#tom hiddleston is a good actor i know it but its not showing here #that or the writing is so uncharacteristically loki he cant even work it #god what could have been if they wrote an entirely different story #my favorite character coukd have had his own amazing series but nooo 60s themed time bureaucracy #they put that old twink in a fucking khaki jacket

[sugarpea12345]

Remember My Name (Short story inspired by Saintobio)

Hello! This is a little thing I wrote inspired by @saintobio's work. This is directly inspired by they're sincerely yours and sincerely not .

To read and understand this, you must be caught up with sincerely not 's latest chapter (Chapter 8). I would consider this an AU, as I don't know what will happen in the next story. @saintobio 's is heart wrenching, so I had to write my own mini happy ending. Once they update, this whole thing probably won't make much sense lol.

I have received permission from @saintobio to post this

Again, this is directly inspired by @saintobio's work: Sincerely Yours and Sincerely Not.

Word count: 11.8 k

trigger warning: mentions of suicide, mentions of self harm, mentions of cheating, curse words used, angst

_____________________________________________________________

It had been a year since the coparenting arrangement. 

Via emails and business calls, you would arrange weekly pick up times. It was strictly professional. The way you wanted it. Right?

Wrong

You knew that you were being selfish. Maybe you always were. Everyone was right. Sera, Eula, Getou, Satoru’s mom, and Satoru. You were a black hole. You pulled people into your problems and destroyed them. You spent so much of your life fighting to be half the woman your mom was. And you could never be. You knew this now

“Mama!”

Bending down, you opened your arms. Hugging him tightly, you thanked the chauffeur for picking him up from school.

“Hi baby! How’s my little star?”

“Good! School finished early?” It was a statement, but you knew he was asking. Why did you take him out of school early? You really didn’t know. This whole day had felt strange. The air felt heavier. Your fingers felt numb. Something was going to happen and you didn’t want to be alone for it.

“What? My star prefers to be with teachers than with me? You’re making mommy sad!” You playfully nuzzled your head against his cheek and dramatically pouted. 

“I’ll never let you go to school again! Ha HA HA” You laughed evilly as you stood up and spun him

“Nooo!” He screamed between laughing.

After a good second of smiles and laughter, you finally set him down.

“Baby, I took you out of school because I wanted to spend time with you. Mommy is being selfish, so I won’t do this again. School is very important, ok?”

“Hmm… but mommy isn’t selfish. She’s a good mommy!”

You almost burst out in tears. He was too young to see how awful you were. His innocence and love for you blinded him. He would someday see you for the monster you are.

Allowing silence to fill the room, you stared into his eyes. God, those eyes. Your whole world could be found in them. Ruffling his hair, you grabbed the nearby scarf and wrapped it around him. Like any kid he grumbled at the added layers.

“Let’s go get ice cream and have fun today. Ok, baby?”

“Ice Cream! I love ice cream! My friend always, they always like laugh at me but not like mean laughing. But they say it’s so weird to eat ice cream when its winter. They think it’s funny. I think it’s funny too! Is snow different from ice cream? Because there’s like all this ice cream on the floor because it’s all snow. I just grab some sometimes and it doesn’t taste the same!”

As he got older, he has gotten a lot more talkative. He spoke incoherently and in run on sentences, but you understood him, nonetheless. You listened attentively when he would spend 30 minutes telling you about a funny thing his friend said. You listened when he would explain his entire school day the entire dinner. You listened the whole time.

“Yes baby, ice cream is yummy! I’m glad you and your friends laugh a lot. And no baby, snow is not the same as ice cream. Snow is made from the water on the earther getting colder, becoming clouds, and falling down. Remember I was teaching you about the water cycle? Ice cream is made from milk!”

At the mention of the water cycle, Sachiro excitedly launched into another spiel. He talked about the cycle, reexplaining it to you. He talked about how his teacher says he’s smart and how he got a toy. He talked about how his friends always ask him for help. He talked all the way to the ice cream parlor. As soon as you two ordered your ice cream, you settled down. Listening to him talk about his dreams. You always set your phone on Do Not Disturb whenever you are with him. He loved attention. If for one second you were to look away, he would immediately deflate. He was a carbon copy of his father. Sometimes you contemplated getting rid of your phone for this reason.

You spent the rest of the day chasing him through the park: pretending to be a dragon he fought, teaching him how to do cartwheels, looking for bugs. You took as many pictures as you could. Filming his smile, his voice, his eyes. 

The day came to an end, and you carried him on your back to the apartment you were staying in. 

After showering him and singing him a song, you finally took your phone off of DND.

Immediately, you were bombarded with millions of messages from everyone. 20 missed calls from Gen. 11 from Ian. 6 from your dad. 120+ text messages in total. 1 from Gojo.

Was everything ok? Please don’t let something be bad. Please. Please everyone be safe.  You heart beat increased. You were immediately transported to when you received news of Satoru’s accident. When the world learned about you running out of your wedding. When Satoru’s affair came out to the world. When you first got the calls of your mother’s sickness...

No. I can’t be selfish right now. If something happened, I have to be strong. Swallowing your fears, you opened the message you thought was the most important right now

Satoru: I’m sorry

No no no. He can’t do this again. He can’t! No please God no… You were almost about to call him, when you received another message from Gen. She was incessantly messaging you. Accidentally clicking on it, you read her last message

Gen: Please answer. Are you ok?

Now you were confused. Why was she asking if you were ok? You weren’t the victim. Doing some simple sleuthing, you looked at all the previous messages. Your eyes widened. You heart stopped. Tears filled your eyes. Looking over at Sachi, you took in a shaky breath. You had to be strong. Or at least strong enough to leave the room before you broke down. You had to do this for him. Stop being selfish Y/N

Shakily you walked out of his room. Looking back to make sure he was asleep; you closed the door gently. Before falling to your knees and letting all the tears fall. They pooled in the floor. You made sure to be quiet, but you were inconsolable. You hugged yourself tightly. You were being selfish right now. You knew that. But you were alone, and it was dark. It was ok to be selfish right now. Your heart was racing as you consoled yourself.

After half an hour of crying on the floor. You took a deep breath in and stood up. You went to the bathroom and stared at yourself.

“You need to stop being such a selfish monster, Y/N. You can’t keep ruining people. You can’t always be the victim. You need to make amends for everything you’ve done.”

You started your nightly ritual. Tears would occasionally mix in with cleanser or the water, but you didn’t stop. You had to be normal. You had to be happy. You owed everyone that. Sometimes it felt like you were caged behind your smile. Your joy had become a prison: a way to pay off all the bad things you’ve done.

Settling in bed, you grabbed your phone and responded to almost everyone. Finally, you reached Satoru’s message. 

Y/N: No worries! Congratulations! I expect an invitation lol :)

Satoru proposed to Akemi.

(Flash back to a year ago)

After that New York trip, you hated everyone. You hated your dad for pushing you into this marriage. You hated Getou for helping Satoru cheat on you during your marriage, but not understand why you wouldn’t want a baby with Satoru. You hated Satoru’s mom for projecting her self-loathing onto you. You hated your mom for dying. 

Above all else, you hated Satoru for what he did to you. He blamed you for a marriage he agreed to. He gaslit you into staying, knowing your selfless nature would do anything for his forgiveness. Even if that meant being a wife to a man in love. You hated him for taking you to the Bora Bora trip. You hated him for choosing your only friend to date. You hated that you had to go through months of emotional neglect and abuse for him to be kind. Just for Akemi to get it immediately. You hated that he became a better person only after using you. You hated him. You HATED him.

A spiteful part of your heart almost laughed. You were right! All the reasons he loved you, he found in her. You saw all the pictures he had of her. You saw the way he would caress her fingers. You saw him waiting for her. He never loved you! You were just convenient. And that’s why he loved her! Because she was convenient. Had you never sent her to meet him, they wouldn’t have fallen in love. If anything, he would be dating the nurse! Gojo Satoru doesn’t love. He just clings on to what’s closest. 

You spent a month marinating in these thoughts. In the week where you didn’t have Sachiro, you wouldn’t leave the office. You had begun sleeping there. You lost weight. Your face was pale. You were a walking corpse. You got assistants to pick up and drop off Sachiro. You never spoke to Satoru. 

This was to be your life now. After spending three days in the basement of the office creating, cutting, and sowing, Nobara finally convinced you to leave.

“Seriously Y/N, this is the 4th time I’ve had to get you gauze instead of bandages. I know you’re hurt, and I know you’re trying to distract yourself. But this is getting dangerous. Not only for you but for the clothes! We can’t sell anything if it has your blood all over it!” She tried to joke at the end

 As you finished wrapping the gauze around your forearm, you pitifully looked at her. She was so young and innovative. Despite being an intern, you had already set aside a permanent spot in the company for her. Stop burdening her with your problems.

Blinking away your sorrowful expression, you laughed. “Guess I gotta wrap myself in gauze and bandages before getting to work right?”

“Or you could just take a break. Jeez, I never thought workaholic millionaires existed.”

Ruffling her head as you walked towards her. “Thank you for waiting for me. You really didn’t have to. I promise, I won’t take advantage of your kindness. Go ahead and go home, I’ll lock up.”

Stunned, she took a second to respond. Your eyes were different right now. They were vulnerable and sad, but they were so kind at the same time.

“It’s no problem! Really! Thank you Y/N. Let’s work hard together.” Bowing, she made her way out of the store. Maybe you were going to get better?

After cleaning up, you placed the small stuffed bear you were working on in your small bag. Locking the store behind you, you headed towards your apartment. You had made the choice to move out. You were so filled with anger all the time. It would kill you if you were to accidentally lash out against the people you treasured. It was a tough conversation, but you needed space. 

As you walked, you decided last minute to head into a craft store. You needed a simple heart locket. Then you could gift the toy to your son.

With only one mission and energy drinks fueling you, you almost didn’t notice them. It wasn’t until you heard your son’s gleeful laughter did you perk up. Peering through the aisles, you saw him. No, you saw them. They both held your son’s hands as they looked at the toys. Letting go only when he would rush over to the loudest or brightest thing. Finally, he settled on a small plush. It had no lights and didn’t make any noise. They encouraged him to get something more expensive. Something flashier. But he didn’t. He wanted the light pink bunny. 

“It makes me think of mama!”

You saw Satoru and Akemi falter. It seemed that even the mention of your name silenced them. Your heart was beating so loud, you were sure they could hear it too. Leaning down Satoru ruffled his head. 

“Aren’t you a sweet little munchkin! Oh, but look at this!” 

You heart almost stopped. You saw Satoru redirect Satchiro’s attention to a cooler, bigger toy. As any kid would, he dropped the stuffed bunny and ran towards the huge toy. Gojo and Akemi exchanged relieved expressions. After purchasing the toy, they headed out. 

Walking into the aisle, you picked the bunny up. Holding it, you inspected its simplicity. Looking at the face, you realized why the bunny reminded him of you. The bunny had little tear dops in its eyes. Rushing to the cashier, you bought the bunny and the heart locket. It appears that you rushed too fast, as by the time you exited the store, they were still there. 

Sachiro, the spoiled child he was, was throwing a tantrum at having to be put in the car seat. As if he could detect your presence, Satoru immediately looked up. He saw you holding the bunny toy. His eyes filled with guilt and embarrassment. He knew that you were going to be upset. Of course you were. You were always angry at something. Nonetheless, he called you over. You were still the mother of his child.

After seeing the domestic moment in the store, you wanted to go up to them and give them a piece of your mind. You wanted to yell at them at the very least. But no, you walked over to them. Refusing to look up. 

At the mention of your name Sachiro perked up. Although he was already strapped into the seat, he did his best to peek out of the car door.

“Hi Y/N”. the tension was palpable. Choosing to ignore him, you approached Sachiro.

“Hi my little star! How are you? Did you have fun today?”

“Hi mommy! I missed you! Wanna go home! We did a lot of stuff-hmm mommy what are you holding?”

Remembering you were holding the bunny, you quickly hid it behind you back. “Just work stuff baby. I’m happy to hear you had fun! Mommy has to go, but I’ll see you this Sunday, ok baby?”

Giving him a big kiss, you did your best to hug him and said goodbye. 

Without looking up, you thanked Gojo and Akemi and began walking away. As soon as you got home, you set the plush down and pulled out your own. They both looked so ugly in your bandaged hands. Gently setting down the plush bunny, you tightly held onto the bear’s neck. Slowly, the pressure increased, and you were chocking the bear as tears streamed down your face. It was so ugly. This ugly bear in your ugly hands in your ugly home. Everything was so ugly. 

A beep from your phone broke you from this trance. It was from Satoru. 

Satoru: Hey

Satoru: Just wanted to let you know that we meant no harm in not getting him the bunny.

Then why? Why not get him that stupid toy! Sachiro is my kid! I am his mom! If he wanted that toy, then you should have gotten it! You almost wrote everything you thought. But no- no you were wrong. Sachiro wasn’t yours. Satoru had every right to get his son whatever he wanted. You kept Sachiro away from him for three years. You were the bad guy. 

Trembling you came to the realization. Rushing to the bathroom, you stripped yourself of all the clothes and the bandages. You looked at yourself in the mirror. You almost barfed. You were a monster. You were disgusting. Disfigured. Non-human.

Is this how Satoru felt?

The worst part of you were your eyes. They were so dead. Did you always look like this? How could anyone even stand to look at you? You were vile.

You had change. You spiraled into an abyss of anger and resentment. You lost yourself. Where was the sweet girl you once were. Growing a backbone didn’t mean you had to change. After a quick shower filled with tears, you got dressed and headed into the spare room. You spent the rest of the night making a light blue bunny. Unlike the store bought one, this one was smiling. It was happy. Sowing the heart locket onto the chest, you put in a small image of you and Sachiro. 

You had to be better. You had to be kind.

Grabbing the phone, you replied.

Y/N: Thank you for reaching out, but really, I didn’t mind! 

Y/N: Good night!

The next day, you didn’t go to work. Instead, you were at a café, waiting for someone to show up. You felt awful, but you knew this was the best thing to do. You had to be kind. Even if that meant being a villain. If being evil is the price you pay, then you will gladly pay it. Even more people would hate you. Everyone would. But you knew what you were doing was good. You had to be good. 

As soon as he walked in, you knew that he knew. His furrowed brow and tight jaw made it obvious that he was upset. And he had every right to be. Any anger and hate he harbored for you, you would accept.

“Toji, here’s your coffee. I’m so incredibly sorry for calling you at the last minute. I appreciate the time you took out of your day to meet with me”

He didn’t even sit down. He didn’t take the coffee.

Its now or never. Getting on your knees, you placed your hands on the floor and bowed. Your forehead was almost touching the floor. 

“Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for being a shoulder to lean on. Thank you for letting me join your family. Thank you for everything Toji. And I am so sorry for not giving you an ounce of it back. I am a selfish monster. I took everything you gave me and more. I was never a good fiancé. I wasn’t even a good friend. I took advantage of your loneliness. I will never forget the time we had together. But I ask you to forget about me. You deserve a more honest person. A person who can give you everything you deserve and more.”

People were looking and many taking pictures. Noticing this, he grabbed you by your arm, and headed out of the café. His grip was strong; it was sure to leave a bruise in your forearm, he nearly threw you into the passenger side of the car, slamming the door. He walked over to his side and began driving. The car was silent. You took refuge in it. You knew what he was going to ask. And you had to lie. You had to make him hate you. 

Soon enough, he parked in a desolate park. He refused to look at you. You didn’t want to look at him either, but you did. You had to. 

After minutes of harrowing silence, he finally spoke in a low voice

“Did you sleep with him?”

You knew he was going to ask this. A tear slid down your cheek. Your hands had begun to bleed as you kept them in closed fists.

“Yes”

He still didn’t look at you.

“Bullshit. You forget that I can see through your lies. I know why you’re doing this. You love him. You never stopped. Even after all the shit he put you through you still want him. Why now? Three years and I wasn’t enough for you. I defend you; I support you... all for what? For you to run back to your abuser. Every time I think your mine, you disrespect me. You humiliate me. You’re doing to me what that fucker did to you.”

“…Yes. I am. That’s why you have to leave me Toji. I can’t stand my reflection. I am so selfish-”

“Shut up. Don’t play the ‘pity me’ card. God, you really are something. The forever victim.”

You stayed quiet. In a perfect world, you would defend yourself. You would tell him that you aren’t trying to be the victim. You never were! You see that now. 

“You’re right.”

“All those fucking articles were right about you. I spent so much time, so much energy telling you they were lies. Turns out strangers know you better than I do. You are a two-timing bitch. You are selfish. You’re insatiable. Why couldn’t I have been enough for you. How the hell was I competing with the man who never loved you? And losing! You deserve nothing, you know that… You never left that room, did you?”

“W-what room?”

“That hospital room. Sure, you’re older now. You’ve been to a million places. But mentally? Mentally, you’re still in that hospital room. There is no cure for your loneliness. Face it Y/N, the problem has and always will be you. If you want to die next to your mom, be my guest. But you need to leave that room Y/N. If not for you, for your kid.”

He stayed quiet. It was your turn to speak. He didn’t want to hear you, but his patient nature told him to give you a chance. Not to defend yourself. But rather explain yourself.

“You’re right Toji. I think that’s why I always look for you. You always have the wisest things to say. And I know that. I’ve let the world pass me by. I have a void in my heart and its rotted me from the inside out. I’ll spend my entire life working for your forgiveness. And my lifetime might not be enough for that. You are everything to me. And that’s why I can’t let myself continue to poison you. I’ve changed you for the worst.”

You two sat in silence. You could hear his uneven breath. Reaching out you put hand on his shoulder. For the first time he turned to look at you. And there he saw it. Your eyes. 

Red and puffy with tears, your face for once didn’t look as haunted as usual. There was always this air of anger around you. Your shoulders were always tense. Eyebrows always furrowed. Not now. You looked younger. Instead of the anger that had clouded your eyes, he could finally see his reflection.

You didn’t look happy per se, but you looked aware. He looked at the hand on his shoulder. Even after everything he said, you were comforting him? This was the old you. The selfless to a fault Y/N. He couldn’t tell if this was a good or bad thing. 

He then noticed the mark on your forearm, already purple. In the shape of his hands. Reaching out he gently caressed the bruises, guilt settling in the pit of his stomach. You grabbed his hand and brought it to your lips. 

“Don’t worry about it. I love you Toji. Please, forget me.”

When the news broke out that you had ended your relationship, Ian did his best to remove a lot of the posts. It was hard since there were so many shots of you on the floor begging for forgiveness. If you didn’t look guilty then, now you did. Why else would you be apologizing? But you didn’t mind. Instead, you focused on removing any article that spoke badly on Toji. Especially after some pictures of you and that hand-print bruise were published. 

Fortunately, your brand had already been established. And while the coverage halted some planned promotions and runways, by the end of the month everything was normal again.

You changed your phone to a flip phone. You did your best to text Satoru about pick up times. Most often he wouldn’t respond. Instead, you would have to call Miwa. On the rare occasion that he did, you would spend the rest of the day crying. You cried so much. You couldn’t help but remember that way they both held Sachiro’s hands. The domestic life you would never provide for him. 

Often you would contemplate if you should have accepted him. Did you really love him? Or was it just easier to love him? You couldn’t trust yourself. Your mind was in ruins. You had no one. Since your change in attitude, people have become nicer to you. But you weren’t happy. And you stopped letting people get close. You even began to push away Gen and Ian. Monthly, you would meet with your dad and that was it.

Was life good? No, but it was better. You would be content if life stayed like this. But now, a year after your failed marriage, Satoru was going to prepare his own.

(Present time)

The day after receiving that message, it was published everywhere. It was the only thing articles were talking about. With the mentions of Satoru’s new marriage, you were put into the spotlight again.

The paparazzi swarmed you. Leaving your house had become difficult. They harassed you. Pushing you while demanding you answer questions. You smiled. You thanked them for their time. You would bid them farewell. It was too dangerous that you could no longer pick your son up. Not that you minded. You didn’t want to see how happy they were. Not until you were done healing at least.

You spent the weekend doing everything Sachiro wanted. Breakfast in bed? Of course. Quick trip to the local festival? Duh. Building a fort? Obviously. 

By the time Sunday night came he was so tired. All he asked was that you sing to him before his dad picked him up. Now you sat with Sachiro’s head on your lap. Normally, a bodyguard would meet you at your door and take your son downstairs as to not garner attention. 

As soon as the knock came, you gently laid his head on couch. Slowly you opened the door, expecting to see the normal guard.

“Thank- oh. Good evening, Satoru. Are you here to pick up Sachiro?”

He looked past you and saw Sachiro sleeping. Letting himself in, he sat on the couch and petted Sachi’s head. After moments of silence, he finally spoke up. 

“Yes, but I also came because I need to talk to you.”

Solemnly, you nodded. “I actually have something to say as well. I was planning to email it later, but if you’re here then we should discuss. Would you like anything?”

Satoru couldn’t help but stare at you. Just a year ago, he had buried the old you. It was his fault he knew that. If you were mean and angry, it was because he made you that way. The damage was irreparable. But here he saw her again. Or at least a glimpse of her. 

Even though he didn’t respond, you still handed him a water bottle.

“Did you want to go first?” 

“Um, yes. I just... I just wanted to apologize for not letting you know. I was planning on calling you, but I got distracted. I’m sorry you had to learn that way.”

“Silly. We all flub up sometimes. I would have appreciated knowing so that I could explain it to Sachiro. Thank you for apologizing.”

Even though you were smiling, he could tell you were sad. Your eyes were distant. It was like you had detached yourself from everyone. Somehow, he already missed that angry Y/N. At least he knew what you were thinking. Now, it felt like when you two had gotten married. How you smiled every time he yelled at you. He expected you would say the “I don’t care what you do with your life” speech and spitefully kick him out. He could sleep well knowing you hated him. But seeing your smile, it felt like he was cheating again. No. No, you asked for him to forget you. This is good. You’re getting better. But is returning to your selfless self better? That’s when you suffered the most. That’s what changed you. 

You didn’t give him much time to think as you started to speak. 

“Satoru, can I ask you for a favor?”

He knew what you were going to say. This nice act can’t last forever. This was the angry Y/N he knew. 

“Can you take care of Sachiro for a couple of months? I know it’s a lot, but I have some... business to take care of. I would take him with me, but I don’t want to separate you from him anymore than I already have.”

Oh? 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll take care of him. I can’t believe you had to ask. He’s my son, of course I will take care of him.”

His tone had changed. He had gotten angry at the mention of the three years. You didn’t react. You just thanked him.

Gojo enjoyed his week with Sachiro and Akemi. It felt like they had a family. This is what he wanted. Sure, you were Sachiro’s real mom, but Akemi was also kind of like a mom. He noticed how well the two got along. He sought comfort in her and laughed with her. Yes. This is good. 

Yet, he couldn’t help but think about you. 

Every time Sachiro offered the first bite of his food to him. Every time Sachiro defended the annoying people at the mall. Every time Sachiro smiled, Satoru saw you. Yes, Sachiro looked exactly like him, but everything about him was you. It was all you.

His heart almost broke when he saw Sachiro singing to his stuffed animals. 

“Hey munchkin. BedTIME!” He joyfully grabbed Sachiro and swung him around the room. Instead of laughing, Sachiro began to pout. 

“No playing at bedtime dada. No”

“Oh, my bad Sachi.” He was a replica of you. 

Satoru sat on the bed as Sachiro headed to the bathroom, pulled out his step stool and began cleaning his face. After finishing his regiment, he waddled back into the room and settled himself into bed. 

“Is dada going to read me a story?”

“Can I sing to you instead munchkin?”

“Hmmm… no thank you dada.”

“Aww you’re a meanie! Um, but actually I need to talk to you about something serious.”

“Mhmm”

“You like Akemi, right? Dada likes her a lot. But it’s very important that you like her.”

“Yesh! Akemi is nice!”

He knew that this was wrong, but he had to ask. “Do you ever think Akemi could be like momma?”

Immediately tears sprouted from the boy’s eyes. He started frantically grabbing and throwing some of his toys. 

“NO! Mommy is Mommy! No one else is mommy! I hate Akemi! I hate her! I want mommy! Mommy!!”

Sachiro was screeching. Gojo was thankful that Akemi was in another room. She really did love Sachiro, and it would have broken her heart to hear him say that.

He held Sachiro close, trying to console him. “Shhh, baby. Daddy didn’t mean that ok? No one will replace mommy. Mommy is all yours.” Sachiro cried until his tears tired him out. No, I can’t tell him. Not today. Maybe Y/N should tell him instead. Sorry Y/N. I’m using your selflessness again. 

Soon enough the week ended, and he passed him back to you. Instead of showing up in person, as he did last time, he sent the bodyguards to take him. He was being cowardly, he knew. But he couldn’t risk Sachiro hating him. It’s your fault their relationship is so weak. It should only be right that it’s your job to explain everything to Sachiro. Right?

Satoru: Hey, I tried to tell him about me and Akemi. He didn’t respond very well. Could you explain it to him?

You almost rolled your eyes at the message. You were being punished. You knew that. But you responded with a simple ‘Ok’ anyway. 

Switch offs happened at night to make sure that each parent spent the majority of the day with Sachiro. You and Sachiro headed to the bathroom and completed your nightly routine all while dancing and occasionally teasing each other. This is what you lived for. Yes, you were lonely all the time. But you weren’t lonely with him. He was your reason to exist. It was going to hurt you being away from him for so long. But this would be good for everyone. This would be your last act of selflessness. This would atone for every bad thing you did.  

By the time you cleaned up all the splashed water, Sachiro was already in bed ready for his song. Instead, you sat on the floor. 

“Hey star boy, I need to talk to you. It’s going to be serious, ok?”

As soon as you finished the sentence, he burst into tears. Hugging you close he shook his head in a no motion.

“NO! I hate her! I hate her! She’s not mommy! Mommy is mommy! Mommy is my star and I’m her star! Not Akemi!”

Confused you held him tight. You cooed and brushed his snow-white hair back. “No Akemi won’t replace me baby.”

He pulled away to look up at you. “Daddy asked me! He asked me if Akemi could be mommy! I said no!”

You sighed dejectedly. This is why it didn’t go well. Your son was naturally altruistic. He would have understood and accepted had Gojo explained everything normally. But it seems that Gojo had made a selfish request. Why is it always my job to clear up Satoru’s name? Why can he be selfish and be the victim, but I can’t? No! No, I can’t think that! I’ve been selfish my whole life! Satoru is a victim. This will all be solved soon…

“My star, he didn’t mean it that way. Listen to me Sachiro. Me and you are a family, right? Me and you were also part of Toji’s family. Sometimes, when you love someone, you can add them to your family. Mommy messed up with Toji, and I’m no longer part of their family. But Satoru has someone he loves. Is it ok for her to join our family?”

You had dumped a lot of information on him. It took a second to process everything. 

“So, we aren’t family with Toji?”

“I’m not baby. But you will always be, ok. That’s how love works. They love you a lot.”

“Are you and daddy family?”

“Yes, we are. You make us a family.”

“But does mommy love daddy?”

You were stumped. This is probably why Satoru didn’t want this conversation. So, you answered honestly.

“Yes, mommy loves daddy.”

“Then why does daddy love Akemi?”

“Love is strange, baby. Sometimes you love people more. And he loves Akemi more. Is that ok?”

He took a second to think

“I guess…”

“Thank you for being so selfless Sachiro.” You stopped to think. “But if you’re ever not okay, then you have to tell someone, ok? Its ok to be selfish too.” You were just projecting, but you knew it was important for him to hear that too.

“Ok?”

“Speaking of being selfish… Mommy is going away for a couple of months.” As expected, he started bawling. He started kicking and throwing. He was loud. He was angry. He was betrayed

“NO! NO! Mommy can’t go! Mommy can’t leave me! She can’t! I’ll be a good boy I promise! I’ll eat every veggie! I won’t cry anymore! Mommy can’t leave!! It’s Akemi’s fault! Her fault! That’s why mommy cries so much! Its daddy too! Mommy never cried!”

You started crying too. All those times you thought you hid your tears he saw. He saw everything. This was the worst-case scenario. You had to leave. You couldn’t let him see you like that anymore. You had to leave that hospital room. Toji was right.

You held onto him. Even when he began to hit you. Even when he rubbed his snot over you. You waited until he calmed down, Silent tears were streaming down his face.

“Can we go back to New York mommy? I hate it here. Daddy is mean to mommy. Mommy cries all the time. Mommy is lonely and sad while Daddy is happy. It’s not ok.”

You wiped his tears away. 

“Sachiro, don’t say that. Mommy is paying the price for being bad. Daddy deserves to be happy. He loves you so so much. Please forget everything bad, Sachiro. Daddy wasn’t mean to me. If he was, I wouldn’t let you stay with him, right? Mommy isn’t lonely. She has you. Mommy will never be sad as long as Sachiro is here. You’re like my superhero! Mommy is struggling and she needs to fix some stuff so she can be a better mommy for you ok, baby? None of this is your fault. I have to go, but I promise you, this will be better for you and for me. I promise with my whole heart. The second I get everything sorted out, I’ll pick you up. This hurts me too, baby. But I need to be a better mommy for you. None of this if your fault. Don’t you ever think that. Hey, to help my little star, I have present for you.”

You stood up and presented him with a white, sleek box. It had beautiful light blue ribbon on it. He held it but refused to open it. 

“I even got myself a present so we could match!”

You pulled out your own white box. Seeing that you both had a present, he was more willing to open his. It was a phone. You had a matching one. You really didn’t want another phone, as you were content with the flip phone you already had. It made ignoring all the evil things people said about you a lot easier to manage. 

“When mommy’s gone, we can call each other all the time. I’ll respond to every text. I’ll answer every phone call. I promise. I won’t be gone for long. But I’ll text you so much you’ll wish I was.”

This garnered a small giggle from him. 

“Don’t worry baby, we have the rest of the week. We’ll do everything you want.”

He nodded glumly. He wasn’t too happy, but he felt a lot better knowing he could reach out to you. 

You slept with him. Holding him close, you did your best to treasure these moments.

When Sunday night finally came, you asked Satoru to pick him up personally. This was a big change, even if it was temporary. You wanted Sachiro to be as relaxed as possible. You and him sat on the couch. You had packed a bunch of his valuables and even some pictures so that he wouldn’t feel so lonely.  He was again on your lap, fighting to stay awake as you ran your fingers through his hair.

The serene moment was disrupted by the loud knocks coming from the door. Expecting to see Satoru you opened the door, only to see Akemi there. You did your best to keep your smile. It wasn’t that you hated her. No, she was your friend at one point to. But an evil part of you knew you could never forgive her. Not for dating Satoru, but for choosing him over your friendship. You told her everything, but because she never experienced it, she could ignore it. That is selfish.  As if you can critique others for being selfish. 

You welcome both of them. Sachiro already stood up, holding the blanket closely. He refused to look at his dad or Akemi. His eyes were already brimming with tears.

Bending down to his level, you caress his face. “It’s ok to cry, my star. But before you do, I have a gift for you.”

Reaching behind the couch, you presented him the light blue bunny you had made. His eyes widened and he squealed in joy Running to hug it he struggled opening the locket. One he did, he looked at you with the biggest smile on his face. He ran and hugged your knees. 

“Whenever you miss mommy, give that bunny a big hug, and I’ll feel it. Have fun with Daddy. You must be a good boy. Call me whenever you want, but I promise to call you every day. Mommy just needs to get some work done and then everything will be back to normal ok?”

After a couple minutes of holding each other, he finally walked over to where Satoru was. He raised his hands asking to be picked up. 

“Thank you, Satoru. Thank you, Akemi. I trust you two will take wonderful care of him.” You bowed at a 90-degree angle. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why are you leaving?” You hadn’t spoken to Akemi in a while. For a couple months, she stayed employed with you. Yet, after your official break up with Toji, she immediately resigned. You always wondered if she thought you did it because of Satoru. 

Smiling gently you respond, “I’m sorry, I can’t say. It’s nothing crazy, I promise! I just need some time.”

“It’s not because of…”

“Goodness no! I know I haven’t been the most supportive. I’ve been downright awful. I hope both of you forgive me for how I acted. It was selfish and attention seeking. I don’t expect any special invitation, but please know that I support this relationship. I’m glad you two found each other. Truly”

Satoru almost flinched at the words you used. The guilt of you actually believing all the nasty things he said to you weighed heavy on him. He almost regretted bringing Akemi here. If she wasn’t, he would have consoled you. Even if it only would have been a hand on your shoulder. 

The worst part about hearing you subscribe to all his insults was seeing the honesty behind it. You did think you were a terrible person.

Before either of them could say anything, you started ushering them out. 

“You guys must head out now! Sachiro still needs his night routine. He has school tomorrow, and he’s already stayed up so late. If you guys feel like he’s too tired, I don’t mind if he doesn’t go. It’s your call. Thank you both for everything!”

You nearly pushed them out of the apartment. As soon as that door closed, you broke down. This was going to be one of the hardest things you’ve done. But you had to do it. 

Nearly two months have passed. Satoru relished every second he had with his son. He has never felt more like a family than he did now. Everything was perfect. 

If it weren’t for the bunny he carried everywhere. Or the fact that Sachiro couldn’t do anything without having to send his mom a text. Sending a sleepy blurry selfie was more important than getting dressed. He would facetime you every night before going to sleep. There were times where he even ignored Satoru in lieu of sending you a selfie with a filter on top of it.

Satoru heard and saw more of you now, than he did in the last year. 

Even Akemi was getting a little frustrated. 

Yet, Satoru wasn’t just frustrated. He felt guilty. Your presence at the house had become so abundant, that he would often stay in Sachiro’s room just to hear you sing. He did his best to mind his business, but in the cases where he saw the silly selfie you would send back. It would plague his mind for the rest of the day. 

From the few glimpses he got, he could tell that something was changing. You weren’t in the office, or in any modern building it seemed. You were a lot livelier. You were happier?

How could a mom be happier away from her child? He would nearly scoff out loud at the thought. Maybe this was your way of giving him full custody? No there was no way. 

The next day, after sending Sachiro to school, he headed to the office. It was a usual day. He was glad he was able to save the company. He really was going to lose all this over you? No. He loved you. And you didn’t love him. But Akemi did. And his workers needed him.

As he continued working, suddenly Miwa and Nanami both presented themselves. Miwa was always easy to read. She was skittish and nervous. Nanami, on the other hand, was harder to read, but he could tell he was a little unsure as well.  “Nanami! Miwa! What bring you in here? I reviewed my schedule already. Is there something I missed?”

Miwa cracked first. “Um... Mr. Gojo, have you been in contact with Ms. Y/N recently?”

“She calls Sachiro nearly every day. Did something happen?”

“Well, have you been in contact in the last hour?”

“Miwa may you please get to the point?”

Nervously, she looked up at Nanami. Sighing and pushing his glasses up, he handed Satoru the iPad. “None of this means anything. And if something did happen, it is not your responsibility. It’s just rather strange.”

Gojo looked over the screen. In big bold letters there it was:

Y/N STEPS DOWN FROM HEARTS COMPANY. 

Y/N SELLS OVER A MILLION IN STOCKS

HEARTES INTRODUCES NEW CEO AND CREATIVE DESIGNER

Y/N RESIGNS FROM COMPANY

Y/N’S APARTMENT UP FOR SALE?!

Gojo looked at the headlines frantically. He knew what all this was implying. Yet, he needed verification. He couldn’t fathom the thought that you would have… No there’s no way. You have Sachiro. You wouldn’t do this.

“Um... what exactly does this have to do with me Nanami?”

“It means nothing. It seems that Y/N has done some irrational choices that garnered some attention from the media. That’s all this is. Unfortunately, you know how convoluted your history is with her. Some people might assume that since she’s acting out in such an illogical and hysterical manner, that she may be going through a manic episode. A manic episode that may precede…” Nanami couldn’t finish the sentence. 

His heart was beating. No, there’s no way you could be gone. No. No. You made a promise! You promised to return for Sachiro. Right Sachiro. That’s why Gojo is feeling so bothered and anxious. He’s worried for the mother of his child, that’s all. 

“I think… I think I’ll head home. If she has been in contact with anyone, it would be my son. Thank you for letting me know.”

As he made his way to the car, he couldn’t help but speed. He needed to make sure you were ok... for the sake of Sachiro.

On the way, he received a phone call from Akemi. Normally, he would have pulled over and answered her. But not today. He drove, breaking most speed laws all the way home. He barely turned his car off as he rushed the door. Yet, as he got to the door, he found a box. It was for Sachiro Gojo. Without hesitation, he looked at the sender’s address in the corner and typed it in. It was a two-hour drive, but he didn’t care. This box didn’t prove anything. You must have sent it days ago. If you had planned to do this all at once that meant only one thing. You were planning to commit. There was no other option. With only this one mission fueling him, he unknowingly kept ignoring Akemi’s calls

After an hour and a half of driving, Gojo started to notice his surroundings. This was an older city. There were multiple shrines and elders. There were very few cars. A lot of cats.  This was weird. He continued following the GPS. He passed the city and made his way up the mountainous region. By 5 pm. He had reached an isolated house on top of the hills. The land was relatively flat once he got up there. There was an impressive house. It looked new. The house wasn’t a mansion, but it was still large. The lights in what he assumed the kitchen were on. Hesitantly, he knocked.

Soon enough someone opened the door. No, not someone, you did

There stood you. You looked younger, happier, kinder. Unlike last time, your happiness didn’t feel like a mask. It felt genuine. He couldn’t marinate in his confusion as you grabbed his hand and pulled him in. 

“Hi Gojo! I’m shocked to see you here! Come in! Let me get you a lemonade. It must have been a long drive.”

You sat him down on your couch. He couldn’t help but think about that mansion. The one where you were supposed to start and raise a family. This one was a lot cozier, with the architecture of it being rounder in a way. It felt like a cottage despite its massive size. There were a lot of plants. On the walls were framed pictures. Mostly of Sachiro. A lot were ones he’s never seen. There were a lot of selfies of you two. And hidden between all of them was that Disneyland photo. It was when he had amnesia. When he thought you were cheating. Before he knew of all your lies. That instantly ruined his mood. 

Placing a coaster, you set his drink down. He couldn’t help but notice that the coasters were made with images of Sachiro’s drawings. 

“The lemonade is rather tart since the lemons are homegrown. So, I went ahead and added a bit of sugar. But here’s some more if you like. I don’t know if you still have the same sweet tooth. So, if I put too much sugar, let me know! I’ll get you another cup!” You set down a jar with sugar. You were so talkative. The last time you spoke this much with him was when you were kids. 

He didn’t move. Noticing his discomfort, you kept talking. “I was going to call you tomorrow. But I’m glad to see you. Did you come alone?”

“Y/N, I thought you committed suicide.”

You deflated slightly. Somberly you looked around the room. With a gentle smile, you looked at him. It was like you had puppy dog eyes. He could get lost in them. It had been a year since he was attracted to you, but he couldn’t help but want to lean closer to you. To breathe your air. He stopped himself in time

“It all happened kinda fast right? I was hoping that by doing it all at once, it would be like ripping the band aid off, y’know? People are bound to talk, so instead of doing it slowly and reigniting interest in my life every couple of weeks, I thought it would be easier if I just made one big splash and let the water settle from there.”

It felt like he was in a different dimension. You spoke so casually to him. It almost felt like he was the weird one. In disbelief, he stayed quiet.

Taking a deep breath, you continued. “Honestly, I did plan to. To commit suicide, I mean.  So, I guess you weren’t completely wrong.”

He stared at you. How you casually admitted to your suicidal ideations.

“What? You can’t be the only one to be suicidal right?” You joked, hoping to ease the tension. It did the exact opposite. 

“Y/N I need you to fucking explain everything. No jokes”

Your gaze hardened. “Gojo, you do not disrespect me in my house. I have welcomed you because you are my child’s father, but I will forbid you from coming here again if you speak to me like that again.”

He remained silent but nodded. It was weird. You definitely had grown a backbone since he last saw you in your apartment. Just a couple months ago, you looked like the submissive, docile, doormat you once were. But now? Now you confident and strong without sacrificing your trusting and selfless nature. You were a perfect blend of your youth and your experience. 

“This is my way of asking for forgiveness. From everyone. I’ve done a lot of awful things. Since that New York trip, I became vindictive. I became evil. I didn’t know why. How could I be jealous that the man I encouraged to move on moved on? I was changing Satoru. I had thought that being mean and cold was a way to protect myself. But in reality, I had gotten worse. I couldn’t stand my reflection. Then, I saw you Akemi and my star at the store. You remember right? With the pink bunny? You all looked so happy. It was the life Sachiro deserved. I went home and saw myself. Really saw myself. I couldn’t recognize who that person in the mirror was. Since then, I was determined to seek forgiveness from everyone I wronged. My first thought was to kill myself. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to my star. Even now, I find myself fantasizing about just jumping off that cliff… I even planted flowers there so whenever Sachiro visited, he would feel safe. But I can’t. That’s why I have all these photos and drawings of him. If I keep thinking of him, I’ll never have time to contemplate killing myself.”

Gojo couldn’t stop his eyes from watering. He almost reached out to grab your hands. He closed his hands harshly, forcing himself not to move. “But Y/N... you didn’t do anything wrong. I mean, you have done wrong. But we all have. You shouldn’t have to punish yourself for existing.”

Always and empath, you leaned forward and placed a cute octopus squishy in his hands. He quietly accepted it, showing the indents his nails made on palm “You don’t want to accidentally cut yourself. I learned that a little too late.” You laughed gently as you showed him your own palm. There were small scars in the shape of your nails. 

Holding the squishy in one hand, he used the other hand to inspect your hand. They were different. It was obvious that you still took care of your hands: soft, supple, perfect nail beds, trimmed nails. But upon further inspection, he could see multiple scars littering your fingers. His gaze drifted upwards to your forearm. There he saw some bigger scars. Some still scabbing. He could feel his own scar throb at the memory of the pain. Gojo couldn’t stop himself as some tears fell out. He couldn’t stop himself from tracing their outline.

“Why- why would you do this? You were alone the whole time? Then why? Y/N I don’t understand you? You were going to…”

He was interrupted by your melodious laughter. You pulled your hand away. “You’re too sweet Gojo. No. No these aren’t what you think they are. It’s just some office mistakes. I jumped into my work to fill that void of loneliness. But you know, it’s pretty dangerous to be handling sharp rotary cutters when you haven’t slept for days.” 

Grabbing his hand, you pulled him up. “Let’s go for a walk!”

Leading him to the back door, her couldn’t help but stare at your interlinked hands. The tips of his ears turned pink. He felt so young right now. No. No I can’t think like that. 

The back yard was like a Ghibli fantasy forest. It had plenty of lush green plants and flowers growing everywhere. In a corner there was a cute gazebo with two easels ready. One noticibly smaller than the other. There were plenty of trees a reasonable distance from the house. They provided a nice area of shade. Some grew peaches, others grew limes.  A stone path led to another corner where a sand pit was already set up. The entire perimeter was protected with a gorgeous white fence. Tall enough that Sachiro wouldn’t be possible to scale it. There was one exit. You headed there still holding Gojo’s hand. Typing in a security code, the door opened, and you headed into the forest. After a 5-minute walk, the forest cleared and presented a cliff side. Undoubtedly it was gorgeous. The ocean was beautiful. Flowers and clovers surrounded the area. 

He didn’t realize how much time had passed until he saw that the sun was setting. You let go of his hand and sat down, resting your head on your knees. You always had that curious habit of returning to a fetal position. Settling next to you, he couldn’t stop himself from looking at you. You looked ethereal. With the sun in your face, the wind in your hair. There was a gentle smile playing on your lips as you stared at the ocean. 

“Gojo…”

He couldn’t help but squish the little octopus. He didn’t know why it hurt him to hear you call him only by his last name.

“I disagree with what you said earlier. I should be punished for my existence. I’ve done nothing good. Born into a life of luxury, and I still managed to want more… When Toji broke up with me, he told me something very valuable. He told me that I was stuck in my mother’s hospital room. That I never left. And he’s right. Ever since my mom died, I became a walking corpse. I cursed myself with eternal loneliness. And yet, I so wanted to fight that loneliness. So when my father mentioned the marriage, I was ecstatic. Although we haven’t spoken in years and you refused to answer any messages I sent, my loneliness convinced me that you wanted it. I mean technically you did, but you didn’t really want it. I wonder, if I had never accepted that proposal, would you still be with Sera? Would any of this happened?”

The wind filled in for Gojo’s silence.

“My selfishness blinded me. I so badly wanted to be loved that I ignored any sign of resistance. Even when you told me that I would never compare to her, I wanted you to change for me. How pretentious. Had I just given up, then maybe you wouldn’t have thought that you loved me. When you couldn’t vanquish my loneliness, I searched for it in Toji. I abused his friendship just so that I wouldn’t be alone. When I figured out the real reason you married me, the reason you bought that house, the betrayal. That almost killed me Gojo. Imagine that. Even at my lowest I couldn’t stop seeking attention. I put myself over you, as usual. I lied and kept you from your child. I shouldn’t have been so selfish. It was okay that you didn’t love me. As long as you loved our child. But no selfish Y/N strikes again. Then, even though I knew I wasn’t ready, I still accepted when Toji proposed. I’m a monster. Just a year ago, I almost lost it. I was becoming unrecognizable Gojo. I couldn’t look at you and Akemi without getting angry. How was it fair, that I had to go through months of humiliation, which in hindsight, I did deserve, just for her to get the perfect boyfriend. I cried for months before you even held me. The first time we had sex, I had to beg you to kiss me. I hated her and I hated you. But that’s not your fault. Nor is it her’s. It’s mine. If I wasn’t so selfish and I didn’t think you loved me then none of this would have happened. I ruined so many lives because I couldn’t see past myself. If I didn’t use people to fill this abyss I have in my heart, I wouldn’t have caused you to almost commit suicide. I wouldn’t have taken Sera’s boyfriend from her. I wouldn’t have wasted Toji’s time. I wouldn’t have hurt your mom. None of this would have happened. I should have stayed in that hospital room. I should have asked them to bury me with her.”

You were crying now. Your hands shaky as they gripped tighter. You were curling in on yourself, wanting to disappear. 

“If I hadn’t been so awful, Sachiro wouldn’t have seen me cry so much.”

Gojo’s heart broke. All those lies. All those insults. You believed them. No. No you weren’t selfish. You were the opposite. You always put other above yourself, even if it hurt you. Of course, you’ve committed your share of sins, but never maliciously. You were too trusting, too eager to please. And to think he didn’t love you? That nearly shattered him. He may have moved on, but the love he had for you was real. Even though he may have forgotten how to love you: even though he may have abused you: even though he didn’t deserve to love you, he has never stopped loving you since you were young. 

He reached out a hand to soothe your back as you hiccupped through your gentle tears. You had a special charm that made everything you did look beautiful. But he paused seeing how stunning you were despite the tears on your face. He almost kissed you. But he didn’t. Not because he held himself back, but because he saw your eyes. 

As you stared into the ocean, your eyes changed from their vulnerable and kind state to a detached, disconnected gaze. Almost like you were hypnotized by the sea. The waves calling you. It was the same gaze he had when he was suicidal. 

“After seeing you at the store, I realized that I needed to atone for my sins. I needed to seek forgiveness. That night was actually the night I realized I needed to commit suicide. Not to ease my own pain, no that’s a selfish reason. I wanted to commit suicide so that everyone’s bad thoughts, everyone’s problems, and every bad thing I did could die with me. If everyone took turns spitting on my grave, I wouldn’t mind. As long as I was no longer causing problems, it would have been worth it. I spent the whole night making a new stuffed animal for him. I cut myself a lot by accident, but I didn’t mind. That was going to be his last gift. My existence is a mistake. Me dying would be a gift to the world.”

“And?”

“And I clearly decided not to. I owe my life to Sachiro. As long as he needs me, I will live for him. I want to die, Gojo. I want to give everyone the life they had before they met me. I want everyone to be happy again. But I can’t. Because I have my little star. I’m evil Gojo. I’m a black hole. I pull people in, only to destroy them. I’m afraid one day I might do that to him too.”

You turned to look at him, tears streaming down your face. 

“It kills me to know that one day I’ll hurt him too. But he loves me so much. He fills the void in my heart. I’m not lonely when I’m with him and I know its selfish, but the way he looks at me... The way he looks at me almost makes me think I’m a good person.”

Gojo continued staring at you. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Hearing you talk about yourself this way hurt him immensely. It almost felt like he was drowning. No, you didn’t get better. None of your problems were solved. You just learned to live with them. 

You leaned close to Gojo. The honesty in your eyes almost scared him. “Gojo, if you ever notice that Sachiro is suffering being with me, I need you to tell me. The second I start poisoning him, I’ll kill myself.”

The conviction behind your words paralyzed him. You two sat there for a minute. He didn’t know what to say. He knew what this felt like. He knew the exact emotions you were drowning in. But he couldn’t help but think that you were a lot worse. You have begun to hate your entire existence. You had no one. The amount of self-hate you had was shocking. 

After a couple minutes of silence, you wiped your tears away. Standing up you offered your hand to him. 

Looking at you now, it felt like he was in an alternate dimension. One where he confessed when he was younger. One where he never met Sera. One when he got on a knee and properly proposed. And he almost believed it. Just as he reached to grab your hand, he finally noticed how his phone was ringing. Looking down he saw Akemi’s number. He looked at you apologetically. You smiled kindly and continued to offer your hand. As his bigger hand enveloped yours, he imagined pulling you in close and kissing you in the sunset. Just like the romance novels you loved. As soon as he stood up, though, you released his hand. Walking past him you headed back to you house. 

You were giving him privacy. He was at crossroads; stay here and answer the phone or chase after you. All those times he didn’t. Maybe he should this time. No. He’s going to get married. He’s made his choice. And like usual, he didn’t chase after you. 

He spent some time with Akemi on the phone. He explained the entire situation to her. He omitted everything you told him, though. That was for him only. He calmed her down and promised he would be home by the end of the night.

Walking back to your house, he smelled the pasta you used to love so much. You only ever cooked it for him once. He saw you humming as you stirred the pasta with the sauce. 

“Y/N, I’m going to head out now. Akemi is worried. You should call your family too. They’re probably worried too.”

You turned to him. You looked like a picture-perfect housewife with the apron you had on. You hummed in agreement. 

“They already know, but thank you for the suggestion. It was nice seeing you. Would you like some food to take for the trip?”

He should say no. There’s no way to explain leaving work to spend the whole day with your ex-wife to your fiancé. Much less if he brought food with him. 

“Sure.”

You packed it into some cute tupperware. It had little duckies on the lids. He just realized how much you changed financially as well. Besides the large house, one would never assume you came from wealth. There was very little name brand stuff. A lot of the decorations were local. 

Noticing his curious gaze as you handed the Tupperware to him, you giggled.

“If we see each other again, feel free to ask any questions. We’ve both changed a lot. I hope next time you talk a bit more. I kinda hogged the whole conversation today huh?”

You walked him to the door and waved him goodbye. 

He spent the next two hours just re-living that time. Already he missed being in your house. He could already imagine you, him, and Sachiro painting outside or going to the local city for festivals. Despite all the heartbreaking things you told him, all the awful things you thought of yourself, you managed to make a sanctuary. It was always in your nature to find the silver lining in every circumstance. You obviously needed a therapist. But a selfish part of him was glad that he was your confidante. As far as he was concerned, only he knew of how you felt, where you lived, why you did what you did. It was like you were still his.

As soon as he recognized these thoughts, he pulled over. There is no way he can think like that. No that would be unfair to Akemi. He’s already hurt you so much. He pushed you to the point of trauma. He changed you. Even now, the scars of hos he treated you were present. Everything you thought was because he had told you it at one point. No. He couldn’t do all that to Akemi either. 

Grabbing the cute Tupperware with the pasta, he almost threw it out. 

Instead, he took a second to look at it. It was two big ducks and little baby one. You had used a ribbon to tie some utensils on the top. Everything your hands made had some care and love imbued into it. Opening it, he aggressively ate it all. It was delicious, as expected. While he ate, he started crying. Why? Why did seeing you like that hurt him so much? Why did he use Akemi’s name instead of calling her his fiancé? Why didn’t he hold you as you cried? Why do you use his last name? Why?

He drove home that night. He kissed Akemi before she could even greet him. She immediately melted into the kiss, even if she was still peeved at being ghosted the whole day. He playfully pleaded for her to forgive him. He smiled. He laughed. But for some reason her couldn’t look her in the eyes like he used to. A part of him wished it was you he was holding. 

He went to Sachiro’s room. It was messier than usual. He noticed a bunch of crocheted toys he had never seen before. I guess that’s what was in the box. He reached his son, and he stopped to stare at him. Sachiro was holding two things as he slept. The bunny, per usual, but also a note. In big letters Gojo could make out Momma’s Ready! Sachiro was still learning to read, so you hadn’t written much. Still, just seeing those two letters had excited Sachiro so much that he slept with it. On his little tummy laid the phone. Close to dead, Gojo picked it up to charge it. There he saw that Sachiro had been listening to a video you recorded of yourself singing to him. Oh right. Since you had spent the whole evening with Gojo, you couldn’t call Sachiro. 

For a reason Gojo couldn’t explain, he sent the video to his own phone. He plugged the phone in and walked out of the room. 

Akemi had already headed to their own room. Before Gojo could, he had to organize some stuff.

“Hello, I know its late. I’m just letting you know not to pick up Sachiro tomorrow. I’ll handle the drop off.”

Gojo had to see you. Just for answers. He just wanted you to explain yourself. That’s all

At least that’s what he told himself. But when he slept that night, he dreamt of living in that house with you. He dreamt of cooking breakfast for Sachiro and you. He dreamt of a world where you were his. 

#gojo x reader #gojo angst #gojou satoru x reader #oneshot

[pencileraser1]

things i noticed/thoughts about most recent rewatches of dps (plus laserdisk deleted scenes):

whenever theres a group scene i've started watching the characters that the story isn't focusing on to see what they do and i've been having a fun time with that. pitts and cameron specifically seem to almost always be doing something interesting in the background.

hopkins!!!! my favorite minor character who somehow got character development despite having like 2 lines!!!! the last guy to stand on the desk but he did it!!!

sometimes i do like to think about what the rest of the students thought about the dead poets society, esp in alternate timeline neil lives dps keeps meeting universe. like yeah theres this guy in their class whose one of the most credited students in the school and we think he maybe started a cult. idk though. but that group runs out into the woods every few days to do god knows what and one of them keeps talking about "dead poets honor" whatever that means and holy shit welton star student neil perry started a cult.

i watched the movie with headphones. and maybe it's because ive seen this movie Far too many times and mabe i'm listening too hard but it was Really obvious sometimes when audio was added in post production. llke in the sweaty toothed madman scene when you can hear laughing and to be fair the camera is behind their heads. but it does Not look like anyone's laughing. my favorite is at the end of the phone call to chris scene where knox is like i'm gonna seize the day!! and runs up the stairs and the poets are cheering him on and neil is sort of yelling "carpe!!!!" and i could be wrong but i'm like 75% certain that the person singing is Also rsl so now neil is just speaking two times at once somehow. anyways it didn't ruin the experience for me or anything it was maybe just a little bit funny to notice but very sorry if this did ruin anyone's viewing.

people talk a lot about how rsl and ethan hawke really made their characters what they are but i have to add dylan kussman to that list. I get the impression that older versions of the movie didn't really give as much depth to cameron and watching dylan kussmans performance is like. he Knew who his character was so fucking well and it shows!! like the deleted scene of them getting clubs assigned. like i could tell So Much about cameron from that scene

for how little she actually appeared, there is an emphasis put on the fact that neil's mom smokes pretty frequently. and i think that's interesting considering neil is one of two poets shown actively smoking. neil's mom doesn't appear for very long in the movie but during that time it definitely seems like the movie is intentionally making parallels between the two, particularly in the last argument with neil's father. neil and his mother are both sitting for almost the whole time, which contrasts with his father who is standing. they are both almost powerless in this scene. they stand up at almost the same time. anyways there's a couple different possibilities for what this could mean? that i've though of? 1. to show that neil's mother is in a similar situation to the one neil is in in regards to neil's father and 2. maybe a stretch here but the theory that neil inherited his mental illness at least partially from his mother. i'm pretty sure 1 was fully intentional on the directors part, not entirely sure about 2 though

unmanned flying desket scene: it's probably cause he and ethan wrote the scene themselves but the way rsl talks in this scene feels more like the way he talks in general than the rest of the script. like briefly neil perry is talking in rsl's voice. one of my absolute favorite scenes though the sarcastic dialogue is so good.

the light of knowledge at the first shot of the film vs. todd standing on his desk at the last shot of the film paralel

#there was a whole additional part of this post that was about knox and charlies relationship with their parents #but it ended up being half of what i wrote here and i still had more to add so i'm making that a separate post #that should be posted in a few days i'm not a fast writer #neil perry #richard cameron #gerard pitts #todd anderson #dead poets society #dps #hopefully coherent

[yuurivoice]

Laying in bed having a think.

As I try and tackle three intertwined (four? fuck) narrative stories more meticulously than I've crafted any of my narratives thus far, I find myself making several realizations.

BitterSweet is a product of me being at several mental low points but failing upwards. BitterSweet wasn't even intended to be a real narrative, but rather an introduction to Seth then sort of a choose you own adventure, listen to either "path" type thing. When the story revealed itself to me it was very exciting, but I was just going episode to episode and seeing where I'd end up.

Chapter 2 had more planning, a pretty defined outline, and was executed just about to perfection. I think 2 is probably the strongest in terms of knowing wtf was going on and seeing it through.

Chapter 3 is one I feel deeply conflicted about. Plans had to change on the fly multiple times. The scale got out of hand. I was on the struggle bus and only managed to write an episode two at once. It was a mess. We hit some high marks, and some of my favorite performances are in there, but there's this dark cloud over it for me. It's a shame, but it got done.

I can see really clearly how my struggle with my mental health, ADHD, etc. played significant roles in hindering me. So on one hand, I'm thrilled that I was able to make something cool that so many people appreciate and enjoy despite how challenging it was. On the other hand...there's a lot I wish could have been different.

Those wishes have informed many of the choices I'm making now as I tackle Shattered and Echoes, as well as BitterSweet and the unnamed thing. I'm not hitting the big red launch button until it is complete. I've never done that. But I want my writing to be tighter and more cohesive. I'm lucky that making shit up as I went and hitting the broader strokes I knew were there worked out as well as it did, but also I've tripped over myself a time or two.

As ambitious as I'm trying to be with weaving these stories, I want to make sure that when you step back and look at the big picture, it makes sense, but is also really fucking dope.

That's my hope.

This next batch of work is going to be special for me. I'm in my medicated era, but I'm working with a lot of the bones put in place by a version of me that was operating well below capacity.

Reading those first drafts I wrote last year was humbling. God they were bad. Frustratingly so because when I took a hammer to it, what I cooked up in significantly less time on the second draft was so much better than what felt like I had to pull teeth to accomplish before.

I try and tell myself not to look at all of my work through that lens of "I could have done so much better" but it's frustrating. I've gotta cook with the groceries that version of me brought home lol.

It boils down to this. When these next projects launch and the dust settles, I don't want to be glad it's over. When I finished BS3, I breathed a sigh of relief because it felt like I just got out of a year long brawl.

When I finish these projects, I want to be proud. I think that's the conclusion I reached. I was not proud of my work, because it was tainted with compromise and frustration that outside factors fucked with several aspects of it.

So I'm trying to prove to myself that I can do better than that. For myself. I've shaken off the frustration that I'm an entire year behind schedule. I've committed myself to completing it all before it sees the light of day. I've streamlined the process. I really tried to set myself up for success.

When I was struggling I'd cut every corner, I'd phone it in, I'd toss out ambitious ideas for the sake of just being able to call it done.

There's a lot less of that happening now. I'm able to at least try and hold myself to something resembling a standard. Now I just hope I can execute.

Thanks for reading. Sorry about all of whatever that was.

[elfy-elf-imagines]

— Out of the Woods | Maedhros *✧･ﾟ

▹ Pairing: Maedhros x Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff and Angst

▹ Words: ~8k

▹ Summary: Thrust into the world of Arda, you find yourself enraptured by the elven lord Maedhros. Yet nothing is ever easy in times of war as your love story unfolds and then unravels.

▹ Notes: Hi, hello, this is about 6k words longer than I intended. Oh well. This is a rewrite of a oneshot I wrote yearsssss ago, but thought it deserved a rewrite. I hope you guys like this because I deleted the original. You have no choice, YOU WILL LIKE THIS MORE. Please tell me you like it, I crave validation. Jk, jk...unless.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Golden. 

Glittering and gleaming. 

Opulent in an understated way and all too beautiful to be real. 

It was the only way to describe the lavish keep the armored guards escorted you into. Men with delicately pointed ears and unnatural beauty were both your protectors and jailers as they paraded you through the city. You weren’t familiar with your surroundings, never even heard of it. You feel as though a place as beautiful as this would be pasted on every tourist’s brochure and dream board. And yet there was nothing familiar.

Even the people seemed so different from you.

“You have brought a mortal woman before me; why is that?” his voice boomed as he sat straight back and stiff as a board on a lavish throne. You were speaking with the presiding ruler if the golden crown atop his head was anything to go by. He was tall and regal, only made taller by the raised platform his throne was built upon, his figure looming over you with an intimidating presence. 

His hair was like fire, falling in perfect waves that reached the middle of his back. His skin was porcelain and perfection, clear of any slight imperfections or marks that marred your own. He wore formal attire made from silk, with details of glittering gems that made him look like a sun. The heavy crown resting up his head was made of pure gold and dotted with jewels, each worth more than you’d ever make in a lifetime. But what captured your eyes were his own. Light green, they shone like the reflection of emerald leaves off a crystal clear lake. No poem or ballad could ever capture the beauty he possessed. 

He was ethereal, the poster child for what a king should be. 

One of the guards pushed you forward, and you nearly stumbled to the ground, but you’d caught yourself in time. You looked up at him, not even knowing his name yet and already being enraptured by him. A god, that’s what he has to be. There’s no other way he could look like that.

You must’ve died and now stand at the gates of heaven. In your current situation, the most illogical answer has become the only one that made any sense.

“T-they found me, your grace, in the...woods.” He raised an eyebrow at you, and your face flushed hotly as red stained your face. Did you address him adequately? Was there any correct way to address a literal angel? 

His gaze on you was sharp, making you shrink within yourself. His hair may have been made of fire, but he was entirely crafted from ice. Cold, biting, and bitter, you were surprised your skin wasn’t frostbitten. 

“She was rambling like a mad woman when we found her. Despite that, she seems harmless. We thought it best to present her for your judgment, your grace.” The guard spoke with a smooth and even tone, able to look at the elven man unflinchingly. Does one become accustomed to staring at the sun? They must if the guards can directly look at him.

“And so you deign to bring the mad woman before your lord?”

“Times are strange. She may be a gift from the Valar.”

A hush fell over the onlookers before a flurry of whispers filled the courtroom. The lord returned his attention to you, raising a single, inquisitive brow. He was assessing you, determining if there could be any truth to the guard’s words. It made you squirm under the weight of his eyes. They were too piercing and too invasive. He could see past your soul. Your deepest fears and thoughts were laid before him.

“Perhaps there is some merit to the words my guard speaks,” There was a lilt of amusement in his otherwise smooth, dulce voice. It nearly seemed mocking, the way he looked down on you. He leaned to the left side of his chair with his knuckles tucked under his sharp jaw, momentarily taking a more relaxed posture. Yet his gaze on you didn’t lighten; if anything, it became heavier.

“Have you been sent to us by the Gods?”

The throne room became quiet once more. 

Your heart hammered against your chest, a lump stuck in your throat. All eyes were on you, the undivided attention making you want to curl in on yourself. 

“I don’t know.” You mustered up the strength to speak, attempting to keep the fear drowning you out of your voice. Would he cast you out of the kingdom, leaving you to fend for yourself? You couldn’t survive in the woods alone, but you didn’t want to lie and be heralded as a sign of divine intervention. 

You were stuck between a rock and a hard place, the room’s walls closing in on you.

All there was to be done was hope he was as kind as fair.

He hummed in response, neither angry nor pleased. There was no grand statement or judgment, instead, he continued to inspect every detail of you. His eyes scanned you up and down in an almost clinical manner like you were a new art exhibit in his favorite museum. He took notice of your odd clothes, maintained teeth, and healthy hair. Strange for a human in these lands to be so… well groomed. Even with the mud that caked your body, you were cleaner than the other humans before you.

“You place me in a strange place. If I send you away, it may anger the Gods, yet if I allow you to stay, I may be dooming the very people who’ve put their belief in me.” He spoke in such a calm tone as if the fate of your life didn’t rest in his long fingers, each embellished with a ring. 

The anxiety made your body weigh a thousand pounds. You weren’t even sure your heart was beating, the impulse to check your pulse growing stronger. There was worry in your eyes, creases above your brows that were pulled together tightly. 

Yet you didn’t speak, unable to make your tongue form words. 

“Will you not plead your cause to me?” He leaned forward; both brows pulled upward, an almost challenging smirk pulling on his lips. 

Rendered speechless and playing the fool, you opened and closed your mouth as you tried to remember how to speak. 

He clicked his tongue against his teeth, leaning back into his seat, his smirk pulling back into a nearly disappointed frown. 

“Very well. I shall make the decision for you.” 

You prepared to be condemned to the wilds, thrown to the wolves who would surely tear you apart. Head lowered, eyes counting the reflections of sunlight inside the room. Tears threatened to fall, but you forced them away. You would face your imminent death with pride.

“You will stay here.

Gasps of surprise filled the room, followed by mutters of the courtesans. You made no such noise, head snapping up to meet the elven lord’s gaze. There was surprise evident in your wide-eyed gaze. You’d expected the worst, yet that was not what you’d been given. 

“In time, we will learn if the Gods truly sent you to us.”

He nodded at the guards around you, and they helped you stand. Shaking and nervous, the guards held your body up as they guided you from the throne room to what would become your quarters. But over your shoulder, you spared one last glance at the elven lord, his green eyes watching your form disappear. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar--” You stumbled over the elvish text, unable to translate the rest of the sentence. There was a crease above your furrowed brows and a slight frown on your face. 

It had only been two months since you were unceremoniously dropped here, yet it felt as if no time had passed, but not in a good way. You were like a newborn babe, stumbling in the dark as you attempted to gain your bearings. The faint throb in your head warned you of a headache, encouraging you to put the book down. A warning you didn't heed, you were stubborn, determined to prove you could assimilate. 

The court has been a dizzying experience to get accustomed to. Most courtesans treated you like a curiosity, a pretty bird for them to teach silly words and feed salted crackers. They were nice enough and greeted you with pleasant smiles, but it all felt patronizing. As if you were nothing but a simpleton child, but perhaps that’s just how they viewed you; elves were immortal, after all. Nevertheless, they have treated you kinder than expected, correcting your choppy Quenya with lyrical giggles and coy smiles. 

The giant oak doors swung open, startling you. Looking up, you watched as Maedhros swept through the library. He grabbed a few books from the shelves and went to a table opposite the room. His hair was pulled back into a loose braid, and his clothes were more casual than what he would don at court. Your eyes followed his form, only looking down when he briefly looked up from his book. 

Heat flared to your cheeks, eyes returning to the book before you. You haven’t spoken with him since your initial meeting. He’d never invited conversation, and you were too terrified to do so. Instead, you stole glances at him whenever the moment presented itself, content to daydream about the Maedhros turning his eyes to you. 

He’d say hello, inquiring about your stay in Himring. You’d answer him shyly, looking up at him through your lashes. So enchanted by your beauty and quiet whit as the conversation continued, he’d invite you to take a stroll with him around the gardens and then--

Your daydreams were cut short by the loud thump of a book falling. Turning, you watched as one of the library attendants scurried towards the fallen three or so books. A soft sigh left your mouth, and your attention returned to the book you were struggling through.

Picking up where you left off, you struggled through the same sentence. No matter how many times you re-read it, the translation wasn’t clicking. What did tenn’ mean again? A grunt escaped your mouth, the pulsing headache returning. You shut the book, perhaps harder than necessary, and opted to fiddle with the bracelets you wore. 

Was it even worth struggling through this silly language? Surely you’d return home sooner or later and this grand delusion would be broken.

Yet the longer you’d spent here, the less likely the prospect seemed. You poured over every map and searched every geographical book, and nothing seemed familiar to the home you’d known. 

Lost in your mind, you didn’t hear the scratch of a chair being pushed back nor the light padding of footsteps approaching your table. Only when you felt someone’s presence beside you and red hair loosely hanging did you look up? Maedhros had stood beside you, leaned over to be at eye level with you. His expression was perfectly neutral, not portraying a single thought in his head. Tucked behind his back was his left hand, which he’d lost many years ago. There were whispers in court about how it happened, being hung from a cliff for thirty years. How terrible that must’ve been.

“You seem frustrated.” His common was not as smooth as his elvish, yet speaking a common language with someone was nice. Most of the elves here only spoke their native tongue. 

“It’s nothing, your grace,” you looked away from his gaze that was entirely too invasive. You didn’t want to risk that he really could read your thoughts; you didn’t want him to see how often they lingered on him. 

“Your lie would be convincing if you hadn’t spent the past hour stuck on the same page,” he breezily replied, pulling up a chair to sit beside you. 

Has an hour already passed? 

And how did he know you hadn’t flipped pages? Had he paid that much attention…? 

“Some words are confusing in their translations; no need to be concerned.” You didn’t want him to burden himself with such a silly thing. This wasn’t something a lord needed to concern himself with. There was also a flush of embarrassment creeping up on you. You wanted him to see you as competent and intelligent, not fumbling over simple translations.

“Allow me to offer insight. It is my native tongue, after all.” 

You stared at him for a moment, lips pursed. His expression never wavered, and you couldn’t think of any reason to dissuade him from helping you. Apprehensive, you grabbed the book you’d previously pushed away. There was a light shake in your body from nerves, and you prayed to whatever god there was that Maedhros wouldn’t notice. 

Flipping through the page, more delicate with it than usual to avoid Maedhros thinking you disrespectful, you pause on the last page you’d read. You point at the sentence you were struggling with and push the book toward Maedhros. 

He leaned forward to read the sentence, and you took the opportunity to appreciate his side profile. His facial structure was sharp, with a tall, noble nose and a strong jawline. Pristine and void of imperfections, he was even more beautiful this close up. With each breath taken, the warm, heady cologne was enough to send you into a dizzy spell. It wasn’t fair for one person to be so…perfect. 

He whispered the sentence under his breath, then straightened his posture. As he did, you moved your eyes from his face, looking at the book as if that was where your eyes always were. His eyes met yours as he began to speak. 

“Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta.”

You mimicked his pronunciation, awkwardly fumbling over the words as you did. The faint whisper of a smile appeared on his lips. However, as soon as it was there, it was gone. 

“Do you know what it means?”

“No, I was having trouble translating.” 

This time he allowed his lips to turn upward into a faint smile, eyes glimmering in the dim lighting of the room. 

“It’s no wonder. This is in Sindarin. My understanding is you’ve been learning Quenya.” He reached over and grabbed the book, pulling it closer to him. 

“What’s the difference?” 

“Quenya is an older dialect, though many of the Noldar still use it, whereas Sindarin is a newer version of the Eldar language.”

You didn’t respond, simply nodding your head as you fiddled with the fabric of your dress. Maedhros closed the book much more gently than you initially did, though he made no move to stand.

“I apologize; I have yet to inquire about your stay here. Have you found the accommodations to your liking?” 

His question was nearly word for word what you fantasized he would say to you. Was he teasing you? Could he truly read your every thought, or was it just a coincidence?

“They’ve been great, better than I could’ve hoped.” You were nervous, so nervous it wasn’t even a joke anymore. Why couldn’t you just be normal?

“And how do you find yourself settling in?” He seemed so relaxed and at ease; why can’t you be more like that. 

“I’m getting accustomed, but it’s all so different from the home I knew. I will admit, it is refreshing to speak with someone in a language I am familiar with.” 

Maedhros pauses, slightly tilting his head to the side, something flashing across his face.

“Forgive me; I did not think about how few people share a common language with you.” 

You shook your head once again afraid of accidentally offending him. “It’s no issue; if anything, it forces my Quenyan to improve.” You wanted to be reassuring, to show that you were more than comfortable with your current circumstances. The last thing you needed was the king thinking you were being difficult or ungrateful. 

“But it must be frustrating not being able to convey your thoughts clearly.”

You merely shrugged in response. It was, and sometimes it made you want to scream and break something, but you couldn’t admit that. You didn’t want to seem ungrateful. 

Maedhros hummed in response and pushed his chair back, now standing at full height. 

“I must part from you, but perhaps we could meet here again tomorrow, if only so I may offer my translating abilities.”

A tentative smile appeared on your face, and you nodded in agreement. Maedhros tilted his head in a slight nod and turned, exiting the room with a flourish. 

Only once you were left alone did you let a high and girlish giggle leave your mouth. It echoed in the quiet library, and unbeknownst to you, Maedhros heard it on the other side of the door. 

And so a new tradition began as you and Maedhros met in the library every evening. You’d spend hours with one another, and within the first week, the excuse of studying linguistics had been forgotten. Enraptured in the presence of one another, you were both entirely unaware of the impending war.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

 You were waiting by the gardens. 

Wearing a new dress, fiddling with the bracelets that adorned your wrists. You were so nervous yet equally excited. Maedhros had broken tradition, and instead of meeting you in the library, he asked to meet you near the gardens. 

Your heart was in your throat; nervous goosebumps were all over your skin. It was truly as if all of your fantasies had come to life. Light footsteps echoed on the marbled flooring, and it made you turn. Maedhros, your intended partner, walked towards you, taking long strides. 

A smile was placed on your lips, and Maedhros matched it. Long ago had he shed the detached demeanor he so often presented to the rest of the world. Instead, he was open with his emotions - both good and bad - allowing himself to be vulnerable with you in a way so few people have witnessed. 

“You came,” he spoke as he closed the distance separating the two of you.

“How could I refuse?” Your smile widened, eyes in the shape of crescent moons. He laughed, low and smooth, offering his arm to you. Your hand wrapped around the crook of his arm, and it fits as if your hand was met for his. 

“Shall we?”

You motioned with your hand towards the gardens. “We shall.”  

The two of you walked in near perfect sync, wandering through the gardens, making quiet conversation with explosive banter. He was not as stern and rigid as he once appeared. With the moonlight reflected in his eyes and the stars making him shine, he seemed more like an innocent child than a hardened warrior burdened with war and trauma. 

You wanted to see this side of him every moment of every day. To see his eyes resemble glass and to hear his hearty chuckle as he threw his head back. Eventually, you gave up the guise of being interested in the flowers, even though they were quite beautiful. All your attention was focused on Maedhros, a sight you were determined to imprint in your brain. 

If you were to wake up tomorrow, back in your old bed, in your old apartment, you’d be happy to remember this moment and this moment only. You’d dedicate the rest of your life to writing poems about him, painting portraits, and writing overly embellished love stories. Anything to commemorate Maedhros and everything you’d wanted with him. Even if he didn’t return your affections quite as fiercely. 

“Tell me about your home. You never speak of it.” 

Your expression fell, your smile dimmed, and your eyes downturned. Home. You hadn’t really thought of it as much. It used to be a constant thought, a thing you wished on every falling star to return to. But now… You couldn’t remember the last time you made that wish. 

“It’s…different.” You fumbled over your words. How do you explain something you yourself hardly understand?

“In what way?” Maedhros pries, wanting to know more information. You’d be flattered in any circumstance or with any different topic. Yet the subject of home was complicated and one you hadn’t dared to broach with anyone.

“In every way.” A breezy laugh escaped your mouth, hoping to distract how tense you suddenly became. 

“I’d like to hear it all if you’d be willing to tell me.” 

“I--” You stuttered over the words, a lump caught in your throat. You wanted to tell Maedhros to bear your entire soul to him, but an inkling of fear gave you pause. Would he deem you a mad woman? Distancing himself and becoming as aloof as he once was.

Yet the two of you had grown so close as of late, and if you’d ever hoped to be more than friends, it would only be fair, to be honest.

“I don’t think I’m from this time.” You began, unsure of the best way to start.

Maedhros stopped, turning to face you. You nearly stumble but manage to catch yourself, meeting Maedhros’ gaze. 

“In what way?” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, pressing your hand into a fist. Fortune favors the bold. You have to be bold if you want this.

“I believe when I was dropped here, I was dropped in the past. My world is so different and so much more advanced in terms of technology.���

He gave you a hard stare, not speaking for a few minutes. The moments of silence dragged on, and you were half tempted to flee and never return. Yet your body had become so heavy, and your feet were bolted to the ground. There would be no escape. 

“I don’t know why, but I believe you.” He spoke slowly, as if unsure of his own words as he said them. “At the very least, I believe you believe in what you say, and you have given me no reason to distrust you.”

Your breath that had been caught in your throat was suddenly released as your body slackened. The wide grin you previously wore returned to your face, all the worry lines and creases on your face melting away. 

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.” You were breathless, a weight you hadn’t even realized was weighing you down, relieved from your chest. 

“I can only imagine how you must’ve felt, how confused you were.” His tone was soft and took a somber note, his eyes closer to an emerald green than the light color they previously were. 

“I managed to get by.”

Maedhros nodded, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips. 

“Well, please indulge me then, and tell me all the wonders of your home. I’m sure you’ve longed to do as such; you assimilated so quickly, I never would’ve thought you were from a completely different time.” 

You stared at him a moment longer, a breath caught in your throat. Yet this time, it wasn’t from nerves or anxiety; no, the pounding in your chest was for an entirely different reason. It had everything to do with the softness in Maedhros’ eyes as he looked at you. 

And so you indulged his every question and whim, the two of you wrapping around the garden a million times, talking until the moon was at the highest point in the sky, and all was silent. 

You were exhausted, holding back yawns every other sentence, but you pushed through, soaking in the time with Maedhros. Who knew when you’d get another chance? But eventually, he caught on, noticing the droop of your eyes and the lethargic pace you walked with. 

He guided you back to your chambers with all the chivalry gone from your world. You expected him to say farewell and give a single nod, as he always did when parting ways. He did bid you farewell, his smile warm and vibrant, and he did dip his head into a nod. 

But he also placed a kiss on the very edge of your lips before turning and disappearing down the hall. 

Frozen, you stood there for who knew how long, face awestruck and hand resting where his lips previously had been. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Time had seemed nothing more than an illusion. 

It seemed to move around you, yet you were the same, unchanged by it. Physically, you may appear the same, yet everything is so entirely…different. Maedhros made quick work of letting you know he intended to court you, and who would you be to deny it. 

All the formalities and technicalities that came with courting royalty was dizzying, but Maedhros was always there to center you. Strolls through the gardens and long evenings in the libraries; it made everything more bearable. It was also worth the stiffness that came with court to see the child-like grin that would light up Maedhros’ face when it was just the two of you. 

But doubt was a terrible thing. 

You constantly feared you wouldn’t live up to not only his expectations, but the expectations of his people. You were a human among elves, and despite not aging, you knew the court talked. Their fascination with you long died out, and anyone who believed you were sent by the Gods was the minority. They hid sharp words behind pretty smiles and musical laughter, but you could see through the fakeness all the same. Their cruel words only helped reinforce the doubts you already had.

And you weren’t the only one weighed down by it.

Maedhros was a far cry from what he used to be. Before the oath, before the torment, and before all the death at the hands of his kin. Could he really be so selfish as to tie you down to him? You were blind to this of course. You knew he suffered from PTSD and trauma, but even as you held him under the light of the moon, you were never aware of just how deep his fears went. 

How when he wept in your arms, it wasn’t only for what he suffered, but what he may suffer when you decide you want better. When you finally realized he wasn’t enough for you. 

His anxiety twisted into something harsh, manifesting as anger rather than sadness. Yet even as he lashed out, you stayed. Your face would remain perfectly passive, seemingly unbothered by it. 

It was another one of those nights.

You both sat on the balcony attached to his chambers, feet dangling over the edge. It was improper for you to be in his bed chambers, especially so late at night, but you couldn’t care about court etiquette at a moment like this. 

Your arms were wrapped around Maedhros, keeping him as close to you as physically possible. His head rested in the crook of your neck, eyes shut as his breathing matched the rhythm of your heart. All was quiet except the occasional sniffle from Maedhros. But after a few moments he was the one to break it. 

He pulled himself away from you, not an inch of his body touching yours. His relaxed posture suddenly seemed so tense and proper; an austere expression falling over his face. The sudden change was enough to give you whiplash, all the worst of your insecurities coming to head.

A moment passed before Maedhros stood, returning to his chambers. Tentatively, you stood, following after him. What made him suddenly change, as if a light had been switched?

He walked across the room, to the decanter holding a red wine. Maedhros took his time pouring it into a crystal glass before bringing it to his lips and nearly downing it all in one drink. He sent it down and refilled the glass, continuing the same pattern. 

The entire time he refused to meet your gaze. Awkwardly you say at the end of his bed, intertwining your fingers in an attempt to distract yourself. It hadn’t worked, all your fears growing the longer Maedhros held the silence. Was it a contest? Was he waiting for you to poke and prod?

“We should dissolve our courtship.” 

If you hadn’t already been sitting, you could’ve fallen to your knees. One simple sentence, that was all it took to make the past years come crumbling to nothing. 

“What?” Your voice was barely louder than a whisper. “Why?”

Another glass of wine drank and another glass filled before he dared to answer.

“While I have enjoyed your company, I do not believe us suited to continue any further,” he said. Even still, he refused to meet your eyes. His hand gripped the table he stood before, his grip so tight you were half surprised it didn’t crack under the weight of it. 

“So that’s it.” Your voice was like stone; hard, cold, and unwavering. “You decide to end our courtship, yet you can’t even look me in the eye as you do it.” 

Maedhros didn’t move from his position, you however, stood from the bed. 

All the anger and frustration, needling insecurities and self doubt came bubbling to the surface. You didn’t bother to push it down, or rationalize it so much you can’t even feel anymore. It came together in one chaotic concoction and exploded. 

“Look at me.” You weren’t shouting, but there was force behind your tone. A warning and a threat all in one. Yet Maedhros still kept his back to you. You took three more steps towards him, nearly behind him. 

“I said look at me.” The volume of your voice became louder, the stone facade breaking and cracks of desperation shone through you. You couldn’t understand why he was doing this, you’d thought he loved you the same way you loved him.

Had it all been a mistake, were there signs and clues you’d missed along the way?

Finally Maedhros turned to face you, and within moments all of your anger dissipated. Tears streamed down his cheeks, unshed ones exaggerating his red rimmed eyes. He looked absolutely broken, the worst you’d ever seen him. 

“Why are you doing this?” You dropped the facade of nonchalance. Tears began to well in your eyes, a slight waver in your voice as you spoke.

Still he didn’t speak. 

You closed the distance separating the two of you, grabbing his hand in yours, but he pushed you away. Still you attempted to grab it again and this time he didn’t bother rejecting your touch. 

“Mae please, what is the real reason for this?” You looked up at him like a doe, so wide-eyed and teary. Any shred of conviction he previously held onto crumbled as he looked at your face. 

He thought marrying you would be selfish, but perhaps this was the more selfish option?

“You deserve better. I can’t give you what you deserve.” 

A crease formed on your forehead as your brows furrowed. 

“Fuck it.” 

Maedhros blinked, stunned by your brash words. For a moment he thought he might’ve misheard, he’d never heard you speak like that. But it would appear he hadn’t misheard you.

“What?”

“I said, fuck it. I love you, and you love me, and god dammit, if you’re not best for me then I don’t want better.”

You moved one of your hands from his, cupping his chin, forcing Maedhros to meet your gaze, an attempt to show the sincerity in every word spoken.

“I love you, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

Your words hung in the room, imprinted on the floorboards and the walls.

The Maedhros’ lips were on yours. The kiss was quick and fervent, expressing everything he’d never be able to put into words. All the love and fear that clung to him like a shadow; his entire soul was laid before you. It was dizzying - you were drowning at sea, and Maedhros was your only lifeboat. 

You clung to his form, never able to get close enough, one of your hands wrapped around his lithe form while the other reached towards the nape of his neck, gently tugging on his hair. He groaned against your lips and you swallowed the noise, deepening the kiss. 

Closer, closer, you needed to be closer. 

He pulled you just as tight as you were pulling him, just as desperate if not more so than you were. His one arm wrapped around your waist and held you against his body. His scent was intoxicating, that same heady cologne he’d been wearing when you first spoke in the library. Your teeth clacked against his, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You needed him to know that every word you’d said, you’d meant. 

There wasn’t a universe you wanted to exist in without him. 

And while that thought terrified you, you repressed it, opting to deal with it later. 

Maedhros needed to know you were all in, and you’d spent the rest of eternity convincing him if need be. 

At some point he pulled back, the rise of fall of both of your chest and heavy breathing the only sound in the room. 

His hand moved from your waist and into your hair, finger combing through it. There were stars in his eyes that you surely replicated. 

“Forgive me, I was being foolish. I don’t want our courtship to end, you’re the woman I want to marry. I never want to leave your side and I promise to never send you away, I swear it.” 

A smile, small and delicate, lit up your features as you frantically nodded in response. Maedhros huffed out a laugh, pressing his forehead against yours, muttering elvish endearments against your skin. 

You closed your eyes, basking in his presence and the musical sound of his voice. 

Oh to freeze this moment and live in it forever. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

 Everything was silent and calm, but not in a way that would be soothing and leave behind a sense of weightlessness. Instead, it was harsh and grating, mile-high walls building up around you as you subconsciously prepared for...something. Anything that would cause a ripple and disturb this illusion that encased you. 

You couldn’t deny it anymore and continue to make excuses for what was so clearly right in front of you. War had brought devastation, and with that came change, and with change came the end of a life you’d built. For so long, Maedhros was able to ignore the Oath he and his brothers had sworn. The Silmarils were forgotten but only for a time. Word had reached Ossiriand that the son of Beren and Luthien had inherited the Silmaril his parents had recovered. 

Maedhros, once noble and as bright as the sun, now appeared worn and haggard, his eyes bearing the weight of a consuming madness. Restlessness gnawed at his soul as his insatiable quest for the Silmarils tightened its grip on his heart. 

It was only a matter of time before the bubble burst, and you could no longer delude yourself into thinking he was still the same man you fell in love with. 

“Maedhros,” you said quietly in hopes of not sparking another argument. “Are you certain this is the wise decision?” 

He turned to you, his eyes stern and calculating. It was a stark difference from the love and warmth they used to be lit by. Instead of looking into the sun, you were staring into a fiery furnace.

“It is my duty, as well as my brothers, to honor the Oath we swore to our father. I have no doubt this is the right course of action.” He sounded so detached when he spoke to you. It was the same way he talked to commanding officers and diplomats, not how he should speak to his wife. Not the way he used to talk to you. 

The fear you’d felt, the drop of your heart each time you looked into his eyes, intensified. He was teetering on the precipice of madness. You bit your lip, mulling over the right words to keep him from falling off the ledge. 

“I understand your quest,” your voice trembled with slight trepidation despite your best efforts to keep it even. “But Maedhros, the toll it’s taking on you…I fear for your well being.” 

His eyes bore into yours, a mixture of frustration, impatience, and slight madness evident in his gaze. It made you nearly flinch, but you held your ground. 

“You doubt me?” His voice had an edge so sharp it cut you like a knife. It intensified your anxiety, but you swallowed it, steeling yourself against your nerves. 

“I don’t doubt your intentions, Maedhros,” she replied, her voice steady now, “but I fear for what this obsession is doing to you.” 

Your words seemed to strike a chord within him, his anger momentarily giving way to a flicker of doubt. A moment of clarity within his addled mind. “You think I don’t know the burden I bear?” he murmured, his voice softening now, but the anger still lingered beneath the surface. 

“I know, my love,” you replied, much softer this time. You crossed the room’s threshold, gingerly sweeping your knuckles across his cheek. His eyes flutter shut, momentarily allowing your soothing touch to wash over him. “But I can’t bear to see you suffer like this. Your people need you. I need you. Not just as a leader but as a husband too.”

His eyes opened, and the green within them softened as his anger began to wane. Yet the turmoil was still evident within him. He was a man fighting two wars, one war with the forces of Morgoth and the second war within himself. 

“It’s not easy for me either, and I curse the day I swore that oath.” His confession made the flicker of hope within you get bigger. Perhaps you’d successfully pulled him from the ledge. “But I cannot turn away from my destiny.” 

Just as soon as it appeared, the hope was snuffed out; stubborn and proud, you now cursed what you used to admire about him most. 

“But at what cost, Maedhros? The Oath has led to nothing but tragedy and death. You are losing yourself in this darkness, forsaking all that once mattered. Look around you! Our people suffer, our family crumbles, and still, you are blinded by this madness!” Desperate and pleading, you tried to force him to see reason. 

As if your touch was made of acid, Maedhros pulled away and sidestepped you, a sea separating you from him. The anger returned to his eyes as they hardened once more. The brief moment of vulnerability was gone, and it was difficult to remember if it had ever even been there, to begin with. 

“And for what? For some gems that shine prettily,” you continued; he needed to hear your words, to taste the venom behind them. If he held even an ounce of love for you, he would heed your warning. But your words seemed to fall on deaf ears, lost amidst the blaze of anger that threatened to burn the whole world. 

“You know nothing of the weight I carry,” he snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a freshly sharpened sword. “You are my wife, not an advisor; quit constantly questioning me and stand by my side as you were intended to.”

The words caught in your throat faded, replaced with a bitter taste of the last bit of love and hope you held for Maedhros dying. Your eyes fell to the floor; there was nothing left to do. The butterflies he incited within you had turned to ash. Everything the two of you built crumbled, and Maedhros gladly helped, knocking down the pillars it once stood upon. 

The Maedhros you loved was long gone; what stood before you now was a shell of the man he once was.

“If that’s the way you feel.” It was all you uttered before exiting the room, leaving Maedhros in the dimly lit room with nothing but anger and regret. He wanted to call out to you, to beg you to stay and reassure you he hadn’t meant it. But the grip of madness was unyielding, and even in the depths of sorrow, it would not relent.

The Silmarils that had once been a beacon of hope now seemed to mock him, and the emptiness in his heart felt like a chasm he could never fill.

In the stillness of the night, as Maedhros lay slumbering, you stole away into vast open fields. Cloaked in the darkness that came with night, you ran, nowhere in particular, just so long as it was as far away from Maedhros. Your heart was heavy with the weight of your decision and the finality of the ending of a love you thought would last forever. Yet the echoes of the argument lingered; his harsh words and austere face were a haunting reminder of what had been lost. 

“It’s better this way,” you told yourself. 

You would carry the memory of Maedhros until your dying day, praying that he might find solace and release from his Oath. But you couldn’t count on it, and you wouldn’t waste your days hoping he’d change. 

“It’s better this way,” you repeated once more.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The warm glow of the sun was waning, warning you of the impending cloak of night. 

You stood on the cliffside, staring into the waters below, feet buried in the overgrowth and dirt. The air was cool, and the world was quiet. So serene and perfect that it was hard to believe it was real. You burrowed your feet deeper into the dirt, desperate to ground yourself into reality. 

The mellowness of your surroundings eased the grief within your heart. War was over, and the suffering you’d endured was but a distant dream. Residing in the lands of Aman, you could forget your life had been anything other than something full of beautiful poetic prose. 

Yet it was hard to let go of all of your pain. But as time passed, it became twisted, no longer the stabbing pain of a needle. It poured from you into a melancholia that you would use to paint all your skies a dark blue. It lingered in the edges of your landscape, blurred in the edges and nearly unseen by anyone except for you. 

A soft hum escaped your mouth as you allowed the sound of cascading waves to fall over you. Eyes fluttered shut, the faint mist of water touching your body. 

You only opened your eyes once the sound of footsteps was heard. Your posture stiffened, ears sharpening to hone in on the sounds of the intruder. No one dared to intrude upon you, and if they did, it was preemptively planned, never just a sudden visit. 

Slowly, you turned, but you were still surprised even though you didn’t know what to expect. 

Standing before you, as tall and proud as the day you’d first met, was Maedhros. He was vibrant and real, only a hint of tentative uncertainty marring his neutral expression. He stopped a few paces away, silent as you took him in. Framed by the soft glow of the golden rays of sunlight, he was just as you remembered him, yet with an unmistakable touch of time. 

It wasn’t in the traditional ways of humans; there were no wrinkles and lines imprinted on his face. It was all in the eyes, the centuries of wisdom, pain, and suffering making them heavier than they once were. 

He’d died. You knew that. He cast himself into the fire alongside his brother when he could no longer possess the Silmarils. It was said they burned him upon contact and it was a fate too terrible for him to live. You’d wept for days on end upon learning his fate. 

And yet here he was, as real as the day you’d met. 

“Maedhros.” His name hung in the air as if you were unsure it was truly him. He simply nodded, an affirmation that he was really here, standing before you.  

Silence stretched between the two of you, your eyes locked in a gaze that spoke the words your lips couldn’t find. There was a tempest of emotions within you - joy, relief, curiosity, and a lingering sense of hurt you couldn’t fully let go of. 

And then, like the first rays of sunrise, a smile graced Maedhros’ lips, and it was as if the years spent separated vanished. The arguments disappeared with them, leaving only an overwhelming happiness to see him standing before you. Your strides were sure as you stepped towards Maedhros, and he helped to close the gap, your arms weaving around his body as you embraced him for the first time in years.

He smelled just how you’d remembered, and you buried your face into his chest, determined to remember how his arm felt around your waist. 

“Is it really you?” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and delight.

You felt the rumble of Maedhros’ slight laughter as he nodded his head. “ Yes, it’s me, my love.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough that you could see his face but close enough that you could feel the warmth he radiated. “I- I can’t believe it; how is this even possible?” You were nearly out of breath as you spoke, eyes searching for answers within his. 

“A twist of fate, I suppose. I was released from the Halls of Mandos, my time of repentance done.” A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, his grip on you tightening. “I should have listened to you the night that you left. You were right, and I was just to--”

You cut him off by placing a searing kiss on his lips. His words were forgotten, the long speech he’d probably been preparing since the moment you left cut off. There would be an eternity for forgiveness and apologetic words. Right now, you just wanted to remember how his lips had felt on yours.

He melted into the kiss, his lips just as sweet as you’d remembered them to be. The years melted into oblivion; it was just you and Maedhros, with nothing severing the love you held. The kiss was a mixture of vehement remorse and a promise to never forsake the promise of love he’d made to you. Time slowed as the two of you savored the moment, fully immersed in the warmth of his body and the taste of his lips. 

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you and Maedhros stayed tangled in one another. You’d both been given a second chance, something you hadn’t dared to think would be possible. And yet here he was, so intertwined with you it was hard to see where you ended and he began. It was a chance to reignite a love that had never fully died out.

#maedhros imagine #maedhros x reader #maedhros #lord of the rings imagine #the silmarillion imagine #lord of the rings #the silmarillion #lord of the rings oneshot #tolkien #lotr #lotr imagine #silmarillion #angst #lotr fluff

[sgiandubh]

Saw your comment: "We're not all thirsty mommies, nor 12, nor bitter bitches. I'd love to see and hear more about what is beneath that mask, not beneath that shirt." Sam has done that before. He wrote an entire book about his journey but the book is called bullshit and he a liar. He's written well-thought out articles and forewords to books. He speaks intelligently and passionately and knowledgably about his liquors and the process of getting to market, and is called a shill. His work with Prickly Thistle is expensive and taking peoples' money, even when it helped this woman-owned mill immensely. It goes on and on. Today he's been accused of hypocrisy for a plastic cup, thirst trapping to change a conversation and using his social media as a PR tool to fool gullible women. Some may want to see beneath the mask but when he's shown what he is willing to you get the above.

Dear Hypocrisy Anon,

Thank you for your thoughts. I have read your long comment very carefully and let's say I agree with about 85% of it. The itching point is, of course, the book: Waypoints is a good ghostwritten memoir I have commented at length, with a more benevolent view than most of those who found it took some substantial liberty with what they (and I, for that matter) think it's the current state of play in SC Land. Note I am not saying the truth: that's only for Them to know, not for us. So dismissing it and calling everything a lie is a bit of a stretch. It's just a memoir, to be followed by other projects, other books. And who knows, another memoir, later on, where he could correct the course again at his convenience. He's only 43. Give the man some credit.

Trouble is, the world is a vast and diverse place. It's not just this fractured fandom. If he wants to remain relevant beyond OL, he needs, in my humble opinion, two things: a) to score a big role in a big budget production, which would improve his notoriety and help him reach a different public and b) curate his personal image a bit more and get out of this midlife crisis fake character he's peddling around. The only people who find it interesting are the thirsty mommies in *urv's crowd and that's, uhm... a bit irrelevant, in the big scheme of things.

So, no more political blunders, please and thank you. Shut the hell up and play Switzerland on complicated and divisive society issues which can get one in boiled water for a comma. Carefully picked and curated CSR projects, he'd ideally be more actively involved in. And yes, maybe a bit more transparency on the so many great things he does, like that partnership with the Edinburgh's Youth Theatre he didn't even mention himself or include in his stories (no doubt, out of a very British and endearing sense of modesty). And always remember: when faced with something beautiful and fragile, like that story, people will try their best to smear it and break it. I am not bitter, just realistic.

Same goes for your conclusion: I am sure many would like to see more of what is beneath that mask. It's too bad that a bunch of bitter, nasty, clueless, but also very noisy women occupy a bigger part of the stage than they should.

But have faith, Anon. For the moment, all of this is nothing what a good PR, not the clowns he obviously hired, can't fix with relative ease. Trust me. I've seen way worse. And remember, always remember what dear Wilde (God, I love that soul!) said: 'every saint has a past and every sinner has a future'.

You just gave me an idea for a future post and for this, I thank you, Anon. But for now, I have to catch up on a thing or two, rather than determine the morality of a plastic glass. I hope this long answer helps somewhat. Thank you for dropping by: it was a pleasure reading your musings.

#Anon

[icallhimjoey]

Never Over

♥ ♥  rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Following “Only Now”, “Over Now” and “Then Again”, the story continues. You agreed to have coffee with Eddie, because Eddie needs to speak to you. Sure, he wrote that letter, but he needs to have an actual conversation. So you do, and then, afterwards, it sort of… all just, goes to shit.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, fem!reader, mentions of smut, angst, substance abuse, hard drugs, alcoholism, lots of being sick, addiction, codependency, withdrawal symptoms

Author’s note: So, I was really convinced that this story was over for me. That the three prior parts to this would remain a trilogy, and that, if I were to ever write for Eddie again, it would be something entirely different. But then I got a message from my girlie and, shit. Here we are.

Wordcount: 10.7K

(find all four parts of this story here)

The rumbling of the engine and the gentle rocking of the vehicle did a good job of slowly letting Eddie fall asleep. It quickly became too difficult to keep his heavy eyelids open still, but the wide grin on his face was there to stay.

It was late, and the day had been long, but Eddie was happy. So very happy. Everything was coated in a light layer of joy, satisfaction, contentment, fulfillment and love. Even grumpy band members with snarky comments coming from the other bunks didn’t spoil his mood.

They weren’t rose-tinted glasses that falsely made him think everything was perfect, because he knew they very much weren’t perfect. However, there was a beauty in being sure.

Eddie felt sure, and Eddie would tell everyone that he felt sure all the time.

You, on the other hand, were very consistently unsure. About everything. Constantly.

The entire week leading up to meeting Eddie for coffee after Nancy and Jonathan’s wedding you’d been unsure. Eddie wanted to talk. Had to get things off his chest. And you’d said, or, had written in your case, that you’d go to meet him. But you were so very unsure about the whole thing.

You were very hesitant. Completely in two minds. On unsteady footing. Wobbly legs. Constantly all up in your head, overtaken by thought and hesitation. Yes, you were going to meet Eddie for a coffee because, why not? But no, you really shouldn’t go to meet Eddie, should you? Especially not after regret found you fast after what you’d done. It was sort of waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs in the grand lobby, where you spotted it in a huge mirror and it kind of scared you.

The person staring back at you was someone who just cheated on her boyfriend. With Eddie. Who was still upstairs, in Nancy and Jonathan’s bridal suite. Asleep.

Regret.

It immediately made you want to sneak back upstairs and take that note that you’d left. You should have never fucking done that. Everything about it had been delicious, but, at what cost? Thank God you at least looked fine. You’d been on top for a reason; not a hair was out of place. No one was to suspect anything had happened.

“Hey,”

Except maybe Steve.

“Where’s Eddie?”

You looked at Steve in the large mirror as you smoothed out your dress, and you didn’t really know what to say. You didn’t want to lie to your friend, but you could hardly tell him the truth, could you?

“Where’s Matt?” 

You omitted Steve’s question with one of your own, as if knowing where Matt was at influenced the answer you’d give him. It would, actually, but that’s not what you wanted Steve to think.

Too late though.

Steve looked at you a second before answering, “Joyce has got him in a death grip, actually got him onto the dance floor– hey, are you okay? Did Eddie leave?”

“I’m fine,”  you smiled, turned to Steve and tried to let your smile reach your eyes. “We talked.”

You did talk. Well, Eddie talked. Eddie got to say a lot of things, needed to get things out that you only half-listened to.

“Long talk,” Steve raised his eyebrows and clicked his tongue. The judgment coming from him made you roll your eyes.

“Yea, well, there’s lots of things to talk about, isn’t there?”

You walked past Steve, ready to get back to the party, but Steve grabbed you by the arm before you could.

“You wanna be honest with me?”

“Steve,” you pleaded, not wanting to get into it. The ‘not now’ followed unspoken, silently. You were trying to do your best to keep all the bad feelings at bay. Everything was so fun a minute ago, you’d been so in control of everything. High on power. Where had all of it gone all of a sudden? You realised just then how fleeting all of it had been.

“Where’s Eddie?” Steve asked again.

“Upstairs.”

Steve’s expression fell and his grip loosened in surprise. You took your chance to escape him and power-walked as fast as your heels could carry you, back into the solarium. You saw Steve enter seconds after you did and were glad he hadn’t gone up to find Eddie but had instead decided to stay out of it.

Smart man.

Smart men minded their business.

But then you saw him walk over to Robin and nod his head before stepping outside with her following his tails. There was no way they weren’t going to talk about you. But, so what? They could talk. You made the conscious decision to not care, because your boyfriend, the very one who didn't dance, was on the dance floor, getting instructions from Jim Hopper as Joyce tried her best to get him to follow her lead. They had every onlooker in stitches.  

Then suddenly something panged in your chest and realisation dawned.

Matt was too good for you.

You didn’t deserve someone like him.

Fuck.

Look at that goofy goober. There wasn't a bad bone in that body.

You were going to have to tell him. Tell him everything. Oh no, and he fucking loved Eddie too. Loved Corroded Coffin. Matt was such a fan, and you had just... ruined all of it, hadn’t you?

Shit.

You saw Hopper applaud proudly, booming voice going, "You got it, kid!" when Matt got something right, and he laughed as Joyce encouraged him, praising him for even trying with her at all.

Yea. You were going to have to tell him.

Not today, though. But soon.

Your coffee meeting with Eddie hadn't gone like you had expected. You hadn't known what to expect at all, really, but you had never anticipated for Eddie to be quite so brutal. So toxic. In a way it helped, because it just proved to you that Eddie was still Eddie, no matter how honest and up front he was now.

He was just sober now. Had a bit more insight and knew how to use his words right.

Walking into the coffee shop, you saw that Eddie was in disguise, already sat at a table in the far back. He had his hood up and was wearing sunglasses indoors which inadvertently only pulled more attention towards him, but it was whatever. It's what celebrities did, and sometimes it genuinely helped, so Eddie wore the uniform of a rockstar that didn't want to be bothered. You got yourself a coffee and sat down opposite him.

You kept your coat on and gave a tight lipped smile as Eddie removed his sunglasses and reached across the table to grab onto your forearm for a moment in greeting as he smiled warmly. Eddie seemed a little nervous, but excited to see you.

You were distant. Cold. You needed to be, because for seven agonizing twenty-four hour days you'd thought of everything Eddie could say that held potential to reel you back in, and you weren't going to do that to yourself.

Eddie wanted to talk. So you were going to let him talk. Talk, listen and then leave. That was the plan.

And so, Eddie talked.

Eddie talked to you with a tilted head, apologetic scrunched up eyebrows and hands that reached to touch you every time he mentioned you. Eddie talked and forgot all about his coffee.

He spoke of childhood trauma that shaped him, his attachment issues, his inability to root anywhere properly and of finding solace in familiarity. How he looked for escapes, easy fixes to cure him from the outside in, and how awful he felt about everything he'd ever done to everyone to make them feel bad.

"Especially you."

You had a hard time looking him in the eye, studied your coffee instead.

"I know you don't owe me anything... not your time, not your friendship, not your love... you owe me nothing, but, please let me give. I want to give, you deserve everything that I never gave before, and I want to give it to you now."

You could tell Eddie went to therapy. These were beautifully crafted words for you, but you didn't want to let them in. Didn't want to let them touch you. Didn't want to let them come even slightly close.

"I'm glad you're better now," was the first thing from your lips. Besides small nods and tight smiles, you hadn't said anything yet.

"I really meant everything I wrote in the letter I sent,"

You nodded slowly, then took the last sip of your coffee and looked at your empty cup for moment. Eddie took your silence as an invitation to repeat the things he'd written. After listening to it for a few seconds, you cleared your throat and interrupted him.

"You don't have to–... I read your letter. I know what it said."

You sounded colder than you intended, and winced inwardly. But maybe it was good that you came off extra harsh, because you saw it take effect immediately.

Eddie's jaw tensed as he sat back in his chair a little. He looked at you a moment, then asked, "Have you told him?"

Matt.

"There's nothing to tell," you shrugged, and it made Eddie scoff. He looked around the room, as if to check if anyone else was hearing this. Nothing to tell? Come on. There was plenty to tell.

Eddie reached into his pocket and retrieved a note. Your note. The note you had left on the pillow that said you'd go have a coffee with him.

"This was cute," Eddie held it up between his index and middle finger, then flung it onto the table where it landed in between you.

You inhaled a sharp breath as you looked at your handwriting.

"So, um, thanks for this Eddie, good luck with–"

"Whoa... hey, you're not just leaving?" Eddie sat up in his seat.

"We've had coffee. You wanted to talk, and you talked."

"But... no, wait, that's not– we slept together a week ago,"

"Shut the fuck up," you panicked, hissing through your teeth as you ducked into your shoulders and looked around to check if anyone had heard him.

"Tell me," Eddie sat up, moved in closer, both elbows back on the table. "What do I need to do to make it right?"

You blinked at him, a little dumbfounded.

"You putting that on me?"

"No, I– I just... I'm just asking, is there anything you think I could do or say that will fix everything I've done?"

"That's a big ask, I don't think so,"

"There's gotta be," Eddie said, confident. "There is. I'm gonna figure it out." and he sat back, legs spread wide with a disgustingly smug look on his face.

There he was.

Therapy and sobriety could do a lot, but it couldn't erase the man that Eddie had become over the past few years.

"Okay, well... enjoy that. I'm gonna go, good luck with... I don't know, life, in general–"

And as you got up, Eddie suddenly shot a hand out towards you and grabbed you by the wrist. For a small moment, you saw 17-year-old Eddie stare at you pleadingly. He almost looked... scared.

"I can't, Eddie..."

You thought of what else to say. Something good, to make him feel better. Something sweet, to make him smile, maybe. But then all you managed to say was,

"I'm sorry."

And with that, you gathered your things, turned your back and walked out. The second you were out of Eddie's sight, you broke, face scrunching up as you let the tears flow freely.

You were going to have to tell Matt. Tonight. You had to.

But then you didn't, did you?

Because what were you going to tell him?

"Hey remember that celebrity that you really love? Yea... same."

You couldn't.

And so, you didn't.

Until a few days later, Eddie called whilst you were at work. A classic move. Eddie knew you wouldn't be able to pick up. Knew he'd catch your answering machine instead. He wanted to leave a message.

"I know I'm not supposed to be calling you, I know this is stupid and I'm crossing all sorts of lines and boundaries, and I'll probably make things worse, but, fuck... what else am I supposed to do? Pretend nothing ever happened? Pretend that I don't think of you every second of every single fucking day? I can't... I don't know how I'm supposed to... that's not– I don't even want that to be an option. I don't want to pretend that having sex with you,"

Eddie paused. Sighed.

"That wasn't just a casual fuck, that was– we used that bridal suite for what it was meant for, I don't care if you don't want to hear it. That was making love. Shit, I fucking love you, I need to... You gotta– what do I have to do, you gotta tell me. There's gotta be something. There's–"

The phone suddenly clicked.

"Hey," a male's voice answered Eddie.

"Is this um... is this Eddie Munson?"

Just over a week after you and Eddie had met for coffee, Steve was meant to meet Eddie ahead of a Corroded Coffin gig. Small venue, not far from where Eddie lived, and they were going to get Indian food. That was the plan. But then Eddie didn’t show, and Steve waited for thirty minutes before asked if he could make a call.

No one answered.

Worry shot over Steve, because Eddie had been good. Eddie had been really reliable these past few months. They didn’t meet up often, but when they did, Eddie would check and confirm their plans several times. Eddie made sure to not fuck up anymore, to be there for his friend, to make this right and prove to himself and to everyone else that he was doing better now. That he was sober and present and better.

But thinking of it now, Steve hadn’t heard from Eddie since they said they’d go for Indian food ahead of the gig Steve was going to attend. That was well over a week ago. He contemplated for a minute but then decided, fuck it, and left the restaurant. Something wasn’t right.

When he rang Eddie’s doorbell, he was buzzed in pretty quickly and it gave him a little hope. Maybe Eddie had just forgotten. Had gotten stuck in a song writing mood where he’d forget all about time and space and was just creative. In the flow. Spaced out, but in a good way. Steve crossed his fingers that Eddie was spaced out in the best way.

But stepping out of the elevator, he walked past a sketchy dude, the type of smug, criminal-looking guy Steve would usually steer clear off, who he saw had left the door open to Eddie’s luxury apartment.

Inside Steve found Eddie on his couch, expressionless, sort of dead-eyed. He didn’t even look up until Steve accidentally kicked a glass bottle that clattered loudly against the floor tiles, and even then it didn’t really seem like Eddie was fully in his body.

“No, no, no, no… Eddie, what the fuck,”

There were fresh coke lines on the table in front of Eddie and bottles just, everywhere. Some empty, some still somewhat full.

Fuck.

Eddie had relapsed, and he had relapsed hard.

The place looked ransacked, like Eddie had partied for a full week and hadn't let the cleaners in. There was just, shit, all over.

Eddie barely even heard Steve, but there was a shimmer of recognition in Eddie’s eyes when he saw him, followed by a disconnected smile.

“Harrington,”

Steve had never seen anyone like this. In this state. He knew Eddie had problems with alcohol – everyone knew of the alcoholism, it had been widely reported before. Just like everyone knew of his stint in rehab. And sure, Eddie used to deal a little in high school. They'd get high on bad quality weed together on Fridays sometimes, but Steve never thought that Eddie was the type of dude to snort actual lines of cocaine off tables. Especially not in his own home. Especially not by him fucking self, alone.

Shit, Eddie had been so good. He’d taken responsibility for the bad things and he’d been so good about everything.

“Forgot about dinner?”

Steve knew logically Eddie probably didn’t know what time it was, or even what day it was. He was about to miss another one of his own gigs, for fuck's sake. But the mention of food did something to Eddie.

Steve saw Eddie grow green in real time whilst he stayed overwhelmingly calm.

He’s about to hurl, Steve thought, suddenly panicked because Eddie’s place only had expensive furniture, the type of stuff Steve could never afford. And Eddie remaining so deeply calm only fucked with him more, because, why wasn’t Eddie rushing to a toilet?

Eddie leant forward slightly, only a little, and was just going to throw up right where he was sitting, so Steve darted around, found a sort of long vase stood in a corner and planted it right in between Eddie’s legs. Eddie immediately started filling it up, emptying his full stomach contents until Steve was sure the vein on Eddie’s forehead was going to pop and his throat had to be absolutely aching.

“This isn’t… fuck man, what are you doing? What happened?”

Eddie spit into the vase a few times, wiped a hand at his watery eyes, then at his mouth and sort of... babbled something. Steve could barely follow any of it, none of the noises sounded like actual words, until he caught your name. Eddie said your name and Steve thought Eddie was about to throw up again, but instead, Eddie looked at Steve and seemed a little more present. Sad and fucking hurt, but present.

“Ed… you can’t be–”

A heartshattering sob burst from Eddie's chest.

Eddie broke down and let himself fall onto his couch, curling up into a ball as he cried. Maybe it was the realisation of it all. Maybe it was Steve being there and Eddie being able to see the sheer fear in his friend's face. Or maybe it was just that it had been six consecutive days of this bullshit and he'd barely slept.

Steve looked around, sort of… defeated. Everything was a mess. The apartment had drugs and booze all over. Eddie was drunk, had coke crusted around his nose, was sweating, was crying and was sick. It was all fucked up. He had a gig in two hours. Steve needed to call people. Steve needed to get help. Steve needed to call someone, get help and...

He needed to get rid of all of the shit.

If Steve was going to help, he needed to start with getting all the substances out.

“Here, come on,” Steve took hold of Eddie’s arm and pulled him up. Helped him into the bathroom and sort of, propped him up next to the toilet with his back pressed against the tub. Then placed a glass of water next to him.

“Small sips,” he instructed, not even sure if that really was what was best.

Eddie's cries sounded worse in the bathroom, and Steve didn’t know what to do. Eddie’s voice echoed throughout the whole apartment now and sometimes, it was just wailing that turned into more vomiting, but then other times they were words, things like, sorry, I fucked up, I can't, I don't and your name.

Eddie kept crying your name and it made Steve aggressively wipe at his wet eyes all angrily as he collected bottles and other trash into garbage bags.

When was this shit going to fucking end?

When Steve called you, you let the call go to your answering machine.

You'd been crying and didn't need to talk to Steve right now. You knew Steve knew. Had heard from Matt, who had probably told him everything. Steve would say things like, I told you so. And, you brought this onto yourself. Shit you didn't want to hear. Truths you couldn't really face right now.

But when you heard Steve's voice on the tape, everything changed in an instant.

Steve's voice cracked, like he'd been crying and he sounded desperate. Panicked. Completely stressed out of his mind.

"I need you to come over, I'm sorry... I didn't want to call you, but you need to– I need you. Eddie's been... he's relapsed. It's bad. I don't know what– how I can–"

The phone clicked.

"Steve?"

You'd picked up , and Steve sighed a breath of relief. You were both sniffing down the line.

"I'm sorry," Steve said again.

"Where are you?"

"Eddie's apartment. It's... you need to know it's bad." Steve's voice didn't leave any room for questions. This was serious business. Steve would never call you over to Eddie's apartment if it wasn't absolutely desperately needed for you to be there.

"I'm on my way."

You'd never been to Eddie's apartment before, but you knew exactly where it was. Knew to steer clear of the area. Avoided it at all cost for a very long time, and found stupid excuses when Matt asked about it.

Steve buzzed you in and waited for you outside Eddie's front door. He needed to warn you extra before you were going to walk in, but stepping out of the elevator in a frenzy, you didn't let Steve stop you.

Just waltzed right in.

But the apartment was quiet, and it was just... messy. Kind of disgusting, actually.

You'd already been crying, emotions had been running high all day, so tears found you fast as you clasped a hand over your mouth. Steve caught up with you, said that he'd been cleaning for a little while already, but he didn't know what to do with the cocaine on the table, or the pills he found in the kitchen.

You sort of looked around in silence together for a moment.

This was insane.

You were scared Steve was going to say anything about Matt. About Matt finding out. About you and Eddie fucking in Nancy and Jonathan's bridal suite. But Steve said nothing of the sort.

"Corroded Coffin was meant to be on stage in an hour," with a broom in hand, Steve was a little relieved to now share the burden of all the horror he'd walked in on. He'd also called Eddie's manager. Said Eddie wasn't feeling well and wouldn't be able to make it. Everything told Steve that his manager knew. Understood. But nothing else was said, nothing about drinking, or drug use, and Steve thought that maybe they already knew, because Eddie also hadn't shown up for sound check.

"Where's Eddie?"

Before Steve could say anything, you heard someone cough and retch. Bathroom.

"Wait, stop," Steve tried, but it was to no avail.

You found Eddie, arms folded over the toilet seat, messy head of hair resting atop, heaving.

"My baby," you sighed upon the sight of him, voice cracked, immediately crying. My baby? Where the fuck did that come from? Somewhere deep within, you thought. It pained you on its way out, you could feel it pull up from the pit of your stomach.

Steve frowned at it. He hadn't called you over to let you fall back into old patterns.

Eddie heard you and dove down deeper into himself, moved away a little, but remained on the toilet seat still. Refused to look at you because you weren't meant to see him like this. Ever. Pathetic excuse of a person.

"Eddie?" your voice was soft, small and high-pitched as your throat constricted with emotion as you kneeled down next to him. Eddie turned away, and when you reached a hand to softly touch, not to startle, but to comfort, you felt Eddie was shaking.

Steve stood in the door of the bathroom and looked at his two friends. The two people who'd been his best friends for a long time. One hiding his face into his arms over a toilet bowl, the other now moving from her knees onto her butt to sit with him, resting her chin on the other side of the toilet seat, one hand touching his arm, thumb slowly rubbing dry skin, waiting for Eddie to acknowledge her presence. One of them pretending they weren't even there, the other desperate for a connection to be made. Both quietly crying; your lip quivering, Eddie's shoulders shaking.

If this moment wasn't encased in the most awful, absolutely horrid circumstances, in a bathroom that could really use a fucking clean, Steve would've thought it was almost sort of romantic.

But it was bullshit, is what it was.

Seeing the two of you together like this, something dawned on Steve. Something that he somehow had always known was now staring at him, right in his face.

This was just like when you were 18 and Eddie had been sick after a house party where he'd been laughed at, had been ridiculed by some jocks. You'd sat with him all night until you'd both fallen asleep in the bathroom where you'd left mascara streaks on the floor tiles.

Or like when you'd been in a fight with your dad and Steve and Eddie found you on the steps of Wayne and Eddie's trailer. You'd hidden in their bathroom all night with Eddie on the other side of the door, softly talking to you until Steve decided, this wasn't what he'd come over to Eddie's for, and had gone home.

Or like when Steve had thrown you a surprise birthday party when you turned 19, but Eddie hadn't been able to make it because of work, and you'd just sulked all night. Steve had put so much effort into the preparations, and then, all throughout the party, he had put effort into cheering you up.

It was always the same type of shit with the two of you. Always so much effort. And it was just, never ending. This was who you were. Three friends who just... had a lot of bullshit happening, all of the time. You and Eddie always with the drama, and Steve kind of always there to help. It was always the same story. This was never gonna be over.

"Eddie, what did you do?" you whispered, and your voice revealed a little fear, but it carried mostly care.

"He fucked up is what he did,"

"Steve," you scolded.

"Wha–... am I wrong?"

Steve's anger built. Completely inappropriate, you thought. This was a delicate situation. A situation you'd been completely kept out of before. All those times you hadn't answered Eddie's phone calls all those months ago. All those times Steve told you that, Eddie was going to be fine. He was going to be fine, at some point. Get the help he needed. Get over whatever the fuck he'd been doing. You'd protected yourself and you'd listened then. Trusted that Steve was right. Gained strength in yourself and didn't allow Eddie to be a part of your life.

You had felt guilty then too, but... never like this.

This was the type of guilt that made you pick up when Steve called. The type of guilt that made you not even question going over to Eddie's apartment. That made you want to fix things. Fix Eddie. Fix all of it.

Guilt was the main emotion of the day. The real star of the show.

"Well? Eddie?"

Steve stood in that doorway still, broom in one hand, the other on his hip. Brow furrowed. He looked like his mom and his dad simultaneously, which, you weren't going to mention. You had no death wish.

"You've been crying out for her for over an hour, so I got her for you. She's here. Now what?" Steve spat.

Frustration and fear accumulated into this anger cocktail that Steve was spewing out at Eddie. Inability and helplessness, the complete not-knowing-what-to-do of it all that really didn't help. And now Eddie hid away and pretended you weren't even there and it rubbed Steve wrong.

Steve threw the broom he was still holding which landed hard on the bathroom tiles, making you flinch, before he left the two of you alone. Went back to the kitchen. Started furiously clearing counter tops. Had to not see you for a second.

"Eddie," you whispered, hoping that maybe he'd look up at you this time. Look you in the eye. You recalled how just over a week ago you'd been so dismissive of him. Heartless. Tried your best to come across it, at least. When you still thought that if you let Eddie in, he'd come between you and Matt, not realizing that... Eddie had sort of always been in between you and Matt anyway.

Cold and heartless was not the version of you that Eddie needed right now. And it wasn't the version of you that you wanted to be for him.

Eddie made small noises. You thought maybe he was going to say something, but then you saw his whole torso tense up, making Eddie hunch his back as he threw up again. Your hands were fast to push back his hair, collecting it behind his head into a ponytail that you tied with a hair tie you found near the sink. It revealed his face to you. Bloodshot eyes. Pained expression. Wet from crying. Awful skin.

Jesus Christ, it had just been over a week.

Eddie looked dead if it wasn't for blotches of colour that heaving brought to his face.

Not much came out of him. It was mostly just bile, by now.

Eddie struggled through it, stomach muscles spasming, nose snotting, eyes streaming and you had curled yourself around him all the way, like a backpack, pressing a cheek against his shoulder blade. You held him like that for a while, not really knowing what to say, or what else you could do.

A sudden loud clang made you turn your head. You caught a glimpse of Steve walking away, a huge big stinking vase now placed behind you.

"Rinse that out," Steve called out.

Yes. Good. A task. You could help by rinsing out what was very clearly a vomit filled vase, but when you were about to get up, Eddie clasped a hand onto your forearm.

"Stay," Eddie trembled.

"I'm staying, not going anywhere,"

You squeezed Eddie, carefully, but tightly. He seemed to need it.

"Just gotta clean something. I'll do it in the bath, I'll be right behind you,"

Eddie breathed heavily, tried his best to control it, to relax his stomach and not let it spasm, and let go of you. Rinsing out the vase in the bath was disgusting, but looking at Eddie helplessly sat by the toilet still, you couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of wanting to take care of him.

Wasn't that what it had always been?

Eddie would come back to Hawkins to be taken care of. And you always took care of him without asking any questions. Loved it. Loved him. Just couldn't stand him leaving every time.

Vase clean and turned upside down to drip-dry on a towel, you turned back to Eddie, stepped closer to him and that's when Eddie reached back, took hold of your leg. Tugged your jeans, pulled you down, turned a little, found handfuls of your shirt and pulled and tugged until you were sat on the floor in front of him, legs curled around his hips and his around yours. Arms folded around his back, and his strongly around yours. Embracing each other, impossibly tight, clinging, like that would cure everything.

Eddie cried again, buried his head into your neck. He smelled really bad.

"You're such an asshole," you said, your own lips quivering again. You kind of meant it, but hoped it would bring a little comic relief too.

"I'm a fuck up," Eddie agreed.

"You're both bullshit," Steve suddenly deadpanned and it made the both of you turn your faces to look at him.

"I was thinking, I really shouldn't say anything, because who am I... you know? This isn't my business. But then, you made it my business." Steve rubbed his brow, frowning deeply, clearly annoyed.

"Steve, let's not–" you tried.

"No. Let's!"

Steve crouched down right in front of you, elbows on knees, eyebrows raised high and nostrils flared. This is what Steve did when he was angry and had things to say. He'd get real close before he'd scold. Would make sure that you really heard what he had to tell you.

"I don't care what the fuck is going on here right now, between the two of you, but I'm done with it. It's always the same type of shit with you, like I'm stuck in a loop and there's no way out! Fucking groundhog day!" Steve got back up, intimidatingly towering over you, both hands in his hair before he continued.

"I'm not gonna come 'round and listen to you bitch and moan about why Eddie left this time," Steve said as he gestured a hand at you. Then he turned to Eddie. "I'm not gonna tell you–" Steve suddenly closed his eyes, breath shaking, trying real hard to keep it together. "You can't even fucking look at me straight, dude,"

Eddie was still drunk.

"I'm not gonna do it anymore. You can figure shit out for yourselves. I'm done." Steve turned, was about to walk out, but you stopped him. Said, "Steve, he relapsed," like that magically excused everything. But Steve stopped in the doorway, turned his head a little and said, "Yea, but so did you. Eddie with alcohol and whatever his dealers will sell him. You, with him."

Steve walked away. You thought maybe he'd just go into the kitchen again, but when you heard the front door slam shut, you knew he'd been serious.

You looked at Eddie.

Steve was right. Eddie had no control over what his eyes were doing.

"Let's get you clean. Then, bed."

Eddie obliged. Happy someone took the lead for him. Happy you took the lead for him.

But Eddie wasn't so happy the next morning, when he woke up at 4AM, sheets drenched in sweat. He was fucking freezing. You hadn't been able to sleep much and had set up camp in a comfortable chair that you'd moved to sit closer to the foot of Eddie's bed, where it was easier to watch TV. Volume all the way down.

"You should leave," Eddie croaked when he saw you.

"You should sleep more,"

"Slept plenty," Eddie tried sitting up, but was quickly fought back into the mattress by his own nausea. The pain in his head, in his stomach... he knew just the fix for it.

"If you think you're going to be able to find anything, I threw all of it out. Vacuumed up whatever you had lying around, washed everything else down the drain." You said it a little shaky, unsure of how Eddie was going to react.

Eddie thought for a second. He could definitely stick his nose into a dusty dirty vacuum, didn't feel like he was particularly above that type of behavior.

"There's nothing here, so go back to sleep," you were trying to fight off sleep yourself. Wanted to be awake in case Eddie would... in case something would happen.

Three days passed where you didn't leave the apartment. Three scary days and four scarier nights of caring for Eddie, never knowing if what you were doing was right, but doing them anyway.

You cleaned, finished Steve's job and made the place look tidy. Mess free. Aired it out, let Eddie complain about the cold that you skillfully ignored as you worked. You'd thrown all of it out. All the booze, the pills, the coke, the one discarded dirty syringe you found that you really hoped somebody else had used - you'd gotten rid of everything.

You asked Eddie if he wanted water, tea or a nap every time you caught him awake. And every time he'd sort of, frown at you. Didn't need your soft care, just needed a bit of... anything to take the edge of, but then, he always took you up on it. Always had a sip of water, maybe a little bit of tea and then would lay back down, always tried to go back to sleep.

Eddie slept a lot, but pain would wake him at odd hours. Always covered in sweat. Always shaking. Sometimes you'd worry he'd be sick again, but he'd growl he was just hurting.

Anger seeped out through his skin, and you knew it was never aimed at you, but you'd secretly cry once Eddie would drift off again.

On the second night you'd stayed over, you'd woken up on Eddie's couch around 1AM, went to check on him, and found Eddie drinking his mouthwash in the bathroom.

"Eddie?"

"Oh, shit, fuck–" Eddie scrambled to close the bottle, to hide it from you.

"What are you..." you took a small step back, scared of what you were witnessing.

"Don't leave," Eddie said, voice already cracking, afraid that you'd actually walk out now.

You took another small step back which urged Eddie to launch himself at you, arms encasing your strongly, Eddie's damp body pressed harshly against yours in an uncomfortable hug. One you didn't participate in.

"I'll get you a change of clothes," was all you managed to say when you felt how clammy he was.

Eddie sobbed and muttered things about how pathetic he was as you helped him freshen up. You sat him down in a chair as you changed his sheets. He had to stay close, couldn't really be trusted to be left alone, not even in his own apartment, apparently.

"Go back to sleep," you said when you'd finished, and you wanted Eddie to lay back down in bed so that you could sit in that chair he was sat in now, and watch him. Hold guard. But Eddie sort of looked up at you, and you thought he was going to say something. Something sweet, maybe. Something important. But then you both heard his stomach churn, and Eddie had to make a run for it.

He threw up the mouthwash, bright blue vomit clattered into the bath. Eddie seethed with anger, told you to leave him alone. "Don't want you to see me like this," he cried, and he promised he wouldn't touch the rest of the mouthwash, but yelled at you as you washed it down the drain with shaking hands.

Eddie cried. Vomited until it was all bile again, and you urged him to eat.

"Eddie, what if you die?"

"I won't fucking die,"

"You drank mouthwash!"

Eddie retched more, unable to stop it and unable to quite believe people could feel pain like this.

"You wanna go back to rehab?"

Eddie looked at you as if to say, is that a threat? You looked at him, and your expression read that it was a threat. Eddie didn't want to go back to rehab. Really, really didn't. Couldn't have you near him, but absolutely couldn't have you far. He reached for you, scared fingers dug into your skin, and you held him whilst he held on.

On the third day, you'd gotten Eddie to have a little soup and a few bites of an apple slice. Quite a bit of water, too, and Eddie seemed calmer then. Seemed to finally have snapped out of his mood.

You sat up on top of the covers in bed with him, and put on Pretty Woman.

"I'm not watching that big mouthed wench," Eddie had objected. Didn't want to watch romantic comedies with you. Happy people with happy faces and huge fucking smiles.

But you pretended you hadn't heard him, kept the movie playing until you were both sat against Eddie's headboard leant into each other, Eddie's head resting upon your shoulder and your cheek pressed into his hair.

This was nice, you thought. Almost like old times, a little.

Eddie would cramp up in waves. He'd be fine for a while, lucid, and present, and then suddenly, he'd be writhing. You always had a bucket ready, and helped him through it. Eased him back into his pillows, and would climb back into bed next to him. Always over the covers.

It was awful, but this was the process, you thought. It was complete misery, all kind of gross and disgusting, and Eddie was mortified but grew clingy. Needed you there. And so you were, but always over the covers.

That was, until Eddie, when the movie was nearly finished, groaned a little. His face was blotchy, eyes all red rimmed and his hair a tangled mess. You forgot what Eddie looked like without his bangs stuck to his forehead. He always seemed to be wet.

"You all right? What do you need? Water? I can make you more soup,"

"No, I'm just... cold,"

Eddie let his teeth chatter, and you looked around the room for a second.

"Eddie, it's fucking boiling in here,"

"Can you turn the heating on?"

The heating was on.

You took a good look at him. He didn't look as grey as he had a few days ago, but he still looked miserable. Sick like you'd never seen sickness before.

"I'll run you a hot bath,"

You helped Eddie ease into the water and sat on the ledge behind him, Eddie between your legs, so you could wash his hair. Eddie always loved it when you washed his hair, would really melt under your touch as you massaged soapy suds into his curls. But, his hair was one bit bird's nest, and so now, it was an agonizing job that needed doing. You were as gentle as you could be, but Eddie would wince as you worked to detangle the matted mess in the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry, baby,"

"Why does everything hurt so much?" Eddie let his arms wrap around your calves and broke your heart as he silently cried.

Eddie let you wash him until he was all clean and then let you braid his hair after. His hands hadn't left your body since you'd helped him into the bath, and you hoped that it meant that he was over the hump. That this was a turning point, and everything was going to get better now.

That night, you'd slept with Eddie under the covers. You big spooned him. Held him tight. Whispered that everything was going to be fine, and the fact that Eddie didn't seem to be so sweaty confirmed that you were probably right.

It was all going to be fine.

At some point, Eddie turned and tried to kiss you. He pressed his lips onto yours, and for a second, you sort of let it happen. Let your mouths brush together. But it didn't feel right. Eddie was vulnerable, and you were exhausted, and it all felt wrong. So you stopped it. Broke the kiss. Moved your head away a little.

"Let me love you," Eddie whispered. "Let me love you like you always love me,"

"Later, Eddie. You're unwell,"

"I'd be yours, if you'd be mine," Eddie's voice cracked.

Beautiful words that made your chest swell. But these weren't things to dive into now.

"Later, baby. These are things for later."

You didn't reject Eddie, but to Eddie, it felt a little like a rejection, and he buried his face into your neck. Hid in there and kept it there, all snuggled up, until you both fell asleep.

The next morning you stirred awake at 8AM which really felt like sleeping in at that point. Eddie was bone dry. No sweat. No tears. You even detected a little colour in his cheeks.

It was time. Eddie had eaten, had managed to keep it all inside and so, it was time.

You'd done enough.

Home.

You slipped out, wearing one of Eddie's T-shirts still, and didn't leave a note. No dumb, stupid note. None of this was cute, or funny, or in any need of a sad little note that Eddie could keep and then throw at you later. Or, like you'd done, could keep in an old shoe box with other stupid things that you couldn't just get rid of.

You just left. Went home. Sort of trusted that you'd see Eddie later. Maybe. If he really had changed, was willing to at least try to change, like he'd said.

"I'd be yours, if you'd be mine."

You wanted it to be true so badly, but his actions were going to have to speak louder than his words.

You forgot what would be awaiting you at your apartment until you actually stepped inside and were greeted by your own mess. Drawers pulled open, half your clothes on the floor, big empty spaces left where Matt's things used to be. Slapped down and broken picture frames - completely your doing, not Matt's, but glass had shattered and you'd just... left it. You had even ran a bath for yourself, and then had let the soapy water sit and grow cold, because you didn't really deserve a bath, did you?

You remembered how you'd found Eddie's voicemail message two days after he had left it, listened to it with Matt in the room, and listened to it until you heard Matt pick up the phone. The tape had caught his voice, but then it cut off. Matt knew now, but Matt was just as non-confrontational as you were, and had known for two whole days. Hadn't said a word. But the truth had now been spoken into existence with the both of you looking at each other, and there was no way either of you could pretend still. Could pretend to not have heard it. Could deny any of it.

"What else did he tell you?"

It was the worst question to ask Matt, because it revealed there was more to your and Eddie's story than you'd ever told him.

"Enough," was all Matt said, never elaborated.

So, that was it then.

You'd sat on your couch, sort of dazed, stared into space, not even able to really cry even though this was a situation that deserved tears. Then Matt slowly started packing up all his things around you. Matt had stuff all over, hadn't technically moved in with you, but really only ever spent one, maybe two nights a week at his own place. Matt didn't move around with anger, but left the place messy, dropped your things on the floor without caring to pick up after himself. Good, you thought. Stand your ground, Matt. I deserve shittier treatment.

Just before Matt had walked out, he'd said, "If it had to be someone, it's pretty cool that it was Eddie Munson."

It was just like you'd fucking said all along: Matt was too good for you. You didn't deserve someone like Matt.

Self-hatred, absolute vile loathing of every single aspect that build your person, completely consumed you. Regret. Shame. So much guilt. You felt like you needed to hurt yourself because Matt hadn't hurt you enough. He hadn't yelled, hadn't shouted, hadn't said mean things. You only started crying once Matt was gone, and that alone added to all you had to be embarrassed about.

And then Steve called and offered you the greatest distraction of all. Eddie needed taking care of. And Steve was going to let you.

Back in your home now, it all came flooding back, and you sort of fell into the same state you'd been in then. Slumped back on your couch. Crying. Drowning in a weird version of self pity, sort of overwhelmed with how shit it all was. Steve mad. Eddie a mess. Matt gone. You empty. Alone.

You just sat like that. Stared into space, tears running all the way down your neck into the collar of one of Eddie's T-shirts you were still wearing.

Then, your doorbell rang.

You looked at your buzzer a minute, not really moving.

It rang a few more times, until it stopped.

A little bit later, footsteps followed on the stairs, and then, a knock on your door. A muffled mention of your name.

"Eddie?"

You got up, opened the door and found him there.

"I rang different doorbells until someone let me in," Eddie explained, but you didn't really react to that.

Eddie was here.

Actions were going to have to speak louder than words.

He was here.

Eddie looked over your shoulder, behind you, eyes scanning your pigsty of an apartment.

"Oh, shit," he commented, looked at your tear-stained face that was still staring up at him, gaze empty, because that's how you felt. All empty.

"Okay. Come on, your turn. Go sit down." Eddie took you by the shoulders and guided you back to you couch where you let yourself fall back on your spot.

"Tea?" Eddie asked, and then answered for himself, "Tea."

Eddie made you tea. Then started tidying. Cleaning. Just started putting everything in places where he thought they belonged. Did things wrong, but you didn't correct. He took broken picture frames, threw out shards of glass and tucked the photographs into a drawer. Ran a laundry after. Emptied the bath and rinsed and scrubbed the soap rim the water had left behind. Dishes next.

Eddie was sweating, more than was normal, and you knew he was struggling still. Probably felt sick to his stomach. But he was here, and for the first time in for fucking ever, you felt your battery charge with Eddie there. Eddie was charging your battery instead of draining it. Weird, but this was it. The thing. Eddie said there had to be something he could to do fix it. This was it. Eddie was fixing it.

Eddie saw you had three messages waiting on your answering machine, then told you, "Hey, you've got three messages waiting on your answering machine. Want me to play them for you?"

You nodded.

They were all from Steve.

"Hey, are you still not back home?" followed by a heavy, frustrated sigh, "You're going to end up killing each other, you know that right?", then a silence, followed by a loud beep.

Second message.

"I hope you're not answering because you're at work, and not still wiping vomit of Eddie's chin..." a beat, then, "You're like the wrong sides of two magnets who try to keep pushing themselves together. It's not gonna work!" another loud beep.

Third message.

"If you're not answering because you don't want to talk to me, I get it... I shouldn't have called you over to Eddie's place, I didn't know what I expected to happen, but... I spoke to Matt, just that afternoon, and he... sort of explained what happened, and, seeing you and Eddie be all cutesy– it made me mad for him. Matt's a good dude, you know he didn't deserve that... but guess what he said? He was like, this is going to be the best story ever – Eddie Munson stole my girlfriend. Can you believe that?" Steve fell silent for a second, then said, "Sorry I yelled at you. Please call me back when you get this... I'll call again tomorrow if you don't."

Loud beep.

No more messages.

Eddie just looked at you, tried to gather your reaction, but you were giving him nothing.

"You OK?"

With your eyes trained on your coffee table, you gave your head a tiny shake no.

"You wanna nap? Lay down for a little bit?"

They were words you'd said to Eddie many times over the past three days. Instead of answering him, you slumped sideways, rolled yourself up in a little ball, knees against your chest. Eddie immediately stepped closer, took a throw blanket and tucked you in.

"Can I lay with you?"

Eddie hovered, but you didn't answer. Couldn't answer, your throat had closed up with all these negative emotions, all of them aimed at yourself. You didn't deserve softness right now. So then, Eddie didn't lay with you, but instead sat down in a chair. He could just sit there while you slept. Not touching, but, he was close. That was all he wanted, anyway. To be close.

You woke up when your phone rang.

Eddie was quick, tiptoed to the phone as fast as he could and hoped it hadn't woken you up.

"Hello?" he answered, voice hushed.

There was a silence on the other end of the line, and then, "Munson?"

"Harrington," Eddie smiled a little smug smile, happy he caught Steve on the phone.

"Yea?" Steve asked, and Eddie knew what he meant. "You're actually doing this?" Steve challenged.

"I think we might be... well, I am, anyway. We'll see if she'll let me."

Steve laughed, but it was humorless. It said, yea, we'll see about that dipshit. Eddie understood. Therapy had made him understand that everything was going to need proof. He'd ruined trust with everyone. This was nothing new, especially not now that he'd relapsed.

"I swear to God, Eddie. I'm not-"

"I know. I heard you the first time."

Steve scoffed.

"You seemed pretty out of it then,"

"I was," Eddie confirmed. "But you were very clear,"

"No fucking it up, Eddie,"

"I won't."

"Remember? Be mindful."

Oh, Eddie remembered.

"Hey Steve?" Eddie swallowed, knew his words weren't enough, but needed to say them anyway. "I wanted to say I'm sorry, and, um... thank you... you didn't have to, you know... just, thanks."

"You're good. Is she there?"

Eddie turned around and saw you were awake.

"Just woke up, hang on - it's Steve, you good to talk to Steve?"

You held a hand out as you sat up, knowing the cord could easily make it to your couch, and Eddie passed you the handset as he sat back down in his chair.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing out of your mouth, voice all strained.

Steve was silent for a second. He couldn't just accept that and move on.

"You were right. I'm total bullshit," you admitted.

"Hey," Eddie frowned.

"Sorry, we're total bullshit,"

That wasn't what Eddie meant, but that did make him smile. You heard Steve sigh.

"You're not bullshit. I actually think, and this is going to sound fucking wild coming from me, but I talked about it with Robin and she agrees... I think you actually might just be perfect for each other,"

Eddie was close enough to hear Steve on the other end, and he placed a hand on your knee. Let you know he agreed, too. He really fully fucking agreed.

"Stop, you're going to make me cry," you joked, but actually meant it.

"You gonna let Eddie comfort you this time?" You could hear Steve's smile in his voice, could picture it perfectly and copied it.

"I think I might, he's doing a fairly okay job right now," you looked at Eddie. "You've done plenty, Steve,"

Passage of the token. Eddie squeezed your knee.

"I love you, but..." Steve searched his mind for the right words. "But, you're just... a lot, the both of you,"

That made you laugh. He was fucking right.

"Could you still handle, like... 50 per cent of me?"

Eddie leant over, whispered, "Ask him if he can do 40, I'll easily do 60,"

"40?" you asked Steve, and Steve laughed.

"30 and it's a deal,"

Eddie heard, loudly said, "I'm not watching romantic comedies with her, dude!"

"All right, all right. 40."

You laughed and loved how it felt to laugh together, all three of you. You couldn't remember the last time the three of you laughed together like this.

"Love you Steve,"

"I love you too. Hey, is it weird if I come over? We could do a late lunch, maybe?"

Eddie took the phone from you, said, "Yea, no, that's gonna be weird,"

"What? Why?" Steve was confused, but it only lasted a second. "Oh gross, you're going to be open about fucking now, aren't you?"

"Bye Harrington,"

Eddie didn't even properly hang up the phone, but had simply dropped it to the floor instead before moving over to kiss you.

He then fucked you right there on your couch.

Afterwards you'd looked around, had said, "We're even now," and Eddie had burst out laughing. "Oh no, sweetheart, we're far from even. Are you forgetting who caused you all this trouble?" Eddie said, and when you just looked at him. He then pointed a fat finger at himself.

"Yea, but, did you not reach for a bottle after what I said to you?"

You'd placed blame for his relapse fully with yourself, and Eddie gasped, couldn't believe you were actually being serious and hugged you close.

"Baby, I'm not the way I am because of you. It's because of all the..." Eddie waved a wild arm around.

You understood.

"Foundations for this shit show were laid long before I'd ever even met you," Eddie kissed into your hair. "Don't you ever say anything like that to me again. We're not even. I've got a lot more work to do, trust me."

And so you did. Decided you were going to trust him.

Eddie got more help. More therapy. More AA meetings. More keeping busy with other hobbies, like cooking. And baking. He made sure he'd see you every day, would never stray too far, even though you literally lived above and worked in a bar... this was never going to be easy. But Eddie had you, and he promised he'd take care of you and of himself.

You found a way to be together, and then, seemed to never not be together. Joined at the hip again, but without Steve this time 'round.

Steve came over all the time, though. Visited at least once a week. For lunch, or for dinner. To watch romantic comedies with you, and Eddie would join, just because actually, if he didn't focus on her mouth too much, Julia Roberts wasn't that terrible of an actress.

The band had taken a short break, and Eddie had decided they should be open with the public about why. Said it would actually help a lot if people knew about how difficult addiction could be. Would make it less of an awkward conversation whenever he had to explain to people he was actively practicing sobriety.

And Eddie did good. Got real good at all of it again. Had good days, and then good weeks. He felt more and more himself, and Wayne recognized it too. He kind of had his nephew back, said he'd missed him a lot and hadn't known if he'd ever really would get to see him again which had made Eddie cry.

Eddie was doing good, and Eddie knew a large chunk of it was because he had you now.

But then, after a few months of doing good, touring was back on the table, and Eddie immediately grew nervous.

Loneliness was Eddie's biggest trigger, and it wasn't being alone that was an issue, because on tour, you were never really one hundred per cent alone. There were always people all over. Everywhere. All the time. The real issue was the feeling of being alone, especially when surrounded by so many. Eddie's cure for this dull ache of loneliness had always been a lil' drinky drink. Just, a little sippity sip, a tiny little drop. Just one drink, you know, to take the edge of.

Eddie knew this about himself, and so, he was nervous. Scared. Sort of, riddled with anxiety.

You'd suggested some form of training. "We can sleep apart from each other for two consecutive nights, only call each other when we can find the time, just to try it out? See what that does? And then if that goes well, do three or four nights next..."

At 3AM on that first night, Eddie had snuck his way into your apartment and into your bed. Hugged you real tight, like he'd been gone for months.

"That was only a few hours," you'd croaked after checking the time.

"Few hours too many," Eddie'd whispered.

"How are you ever going to do this?" you were more awake then, wanted to have a talk. Face this head on.

"I don't know. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't cling to you so much," Eddie said, worried you'd judge.

"That's all right," you were quick to make sure he didn't feel any judgment. "I quite like being clung to,"

"I promise I'll get better at this,"

"It's going to take time," you warned, knowing tour started just over a month from then.

"Someday, I'll be better." Eddie snuggled closer, eyes closed, tired.

Someday didn't come fast enough, just like you'd predicted, and so, with some creative paperwork and serious conversations with your landlord, your boss, Eddie's management and the band, arrangements had been made.

Eddie needed you there. And you had your own thing, your own personal problems, serious issues, with Eddie leaving. So, it really worked out for the best for the both of you. The solution to both of your problems was one and the same. You were going to go on tour with them.

"Did I not tell you that you're perfect for each other?" Steve had said with a goofy smile when you told him.

You became part of the Corroded Coffin entourage, not with any other specific job than just... being there. It took a some adjusting, because Eddie was different when he was Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin. There were certain expectations, and Eddie felt like people wanted him to fall into his rockstar patterns, do the things he always did when out on the road. Go to parties, bring parties back to hotel rooms, invite who ever seemed like a fun time onto the bus, drink a lot. You had no idea how Eddie would've even done this if you hadn't been there and, you'd never tell Eddie this, but you were convinced that he probably would've killed himself.

You slept on the tourbus together, had tried to squeeze into one bunk together, but that was only really doable for naps. There wasn't enough room to even roll over without shifting and scooting your whole body when you laid in a bunk alone, by yourself, so doubling up was never comfortable for long. Not for the long stretch of rest Eddie needed after shows. That's when you'd sleep on bunks opposite each other. You would remind each other how many more nights until you'd share a hotel bed again, and then let the rumbling of the engine and the gentle rocking of the bus lull you to sleep. You'd close the curtains to your bunks enough, but never all the way, always leaving a gap so you could see each other.

And sometimes, even the small distance between your bunks was too much distance, and Eddie would reach out a hand from underneath his curtain. You'd grab it and then you'd fall asleep holding hands that dangled in the middle of the walkway.

Everyone else hated it.

"This is worse than when they'd sleep on top of each other in one bunk those first few days,"

"Close your eyes and go to sleep, man. You don't have to look at it,"

Salty comments would come from bunks beneath you, and from behind your curtains, you'd smile sleepy smiles at each other.

Happy.

Eddie was so happy. So sure that this was it now.

Not perfect. Far from perfect actually. There were going to be hard days to struggle through, difficult moments he wouldn't know how to deal with.

But he knew you were going to be there. Was so very sure you'd be there. And he'd be there too.

Eddie was happy.

Had his past with you.

Cherished his present with you.

Felt sure about his future with you.

And that was all he'd ever really need. You.

the end

---

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @sadbitchfangirl @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie

@munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @chaoticgood-munson @harringtonfan4 @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @thefemininemystiquee @hauntingbastille @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s

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(taglist currently full, sorry)

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munsons fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie x y/n #stranger things 4 #joe quinn #joseph quinn #over now #only now #then again #never over

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

Prompt for @oneforthemunny summer game!! I saw that the one you wrote was also Dom!Eddie x brat! Reader with this same prompt but I’ve been working on it for hours so I hope it’s okay that it’s the same prompt, I promise the story itself is different!!

☀️- eddie comes home to see you sunbathing...topless ;) can be dom!sub! if you'd like, or sweet smutty goodness. whatever you'd like it to be! have fun with it!

Contains:18+ minors DNI, dom/sub dynamics, nipple play/slapping, light choking, unprotected sex (lmk if I missed any!)

Steve’s parents were gone for the entire summer so he gave the whole gang free range use of his pool so no one had to deal with the chaos that is Hawkins community pool. He gave everyone the code to the back gate so they could get in when he wasn’t home and he gave the actual adults the garage code in case they needed anything inside.

Since it was your day off and everyone else was working you decided you’d go over to Steve’s house and have some much needed alone time by the pool. You left Eddie a note on the kitchen counter telling him where you would be and headed over to Steve’s.

You were laid out on one of the pool chairs with an ice cold vodka lemonade, in nothing but your bikini bottoms. The weather was perfect, not too hot, not too cool with a nice summer breeze so you decided to ditch your top and let the sun hit your bare chest.

You had your headphones on, walkman playing one of your favorite albums while you closed your eyes and soaked up the sun so you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching or the sound of the glass sliding back door.

Suddenly the sun went behind the clouds and you huffed, pushing your sunglasses up and opening your eyes. But instead of being met with the sight of the sky it’s your boyfriend standing over you, looking extremely annoyed. “Oh! Holy shit Eddie, you fucking scared me!” You said ripping your headphones off He huffed, clearly annoyed “Yeah imagine if it wasn’t me, huh? You’re out here with your TITS OUT, headphones so loud I could hear them from by the door and apparently with your eyes closed?? Literally anyone could’ve walked up and seen you like this.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes “okay? Well you aren’t anybody, are you? You’re the one who found me so it looks like it worked out. Now if you’ll excuse me, you’re blocking my sun. Why are you here so early anyways? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“Wow. Happy to see you too, baby. I got off early, we weren’t busy so my boss said I could go enjoy the nice weather. Which I WANTED to spend with my best girl but apparently the feeling isn’t mutual”

“Oh my god, you know it’s not like that. I was just surprised to see you is all, and I kinda thought I’d have a few hours to myself before anyone else showed up.”

You sat up, your tits bouncing as you did, Eddie couldn’t resist gawking for a moment. You really did look gorgeous laid out in the sun, your tits on display skin glistening from the sunscreen you had applied to your body. But after a second he was snapped from his trance, jealousy and possessiveness creeping up on him. Any one of his friends could have showed up instead of him and seen you how only HE was supposed to see you. “Okay well what if someone else showed up? One of the kids? The boys would’ve been embarrassed for life. Or even worse STEVE, you’re mine and you know it. So why are you flaunting what is mine?”

At this point you were annoyed with him, Steve left right when you got there to give the boys a ride to the arcade on his way to work so you were positive that wasn’t going to happen. “Eddie, you’re being ridiculous. Even if that did happen it wouldn’t be the end of the world, they're just boobs! Plus I knew for a fact it wasn’t going to happen so why are we even still talking about it? Just let it go already, you’re ruining my good mood.” You knew you were going to rile him up with your attitude, and you’d be lying if you said it hadn’t crossed your mind the minute you took your top off. You knew if he found out you here topless in Harrington’s backyard that he would lose his shit so maybe you wanted to poke the bear a little if you got the chance.

He was starting to lose patience with you and you could tell, he let out a deep breath through his nose before he grabbed your jaw with his large hand and squeezed your cheeks “that’s not the fucking point and you know it. You didn’t expect me to be here and I am so how would you know for sure no one else was going to show up? You didn’t and you did it anyway.” Your stomach flipped at the tone of his voice and you had to clench your thighs together to relieve the pressure building in your core. You tried to hold in the whimper but the slightest sound escaped and you knew he heard it when a cocky smirk spread across his lips “look at you, this is what you fucking wanted isn’t it? Huh? You hoped I’d find you like this?”

When you didn’t answer his hand gripping your face moved to your neck and squeezed once as a warning “I asked you a question baby doll. “

“N-no, I just wanted to feel the sun on my skin. It felt so nice I wasn’t trying to do anything.” You looked up at him with big round eyes but he saw right through you, he knew all your little games.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, you’re going to go inside and go in the guest room and wait for me. I’m going to smoke a cigarette and take as long as I need before I come meet you up there. You know how I want you, go.” He gave your neck one last squeeze and gave you a hard smack on your ass when you walked by him causing you to yelp. You went to the guest room and took off your swimsuit bottoms leaving you completely bare as you kneeled at the edge of the bed with your hands in your lap while you waited for Eddie.

It wasn’t long before you started getting squirmy, you really hadn’t meant to rile him up like this but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t turning you the fuck on so you decided to play into it. After what felt like hours you finally heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He walked through the door looking so sexy, you didn’t really get to appreciate what he was wearing before but holy fuck. He was wearing that Iron Maiden shirt you loved that he cut the sleeves off of exposing almost his entire rib cage, showing off his tattoos that were usually hidden. The shirt stopped just above his belt and his ripped jeans were sagging slightly so when he raised his arms over his head it exposed that delicious sliver of midriff to you.

Subconsciously you squeezed your hands between your thighs and wiggled a little in your spot. “I thought you were capable of being a good girl when I first walked in here but I see you squeezing those hands between your thighs and I didn’t give you permission to relieve yourself did I?” You whimpered at the sound of his voice but didn’t say anything, just continued squeezing your thighs and looking at him with glassy eyes already feeling yourself slip into that hazy headspace and he hadn’t even touched you yet.

He walked over to you, ripping your hands from in between your thighs and holding them above your head with one of his. Using his other hand to smack your inner thighs until you opened them. “I” smack. “Asked” smack. “You.” Smack. “A fucking” smack smack. “Question.” Smack.

“F-fuck, no, no you didn’t say I could relieve myself I’m sorry.” He cupped your pussy running the palm of his hand up and down with ease because of how slick you already were. “God, this pussy is so fucking wet for me.” He let your hands go and put them at your sides, still rubbing his hand up and down. His palm hitting your clit deliciously with every stroke. You only get lost in the feeling for a few seconds before you feel a big ringed hand land a harsh smack on your tit.

“Oh shit!” You let out a yelp and jolted backwards.

He stopped stroking your pussy to pull you back to the end of the bed by your thighs “did I say you could fucking move? You’re going to sit right here while I remind you who these fucking tits belong to.” He grabbed your hands in his and put them at your sides “Don’t. Move.” His hand came down on your tit again, his rings enhancing the pain in the best way. “Open your mouth” you obliged, and he shoved his fingers in your mouth “suck” you did as you were told, wetting them with your spit. He pulled them from your mouth and dragged them down to your chest, his now slick fingers lightly tracing around your nipple. You let out a moan at the feeling and before you could process his fingers grabbed your nipple and squeezed hard.

“O-oh fuck! Shit.” He shoved the fingers from his other hand into your mouth, gagging you slightly before repeating the actions on the other side. He grabbed both of your nipples at once and twisted them. “You like this don’t you? Is this what you wanted? If you wanted me to play with your tits baby all you had to do was ask” he let go of your nipples and both his hands came smacking down on either one of your boobs, once, twice, three times before he grabbed hold of your nipples again.

It went on like this for a while, him squeezing and smacking your tits. Adding his teeth, biting at your supple flesh and leaving love bites all over your chest. “Whose tits are these, baby?” He was licking all over your chest while he squeezed your tender nipples in both hands.

“Yours! They’re yours! Only yours I p-promise!” You didn’t know how much more of this you could take, your tits were so sensitive and your pussy was dripping begging to be touched. “Please fuck me, I’ll be so good if you please just fuck me.” There were tears starting to form in your eyes, and your words were starting to sound slurred. Eddie was so fucking hard thinking about how he could get you to this fucked out state without even truly touching you that he couldn’t even bring himself to protest.

“Alright baby, lay down, I’ll give you what you want.” You laid back on the bed with your legs hanging off the edge and Eddie came up between your legs, hooking them around his hips before he lined himself up with your dripping cunt. Ready and waiting for his cock, always the perfect fit. He didn’t give you time to adjust, just slamming into you in one thrust and fucking you hard and fast. “You’re so hot like this princess, all fucked out just for ME, my pussy, my tits. Mine mine mine.” He leaned over you and kissed you hard, bringing one of his hands down to rub little circles on your clit. That mixed with the feeling of your tender chest rubbing against his still clothed one had the coil in your stomach tightening.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum on your cock” your eyes rolled in the back of your head and you brought your hands to his hair tugging on it like it was the last thing grounding you to the earth. “Yeah baby, cum for me. I’m going to fill this little pussy up with my cum and make you walk around with it in those little bikini bottoms of yours” that did it for you, your orgasm came crashing down on you and as soon as Eddie felt your walls tighten around him he was right behind you, filling you up just like he said.

He collapsed on top of you for a second before pushing himself on his arms and kissing your nose “You were such a good girl for me baby, do you want to go back down by the pool? Take a nap here? We can go home if you want? Anything you want it’s yours.” His demeanor changed to sweet and doting like it always did after he was rough with you.

“Mmm… I think I'll just take a little nap here if that’s okay? Then maybe afterwards we can go hang by the pool?” You yawned, nuzzling your face into his chest. “Okay sweets, that sounds good.” He slipped out of you causing you to wince, grabbing your bottoms from the ground and pulling them up your legs “we can at least TRY to not get anymore cum on Harrington’s guest bed” he chuckled before scooting you up to the head of the bed and tucking you in the blankets.

Normally you would be more worried about the fact that you were dripping a mixture of you and your boyfriends cum onto your friend's guest bed but you were too tired to care. He shed his own clothes down to his boxers before sliding into the bed beside you and pulling you into his arms, your head on his chest. He ran his fingers through your hair and along your bare back “I love you baby girl” he whispered into the crown of your head before leaving a kiss there. “Love you Ed’s” you barely mumbled before drifting off to sleep.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #oneforthemunny #one for the munny summer game #dom!eddie munson x reader

[kingwuko]

I'm rewatching rememberances & oh my GOD people cant tell me that the writers weren't writing wu with gay coding in mind 😭 I was at the part where Mako said "i had to realize who i was without a lady in my life" and Wu was like "i know what that's like" and then everyone silently looks at him for 2 seconds? and then he hesitates and is like "only because im absolutely swimming in dames they all love me 🤭". obviously the writers couldn't explicitly have their LGBT characters confirm their identities because of nickelodeon but its so blatant and extremely possible that wu is actually gay and hits on women and talks about them constantly (even though hes really weird about it) as a way to overcompensate. and when you think about it the character he has the closest relationship to is...Mako😭

I have SO MANY FEELINGS about remembrances. Normally 'flashback episodes' are kinda just filler, bottle episodes. But something about remembrances just HITS DIFFERENT.

Mako saying "I realized I had to figure out who I was without a lady in my life." will forever replay in my brain... Wu's response to it is so fucking funny I laugh every time. "I know what that's like." says the guy who has not been shown on screen to successfully interact with a woman besides grandma Yin. Sure buddy.

Also I will never get over the fact that Wu says the words "I was born that way" like WAAAAAT. You cannot tell me the writers, who were in the process of crafting a subtle sapphic story for endgame korrasami, wrote those words without knowing the implications. CMON.

And listen Mako's entire story is about his past relationships, like BARELY touching on the larger story. He just sat down for 10 minutes explaining to Wu that he's single and he and his exes are just friends. Why Mako. why. why did you need to explain that to WU.

And the fucking. homoerotic sparring of it all. @buckybarnesss always calls it 'the intricate rituals of male touching' lmaoooo. Every time Wu gets in Mako's face, clutching his arms, close enough to kiss... I'm just like. can I reach into the screen and nudge their faces together. Just a little nudge is all it would take. Look:

The writers and animators fucking KNEW what they doing. There's no way they didn't. its such a gay episode.

and lets not forget the sapphic side of things in that episode. Asami's like "I thought you might be cold so I brought you some hot tea." To KORRA. Korra, who grew up in the FRIDGID SOUTH POLE and is also a FIREBENDER who could warm herself up easy. Gurl.

and like. even outside the queer coding in this episode, it's just delightful. the fucking little chibi popups in his flashback. Yin implying that Bohai cheated on her in scenario as convoluted as Mako's love triangle. Tu dropping the most accurate and eloquent assessment of Mako's issues in a single sentence: "it seems like you're so afraid to disappoint anyone that you end up disappointing everyone." TU. WUT. WHEN DID TU GET WISE. Tu and Wu high fiving.

In conclusion. Remembrances is top tier Wuko content. It's way more than a flashback filler episode.

#wuko #mako #prince wu #king wu #answered ask #anonymous

[techs-goggles9902]

OH an idea struck and I just knew you were the person for the job 😌

I would like to request the Bad Batchs reaction to the reader blasting your favorite Ghost song on the Marauder 🤭 (also RIP to my fave ship 😮‍💨)

Head cannons or a one shot, it's up you 😊

TBB Reacts to The Band Ghost

REQUESTS ARE OPEN FOR ALL LISTED FANDOMS. SEE MASTERLIST FOR DETAILS <3

Warnings: cursing, satanic music (duh), Hunter can't sing (eardrums tortured in a loving way)

Word Count: 1718

A/N: lmao I took waaaaay too long for this. I went super overboard with Hunter and well... I re-did it so I could post them all at once. No fr I went back and re-wrote the entire thing multiple times lmaoo

Hunter

You couldn’t play it too loud, of course. Hunter was here. The others had gone to the docks littering the lowest level of Pabu. It was just you, your man, and your favorite rock band. 

You began to connect your datapad to the Marauder’s control panel. Hunter was who knows where, lurking around the ship doing who knows what. As your deft fingers tapped away at the buttons, you knew exactly what song to play. 

Hunter never minded you playing your music whenever the others were out, mostly because with all the different preferences of music, no one was satisfied whenever someone’s song came on - except Omega, who liked all her brothers music, bobbing her head to whatever was playing, but that was a different story. 

The pad of your finger selects your chosen song, a gray swirl floating around the screen as the datapad loads. You sigh and tap your foot impatiently. How long has it been since this ship has experienced your glorious, powerful tunes? How long has it been since the soundwaves have echoed through the durasteel walls of the ship? Too long. 

The swirl faded away and the familiar intro to your song starts blaring through the speakers. The loud piano fills the ship and you hear Hunter shuffle around the back of the ship.  

“Damn it, Wrecker,” you mutter as you fumble with the volume switch, turning it down to a more… healthier level. You turn around to face Hunter, who’s slowly uncovering his ears and staring at you wide eyed, as you mouth sorry. 

“Was that Zenith?” He asks.

“Yeah. But I didn’t know it would be that loud, sorry,” you reply, giving him a guilty look. 

“Don’t worry about it, cyare. Turn it up a bit. I like that one.” He comes over, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. He presses a soft kiss to your temple and taps his fingers on your belly to the beat. “I saw some post on the Holonet about Zenith.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” Hunter hums, “apparently it means ‘the final end’. Do you think that means Co-”

“No. Don’t. Copia lives forever and ever,” you cut him off, shaking your head. Hunter gives a low chuckle. You reach your hand up behind you to run your fingers through his hair.

“Play it louder.” He hums the tune of the song in your ear, swaying you gently. 

“This is not the right type of dancing we should be doing to rock,” you whisper. 

“Shhhhh… ‘s the best part.” Hunter leans his head back a little and starts to sing, “Time will soon be gone… Right will turn to wrong.” He’s incredibly offkey and he knows it, curling his fingers around your wrists, moving them up and down like he’s trying to make you dance. You giggle. 

“Winds come on strong! So, help you God! Call on meee…”

“Hunter, baby, love of my life, stop. Please, you’re killing my ears.” You grin, laughing as he whispers a soft ‘no’. 

“You’re set free!” He twirls you around and dips you dramatically. You can’t help but laugh. His chocolate eyes gaze into your own as he leans down and presses a tender kiss to your lips. 

“You can’t sing for shit…” 

“I love you, too, cyare.” 

Tech

The signature rapping of drums and the low strumming of guitars filled the Marauder. You sat back in the co pilot's seat with your feet up on the console. You imitate the drums, tapping your pointer fingers in the air like you’re Pebble or Mountain on their stage. 

Tech’s somewhere on the ship, findling with whatever needs repairing. You’ve all stopped at some backwater world, the rest of the team going out to the local town for supplies. Tech’s never had an issue with your music, in fact, he lets you blast it as loud as you want when it’s just the two of you. 

I have my headphones, he’s told you, you rarely get to play your music. I do not mind. 

But, you were nice enough to never play it on full blast. Just loud enough to feel every time the drummer’s sticks hit the instrument. 

You don’t hear the footsteps behind you, not noticing Tech had come to the cockpit until he touches your shoulder. You gasp, jumping a little. Tech’s big amber eyes widen and he allows his lips to form a soft smirk. 

“Scared?” He rubs the pad of his gloved thumb over the bones in your shoulder. 

“Maybe a tad, yes.” You grin, putting your hand over his. 

“Mummy Dust, correct?” He lowers himself down into the pilot’s seat, his fingers trailing down your arm before slipping off. You nod. Tech’s head bobs slightly as the tempo quickens.

You and him both mouth ‘dust’ as Tobias Forge begins singing. 

“I was carried on a wolf’s back…” you mumble.

“To corrupt humanity…” Tech whispers back. 

“I will pummel it with opulence…”

“With corpulence and greed…”

You both sing, “In God you trust… My mummy dust…” You look up at Tech with a grin and you both - him less aggressive as you - bob your head to the beat of the drums. Tech gives you a soft smile and a low chuckle. 

The pair of you sing the next verse together, alternating between lyrics. His eyes close and he tilts his head back against the headrest as the keytar solo begins. His slender fingers twitching slightly, as if imitating the musician. You watch with a little grin.

“Having fun?”

“You know, if we were to acquire a keytar, I believe I could execute that solo to perfection. With some practice, of course.” Tech opens his eyes and looks over at you. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, hun.” 

“I am merely stating facts, cyare.”

Wrecker 

The intro to the song plays loudly out of the speakers. You bob your head to the guitars and tap your foot. You feel strong hands grab you from behind by your waist just before you could sit back down into the copilot’s seat. 

“I’ve been lookin’ so long now for you now you won’t get away from my grasp…” Wrecker sings along to the song, Phantom Of The Opera, giving your waist a gentle squeeze. You smile. 

“What’re you do-” You’re shushed as he whispers into your ear, “You put on my favorite song, mesh’la…”

His deep, rough voice carries over the ship’s speakers. He spins you around, holding your hands as he dances you through the ship. His smile never fades as he gently holds you but aggressively sings. 

“Watch your step, he’s out to get you!” He tickles your stomach, your laugh drowned out by the music. “Come what may… Don’t you stray… from the narrow way!”

He lets go of you to vigorously shred his nonexistent guitar. 

“You’re runnin’ and hiding in dreams. I’m always there… I’m the phantom of the opera, I’m the devil. I’m just out to scare!” 

“Wrecker, you couldn’t scare a baby tooka if you wanted to.” You grin.

He stops singing and dramatically gasps, “What?! This face has scared quite a few clankers in its day.” 

You roll your eyes with a joking scoff. The song ends a moment later and Wrecker leans close to you. His lower lip juts out slightly as he whispers, “I’m scary.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yuh huh.”

Crosshair

Your finger hovers over the screen of your datapad, ready to play your song. You’ve settled on Respite on the Spitalfields when someone’s long fingers curl around your ‘pad from behind you, gently pulling it away.

“That’s a good song, but if you’re going to play Ghost, play a better song,” Crosshair rasps in your ear. His deft digits scroll through your playlist. 

“Oh yeah? What’s better than Sodo’s solo?” You turn your head to look at him.

“The intro to Secular Haze. But the If You Have Ghost version.” 

You cock a brow. “Not Infestissumam?”

He scoffs, “The intro for the one in If You Have Ghost is better. Tobias’ vocals are better in Infestissumam. They have their differences.” 

A smile tugs at your lips. “Okay, Cross… Didn’t think you were paying that much attention to my songs.”

“I always pay attention to the things you like…” His slim arms loop around your waist as he pulls you in. His lips hover next to your ear. 

“Oh… Well… what other songs have you been paying attention to?”

“Mm.” Crosshair pauses for a moment. “Take It From Everyone by that one band with the members from Ghost in it…”

“Drag Talk?”

“Mmhm.” Crosshair rests his chin on the top of your head, swaying a little and taking you with him. You lean your head back against his shoulder and let out a content sigh as the guitars break through the silence of the ship as Secular Haze plays. 

Echo

It was just you and Echo on the ship, for once. The pair of you lie on his bunk, your head on his chest with his good arm around you. His prosthetic feet tap against each other as your music plays through the speakers of the ship. 

His lips brush against the top of your head as he shifts a little. What sounded like a clock ticking cuts through the quiet of the Marauder. Echo looks puzzled. 

“Never heard this one before,” he whispers. You can’t help but grin a bit. 

“Just listen…” 

In this your time of need

You're turning to the light

You had just begun to explore the dark

In the urban night

Echo nods a little. 

The world is on fire

And you are here to stay and burn with me

A funeral pyre

And we are here to revel forevermore

He presses his hollow cheek to the top of your head as the song plays. 

“I like that… Kinda sounds like a love story.”

You look up at him. “I think it means like… The absence of God or something.”

“Well, I think it has something to do with love. The world burning but you’re here to stay and burn with me? C’mon, that sounds something like love.”

“Um… sure, hon.” A small giggle escapes your lips. “Whatever you say, Echo.”

He jabs a finger lightly into your side, making you squirm.

(no dividers since I'm lazy)

Taglist:@fionajames @will-is-silly @dangraccoon @hellhound5925 @skellymom @sevdidntdie

#star wars #sha speaks #the band ghost #ghost #ghost the band #tbb #bad batch #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb echo #the clone wars #clone troopers #arc trooper echo #clone force 99 #cf 99 #tbb reacts

[dmc-brainrot]

i loved the yamato! reader fic! please continue it! also here is a real question! how do you think the yamato would look as a human?

Eternally Soul Bonded (part 2)

Vergil (DMC5) x Yamato! reader

warnings: reader is a humanoid version of Yamato, reader is also a bit obssessed with Vergil (mild yandere behaviour that seems to be growing), a bit of angst, fluff, mild smut, strangling, things get a bit heavy

summary: after a whole year of you two being together, there seems to be a huge wall separating you two… and you intend to break it by force, no matter what.

word count: 2k

a.n: hi again! thank you so much for the feedback :D! Here's part 2 of the fic!! I posted a small doodle I made about my own interpretation of a personification of Yamato on my blog! Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, I'll probably make a part 3 of this since I'm having fun, and things are getting steamy~ thank you again for your support and my ask box is always open! o/

After what happened between you and Vergil, it seemed the two of you had gotten closer.

It was still unexplainable however, how you had come to exist in the world… as a personification of Yamato, and more. Ever since you had woken up in that body, you felt as if you were no longer simply “Vergil’s sword”, but also a person of your own.

It had been an entire year by now… that you two had been together in this old raggedy apartment. In the beginning, Vergil was training you hard to unlock every potential within you as his sword, ever since you unlocked his Devil Trigger. But, things were different… it felt as if your potential was permanently locked within that body you woke up as.

Training wasn’t the concern now. It wasn’t about whether you still had the potential of Yamato within you or not. It wasn’t about whether Vergil believed you were in fact the sword he’d been looking for the past 20 years. No, the problem was completely different. It was about your connection as one.

It was if… Vergil didn’t know anything about the emotions he was able to feel, because all this time, he had buried those deep inside for the sake of his hunt for power.

After the episode where he broke down crying from the first time, you were expecting, maybe even hoping that you two would grow closer again, that it meant something, and that it’d make a difference.

But it took a completely opposite effect.

Vergil… refused to talk about emotions or his feelings with you after that day. And that’s how the remaining of the year went by.

Obviously you wouldn’t let that be your reality. After all, you had just gotten him back.

…

Vergil was in his room reading when you approached the entrance. It seemed now that things had settled, he was trying to partake in more hobbies other than fighting. He had always enjoyed reading, and there was even a time where he wrote poems, although you weren’t sure if he did that anymore.

He seemed to completely ignore your presence, up until you sat down on the edge of the bed with him. Only then he looked at you.

“What do you want?” He asked in that nasally annoyed tone he always had.

“What are you reading?” You asked, ignoring his cold tone. You were used to it anyway.

“Human fiction is pretty fascinating to me, I’m reading some stories about Norse Myths”

“Do you think those kinds of things are real?”

“What things?”

Great, you two were having an actual conversation. This is how things were supposed to go to begin with.

“Gods, and all sorts of things. We’ve only had to deal with demons and demon Lords… and wannabe angels…” You spoke, leaning against his arm to take a better look at the book he read. “…But do you really think… there is such a thing, as multiple gods… that live up there in the sky?”

Vergil was silent for a moment… you could tell he was tense and uncomfortable, probably because you were so close to him.

“I don’t care about gods in the sky. These are merely myths created by the feeble and limited human mind because their existence is so insignificant in comparison to their surroundings, they feel the need to believe in something greater to be responsible for them.” He spoke even more coldly, closing the book he held. “…Now, what do you want…?”

“…I just wanted to see what you were doing.” You whispered, looking back at him. “…I think… you’re right about that. About gods… and humans.”

“…” Vergil sighed, almost in defeat, opening the book again and continuing his reading. “Do you want me to tell you more?”

Your eyes sparkled with the idea, looking up at him as if he had just offered you salvation.

“Yes…please…”

You ended up falling asleep for a brief moment after a while of Vergil reading to you. But, you could still hear his voice vaguely in the distance.

“…You present yourself as a human, you act and feel like a human, you even have needs like a human…” his raspy and quiet voice echoed in the walls of your mind. “…at first… I thought it was just an elaborated gimmick… to protect yourself against me using your full capabilities…”

“…You… are just like V… so maybe that means… the real  Yamato is somewhere out there for me to find… and all I have to do is to merge you two together.”

Oh.

Of course.

He still… wanted just his sword.

You were foolish to think… after a whole year, your relationship was anything more than that.

“…What did you say, Vergil?” You shot your eyes open. They were dark and unforgiving, the light behind them was gone, just in that time where you punctured his heart. There was a coldness and lack of humanity behind your voice, as your bloodlust filled eyes stared right at the man who was tucking you in on the bed.

Vergil seemed surprised as you stared at him, his hands still holding onto the blanket he was using to tuck you in. He froze in place.

“…I’m just… an incomplete half, you say?” You continued, unblinking. “…That, you’re holding onto me just to find the ‘other half’, you say?”

You didn’t move from your spot.

“…So I can go back… to being just your sword… who can’t speak, or feel, right?”

Vergil didn’t move either.

“…I’m not like V.” The room had then filled with an unspeakable amount of despair. “…Do I have to keep proving myself, time and time again for you to understand?”

You sat up finally, holding onto Vergil’s hands and squeezing his wrists tightly so he wouldn’t leave your grasp.

“…Are you that miserable and pathetic without a sword to wield? Do you really only see me as a tool to use and regain power? I have bad news for you Vergil… son of Sparda…” You said as you pulled him closer.

“…You have no control… over the things that happen in your life.” You stared right at his icy blue eyes, eyes that at this moment were still widened in shock. “…You had no control over being trapped in Hell, or becoming some other devil’s puppet knight, or even when Nero was born and absorbed me into him.  You were never behind anything, and when you were, you had to split yourself into two to even be able to achieve something.”

“…You��re nothing without the circumstances that present themselves to you. And at the end of the day, even if you do win… Dante never loses, does he? Isn’t that what pisses you off the most?”

“…Stop talking.” Vergil spoke through gritted teeth. “You think talking about my weaknesses will make me cry again like last time? Please. You really are a one-trick pony, aren’t you?”

“I’m not done talking.” You squeezed his wrists again.

“…I know every bit of emotion you feel inside your heart. The anger and jealousy, the envy, the frustration, the pain, the grief, everything. You’re sick and tired of Dante getting his way for everything, that you’re always in the shadows, that he’s always winning and you’re always losing.” You spoke through gritted teeth. “Wondering time and time again if your positions were switched… if you could’ve had a different outcome.”

Vergil’s eyes widened at your words again, you knew he could come out of your grasp at any time, but he chose not to.

“…And you think… that if you have your sword, you’ll try… countless…. and countless of times… to achieve that different outcome.”

“…Why are you… even alive right now, Vergil?”

Vergil let himself go from your grasp. He placed his hands beside you on the bed, and bowed his head for a moment.

“…I see.”

“…You’re saying… I don’t need a sword by my side to get a different outcome?” He smiled a little, before finally looking at you with a gaze you’ve never seen on his face before. “Then… I don’t need you, is that right?”

Before you knew it, his hands were on your throat.

And he started strangling you.

But you weren’t scared. You knew he needed this to overcome his weaknesses.

So you smiled.

“…I really… do love you, Vergil” You spoke with a smile as he strangled you, your eyes filling with small tears as he did, but you couldn’t help yourself. You couldn’t stop smiling.

It was like it had awakened something in him. Not a new power, or ability, or even a new form.

But a new feeling.

Those hands that strangled you, had let go of your neck, to hold onto something else.

And the man who was just now strangling you like he wanted to kill you, was now… using his lips to kiss you.

It was weird, because you had never kissed anyone before, but it felt almost natural to do this, so you kissed him back.

You would never know what clicked inside Vergil’s head for him to do this, you would never know that he was practically seeing a reflection of himself in you. A sword that reminded its master of his weaknesses that needed to be purified. A reminder of why he’s alive. Why he needs to be more powerful.

And oddly enough, that really… aroused him beyond comprehension. It was what motivated him to keep going.

His kisses were rough and sloppy, but it wasn’t much of a problem since you were too. He held your cheeks just as strongly as he did your neck seconds ago, and you were locked in place.

He seemed absolutely desperate. Either it was for affection, or for human touch, or if it was because he wanted to feel powerful again. Maybe all of the above.

But you on the other hand… the amount of pleasure you were getting from his desperation was more than anything you could possibly dream on.

He was yours.

And you were his.

And he was yours, forever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever… until the ends of time, and there was nothing he could do to get rid of you anymore.

“…Take off your clothes, Vergil…”

“Show me… how much you crave power.”

After a year of coldness and barely anything between you, you had finally done it. You had finally broken him.

You had him, right where you wanted him to.

And with the two of you as one, finally there was absolutely nothing that would get in your way again. Because, after all…

You were the strongest.

“Take it off, Vergil… Let’s… become one.” You smirked, offering your arms for him.

He stared down at you for a moment longer, as if he had been presented with a choice he couldn’t back away from.

And so he made his choice.

He took off his shirt, exposing his toned form, and slowly began to unbuckle his pants.

There was no turning back now… he was finally becoming one with the one person that would always be the only one for him eternally so.

He leaned down, kissing you again, this time rougher, and even more desperate. He moved his hands to your legs, lifting them up and making sure they were wrapped around his form, locking you in.

You wrapped your arms around him, and you could feel the warmth his crazed desperation was emanating… and despite never having done this before you incorporated in this body, it all felt natural to you, like before.

This would be a very… long night.

#dmc5 #oc x canon #canon x reader #devil may cry #dmc fanfiction #devil may cry fanfiction #vergil x reader #vergil fanfiction #vergil #dmc vergil #vergil devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #dmc v #fanfic ask

[oksana-moods]

Queens of Promise - Smut Part

Summary: Following the trails of her sun kissed skin led you directly to a heaven that you soon learned you had been locked out of.

A/N: Okay, if you don’t read smut, this chapter is not for you, but worry not. Part 9 will be posted around the weekend of shortly after. Now if you do read smut, here’s a treat. Some sort of 8.5 part for the ones who enjoy this kind of reading and yeah I wrote roughly 4.5k words of smut. It was just so easy, it flowed haha. Please, tell me your thoughts.

Warnings: Smut. MINORS DNI! +18 ONLY! Explicit content, bad language.

Previous Parts here

“Between Heaven”

“I- I don’t know how to love.” You reply. You had had many experiences with women in bed or in any place actually, but you had never loved. And Wanda Maximoff, somehow, was so much more and again, you didn’t want to treat her any less than she deserved. “And you deserve more.”

Her brows furrowed at your hesitance, but one look in your eyes and she knew how scared you were. Maybe for completely different reasons but still, just a scared woman in front of another.

“You speak about what I deserve, but what about what I want?” Her words set your whole body on fire and you’re all but aware of how close she was. “And I want you to show me how it is.” Her confidence hit you full force and you couldn’t deny how bad you desired the woman standing in front of you.

You felt her hand caress your cheek then your hair, then back to your cheek. “Wanda, I don’t wanna do anything that you might regret.” You held onto your last shred of consciousness as if your life depended on it. Maybe not your life, but your sanity.

Wanda was about to link her lips with yours again, but refrained herself at your words, then looked at you and asked you to open your hooded eyes. “I want you to be the first to touch me. I won’t regret this.” Her voice was hotter than lava and melted every nerve in your brain.

Her body burned with the same desire yours did. Then, you let go of that fragment of consciousness and let your own instincts take over your entire being. “Your wish is my command, Your Highness.”

You pulled Wanda into your body and as soon as her body was fully flushed against yours, you pulled her in for a searing kiss, setting your heart ablaze. Your hands roamed her body as if desperate to feel her.

You kissed her cheek, then her earlobe before your lips found her neck. While you let your own desire dictate the rhythm, Wanda’s mind became a puddle of nothingness. She had never been touched like this before and only the gods knew how much she yearned for your touch.

While kissing, biting and sucking on her pulse point, your hand hovered over her breast and gave light squeezes, the best you could with so many clothes standing between your skins.

Realizing she needed more, much more than she was having, Wanda helped you ease the buttons of your tunic. Since you were disguised as a trader, your clothes weren’t so difficult to shed, but hers, it was quite the opposite.

As you walked to her back in order to take off the many laces of her dress, Wanda’s mind started to wander and wonder. You definitely moved expertly, so far, you knew where to kiss or touch as if her body was your own.

“I’ve heard stories about your…” She bit her tongue, trying to find the right words. She was taught that a princess shouldn’t use bad words or talk about profanities. “Sexual adventures.” She decided to find a common ground. Not too much polite nor too much whorish.

She closed her eyes and this time she bit back a low moan that tried to escape her lips when you bit the exposed skin of her back.

“Hm.” You hummed before biting her once again, this time slightly harder and, this time, Wanda couldn’t suppress the sound escaping from her mouth. “People like to talk. Why don’t you tell me what stories and I’ll tell you whether they are true or not?”

Wanda nodded, not fully certain that you’d see, but she couldn’t trust her voice. Your hands touching her over the fabric was maddening enough. She couldn’t even think about when you touched her bare.

Upon feeling that you were working on the laces, she tried to concentrate on said stories. They were vulgar but she’d be lying if she said she never felt a fever on her midsection once or twice.

“C’mon, Princess. I wanna hear it.” Your voice so low on her ear wrecked her nerves, little by little. In addition to that, the way you always pronounced the word princess made her blood boil, for you always spoke as if it weren’t her tittle, but a condescending call. And fuck, her body betrayed her resolves once more when another moan escaped her lips.

A low chuckle was the only thing she heard, but she knew you had seen what you were doing to her. You were experienced and she was just a woman about to be deflowered and, for the first time in her life, she didn’t want you to be respectful about it.

“You made love with a woman before her husband could. Called for prima nocte.” Wanda spoke one of the first stories she had heard about your libertine actions across the world.

“False.” One lace off and you kissed Wanda’s bare skin. The feel of her body against yours and the power you had over her was intoxicating, your heartbeat increased with every sound coming from her mouth.

“You took a whore as company when you went to a war against a rebel Lord.” Wanda found her voice but with all your ministrations was getting hard to focus on her memory.

“False.” You kissed her again. “She was a castle maid from Triskelion, not a whore.” You clarified and Wanda gasped both at your words and at your tongue touching her back.

“And you threatened to make love with said Lord’s wife if he didn’t stop with the rebellion.” Wanda’s voice failed her for the first time as your fingers touched the growing amount of bare skin of her back.

“True, though I remember using the word fuck.” Your voice was back on her ear, your hot breath was electrifying. “I’d fuck his wife and daughter if he didn’t stop the rebellion.”

Wanda gasped both at your words and at your mouth leaving a kiss on her earlobe before returning to your activity. There was something about the way promiscuous words rolled out of your tongue, her body was on fire and, though completely inexperienced, she knew you didn’t even start.

“And I didn’t have to enforce for his daughter came willing for me to fuck her.” You completed though Wanda’s mind was far gone, for she felt that you had reached and opened the last lace. She could feel her gown loose on her frame, yet you haven’t undressed her.

Shivers shot throughout her body as you left a trail of hot open-mouthed kisses over her back, the trail followed the perfect path of her back bones from the nape of her neck until her lower back. She felt your hands roaming her skin as if to touch-imprint the feel on your memory.

It was so chaste and so sensual at the same time, which sent her nerves into tatters and the redhead could feel the heat pooling on her midsection. If she were to be honest, it was embarrassing the effect you had over her body.

With your nose, you trailed her back up until your mouth was once again close to her ear and asked. “Can I?” Your hand gave a light pull on her dress so she could understand what you were asking.

She remained silent and you feared that your confession had scared her away, but it was short lived for her voice broke the silence.

“Please.” Right then and there, you realized, that there was nothing that you wouldn’t do if Wanda asked you with that voice. It was half whispered half raspy and full of crave.

With a light pull of your hand, the gown pooled on the ground at Wanda’s feet and although you were behind her, you saw her trying to raise her arms to cover her body. Only you stopped her by gently grabbing her arms.

“I won’t hurt you.” You whispered into her ear and punctuated with a chaste kiss on her shoulder. “If you’re uncomfortable, I can stop.” You were so turned on that your whole body shook, but you wouldn’t be a jerk and disregard Wanda’s feelings.

“I know. It’s not you.” You opened your eyes as you felt her moving and now her front was completely flushed against your body. “This- I’m feeling a little self-conscious. That’s all.”

Her insecurity hit you in the chest for you did not expect that. If anything, Wanda’s body was just as perfect as a sculpture could be. In fact, Wanda’s body was a shrine begging to be worshiped.

“You are perfect, Wanda.” You kissed her lips once, then trailed until her shoulders and back. “Let me show you just how much.”

This time, she didn’t give you an answer. Not with words, for that matter. She pulled you in for a kiss that could scorch your soul but only made your body crave hers more and more.

Almost impatiently, Wanda pulled your lower tunic and you got rid of your pants and soon you were skin to skin.

After guiding her to the bed, your mouth left hers and trailed down the sweet valley of her breasts. You tasted one, then teased the other before lavishing her nipples with the attention they desperately needed.

Wanda’s back arched once, then twice with every movement of your tongue around her hardened peaks, and it was perceptible that it was becoming hard for her to control the sounds coming out of her mouth.

You travelled southern on her body, never forgetting to kiss or touch every single inch of her silky skin and with every touch another jolt of pleasure coursed through her. And every moan made you wetter.

When you were a little bit lower than the line of her navel, and about to reach her intimacy, you looked up silently asking for permission. Wanda nodded at you through demi-hooded eyelashes, and you swore that you were yet to see sexiest sight.

You continued down and found her midsection already soaked. You had felt it while grinding your leg on it, but this sight, well, now this was the sexiest.

You had to physically refrain yourself from attacking her lips and clit directly, but you remembered that this was her first time. You couldn’t act like a deranged dog. So, out of respect, you planted small kisses on her groin, up and down on both sides until she was used to your actions.

Her breathing, though, became heavier with every touch of lips and tongue.

Then, you gave a feather-like kiss on her sex and chuckled when Wanda’s body jolted out of the bad.

“Sorry.” She apologized, but you assured her with another kiss, not so light this time.

Soon, you stopped with the kisses and started to lick and suck her clit in the rhythm of her moans and sharply intakes of air. As you started to properly eat her out, Wanda’s knuckles were white, grabbing the sheets for dear life and that sight drove your head into nuts.

Incoherent words started to fall from her mouth, but you couldn’t understand, and you knew the reason why she spoke so low. “You can speak out loud. No one’s going to hear you, except for me.” You reassured her with your signature smile.

“But I-.” She tried to form coherent thoughts as she popped on her elbows, but it proved harder than she had imagined. “These words are so unladylike.”

You chuckled and kissed her inner thighs just for good measure, but you liked the effect it had on her, nonetheless. “You can speak whatever you want, Princess. I’m sure I’m going to like.”

Not even sparing her a glance, you dived between her legs again and her moan was loud and clear this time. “Don’t hold back your pleasure.” Your ministrations pulling sweet sounds from her, and it was driving you insane.

After a hard suck on her clit, Wanda jolted again half shouting an ‘oh’. You could feel the pleasure building in her and she wouldn’t take long.

“OH.” She exclaimed and the flow of juices coating your chin and tongue told you that she had come. You locked eyes with her long enough to see her shy smile, making your heart do somersaults in your chest.

When she rested her head again, you lunged on to her intimacy for another round. The moans and jolts were accompanied by grunts and another set of incoherent words, though this time you could almost discern one or another.

Deciding to increase her pleasure, you used one finger to tease her entrance and her perinium “Oh my-.” She cut herself by biting her lips and you smirked, she was closer than you thought and soon, your mouth was rewarded with her juices again.

“Such a good girl.” You murmured as you climbed the bed so you could lay by her side. Wanda only smiles and has her eyes hooded, definitely enjoying the bliss of her orgasm.

“What you were doing down there,” Wanda’s raspy voice broke the silence. “It was so good.” and it was your turn to smile softly. Her body glistened with a thin coat of sweat and by the gods she got more beautiful with every passing second.

She opened her eyes and let her head fall to the side to properly look at you, there was this new emotion dancing in her eyes, and you wished you could categorize every single one of them for later contemplation.

Wanda lifted her hand and traced your features with the back of her index finger, it was slow and kind as if she too was trying to engrave your traces into her skull. “You are so pretty.” She said softly, voice much like an angel. “Your eyes, your lips… you’re driving me insane.”

The back of her finger touched your lips, and you pecked it lightly, earning another smile from her. You leaned down and kissed her once more. It was slow, almost lazy until she pulled back and asked.

“Is this taste…?” You chuckled at the poor woman in front of you. Like a full castle lady, she couldn’t let vulgar words pass through her lips, it doesn’t matter that she spoke one or two barely minutes ago.

“You, Wanda.” You kissed her again, languidly, and pulled back looking directly at her eyes. “This sweet taste is your sweet juice.”

You saw her cheeks tinting with a light shade of red and you laughed. The innocence right after what you just did wouldn’t match anyone else but her. You dropped your head and kissed her cheek once, then traced her cheekbone with your nose until your breath found her ears.

The redhead knew that this action was nothing compared to what you just did, the kisses and the things you made her feel, but she could feel her body reacting again. Her arousal flared through her body like a wave and the feeling was exhilarating.

When you kissed the skin right under her ear, the sokovian let out a strangled breath and you felt her hand coursing through your back. Her nails dug onto your skin right after you bit her neck the harsher until now.

Your lips were back on hers in no time and, for the second time that night, your leg was in between hers, this time the wetness pooled from her center but also from yours. The feel of this perfect woman exploring your body was maddening, especially after she learnt that if she squeezed your ass just right, she’d bring your hips onto hers.

Between sloppy kisses and ragged breaths, Wanda would probably make you cum by only grinding her and it wasn’t fair. Her power over you wasn’t fair.

Wanda moaned and all the pleasure she was feeling was everything and nothing at the same time. Somehow, she wanted more. She wanted you more, but she didn’t know how to ask for. Or even what to ask for.

However, she desperately needed to feel more.

The harshness with you groped Wanda’s ass made her hiss and bite your shoulder, earning her a moan from you. It was plain to see that she’d make you go insane by the dawn if you lasted that long.

You found yourself kissing and playing with her nipples again. If more comfortable with you and your ministrations or if because she was finally setting herself free, was unknown to you, but Wanda moaned loudly. It was music to your ears.

As your tongue swirled around her hard, swollen peaks, your hand traveled further down her body. The woman beneath you hissed and let her head fall back on to the mattress as your finger circled her clit.

The wetness coated your digits, making it easy for you to tease her folds, her entrance and go back to her clit. It was almost a pattern, sometimes slow and sometimes pressing her intimacy a little harder, but never really touching where you wanted. Or she needed.

You wanted to make sure Wanda would feel all the pleasure you could give, you wanted to make sure that her first time being touched would be as perfect and delightful as it can be. All you wanted was to love her properly.

It was obvious by her body movements that Wanda wanted more. Her lust was so high that she’d take your fingers and anything you were willing to give her, but you never quavered your ministrations.

With the tip of your middle finger at her entrance, you locked eyes with her and asked. “Can I?” There was no turning back now. After her answer, her life would change forever. Up until now it was all teasing and play, but now you offered her the real game.

“Yes.” She choked between deep breaths, mouth sexily hanging open and eyes wide with anticipation.  

You held eye contact as you slowly slid your finger passed her cunt and you felt her tight walls pressing your digit. Her face contorted with pain but also with pleasure and her mouth moved without speaking any word.

This woman would be the death of you.

You let her adjust to your length for a moment and when her chest weaved with calmer breaths, you started to move. Nice and slow. In and out in a lazy pace, you could feel her sex clenching around your finger, sending your nerves out of the window.

This new feeling, the feel of you inside her was effervescent, incandescent even. Her soul, much like her body, was about to burst with this new sensation. Her hips moved on their own accord, as if trying to meet your hand and increase the pleasure.

She tried. She tried moving faster but still felt like something was missing. She wanted more and this time she asked.

“More.” She breathed out and she wanted to slap your face after you shot her one of your daring smile. You were playing with her body, taking your time and finding pleasure in make her squirm under your touch like a needy virgin.

Although you were indeed playing the sculpture laying under you, you conceded her wish. You took your finger from her cunt and after a whine escaping Wanda’s lips, you pushed two fingers inside her. Walls once again clenching around your skin, sending goosebumps through your spine.

You could feel she was full, moving desperately to increase the friction because you still kept a steady pace. You wanted to see how far you could take her, for the sight of her writhing and about to beg was heavenly.

Incoherently words flew from her lips, and you knew what she wanted. You didn’t have to be experienced to know that. But you wanted her to give in to you fully. You needed her to.

“Use your words, princess.” Your hot breath on her ear and that tone again made her walls clench involuntarily. The way you used her title as a praise was infuriatingly hot and she had to admit you had her wrapped around your finger. Literally.

The shyness that refused to leave her the whole night, suddenly was thrown out of the window. Much like a shameless whore, she bellowed. “Gods fuck me. Harder.” The urgency of her command was emphasized by her nails piercing your skin, much like her existence punctured yours.

And who were you to deny any demand of this ruler? Who were you if not another servant willing to do as their mistress ask? Who were you if not the most devoted disciple of this goddess?

She asked and you delivered. You fucked her just as she had asked and if before her moans were loud, right now it was like her lungs couldn’t hold back any longer. Your name floated through her lips, and she enchanted it like a prayer.

The rhythm which you fell in with her body was like magic and you had never experienced it before in your life. Up until now, you hadn’t felt the pleasure coursing through your partner’s body like you did now. As she chased her orgasm it was like your own body could feel it too.

You could feel the pressure building within her stomach, so you cooed. “Cum for me, princess.” Again, the praise sent shockwaves through her skin, and it was all too much. She couldn’t hold this amazing sensation any longer, so she came undone.

Wanda’s screams as she reached her climax were certainly engraved in your memory for life and, much like the sight of her, you’d never forget the things she made you feel.

After you helped her ride her high, you took your fingers from inside her and you could see her eyes darkening with lust once you wrapped your lips around your fingers as to clean the juices coating them.

“Gods, the things you make me feel.” Wanda sighed and you snorted amused, wondering if she could read your mind like an open book. Or maybe she was a witch.  

“You’re beautiful, Wanda.” You kissed her lightly before laying down by her side. You could feel your core pulsating with need, but you wouldn’t ask her to touch you. Your adventures were probably too much for her already.

Your thoughts were sliced, though, as she turned her body to face you. Expectancy was evident in her face, but also something else. Again, she was unsure. You just didn’t know of what.

“I- I don’t know what to do.” She stated almost uncertain, and you frowned your brows in confusion and hurt.

One would think that after the night and pleasure you had just shared, Wanda would stop doubting of the undeniable feelings growing between the pair of you. But no.

She’s still feeling the bliss of the sex, yet, here she was, breaking your heart with her fears and will probably go back to her enchants of ‘we’re enemies’ as though you didn’t just pour your heart for her.

“Wanda.” You sighed, your wetness belonged to the past now. “We can figure what to do with this enemies thing in the morning, yeah?” You asked, eyes almost pleading for her to let you in, for once.

“What are you talking about?” Wanda retorted, now her brows were furrowed too.

“Weren’t you just second guessing what we just did?” You asked again, suddenly feeling a bit lost.

And definitely, a lot lost when Wanda laughed. You realized, with a start, that this was the very first time you saw her laughing this freely. Eyes closed, nostrils flaring and mouth wide open. She was like an angel brought to Earth.

Your heart literally fluttered watching her.

After her laugh died down, Wanda looked at your eyes and spoke. “No, you twat. I was saying that I don’t know what to do.” She let her hands roam your body a little as if trying to convey her message, then completed. “To make you feel good too.”

“Oh.” You muttered dumbly and she sneered at you again. You were so used to her withdraws that your brain automatically read her sentence as another one. “Oh.” You muttered again after your mind finally wrapped itself around what she meant.

“You don’t have to.” You assured her, with a small smile gracing your lips. “It’s okay.”

She shook her head lightly and shifted her body so now it was her turn to straddle you. The previous confusion now long forgotten, and your body shivered with anticipation. Your own arousal was back on full force.

“But I want to.” She purred in your ear as she lowered her body. The feeling of her nipples against your own was from another world. This woman had you at her mercy.

“Just do what your body says.” You whispered after you found your voice, for her mouth was already attacking your neck as if there was no tomorrow.

If anyone would’ve told that one single woman, made of flesh, could open the gates of the heavens for you, you’ve laughed. But here you were, knocking the doors of the paradise called Wanda.

Apparently, the redhead was a fast learner for her mouth was sent from heaven while playing with your nipples. But when she reached your sex, it was as if she’d suck the life out of you and by the gods the sight of Wanda eating you out whole mouth was the sexiest sight you had ever had.

Every kiss, every touch was like a thousands of blazing suns scorching your soul until you begged for forgiveness to every and all of your sins. Even the ones you haven’t committed yet. There was something spiritual in the way the auburn woman drove your body to a hidden place of pleasure.

Right then and there, you understood that the feel of Wanda’s love was like waking up into a perfect dream. It is like learning that you’ve been locked out of heaven this whole time and she was the goddess who guarded the key.

Much like the time, inexorably and inevitably, your heart fell for Wanda, for everything you possessed now belonged to her.

Body, mind and soul.

Part 9

taglist: @californianwhiterabbit

#wanda x reader #wanda smut #princess wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda x fem!reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #princess reader #medieval au #scarlet witch smut #marvel smut #scarlet witch x reader #queens of promise

[vidavalor]

'Thy cocoa doth grow cold'... Agnes Nutter's prophecies are still in play in S2?!

Agnes Nutter could see visions of the world through the end times, correct? Maybe even longer but her book of prophecies was written to cover through the end of the world. In all likelihood, she wrote an entire second book for Anathema to burn, knowing already that she would but giving her descendent that bit of free will to set her free, right? The second book is irrelevant-- it was written to be destroyed and really contained no legitimate prophecies. The only relevant book of Agnes' prophecies-- which lead up to the end times-- is her first book, yes? So, if we are back in the end times again, surely Agnes foresaw that, too, and does that mean her last prophecies-- the curiously undated ones lol-- might actually be relevant again, with different meaning this time? Are they all in play all over again?

This is relevant to S2 and S3 because when Adam reset reality at the end of S1, he made it so that what had happened definitely did *matter* and that the prophecies Agnes wrote were definitely about what had all just happened... but, well... if Armageddon 2.0 is coming up and Agnes wrote prophecies that lead to the end of the world... shouldn't it be then that Agnes' first book actually contains all the prophecies relevant to the end of the world *again*... like, the same prophecies apply this time around, too, just maybe with different context? And then you realize that they actually, um, do, in S2...

The first prophecy related to the end times nearing that related to Aziraphale is the one he reads when he first has Agnes' book, right? Paraphrased, it tells him to 'read' and to 'look, for [his] cocoa doth grow cold', right?

Gabriel's "I was getting cold, then I got this neato blanket", which he says while drinking hot cocoa out of the same mug Aziraphale was in S1. But it gets better lol...

...when Muriel arrives a little later, Aziraphale offers her a cupperty, his standard drink for guests in the bookshop as he's an English-presenting being, yes? Why didn't he offer Gabriel one? Well, Gabriel's reaction when Aziraphale offered him tea in the sushi restaurant in S1:

So, Aziraphale, not really understanding yet what was going on with Gabriel as he'd only just arrived, thought it best to try out some hot cocoa instead, right? But the best part about this is that if this scene in S1 hadn't happened, the prophecy wouldn't hold. Aziraphale would have given Gabriel tea-- and then Gabriel wouldn't have been the hot cocoa who was getting cold.

So in keeping with the idea that Agnes' prophecies are still in play in S2 (and with tossing in a bit of Team Agnes & God or Agnes = God or whatever variety of that you like), what of the 'read' part of the hot cocoa doth grow cold prophecy? In S1, it was to literally read her book of prophecies and see how accurate they were because they were describing Aziraphale's actions in that very moment, right? To make him understand that they should be followed. So what is the 'read' where it pertains to S2's once-chilly cocoa, Gabriel?

How about the moment that Gabriel (whose name means "messenger", btw) suddenly remembers for the first time and what comes out of his mouth is what God said to Job... and *we hear God* speaking alongside him? As if speaking *through* him? And only we do, just as only us heard her narration in S1? And what does that do? It causes Crowley to recall that it's what God said to Job and to ask Aziraphale if he remembers and he says yes he does and pulls out *the story to read*, while he remembers for us the events of it. It's God via Agnes via Gabriel saying "the Job minisode is VERY IMPORTANT TO THE STORY HERE" and wanting to make sure that Crowley and Aziraphale remember it during what's to come.

So then what of the other Agnes prophecy relating to Aziraphale? Her very last one, the one that ended her book of prophecies relating to the end times? In S1, this prophecy drops on Aziraphale in the moment *after* they've stopped Armageddon, right? The last prophecy seems to be one designed to save Crowley and Aziraphale and it does. But looked at against S2's plot and there's a whole other angle to it...

The prophecy tells Aziraphale that "when all is said and done"-- so, when a war is averted, which was the Armageddon of S1 and the almost-war he caused with Hell and Heaven in S2/the whole Battle of the Bookshop thing was over-- that Aziraphale must "choose ye faces wisely for soon, ye will be playing with fyre," right? In S1, this was the body swap plot. The prophecy foretold that Aziraphale would be threatened by a fire that could harm him-- hellfire-- and that he must 'choose his faces wisely' to avoid it. Realizing the danger, Crowley and Aziraphale switch bodies-- wear one another's faces-- to avoid Aziraphale dying by hellfire. What's weird about the prophecy is that it doesn't also state that Crowley is threatened by holy water. They work out that he will be and he was and they did the right thing with the body swap but a prophecy about threats to both Crowley & Aziraphale is written in such a way that only the threat to Aziraphale is specified, right? But... doesn't that make a lot of sense if the same prophecy is part of S2?

Not a body swap this time. Though, one face did swap out his usual appearance *for* a body... Choose ye faces wisely...

I mean... The Metatron is quite literally *a face* lol... so 'choose ye faces wisely', Aziraphale-- Crowley or The Metatron...

...for soon enough, ye be playin' with fyre.

See? He called it himself back in S1.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #the metatron #good omens meta #good omens theory

[thestarkerisobvious]

Screwed

a story I wrote and forgot about

“I want you inside me, I want to feel you inside me,” Peter was whispering in that tiny, choked voice, and Tony, god help him…

… Tony could not say ‘no.’

But then again, would Tony EVER say no to The Kid?  

Wasn’t that always the problem?

And that’s why they were here, making out like teenagers on Tony’s sofa instead of analyzing that alien weapon.  Instead of getting ready for the briefing before Fury and the others arrived.  

Not that Tony Stark was exactly afraid of getting caught, exactly.  FRIDAY knew what to do in these situations.  If they weren’t done by the time the elevators were headed to the penthouse - well - FRIDAY was very good at delaying the elevator.  

Of course if anyone arrived by helicopter…

…well then that someone was going to get quite an eyeful.

This was supposed to be a quicky - actually Tony and Peter were supposed to be TAKING A BREAK from the physical stuff, but that ‘break’ seemed to have lasted an entire week (wait maybe it had been less than that??  Didn’t they snuck one in one last time before the break began?  For ‘old times sake?’)

Sneak one in - that’s what they were trying to do now.? Tony knew it was inevitable, knew it the moment the kid swung up to his window two hours before the others arrived.  Tony tried to talk himself out of it.  Tried, and failed.  

He didn’t even try to talk Peter out of it.

He wasn’t very good at talking Peter out of things.

Just like he wasn’t good at saying ‘no.’

But gods, who could blame him??  Ever since he had been stranded on an alien planet, feeling The Kid turn to dust in his arms… well…  that part of his brain just didn’t seem to work anymore.

You know?  That part of his brain.

The part of his brain that tried to say “No, seriously?  You’re legal, but “Legal” does NOT mean “Good Idea.”

The part of his brain that tried to say “No.  I’m damaged goods, Kids.  We’re not doing this.”

That tried to say “Okay, we just did that, and maybe it was inevitable, but we’re clearly NOT doing it again.”

The part that tried to say “Okay we did it twice… okay technically three times… but seriously kid??  We aren't a thing.”

The part that tried to say “Okay but even if we WERE a thing (which we aren’t!) we could never ever ever let anyone know about it.”

That part of his brain - that part that seemed to dissolve away all those years ago along with the young adult in his arms - THAT part of his brain just didn’t work anymore.  

Which was why he had agreed to a quick session on the couch.  Even though they had also agreed to stop for a while.  Even though the others were due to arrive soon.  Even though one of the ‘others’ that would be arriving soon would be one Avenger Pepper Pots, the mother of his child.  The woman he was still, technically, married to.

But Peter had offered.

…more specifically he offered to let Tony go down on him.   He had also promised it would be quick.  “You know I don’t last long.”  But that promise was calculated.  He knew Tony couldn’t resist going down on him.  In his old age Tony had developed quite the addiction.

Of course, that was because Tony suspected that any time might be their last time…

Or because that kid tasted so.  Damn.  Sweet.

Tony knew it wouldn’t be ONLY oral, of course.  It never was.  And that’s why they had slid down to the floor.  That’s why his trousers were around his knees and Peter’s were nowhere to be found… that’s why Peter's legs were wrapped so tight around his waist and that sweet, breathless, innocent voice was pleading in his ear…  

“I want to feel you inside me.”

—————

He was so totally and thoroughly screwed.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t fallen for boys like Peter before.  He had.  Not that Tony Stark ever thought about coming out as gay (it was a big deal in his time.  Hard to explain to Peter, who’s generation barely saw that as a thing anymore.)

But that was different.  Those boys… those handsome young twenty-somethings off on their own adventures, their own conquests, they were different.  Tony was just another notch on their own young bedposts - just another tourism spot on their roadtrip across America.  There was no worries about catching feelings, about sticky relationships.

Besides, if he DID find himself in danger of said, he always had friends to pull him back from the edge.  Friends who knew the warning signs, friends who knew how to talk him down…

He didn’t have that anymore.  Peter was his secret, his deadly secret.  

He was good at keeping secrets.

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

“Come inside me, Tony, make me yours.”

Mentally Tony was counting down the minutes in his head.  They would need a shower after this, at least.  He should hurry (but he wasn’t going to hurry.  He couldn’t help but take his time.  There was just no such thing as a ‘quickie’ for them.  Every time he felt that boy’s lips part for him, every time he felt Peter’s thighs part for him…

…every time Tony felt Peter’s body accept him, well, Tony just had to impress.  Had to take his time.  Had to show off his skill.

“Come inside me, Tony”

Again that breathless whisper.  Maybe Tony should hurry it up.  Get done.  Get it over with before the kid started saying things like…

“Come inside me.  Make me yours.”

Things like that.  

That was the thing that he was trying to discourage.  We’ll, he was SUPPOSED to be discouraging that.  

Logically, he should.  

And he might get around to that, after a while.

Only currently he was too busy coming his brains out.

“Mine” the boy was growling but Tony could hear the grin in his voice.  

…and… 

“...yours…” Tony was saying stupidly.  Helplessly.

Hopelessly.

He was so totally, so thoroughly screwed.  

#Starker #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #thewitchway writes stuff

[sylvienerevarine]

hi I wrote another Oblivion short story about Sacha and the Adoring Fan (or Ben, as he's known in the Sylvieverse). you know that thing where your surrogate mom becomes a terrifying demigod. very relatable.

-----

Benirus Manor was short on insects in the winter months, and so Benethir was understandably surprised when the first violently-purple butterflies swooped through the sitting room. Surprise gave way to bone-deep fear when the insects multiplied, seemingly out of nowhere, until they formed a vast, swirling cloud that produced screeching not-quite-music. Out of this cloud stepped a tall figure in a purple waistcoat.

Benethir knew about Sheogorath, of course. His parents had taught him a few useful things before they’d died. What he didn’t understand was why Sheogorath now had the blue-gray skin, sharp nose, and wavy dark hair of his erstwhile employer and guardian, Sacha Llervu.

“What’s that look for?” the god of madness demanded, eyeing Ben’s dropped jaw and wide eyes. “Oh, right, the butterflies. Bit of a different mode of transport for me, but it’s good fun. Now, come on, don’t tell me you don’t recognize me when I’m dressed well for once.”

The notion that Miss Llervu somehow was Sheogorath was impossible to consider, so Ben didn’t consider it. “You’re lying. You stole Miss Llervu’s face, somehow, and you’re trying to make me lose my mind. It won’t work.” Unless it already has. 

“I get it, you’re confused. Trust me, so was I. But I’m not trying to trick you, Ben–I wouldn’t do that. It’s me. Good old Sacha, in the flesh.” She looked at one slim gray hand and grimaced. “Kind of.”

Ben folded his arms stubbornly. “Fine, then. Tell me something only Miss Llervu would know.” It was a stupid question–Sheogorath could undoubtedly look into his mind and dig out a memory–but he couldn’t think of a better test.

To his surprise, Sacha’s face softened. “You used to draw pictures for Agronak, before he died,” she said quietly. “They weren’t masterpieces, but he loved them. Used to hang ‘em up around the Bloodworks, and Owyn was always peeved about it, but didn’t feel like he could argue with the Grand Champion. Good times.”

Tears rushed into Ben’s eyes before he could stop them. “It’s you,” he choked out. “I believe you, but…why are you like this? Why are you a… a…”

“Daedra? That’s a long story,” said Sacha. “Here’s the gist: I did a favor for the old Sheogorath, and he decided to retire to the realm of Order and passed the job to me. I won’t say it was an easy adjustment, but here we are.”

“So that’s what you’ve been doing, this entire time? I don’t understand, Miss Llervu.” Ben scrubbed furiously at his damp eyes. “You were a famous knight, a hero, and then you just disappeared. There were all sorts of horrible rumors–people said you’d become a thief, a murderer. Even that you had joined the Dark Brotherhood. Then nothing. People thought you’d died. I just…I don’t understand why you didn’t come back.”

“I didn’t come back because I couldn’t, lad,” Sacha said quietly. “Those rumors you heard…most of them were true. I thought if I did the Nine a favor, they’d bring Marty back, but they didn’t. So I went down a dark path. You wouldn’t have wanted to be around me.”

I always want to be around you, he thought. You’re the only family I have. He didn’t say it aloud–some things you just couldn’t say to Sheogorath.

“But listen, Benny boy, I didn’t just come here to apologize,” said Sacha. “I came to offer you a job.”

Ben frowned. “Didn’t you already give me a job?”

“A better job, ya dumpling. Actually, less of a job, more of a title. How would you feel about being a duke?”

“A…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence, the notion was so absurd. “Of what?”

“Of Mania, naturally. Prettiest part of the Isles, if you like excessive sunshine and rude women. Our old Duke–he was another Bosmer, incidentally–defected when the Greymarch got a little too interesting for his taste, and long story short, he’s dead now. So I thought to myself, who better to take over than my loyal ward Ben?”

“You’re joking.” Ben searched her face, frowning. “Aren’t you?”

“Serious as the grave, duckie. ‘Course, you’d have to move to the Isles, but it comes with a flash new mansion and a good chef and a whole host of interesting neighbors.” Her smile faded slightly. “It’ll be hard to come back here often, you understand, but I’ll try my best to make it happen. You could live a good long life in the Isles, and as for me–well, I’ve got used to having you around, it seems. You’re a good lad.”

Ben hesitated, thinking. The notion that he of all people should become a Duke of Oblivion was…well, it was madness. 

Then again, what did he have in Cyrodiil? A big empty house. Few friends, no family. Living vicariously through brave gladiators going to their deaths in the Arena. He would never be offered an opportunity like this again, least of all from the only adult who gave a damn about him.

“Well, Miss Llervu, if you’re offering me a job, I guess I’d better accept,” he said. It was difficult not to squeal, but he managed it. “Shall I get packing?”

“Not much need, unless you’ve got a few sentimental things to take. We’ve got Oblivion’s finest tailors in New Sheoth, and a good smith besides.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “By the way, with all this going on, I reckon you’d better stop calling me Miss Llervu.”

Of course, she wasn’t Miss Llervu anymore, not really. She was so much more now. Ben allowed himself to mourn for a moment before speaking. “Very well, ma’am. What should I call you?”

“Dunno,” said Sacha vaguely. “How about Mum?”

#tes #my writing #oblivion #oc: sacha #adoring fan #sheogorath

[tocomplainfriend]

saw your thread on valentino and am curious how you would have written him instead (sorry if you have already answered this). Make his abusive actions more subtle? Take more time in establishing his relationship to the other v's so we see that he wears different masks? I wont get into it, but ive been through stuff in the past and i personally am conflicted on how I would (re)write the val character. The problems outside of the show are a different animal entirely (with twitter/the storyboard person), I'm just talking like in the show itself.

He does seem completely different from Episode 4 to Episode 6 (in the cases he is talking with Angel) so there must be something off with his consistency.

I guess for me Im trying to identify what the major mistakes are (of his charcter) and how the show could have handled them better. I doubt there's a consensus since we all experience it differently, but it's a very interesting topic.

Sorry for taking so long!

TW: RAPE/SA/ABUSE

God writing him! Could go so many ways (sorry for bad English btw)

A really basic idea! :

I personally would've taken the manipulative asshole at once. I think it is important to tell audiences going through something in the past, present, or future, how manipulation happens. Instead of taking, he is too stupid to do so. Many people that are or had being manipulated question themselves about this treatment so much. People don't need to be mastermind to be like this

I think of having the opportunity of having Angel's perspective vs Charlie! I hated they wrote Charlie as knowing what happen but never did anything? I think of having Angel by that point in the relationship where he is coming back to Val even if he constantly realizes how awful he is. Many people constantly judge the position (usually woman) coming back to an awful ex. Even r-pe victims can go thought this and face so much judgment cause people don't understand your actual state of mind nor your situation. Coming back to an abusive person never deletes their abuse. But when Charlie comes in, she meets someone who acts so nice and charming, specially to her being a princess. Which others in hell don't seem to do- thinking Angel is in good hands, making Angel feel more trapped.

Also, coming to Angel, I deal with Hypersexuality due to being a victim as well-. I believe is a really gross way of showing it. Hypersexuality doesn't equal saying cum all the time and sexually harassing others, it's a lot of unwanted thought, guilt, and feeling gross at your self. It is not something to double down on, it's something you shouldn't feel like it's your fault- indulging, without help, makes it worse for you.

Obcioulsy more than just that. Like Val making Angel feel like is worth comes from being under him, feeling like there is nowhere else to go. But again some small stuff, there are many others who their main thing is writing, many better people to ask!

Really basic, really. I'm not going to spend the little writing skills I have on this, sorry! But it was a nice ask anon!

Just a really basic idea.

There are many better writers than me out there! Search for their stuff! I mainly just like complaining than rewriting! I also recommend real stories like biographys of victims of abuse themselves if you want to read some real stuff.

Ty, for being so respectful!

#vivziepop critical #helluva boss critical #vivziepop critique