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derelictlovefool · 28 days

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❝🇪🇲🇪🇷🇬🇪🇳🇨🇪-⦂❝

— 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝.

Notes: Don't forget part one and part two! Reader and Wade suck at communicating some more, Peter's a good pal and you should remember to never walk past dark alleyways at night kids, especially when your recent ex is a merc!

Warning/s: Canon Typical violence, kidnapping, graphic depictions of violence, unhealthy relationships, toxic behaviour, angst, references to alcohol consumption & sexually explicit activities, explicit language

Words: 3k

The act of finishing a favourite hot beverage had never been so difficult, so tense and unendurable. You and Wade had sat in stuffy silence, neither giving in and or walking away; the only two ways to push the painful interaction forward. You had so much you wanted to say but no words would come out, your leg bounced under the table and you'd locked your arms over each other. You were trying with all your might to block him out, physically and mentally, but it would never work with him right across from you. You inhaled deeply and exhaled just as roughly, Wade's own movements Mimicking yours as he adjusted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Look at us," he finally muttered, "This is sadder than the shitty apartment in that game they made about me." He sighed and you felt like tossing your empty mug at his head for the reference you couldn't conjure in your mind, no one in this universe was making games in honour of Deadpool—or Wade Wilson. No one was making anything his face or name anywhere near it. He was right that it was fucking sad though, you wouldn't argue with that.

"Whose fault is that?" You couldn’t help but be snippy, indignation heavy in your tone, your back restlessly hitting the back of the booth that started to feel more suffocating as the seconds ticked by. You wanted to be anywhere else, you wanted to turn back time and be sitting in this booth with Wade making jokes about the cafe decor and not remarking on your crumbling relationship.

"I blame Daniel Way and Damon Wilson-Hart personally—"

You shot him a pointed look and he cut himself off, the mirage of humour and escaping this reality joining the hot cocoa in his stomach acid as he all but deflated before you.

"How many times do I gotta say sorry?" His shoulders slumped and he held his hands up in question, he'd never sounded so lost. And there were plenty of times when he had been, maybe in even more dire and important ways than this. One's where you weren't involved.

"I don't know Wade, I've never had that big of a shitshow breakup before and I can't just snap my fingers and get over it." You snapped your fingers to emphasise your point, "I wish I could just forgive you and have nothing but happy, bubbly feelings for you again but that's not how the real world works." You unfold your arms, spreading them out across the table and you seem him almost reach out to grab one of your hands when you do; you weren't sure if you would have recoiled, or if you would have grabbed him back tight enough to leave a bruise—so you're relieved when he doesn't.

It would just make it harder.

"What do we do now then? I'm no good at grovelling, I'm much better at shovelling and shooting, neither of those apply here—or do they?"

"If I were to start somewhere Wade I'd figure out how you're gonna tell me what happened, with all the gritty details, " you ignored his latter question, "and maybe while you're at it some therapy would do you some good." You hated how harsh you sounded but you needed to say it, it's not like you were asking too much—Well the therapy might have been a step too far for Wade but you stood by it. No matter how much you praised the work your therapist had done while helping you Wade never got more than a hundred feet within a practice or office.

It was like he was allergic to the mere concept of therapy and getting help.

"And what about you?"

"I have an appointment with my therapist and i'm gonna bitch and moan about you, wait for them to fix me and tell me what to do so I can argue with them for ten minutes… And end up doing the opposite." You rolled your eyes, expecting a scoff or some kind of dig, that seemed to be what you were both good at right now. But what you got was almost worse.

"So there's still hope… For us?" His words left a heavy feeling hanging over you and you suddenly found your fingernails very interesting. Caught off guard and forced to deal with yourself rather than him had you shfiting in your seat. You wanted to say yes, of course, there was never no hope for you. No matter how many scenarios you played in your head none of them had you walking away from the merc, it just wasn't something you were capable of. Your therapist would be extremely disappointed but despite all you'd told them no one really understood you and Wade, and no one ever really would.

Even when it felt like you were worlds apart it was you two against everybody else.

You envisioned the both of you back to back, tied by that silly red string pulled tight enough to draw blood, your skin on Wade's and the both of you unable to move lest the cord pull tighter and choose to free you both of your heads and hearts. The more you thought about it the more you got to realise how much you'd let yourself need Wade and how your therapist had some credibility when they tossed the co-dependency thing around. You wished you’d never heard the word and kept living in blissful ignorance but it was too late for that, you and Wade were all kinds of messed up and this whole situation was proving a myriad of things you didn’t want to think about.

"I hope so." You whispered, the sentiment genuine as it tumbles from your lips. You wanted to stop being angry. you wanted to stop your chest from aching anytime you glanced at him and got flooded by the memories of the last two years—and that fucking breakup. God you wanted to forget about it and tuck it away into the memories that gave you hives box and never think about it again. Depending on someone wasn't a crime and you knew Wade felt the same, even if it was for different reasons. That day had apparently sucked for both of you but you dared to say you got the shorter end of the stick.

Your phone buzzed, Wade stared you down from across the table.

You picked it up and despite the notification being nothing more than a reminder for your appointment the next day you stood and stuffed it away in your pocket. You couldn’t deal with this right now, the angry arguments you could handle but the raw, open vulnerability was too much—at least for a cafe. Maybe if you were back in your apartment you’d feel more inclined to sit in it and talk. Actually talk. But you weren’t at your apartment.

"I gotta go, I'll… See you around Wade." It felt weird to walk past him without squeezing his shoulder or pressing a kiss to the leather of his suit; all of this felt wrong and you wanted to try all over again. Maybe you should have just stayed home, actually. Wade grabbed your wrist and you took a moment to steel yourself before looking down at him, his expression hidden by that red fabric and blank white eyes set into the black coverings.

"Tomorrow night. I'll see you." It was a firm declaration and it had you wondering all sorts of things but you were too tired to argue. You nodded and his hand lingered over yours as he slowly let you go. It felt nice, for a brief moment, to have your hand in his; the warmth of his palm and gentle touch of his fingertips. But it slipped away and you walked out, holding your head high as you forced yourself to head down the street. You found yourself at another park across the city, sitting on a bench and scrolling through your contacts as you thought about how to distract yourself.

Normally you loved the weekend—Normally you had Wade or friends to hang out with.

But as you looked at the names of your buddies you couldn't think of one that wouldn't give you another 'I told you so' lecture about Wade and you really didn't need that right now. You needed to think about literally anything else at that moment—or be supported in some other, less Wade-hating way.

You jumped as your phone rang and you stared at the photo on your screen for a second before you picked up the call.

"Hi Pete." You greeted, brows furrowed as the sound of wind gushing past the receiver met your ears.

"Spidey senses were tingling, you okay?" He asked, voice muffled by his mask, and you can't help but laugh. No, you were so far from okay, and Peter was not one of the people who'd keep his mouth shut about Wade. He hated him, or at the very least had an extreme dislike for him—even when you were dating, he didn't keep his disdain about it to himself. You got that's what friends were for in so many cases, but sometimes it really pissed you off, and you weren't sure you could handle any of that right now.

"I'm fine," a long pause, "Okay no, I feel like shit but I really, really, don't want to talk about it." You muttered, chewing on your bottom lip as you glanced around the park. People walked by like usual, none of their world's were crumbling at the seams because their boyfriend broke up with them—they were happy, or, happier than you. The wind died down on the other side of your phone, and you jumped as the bench bounced with the weight of someone leaping onto the wood beside you.

You turned to the side, Peter crouching beside you, fully suited up and phone now tucked safely away. You let yours fall to your lap as Spiderman now squinted at you, scrutinising the eye bags and red eyes as you stared back at him hoping he didn't say the one name you don't wanna hear from him.

"Hello totally-random-sad-bench-citizen whom I don’t know, you look like you need pizza and a joyride." You were pleasantly surprised when he held his hands out to you. People were whispering around you again, but this time, it was all directed at the superhero beside you. You stood, took his hand and let him help you to your feet, jumping on his back in what you both liked to call 'backpack buddy mode'. Within a second you were flying through the crisp air, you gasped, always in awe no matter how many times you'd done this. The feeling of flying through the air, far away from all your issues, was like nothing else. It was freeing.

You clung to Peter's shoulders and tried to get a good look at the city streets below, where everything looked like ants, and you felt like a God watching the world go by. If only you could stay up here with the birds, never touch the ground or have to focus on your problems like a grown adult.

Apparently and thankfully, Peter had already ordered pizza, and when you arrived at the rooftop of one of the taller apartment complexes in the city, there was a pizza box and cans of soda waiting. You wondered if he’d spotted you on your walk earlier, it would be too far-fetched to guess he saw you run into Wade and head to the cafe. You would be surprised if that were the case, seeing as he’d been like your small, chihuahua sized guard dog hellbent on keeping Wade away from you as you dealt with everything. Maybe he had realised what your therapist had already known or a year.

Wade was your problem and your solution all wrapped up in one messy little bow. You couldn’t get past this without him.

"I don't want a heart to heart over pizza and soda, just so you know." He set you down safely on the brick and shrugged in reply, walking over to the ledge to sit down.

"Duly noted, you want me to hear about my day then?" He clapped his hands together, and you smiled, nodding in genuine eagerness—hearing about someone else for a while might just do the trick of getting you out of your own head. And damn did you need out of it for a second.

"Okay, good, because you're not gonna believe what these bank robbers did this morning, these guys really get their routines from looney tunes or something." And so he began, pushing his mask up to his nose so he could 'chow and pow', the term you coined for talking shit and stuffing your face while you were at it. Very unattractive but inevitable when you were eating and deep into your rant.

Peter waved his arms about as he regaled the stupidity of a group of bank robbers and then the old lady who nearly got him hit by a bus, it was nice to lose yourself to his day for a while. You even laughed, a full, belly-aching laugh with snorts and all. You stayed on the roof until the sun began to set, and you ended laying on your back, legs dangling over the ledge as you and Peter fell into a comfortable silence. Staring at the clouds carving their snail pace across the sky and the shifting hues of the sky beyond them.

The pizza box and soda cans were empty, and for a moment, so was your mind. You could close your eyes, and everything was totally blank. Just a serene nothing as you listened to the faded sounds of the city and your own breathing.

"I know you don't want to talk about it."

Fuck. There it was. You cringed, squeezing your eyes shut as you readied yourself for whatever he was about to say.

"I'm here if you need me, I think I said all I wanted to say…" He trailed off and you recalled Peter arriving in your apartment the night of the breakup, his anger had almost rivalled your own anguish and he had definitely had plenty of choice things to say about… About Wade. About your relationship too, but mostly Wade.

"Breakups suck, and if you need another joyride and pizza hour with your friendly neighbourhood… With your friend, I'm here." Peter knocked your knuckles together, and you felt yourself relax, appreciative of where that had gone. Far from what you'd been expecting. You rolled your head to the side and shot him a smile, matching his own as you returned the weak fist bump.

"Thanks Pete,"

"Anytime… You need a ride home? Free of charge." You grinned as you pulled yourself up and he followed suit.

"Nah, can you drop me off at Faun Street? I think I need to walk in thoughtful silence for a bit." You mused, there was a lot you needed to get in order in your own head before you faced Wade again. You needed to decide whether you were gonna accept whatever he said and maybe try to work things out or put your foot down and decide… That it was maybe time you two were just friends again. Even though the thought alone made your stomach turn over itself uncomfortably.

"Yeah, okay, I get it." And with that, you were off, having the short and fun ride of binning your trash mid-air and being dropped off right across from the café you and Wade had sat in earlier today. You hugged Peter goodbye, and after he vanished around a corner, you rolled your shoulders and turned on your heel—headed toward the park that eventually would lead you back home.

You had to evaluate some things, like how much you could be okay with Wade's reasoning for the spectacle he made of your breakup. You think you'd need a while to get over how public and angry it was, he didn't need to be that cruel about it—no matter what. The thought he was trying to protect you in his own twisted way did make sense, but it didn't make it hurt any less. You weren't sure there was anyone for you after Wade, no one could full the shape of him in your heart, you doubted anyone would want to. So even if it had gone smoother, even if it had been cordial and he had gotten stuck forever in a black hole; you would have been more likely to steal a spaceship and save him yourself. Somehow.

You'd managed to find him in wieder places before. If he had more faith in you, let you into that side of his world more openly, then it wouldn't have been a problem in the first place. Maybe that was it, you had to break down that wall between Deadpool and Wade Winston Wilson, the division he put up to keep you away from the blood and guts of his operation—literally and figuratively Maybe then he could be more honest, still a dick but one that wouldn't break up with you on the basis of not being able to tell you the truth.

You sighed, running a hand over your face as you crossed onto the street and past an alleyway, poor timing on obscuring your vision there you'd admit later. Especially as multiple hands shot out and took hold of you all at once—your side hit the ground and your body scraped across the concrete harshly, your skin burned and the air escaped your lungs before you could make any type of distinguishable noise. You barely got a glance at the shadowy figures around you before a heavy force hit the back of your head, blacking out your vision and leaving you limp and unconscious.

End notes: Hope you enjoyed this part, let know know what you thought about it! The next part’s gonna be tons of fun! :)

#deadpool x reader #wade wilson x reader #marvel x reader #Deadpool Tag #Marvel Tag #GN!Reader Tag #Miniseries Tag #shoutout to ppl who have commented i love talking about this fucked up lil guy w y'all #Ouroboros Tag

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skzstoryvault · 5 months

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If I Was Your Vampire (Hyunjin smut)

F!Reader x Hyunjin

Hyunjin has a biting kink, enmeshment, intensely felt and probably unhealthy emotions, Hyunjin is a romantic and a pervert, body fluids, shared horniness

This is in no way meant as a commentary on the real person Hyunjin. The persona he projects for us to enjoy is just so enticing and invites naughty fantasies.

The "you" used here is not generic, I'm using it to allow myself some immersion on later re-reads. I know that's selfish but isn't all the writing advice telling us to write what we want to read? If you still find something in here to like, all the better - I hope you enjoy it and have a good time.

Please be kind, this is my first story.

Please do not report this post. If it's not your thing, just scroll away.

If you're underage, please scroll on, there is nothing for you here.

Your beautiful, ethereal mate likes to bite. Sometimes you’re left alone with the doubt that he’s truly human, and in time, the doubt only grows.

A regular man would never be so smitten with you. With YOU - of all women. And never would he show it in such over the top ways.

His kisses turn to bites - soft ones, with plush lips wrapped over the sharpness of teeth, and then he cannot resist taking more. You give him everything, in every way he wants it. He is exquisite and mysterious like a work of art, and he’s in love with you. He prostrates himself before you, above you, between your thighs, leaving no nook or recess of your body unexplored. His love consumes you; he gnaws at your flesh, your skin, your bones like sacraments that can’t even begin to quench his fervour. He will have you sitting close by him when he paints, reaching for your hand and nipping at your fingertips even as he still focuses on his canvas. It often goes unfinished and ignored, as soon as Hyunjin gets a taste of your skin. Then his hunger surfaces and takes control, bringing him closer, making him zero in on you, long, deft fingers travelling across your skin, pulling you to where his lips, his tongue, his teeth can mark you to his heart’s contentment. It’s never enough for him - never with you. He lays you down on the plastic foil he spreads out on the floor to protect it from paint splatter; he spreads you open and makes room for himself inside you, a wounded animal-like growl escaping his lips when he bottoms out. “Trapped, my love,” he whines, and most of the time you’re not sure if he’s even being dramatic. The way his mouth stays on you, biting at your collarbones, the curves of your ribs poking through your skin in your arched position, the thin tissue of your nipples, which sends purified pleasure to your brain after panic, pain and pleasure mix at first - it’s like a drug, making you pliant and amenable to his needs. “So tight, it almost hurts. One day your hungry pussy will swallow my cock whole and not give it back. Unless I fuck it well and please it just enough to gain its mercy.” He whispers around a nipple, tongue circling it before he sucks it sharply. Your breasts are always full of bruises, small bite marks on the flesh and wine coloured blooms on your nipples from where Hyunjin brings the blood right beneath the surface of the thin skin. It is a view he gets off on so quickly.

“Am I fucking you good enough, my goddes?” He pleads. “Tell me, tell me what you desire.” He’s mad, but he’s pulled you into his madness, which is a much happier, more colourful world than your day-to-day. He tries to last, like every time, but then you take from him what you need, one hand buried in his hair, at the back of his head, the other squeezing a glute with splayed out, claw-like fingers.

“Hyune, let go, come with me,” you coax, knowing your peak is just around the corner. You’re drenched in his sweat and he’s no longer holding himself up, just his hips moving against you, his weight crushing you beneath him and bringing him impossibly deeper inside you. He doesn’t even have to think of touching your clit, not that he could with how close he welded his body to yours.

“F-fuck, I-I-I’m there, fu- ah, ah, come with me.” He pants out, incoherent and lost, blindly searching for one of your hands to twine your fingers with his. One more inhale, and the air filling your chest is the final push you need to fall apart too. “So tight, too tight, fuck-” Hyunjin whispers, almost sobbing the words out even as he empties himself in your depths. “My soul has left me.” You wrap your arms around him and pull him down, aligning his mouth with yours for a calming kiss, needing his mind to return and retake its seat in his body so that he can be back to his senses and in the world. It’s almost unsettling how much he lets fucking you rattle his entire being. But it’s been like this from the start, every act of intimacy to Hyunjin is of cosmic proportions. He sees himself like a monster man, a crazy, needy man who, like Prometheus, came to steal that which the gods keep for themselves and take for granted. It makes for mind-erasing, night-long sex and orgasms that rattle you both out of your hinges.

Every time, you’re both left having to return with baby steps to being human and your everyday, civilised form. Once the oxytocin tide Hyunjin has you drowning in recedes a bit, you become aware of the many spots of pain on your front, from your jaw to your pussy, and Hyunjin lazily takes a photo of the wine-coloured marks blooming right below your skin surface. He himself is filled with smudged paints, a cobalt blue streak on his forearm, some yellow on his hip, red on his shoulder, white smeared down the centre of his chest. His hair is a mess and he’s dripping with now cooling sweat.

“Does it hurt really badly, my love?” he asks, now subdued and repentant.

“No, just a little in many places. Enough to make me feel like I have you with me everywhere I go.” “I never want to hurt you, but… I get carried away, I can’t get enough of you.” “You never hurt me, Hyune. You never have to feel guilty for the pain you bring, because it only serves as a catalyst for more pleasure.”

“Good.” Hyunjin says, looking at the ceiling, having finally settled next to you, chest still heaving. “You are the only human I will ever be this close to. So I want to make sure I take you to see God every time I’m inside you, because you do that to me every time without fail. My beating heart.” You turn towards him, propping yourself up to lean over and kiss him.

One of his hands snakes its way down to your slit, fingers dipping between the lips.

“Fuck, you’re so wet and sticky.” Hyunjin gasps at his finding. “I best do something about that.”

#hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #skz hyunjin #fic #if I was your vampire #f!reader #hyunjin smut #self-indulgent

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harmonictechnicality · 1 year

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model!steve and voice actor!Eddie (part 3)

part 1 here | part 2 here | ao3 link here | the temp is up on this one so like... dni if under 18 pls

Eddie is a superstitious person, always has been. Avoids cracks in the sidewalk, refuses to walk under ladders. Says ‘bless you’ despite his lack of goddamn faith (well… scratch the god, keep the damn). That’s why, when Eddie wakes up at 11:11 that morning, he takes it as a sign. A good one too.

Okay yeah, it’s a little gross that he didn’t wake up until now. But he spent most of the night tossing and turning. A thirstfest visual loop of Steve Harrington jerking it to him. Or just his voice. Maybe both, but Eddie would be a conceited fuck if he were to ask for clarity on Steve’s preferred fantasies.

Look, he makes a lot of digs about his appearance because it’s harmless fun. In reality, Eddie is aware that he’s not an un-attractive person. Could he put a little more effort into his skincare routine so that it doesn’t peel off of him anytime he’s in direct sunlight? Sure. But his features are decent enough to get him matches on that dating app he used for exactly four days before deleting.

Steve, though… Steve is something conjured up by a young adult novelist - creating the dreamiest boytoy for the angsty yet endearing protagonist. Steve is that. He’s something from a fictional world of hotness. And somehow, he exists beyond coffee-stained manuscripts and bestseller lists.

He’s real. And Eddie Munson has a fucking date with him in exactly eight hours.

Holy shit.

It takes two hours for Eddie to decide on an outfit. He facetimes his audio engineer/closest friend after the first hour, because his room is starting to look like an M. Night Shyamalan adaptation of Grey Gardens.

“Show me the jean options again.” Chrissy’s tone is all business, staring intently on the other side of the phone screen.

They met at an escape room right outside of the city. After setting a record-breaking time at that location, they got to chatting and quickly discovered they were both in the audio production business.

Each of them lives the freelance lifestyle now. Highly ideal for their competitive escape room fixation.

Eddie holds up the three pairs of jeans. One pair is his favorite, well-worn and loose around his thighs, just how he likes them. The other two, are pairs that Chrissy bought for him last Christmas.

Lets just say… he only wears those when she’s offering to pay for dinner on their weekly hangouts.

She hums for a while, twisting her mouth side to side before speaking again. “The dark blue with the gray crew neck. Final answer.”

“These?” Eddie holds the skinny jeans up to his hip bones. He tugs on the waistband to show how very little movement will be possible in these pants. “My dick cannot breathe in these, Chris. It’s like you want me to embarrass myself on this date.”

“I’m doing you a favor.” She shrugs, concealing a smirk behind her water bottle as she takes a sip. “Those pants are so snug, he’ll have no choice but to get you out of them as soon as possible.”

“Are you insinuating that I put out on the first date?

“Absolutely not.”

“Good.”

“I’m insinuating you put it in on the first date.”

“How dare you.” Eddie points at his phone screen. Sucks in his laughter because yeah. Props. That was a good one. He can’t admit that though because no part of him wants to wear these boa constrictor jeans.

“You were just telling me how you fucked him with your words last night.”

“Fair. But I also explained that I was clearly possessed by the spirit of Blanche Devereaux.” Eddie slips out of his lounge tee, pulls over the one Chrissy picked out for him instead. “I swear, that woman had quite the knack for dirty lingo.”

Chrissy rolls her eyes and gives Eddie a halfhearted salute. “And that’s my exit cue.”

“What? Why?”

“Because anytime you bring up Golden Girls, we start arguing over who would play them in the gender-swapped remake.”

Wrong. Totally false. There’s absolutely no argument to be had. Eddie knows exactly who he’d cast right off the top of his head. Joe Pesci, Michael Caine…

Chrissy must see the gears turning in Eddie’s head because she hangs up before he can launch into his well-rehearsed presentation. Which isn’t a joke, he has a PowerPoint on this particular topic (with cited sources and fancy transitions).

Eddie does one last glance in the mirror before heading out. The pants make his waist look slender, nice. His skin is being squeezed in too many areas, but that’s kind of the point. At least the shirt is loose, albeit a little short. Reveals a patch of his lower tattoos every time he lifts his shoulders.

Okay damn, Chrissy probably knew that too. Maybe she’s the one possessed by the horny spirit of Blanche Devereaux.

Spiritual possession or not, Eddie ruffles out his bangs one last time. Heads out feeling much more confident than he did after his initial interaction with Steve Harrington.

Eddie agrees to pick Steve up at his last photoshoot of the day. It’s close to his side of town, which means he doesn’t have to fight his way through LA traffic.

A good sign sent from his lucky wake-up time, no doubt.

He doesn’t expect the photoshoot to be at an amphitheater, but it is. A small one, probably only used for local productions. There’re cameras lining the outer rim of the stage, shuttering and flashing like headlights on a highway. Eddie can hear the director and photographers spewing directions from his car. There’s an audience of producers and crew members, seems like a big fucking deal by the looks of it.

The set is, well, breathtaking - way better than that knockoff fantasy shit from the cologne ad. It’s full of greenery. Trees swaying with the breeze and ivy carpeting the stage floor. A forest that’s almost too beautiful to be synthetic. Eddie wonders if any of the plants are real or if the props department was just that damn good at finding fake ones.

After a few minutes, he checks the time. The shoot is running long. No biggie - Eddie is enjoying the view anyways. Especially, when he finally spots Steve. The view is exceptionally priceless now.

Steve perched on top of a tree trunk, feeding some other model grapes. The dark and stupidly jealous part of Eddie hopes they choke on those grapes.

His costume almost blends in with the backdrop, dark hues of green. Subtle shades of browns. Perfectly camouflaged by nature. There are vines wrapped around his bare arms, leaves tucked into his tousled hair.

Honestly, he looks a lot like a wood nymph that Eddie would selfishly design for a DnD campaign. Better, actually. Eddie should take notes. Steal the designer's sketches when nobody's looking.

He’s positively itching to get out of his car, get a closer look at Steve in all his botanical glory. But that might come across as too impatient. Or worse, too presumptuous. So Eddie picks one of his lengthier playlists and settles into his seat.

There’s a tap on Eddie’s window, startling him out of his nap. He must’ve dozed off about twenty minutes ago because the last song he remembers listening to was from the mid-90s section of the playlist. Now, they’ve moved into early 2000s territory.

Seriously, math is way easier when music is leading the equation.

Steve is right there, peering in, still tapping incessantly. His eyes are wide, concerned maybe. Which, yeah. Concern makes sense, considering his date is yawning before the date has even started. Fucking yikes.

Eddie rolls down the window, gives Steve a toothy grin as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Heya, FernGully.”

Steve doesn’t acknowledge Eddie’s costuming reference. Probably missed out on that era of cult classic cartoons. “Up late?” He leans against the car and smiles, far more dazzling than the sun setting behind him.

“You would know.”

Oh, and that earns Eddie a wink from Steve. The nun-converting wink he saw months ago and still thinks about.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve reaches into the empty space, pushes the latch down to unlock the front door. “Come on.”

“Uh-”

“I’ve gotta change before we head out.” Steve swings the door open before Eddie can protest. “Unless you want to have dinner with me dressed like this.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

If there were a Renaissance Festival in town or a Medieval Dinner Show still in business, Eddie would definitely trick his way into getting Steve to go dressed like that. But he tucks the idea away for now, walks down the hill with Steve to the amphitheater. Does his best impression of a civilized human.

“So… what are you supposed to be exactly?”

Steve points to the body glitter on his cheeks. “A fairy.”

Yup. A new file of woodland fantasies starring Steve Fairyington have downloaded into Eddie’s mind. If voice acting didn’t pay so well, he could make an impressive career out of his whimsical porn concepts.

So he deflects. Humor is the only solution to keep the conversation PG-rated. “Just because you’re into guys doesn’t mean you’ve gotta use outdated terms like that.”

“You know what I mean.” Steve knocks an elbow into Eddie’s arm. “I’m a literal fairy.”

“Are you implying that literal fairies exist?” Eddie teases.

“No.”

“Seems like it.”

“Jesus, you’re a piece of work.”

“I can tone it down.”

Steve stops walking, places a hand in the center of Eddie’s chest to stop him too. His playful energy fucking warps into something new. Savory and seductive. Bewitching.

“Don’t even think about it.” He answers, slipping his hand down a little, almost between Eddie’s ribs. The motion sends static through Eddie’s core, up his spine. Raises the hairs on his arm and the back of his neck.

It shouldn’t be alarming that Steve’s touch is powerful. Look at him.

Eddie has a hard time focusing on the conversation after that. Luckily, the timing works out for him to get his shit together, as Steve heads into the trailer that's parked next to the stage.

He tells Eddie he can take a closer look at the set that he suddenly can’t seem to shut up about. It really is stunning. The size, the details, the color choices. Eddie is fairly certain this is the closest he’ll ever be to experiencing Endor in real life.

Most of the crew members are gone, a few still packing up equipment while Eddie observes a variety of plants used for decorating the wooden platforms. Learns that some plants are real and some are fake, which is actually genius. The mixture of the two distract from the plastic-y finish on some of the vines.

“This is for a special-edition cover of some Shakespeare script.” Steve says, joining Eddie at his side. His outfit is rather colorful. It checks out that he's one of the few people that can pull off a purposeful athleisure aesthetic (Eddie hates that he knows what that style looks like, ugh). “Hence the fairies and forests and shit.”

“Wait.” A lightbulb goes off in Eddie’s head. “Is this for A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

“That’s the one.”

Eddie does a sharp turn, starts shaking Steve by his shoulders. Absolutely bursting with excitement. “Steve literal fairy Harrington, this is ridiculously cool! Like… the history-making kind of cool!”

“If you say so.” Steve agrees calmly.

“How the hell are you not more jazzed about this?”

“You sound just like my manager.” Steve mumbles. “Truth be told, the only Shakespeare play I’ve ever read is Macbeth.”

Eddie gasps, sucks in enough air to fill an inflatable kiddie pool. “We’re on a stage, you can’t just blurt out the Scottish Play like that.”

This is not good. Horrible, even. Not a damn chance that Eddie can be mellow about this. Superstitious person, believer of traditions, blah blah blah.

And while hiding that piece of his personality should be a simple task, he cannot blatantly ignore such a major fuckup on Steve’s part. No matter how accidental of a fuckup it might have been.

“Okay, what are you talking about?” Steve asks. Still calm.

“It’s bad luck.” Eddie explains. “The closest thing to cursing a theatrical production.”

“Well, good thing this isn’t a theatrical production then.”

And as Steve laughs off the thoughtless joke, a loud thud is heard at the back of the stage.

There it is. A warning of impending doom in the form of a loose stage light, hanging by a few loose wires.

Almost everyone is gone, only two crew members remain on the sidelines. One of them gets on their walkie talkie, mumbles something about a safety hazard incident.

Pfft, not just an incident. A fucking threat from the ghost of theater, that’s what it is.

“See?” Eddie waves both arms at the light structure swinging upstage. “You’ve pissed off Thespis with your loose lips.”

“Who?”

“Oh my god, you’re so-”

A high-pitched scream cries out from a nearby street. Both Steve and Eddie jump at the sound. It’s a long, frightening scream. Something straight out of a slasher film, which is a likely possibility, for sure. Things are filmed out on the streets of Los Angeles quite a bit.

But the fear ringing out from this particular scream sounds real. Gritty and hoarse.

Fucking terrifying.

Once the screaming stops, no sign of returning, they share a look. It’s not an ‘I’m gonna jump your bones’ look either. It’s awkward. A fine line between guilt and ‘I told you so.’

“That was just a coincidence.” Steve waves off the scream like it’s just a daily occurrence. Nothing out of the ordinary. “Curses aren’t real.”

Eddie doesn’t want to shout ‘you’re wrong’ from his metaphorical megaphone. Not on a first date, at least. Outright dogmatic behavior shouldn’t come into play until like… the end of the third date.

All he can do is shrug, swallow back the urge to correct this beautiful person standing beside him.

He’s so rigid now, almost timid from the lingering anxiety that more freaky shit is about to happen.

“Come here.” Steve motions his head to the side, peering softly at Eddie’s expression. His shoulders are relaxed, arms reaching out for Eddie to follow. Join him.

Which he does. Can’t help it. Fully dazed by Steve’s patience, legs moving without a chance to reconsider.

“Wanna get out of here?” Steve thumbs over Eddie’s cheek, skims his nail against the scratchy bits of stubble along Eddie’s jaw. His movements are slow, precise. Only a smidge of pity in his smile.

Yup. That’s what this must be - Steve probably thinks Eddie is being dramatic. Must assume he can smooth over Eddie’s knotted nerves by just touching him. Tracing hypnotic patterns over his skin.

Eddie is mildly irritated that it’s working. If he can’t find the strength to look away from Steve’s sunny-tinted eyes soon, he’ll float away. Slip through the air as particles. Dust. Nothing but his slutty wishes will remain.

“Not yet.” Eddie gulps.

“No?”

He can’t in good conscience let this theater stay plagued by Steve’s words. This place is on verge of being the location for a Final Destination sequel.

So Eddie removes Steve's hand from his face, squeezes once before returning it back to Steve’s side. “Gotta reverse the fuck out this bad omen first.”

“There’s no such thing as-”

“Don’t.” He pleads. “Put my superstitious mind at ease. Can you do that for me?”

Steve at least has the decency to look away while he rolls his eyes. Pretty and considerate. “Fine. How do I break the curse?”

Eddie has spent enough time in theaters to know there’s a few variations on this process. Changes from director to director. The most common one is going outside and spinning in a circle three times, then knocking on the door till someone lets you back inside.

But that’s where the problem comes in. They’re already outside and there’s no door to knock on, while pleading for forgiveness.

Hmm…

It’s a good thing Eddie remembers a few adjustments to the protocol. It’s an even better thing that he was captain of his improv troupe for three years back in college. Thinking of solutions on the spur of the moment? Adapting for the sake of the scene? Eddie lives for that shit. Comedy fucking chameleon, that’s him.

And what’s better than all of that? His leftover luck from waking up at 11:11am.

Guess it pays off to be a superstitious person. Sometimes.

Eddie clears his throat, delivers the instructions with a southern drawl. Fucks around with it because he can. “So first, you have to walk around the theater three times.”

“Okay.”

“Backwards.” That’s definitely not part of the procedure, but oh well. Steve doesn’t have to know that.

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, fuck that.”

“Sorry. I don’t make the rules, gorgeous.”

Except he does make the rules. Currently having way too much fun watching Steve squirm at the stupidity of it all. He’s quickly learning how easy it is to push Steve’s buttons. That shouldn’t be so thrilling for him but whoops. It is.

“Whatever.” Steve kicks a piece of gravel off the stage and sighs. “Then what?”

So he wants more? Eddie can do that. “You have spit on the ground to show your remorse.”

“This is a bunch of shit.”

“I said spit, not shit.” Eddie leans into Steve’s ear, uses his studio voice, watches as Steve turns pink all over. He lowers the volume down to a whisper. “Try to keep up.”

“Asshole.” But there’s a grin plastered all over Steve’s face as he grumbles. Eddie’s chest is fizzing, total carbonated joy inside him knowing that Steve is a vicious little monster, just like him.

He shoos Steve off to complete the reversal process. Sits on the edge of the stage, legs dangling over the rim, fingers fidgeting with a thread on his jeans.

He’s so smug, watching the prettiest boy on the planet become the grumpiest goofball. Steve might look like an angel, but he has the aura of a full-bred Pomeranian left in the rain.

“I’m making a new rule!” Steve shouts from the back of the theater.

“How ambitious of you!”

Eddie swears he can hear Steve growling in response, which fuck, that shouldn’t be such an adorably hot combo. But Eddie pictures the curve of Steve’s upper lip as he snarls and the zigzag of his arched eyebrows, and that’s exactly what it is. Hot. Adorable. Sensational.

Steve Harrington is a game of Mad Libs. Every adjective, every word that invokes head rushes and heart flutters, they’re all about him.

“As I was saying before you rudely mocked me,” Steve is in Eddie’s peripherals now, still stepping backwards. Toe to heel, hands loosely in his pants pockets. Not fair that he can make walking backwards look slick and cool. The nerve, the gall. “My new rule is that I get to ask you a question each time I get to the front.”

Eddie pulls one knee up to his chest, lets his chin rest over top of it. “Well then... ask away, o’ cursed one.”

Steve stops at the front of the stage. He doesn’t turn all the way around or start walking forward again. He turns just enough to look at Eddie. Focusing on him.

The sudden attention to Eddie’s face gets him all stuffy. He tries to hide the color that’s surely settled on his cheeks by digging one side of his face into his kneecap. It’s a dopey move. Too bashful, even for him.

“Alright.” Steve says. “How do you know so much about theater?”

An easy question with an easy answer. Relief surges through Eddie. “Most voice actors start out as stage actors. Not always, but a lot of us do. Gotta start somewhere, ya know?”

“Yeah. I know.” Steve nods, and continues with his second lap.

Once his footsteps are far away enough for Eddie to think properly, it dawns on him - they’re getting to know each other. Like authentic people would do.

Like… an actual date.

Shit, it’s been so long since someone in this artificial fucktown has wanted to know things about Eddie beyond hookups and screenames. A genuine moment was right in front of him, and he almost missed it.

That sobers him up. Eddie shoves away his need to Cause Chaos and accepts the sincerity. Gives it right back to Steve. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How did the modeling gig start?”

“Agents found my instagram again.” Steve replies. “Liked my pictures enough to offer me some shitty jobs to build up my resume. The usual story these days.”

“Right.”

Eddie can’t fathom being that attractive. So attractive that people seek him out.

Different worlds is an understatement. Different realms is more like it.

“Next question.” Steve says, arriving to the front again. “Would you rather visit the beach or the mountains?”

Eddie has to think about that one for a minute. He doesn’t take many vacations, can’t afford to on a single artist’s income.

But he remembers a trip to Colorado that he took as a teenager. Vaguely recalls not appreciating any of the landscapes because he was too busy texting his new girlfriend during the whole damn trip.

“The mountains.” Eddie answers, just as Steve begins to walk again. “The Rockies and I have some… unfinished business, if you will.”

Steve chuckles. “Sounds like there’s a story behind that.”

“Definitely.”

“Maybe I’ll get to hear it sometime.”

“If you want.” Eddie says, beaming at the implication.

Steve’s footsteps stop. “Like I said on the phone, Eddie. Hearing you talk is...” The Earth feels silent. But the tension in Eddie’s ears is audible. “Well… I'm into it, I guess.”

Eddie has to switch knees to ease the thump in his dick. “And is Steve Harrington a mountain man or a beach bum?”

“Depends on the season.”

“Such a diplomatic answer.” Such a vague answer too, Eddie thinks.

“Okay. Last question.” Steve arrives at the front, shorter of breath than he was the first two laps. He hesitates for a second, then takes a couple of steps towards Eddie. “All those tattoos you have… did getting them done hurt?”

“Like a bitch.” Eddie bunches up his shirt to show off the sleeve of ink he has on his left arm. Took years for it to look this intricate. This complete. He’ll never get tired of staring at it. “Why? Itching to get one or something?”

“Nah. Never got the appeal of putting yourself through hours of pain or whatever.”

“It’s all about the art. The memories. The stories.” Eddie stretches out his bent knee. Lets it drop back down, relaxing into his explanation. “All of those things stitched into designs that I get to admire every damn day for the rest of my life.”

“Art, huh?” Steve takes a few steps closer, close enough to touch.

“What can I say?” Eddie is shamelessly studying the specks in Steve’s eyes. How all the colors blend and separate the closer he gets. Can hear himself grinning as he speaks. “I’m a big fan of gazing at pretty things.”

He’s so tempted to reach out, pull Steve in. Have him straddle his waist while they taste each other for hours.

But he’s still mooning over those eyes - the ones that deserve myths and legends to be told about them for ages. Centuries. Whichever is longer.

“Um.” Steve’s voice snaps Eddie out of his spell. “So… spit?”

“Sorry what?”

“The curse.” Steve says. “I’m supposed to spit on the ground, yeah?”

“Right, yeah. Uh huh.” Eddie rambles, still internally choking on the fact that Steve just said spit to him. In public.

Steve backs away, puts some space between them. He begins making this nasty, gravelly side with his mouth. His jaw sags slightly as he does it, the lump in his throat bobbing the whole time.

Eddie gawks, fully unable to look away while Steve swishes the spit around. Filling one cheek, then the other. He’s getting harder with every noise, every swish.

All at once, Steve forcefully hocks the stream of spit onto the ground. It goes diagonally, lands way closer to Eddie than he was expecting. Gets some goddamn distance, which makes Eddie’s eyes roll back. He’s pretty sure he lets out a wobbly ‘fuck’ at how obscene it all looks.

Steve wanders back over, avoids stepping in the wet mess he made on the ground. He places a hand on Eddie’s knee, works his way up the rough edges of denim.

Eddie’s vision is still spotty from what he just witnessed, so he decides to talk until everything clears up. Steve is into that right? The talking bullshit?

“There’s one more step to complete this.” Eddie watches the blurry outline of Steve’s hand rubbing his thigh, slowly blinking the image into full focus.

“And what’s that?” Steve’s voice is low, eyes fixed on Eddie’s mouth.

“You gotta…” Eddie licks his lip. Places a hand over top of Steve’s. Moving where it moves. Going where it goes. Buys himself some time to get the words straightened out. “You gotta kiss the nearest sewer rat loser.”

“And if I don’t do that?” Steve leans in till their noses touch. “Then what? The curse won’t be broken?”

Eddie nods. Only able to give a thin ‘mhmm’ in reply. He wraps two fingers around Steve’s wrist, the hand that's still trailing heat along his thigh. Needs to press against the pulse there, feel it jump. Spike.

Steve is so quiet. So controlled compared to his pulse. “Can’t have that then, can we?”

His lips part, hovering over Eddie’s mouth. The kiss starts out like that. Lips treading, only meeting between breaths. Neither of them pushing for more than seconds of warm contact, brief and sweet.

That is until Steve’s free hand starts twisting into Eddie’s shirt, tugging him along by the soft fabric. Eddie sinks forward, dives fully into the kiss. He holds his breath or maybe it just gets caught in his lungs from how good it all feels. How Steve touches him like he's captured. How Steve kisses him like he’s dessert.

Eddie can't help but smush their lips together, forcing their faces closer than faces can scientifically be. He hears the wet smack of their tongues echoing underneath the amphitheater, waking his lungs the fuck up. Lets out the weakest sigh, hopes most of the sound gets trapped between Steve’s lips.

Oh god, his lips. They’re fuller than Eddie’s, puffier now from kissing this hard. He wants to squish them around with his fingers, push them into pout so he can suck on them. Turn them nice and red. Eddie gets his hands tangled in Steve’s hair, knots them up enough to resist the lip-squishing temptation that’s burning him up inside.

“Here.” Steve exhales, hooks one of Eddie’s legs around his waist.

That… okay, fuck. That’s so hot, so unexpectedly assertive and right. Eddie takes the hint, wraps his other leg around Steve. The heel of his scuffed boots is digging into Steve’s ass, not too hard, but enough to earn a dirty whine out of Steve. He pushes them together, clothes rubbing back and forth, scratching loudly. Muffles their mouth noises though.

“Can we…” Eddie wants to move this elsewhere, anywhere less public. He’s so fucking selfish for that. Needs to swallow every sound Steve makes, secure every expression with a lock. Nobody else should be allowed to see Steve like this besides Eddie.

He lets one hand unravel from Steve’s hair, glides down to the collar of Steve’s tank top. He yanks the material lower, presses his lips against the new area of exposed skin. Sips and sucks over that spot, claims it like he could extract a piece of Steve’s soul if he sucks hard enough.

“Yeah, fuck yeah.” Steve responds, whimpering into the top of Eddie’s hair. Not entirely clear if he’s saying that out of pleasure, or agreeing with Eddie that they should relocate, but whatever. It's all too good to overthink the meaning.

Eddie unhooks his legs and kisses the deep purple mark he just made. Too fucking proud how easily the color spreads into reddish tones around the edges.

His vision goes fuzzy again as he stands upright, has to blink away all the white specks of dizzy lust. Eddie offers a hand to Steve, but there’s no damn point for that. Steve is already hopping up onto the stage, makes it look effortless. Cool as shit.

“Follow me.” Steve grabs the crook of Eddie’s forearm, pulling him into the forested scenery.

As if there were any need for Steve to request that. Eddie Munson would follow Steve into the sketchiest alleyway of Hell, if it meant they could kiss like that some more.

They duck underneath a few tree limbs, weave through the maze of green. A few leaves get into Eddie’s mouth, but he hardly notices anything besides the dent that Steve’s fingernail is leaving in his arm. It would make the sickest crescent moon tattoo, inked and perfectly shaped.

Damnit, Eddie’s thoughts are getting more fucked the deeper they hide. Steve slams Eddie against the trunk of a large tree. He realizes with the thud on his back that it’s plywood, not tree bark. Doesn’t care one bit if his shirt tears from the nails jutting out. Cares even less if he gets splinters from the slow grinding of their hips, hitching his shirt up further with every thrust.

“These are sexy.” Steve tugs at Eddie’s empty belt loop. Didn’t need an actual belt with how suffocating they are. “But they’ve gotta go. If that’s cool.”

“Get them the hell out of here.” Eddie is subconsciously thanking Chrissy for suggesting these stupid pants. She’ll be insufferable when he tells her about the jean's success rate. But right now? Worth it.

Anything seems worth it to have Steve popping the button out, ripping the zipper down. He’s so focused on getting these pants off that his forehead wrinkles, little beads of sweat gathering on his temples.

Eddie can’t resist any longer, not after seeing Steve equally covered in desperation. He palms the front of Steve’s pants, wants to give him some relief for this valiant jean-removing effort.

“Steve.” Eddie huffs, brushes his lips over Steve’s ear. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this.” He bites over the skin, nibbling carefully with the tip of his teeth.

It must tickle because Steve laughs while shrugging the jeans lower, boxers going with them.

“So tell me then.” He kisses Eddie. It’s harsh, mostly panting into his mouth. Steve sinks to the floor and looks up. “Keep talking.”

This. This goddamn view. Eddie wasn’t expecting to get a view of Steve on his knees tonight. Wasn’t expecting his head to go limp, looking up at Eddie the way he eyefucked the camera on the day they first met.

Only difference is, Steve’s not acting - not pretending to be needy.

He just is. He’s all of those coy and sinful things, exclusively for Eddie this time.

“Spit in my hand.” Steve stretches his hand up towards Eddie’s chin - gives him those big, midnight eyes that could make dormant volcanoes erupt instantly. Defy physics, end climate change.

Eddie doesn’t use brain cells anymore, just does what he’s told. He gathers enough spit in his mouth, then watches it trickle out. Pooling in the center of Steve’s hand. It’s gross, sure. But also, it’s the hottest thing he’s ever done.

Gross and hot. Those sensations are fucking synonymous right now.

“Tell me, Eddie.” Steve gets his fingers around Eddie’s cock, the warm wetness makes it twitch in his hold. Apparently, no part of Eddie’s anatomy can believe this is really happening, not even his dick.

“Uh-”

“You said you’ve thought about it.”

“Lots.”

“So tell me while I get you off.”

“Oh.. god, okay.” And Eddie is good at that. Talking nonstop. Revealing all of his filthy secrets when asked so politely. He did it last night, slipped into his darker persona with ease so Steve could feel good.

But that’s just it, isn’t it? Eddie would say a flurry of fuckery for Steve Harrington’s approval. Get him to come until he shakes because Eddie wants that. Wants Steve to feel like liquid gold dripping between his fingers. Wants Steve to bend and break under his words and touch.

Talking dirty to get himself off is new territory. Eddie is a perpetual giver, loves being that way most of the time. Especially for someone as spectacular as Steve.

“Go ahead, babe.” Steve urges, licks the muscle of Eddie’s inner thigh till it tightens.

Right, he can do this. Even if he is short of breath. Eddie can be as confident as he was last night while Steve strokes him. “Thought about you since the commercial production.”

It’s a start. He bites his lip and keeps going. “All I could think about was… fuck. Opening you up. Leaving my fingerprints on your hips.”

“What else?” Steve purrs, working Eddie roughly with his spit-slick fingers. Sounds just as ruined as Eddie does.

“Wanted to fuck you in my lap.” Eddie pauses to moan, chest falling hard. He gets another glimpse of Steve’s hand on him, picking up the pace. A tempo so delicious that it shuts off Eddie’s judgment skills. His mouth running wild. “Let you ride me just like that. Use me till your legs go weak.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. His grip gets a little firmer, loosening up between strokes. Makes a fucking pattern out of it, has Eddie craving it. Needs more.

“And what if I wanted to fuck you, huh?” Steve’s question hits his ears like a whip. Cracking every nerve in Eddie’s body.

“I’d let you.” And it’s true, so very true. Eddie’s mouth is still going rogue, uttering truths like he’s on trial. Ready to testify all his desires to Steve. Sign his name on the dotted fucking line. “You could wreck me any way you want, sweetheart.”

Eddie seems to have found the secret words to Steve’s wild side. He’s taking Eddie down his throat, almost too fast. So fast that drool forms at the corners of his stretched lips, mouth gurgling already.

Eddie is swearing, not even real words half the time - just moans that sound explicit enough to get bleeped out on public access television. One hand goes over his own mouth while the other keeps combing through Steve’s hair.

It’s so damp now, sticking out erratically at the sides. Eddie curls a few strands over his thumb, watches the color drain from his finger. So demented, so good.

Steve is taking his cock so damn well, so Eddie tells him. Truly, all that he’s capable of is sex-drunk praise. Letting Steve know how gorgeous he is, how bruised his throat will be from sucking this much cock, how swollen and sore his lips look at this angle.

Eddie can’t stop because every phrase makes Steve get messier. Whining and whimpering each time he pulls off. Looking up at Eddie before taking him in again. Getting louder. Loud enough that sidewalk pedestrians definitely could hear him if they linger nearby for too long.

Eddie's knees buckle as he gets close. Doesn't have the energy to straighten back out, let alone warn Steve that he’s about to come. None of that seems to matter though. Steve nods twice, still bobbing around Eddie, like he just knows. Knows Eddie is there and is fucking willing to work him through it.

“Holy fuck, Steve.” Which yeah, Eddie gets it. Uttering someone’s name while he comes in their mouth is a little tacky and cliche. But saying it is involuntary, totally out of his control. Truthfully, Eddie relinquished all control to Steve hours ago.

Steve swallows, cleans Eddie with a few swipes of his overworked tongue like it’s nothing. No problamo. Like that’s the only way to handle the aftermath of an orgasm. In the most delightful way, or whatever musical shit Mary Poppins sings about.

He gives the laziest, dreamiest grin as Eddie collapses down to his level. Both of them heaving, kissing with aching lungs.

“Fucking fantastic.” Eddie whispers, brushes his knuckles over Steve’s pink-stained cheeks. Hopes his rings don’t hurt too much, absently forgetting how chunky they are.

Steve leans into the small touch. “Glad to hear it.”

“You’re fantastic.” Eddie clarifies. Means it more than any superstition he’s ever heard in his life.

He’s more than ready to get his hands all over Steve, make him come until he faints. But Steve is adamant that he’s chills with waiting. Says he actually enjoys the buildup from staying horny for hours and hours. Mentions something about that being a new discovery that he wants to explore.

With Eddie.

Steve fucking Harrington wants to explore new sides of himself with Eddie. That sends him reeling. Smitten and spiraling.

“Are sure?” Eddie paws at Steve’s hard-on, ready to jump in and save the day via orgasm.

“Very sure.” He lifts Eddie's hand away, snickering as he lays a quick kiss on each finger. “I like being around you. That’s not gonna change overnight.”

“Like being around you too, Steve.” He takes Steve’s face into his hands, smushes it back and forth until Steve smiles. “Crazy about it, actually.”

The sun is low, barely any light left in the sky. But as Eddie holds Steve’s face, watching him smile, he notices that Steve is glowing. Not beaming, actually glowing. Even through the dimness of sky and the shadows formed by tree limbs, Eddie can see all of Steve’s features.

How is that possible?

They each look up and see it. Taking it in, this mysterious glow.

“Wow.” They say in unison, almost matching pitch. Matching levels of disbelief too.

Between the branches and leaves, they are tiny lights. Floating, orb-like lights. The brightness shining off of them is warm, soft on the eyes. They’re scattered high over the forested backdrop, orange and yellow hues twinkling against rich greens.

Enchanting is the only word to describe this new addition. Incredibly and unbelievably enchanting.

“Set designer really popped off with this cover shoot, I guess.” Steve throws the theory out there, barely sounds like he believes it himself.

Eddie rubs his eyes. His voice comes out hushed, doesn’t really mean for it to but it does anyways. “Steve… those aren’t attached to anything. No strings, no wires. They’re just-”

“Floating?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Be serious, dude.”

And Eddie is. Completely serious. No jokes or snarky replies in his system right now. He points to the nearest light, then back at Steve. “You broke the curse, right?”

“Apparently.” Steve shrugs.

“So maybe Thespis is showing his forgiveness.”

“Who the hell is Thespis?” Steve pinches the skin between his eyes and groans - acting like Eddie’s hypothesis is giving him a migraine. Honestly, it might be. Wouldn’t be the first time Eddie worked someone up to the point of desperately needing tylenol.

He switches tactics, nuzzles into Steve’s shoulder with his nose. Attempts to lighten the mood with at least one joke in these trying times of bad luck and headaches. “Or he’s giving us his blessing for copulating on his holy grounds.”

The lights answer, flaring out all around them. They pulsate for a minute, maybe two, before returning back to their normal glow. Eddie tucks in a grin because Steve’s gorgeous little head looks like it’s about to detonate off of his gorgeous little body. So if he smiles right now, Steve will undoubtedly explode on this very flammable set piece.

Which would be a wicked awesome way to die. Post-orgasm, then up in flames. But alas, they have dinner reservations. It would be rude not to show up.

Really, it’s no surprise to Eddie that the ghost of theater is into partial voyeurism, signaling his approval with twinkling lights. Semi-public sex probably classifies as its own unique strand of performing art in Ancient Greece.

Or the dead dude is just into taboo stuff.

If so, good for him. You do you, Thespis.

“Look.” Steve says, standing up. “Maybe it’s… an optical illusion.”

“Or magic.”

Steve lets out a deep sigh and offers his hand to Eddie. Pulls him up in one swift motion. Doesn’t let go of his hand afterward either. “How about we drop it and go get some dinner?”

Typically, Eddie is all about a verbal bloodbath. But Steve laces their fingers together, connects them in a way that has Eddie forgetting all about his need to be right.

“Consider it dropped.”

The lights flicker out as they walk further away from the stage. And as they get into Eddie’s car, they go out entirely. Steve flicks on the radio, defaults to the classic rock station, which is playing “Magic” by The Cars.

“It’s a sign.” Eddie sings to the tune, poking a finger at Steve.

“Just drive, you big dork.” Steve swats him away, placing a hand on Eddie’s thigh while he drives. He turns up the volume, surprisingly knows every lyric by heart. Belts them out. Full on screams the parts he likes best.

Which Eddie totally can relate to. He wants to scream about all the parts he likes best about Steve. About their date that’s not even finished yet.

On their way to dinner, Eddie avoids the cracks on the sidewalk. On the drive home, he taps the roof of his car whenever he makes it through a yellow light at an intersection.

And when he drops Steve off at his apartment precisely at 11:11pm, he doesn’t say a damn word. Keeps his mouth shut, only opens it to kiss Steve goodbye (with tongue, obviously).

Sure, it’s just a dumb superstition, Eddie can admit that to himself.

But tonight… it feels like more than that.

More than a coincidence.

More than a good omen.

He sends a ‘got home safely’ text to Steve as he pulls into his designated parking spot. Totally obsessed with how fast Steve texts him back, it’s too fucking cute.

Steve: glad :) had a great time btw

Eddie: really?

Steve: yes *really*

Eddie: i had a great time too

He quickly taps the voice-record button before Steve can respond:

“Actually,” Eddie sneers. Uses the voice that Steve goes crazy for. “I had a magical time.”

Steve: ugh

Eddie: ;)

#steddie #steddie fic #this is inspired by the unhinged ao3 tag generator #thank you all for reading along on this series!#ao3 has alllll the tags if you're curious before reading #have a lovely day! xx

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codenamesazanka · 3 months

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The story reads very differently when you take off those villain stan googles, so much that Shigaraki dying feels kind of obvious in hindsight. There's at least more of a set-up for an ending where he dies than for one where he gets rehabilited. Deku never taking a stance of the killing issue and only ever saying that he wants to 'stop' Shigaraki/'save the little boy' should have been a red flag. It's not even subtle. Manga follows a very b/w morality too, always has. I feel dumb now lol

That is indeed one interpretation! That Shigaraki was always fated to die, that Deku's 'save' was going to just be 'saving the heart' so Shigaraki can at least be killed in peace.

But specific to this manga - isn't this story about Heroes being heroes? About saving people? About making a bright future? About touching hearts and taking that first step and going PLUS ULTRA? Doing more than just 'rewarding good and punishing evil'?

It's not even about b/w morality, I don't think. As far as we know, none of the people committing heteromorphic hate crimes are going to be punished. Neither does it seem like the fact that HSPC had a black ops operation going on using trained child soldiers is going to be fully exposed and dealt with and the people involved (who haven't been killed) punished (like such a thing goes all the way up to the top; and has deep roots; if there's any real justice, a whole governmental department should be put on trial). Overhaul and Muscular and Ujiko and nearly all the other less sympathetic villains are alive, so clearly 'horrific crime = mandatory death' is not a thing.

And there were lots of Japanese villain fans who wanted the League to all die not because they're criminals and should be punished, but as a way to escape jail and consequences. To go out with a bang. To never renounce their friendship and ideals because they weren't necessarily wrong, but the world they live in simply can't handle them, or because unfortunately the needs of the many outweighs the desires of the few. Plus, as @stillness-in-green points out:

Firstly, and to get this out of the way, that is a false binary that totally ignores the long history of Shounen Jump villains getting absurd Karma Houdini endings where they walk off into the sunset free as birds because they’ve changed their minds and resolved to be better, or at least have decided mass murder is no longer worth their time and effort. (Vegeta wasn’t the first mass murderer a Shounen Jump story rewarded with freedom and friendship, nor was he the last.)

And like, Shigaraki dying didn't have to be so badly done. You can write a incredibly good and satisfying character death. This wasn't it. imo.

You had high expectations for the manga. You're right to want something that's hopeful and engaging. If it does turn out that's not what the manga was going for, then it is what it is, but it doesn't mean you were dumb. Sorry, I know I'm relentless in criticizing Deku and saying that his 'save' sucked from the start, but I still fully believed it was just Shonen Punch Therapy. So did a lot of other people. So please don't feel dumb!

#nalslastworkingbraincell

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thenixkat · 2 months

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also the president gave shoot on sight orders for the Joker. I dont think anyone would care if a superhero murdered the Joker who's orchestrating the mass death of thousands at this very moment, Nightwing. Get off yer fucking high horse

of course the Jokerization is randomly killing/dropping villains now. We can't have this ass pull have any real long term effects

faces

they got paid. so the doctor that diagnosed the Joker with a brain tumor was playing a prank on the Joker and didnt think it would go horribly wrong

folks making deals with that fuckin brainworm that i know is usually up to some shit

ok just spread the jokerness via tainted rain, sure, whatever

you were just fleeing from Joker the other issue why are you demanding being taken to him now? Fuck it, let Harley go to the Joker so he can rape and kill her, it's what she fucking wants right now. Let her get her dipshit ass killed.

also Dr. Langstrom is that Dr. Langstrom, the werebat. In this he turns when stressed.

there's a protocol in place for getting Dr. Langstron to calm his shit when he goes werebat. They shot him with some calming drugs

meanwhile, Harley is getting cavity searched for a 3rd time apparently by an overly gleeful lady soldier, cause sexual assault is funny when its lady on lady apparently.

Oracle calls in Huntress, a hero known for killing fuckers, to do whatever she feels necessary to save Robin and clear out some jokerized villains. Just dont tell Batman

jokerized, ugh, Killer Croc called dibs on some Robin wings

Nightwing you know better than trying to reason with the fucking Joker. Also staple gun

oh hey Batman put tracking devices in the costume upgrades he gave his allies. Gotta love that paranoid big brother bs. Someday folks are gonna get tired of that shit and beat Batman's ass

like that's rude as hell also fucking boob socks on the fucking bulletproof vest is a shitty art decision

i doubt Tim-Robin got eaten that quickly and Killer Croc is still fucking hungry. Tim's a decent-sized child, with plenty of meat

again, I don't think Tim-Robin is dead. An offscreen death in a miniseries that doesnt focus on him? I dont buy it

and even if he was he'd be back sooner rather than later

also since when does a superhero need to be sanctioned? I doubt Batman can keep every hero he doesnt like/wont bow to him out of Gotham

oh so now Nightwing is ok with killing Joker. It only took the Joker killing Jason, crippling Barbra, and killing Tim too. Damn, fuck you Nightwing

The Joker has to murder and maim multiple people that Dick is close to b4 dude would consider killing him. Man, I'd be pissed off at Nightwing if I lived in this world and had folks I knew murdered and maimed and the heroes only get serious when it gets personal

yeah, these heroes should have more enemies with the common people just for that alone. 'You had teh chance to stop a terrible fucker and chose not to. Repeatedly even tho the bodies kept pilling up' also the folks in charge with stopping the prison riot are …alive after getting sucked into a gravity well. B/c gravity wells transport fuckers to a pocket dimension instead of crushing the shit out of things in this world. They've been dodging the aquatic villains and murdering one villain who's power is he gets a new power every time he dies which is extremely unethical

Oracle switched positions and wants Batman to stop Nightwing from murdering the Joker.

let him kill the Joker and get him some therapy after, yall making this more of a problem than it needs to be

No shit Tim-Robin wasnt dead. They didnt even put a whole issue between the fake out and him being back

fucking bleeding hearted saps feeling bad about killing the Joker. Couldn't be me

Batman you should have let him die. Everyone the Joker kills after this is directly on your fucking head.

yall weak ass bitches. Everyone the Joker kills after this is on you all for reviving the fucker.

the put the Joker back in prison instead of just killing him. so he can escape again at some point for more adventures. Lex Luthor is the president, its not like he has fucking morals or that the global public doesnt want the Joker dead. Just kill him

and that's the end. There's no good reason for anyone involved to not just fucking kill the Joker

the villains dont like him, the heroes should kill him for the greater good and they'd actually be justified in this one case more than anything else, the world governments should want the Joker dead. No one benefits to the Joker continuing to be alive

#nix meows #nix reads comics #superhero crit #joker: last laugh #nightwing #dick greyson #batman #bruce wayne #oracle dc #barbra gordon #huntress #the joker

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iouinotes · 4 months

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Heroic love (part 4) | Luke Castellan

pairing: Luke Castellan x female!reader

show: Percy Jackson and the Olympians

warnings: betrayal, dark romance, no verbal consent, angst, smut MINORS DONT INTERACTE

summary: Luke finds out your plan and you give in. After all, it is better to be with him than with the monsters that suround you.

authors note: The reader joins Luke rather unwillingly, even though she still loves him. I just want to say up front that Luke's threat at the end is not meant serious. He would never do something like that to her. He only does it so that she realizes that there is no other way than to join him. If it's too dark, I'm sorry... @qwertydddddddddd wanted to be tagged, so I hope you enjoy it <33

Sometimes you think to yourself, this is real love. I'm gonna marry this person. I will spend my life with them, building a home and a family.

Well thats the regular scenario, I mean for the people who are regular. Not demigods.

And you see, even though we dont have an easy life, fighting monsters, losing friends, being scared and anxious all the time, that some bad evil guy suddenly wants to rule the world- we live. Because we have to and because we have each other.

So, for me, I was prepared for it to become harsh. I always knew my life would be like sitting on a rollercoaster, never having the chance to exit.

But I found comfort in this reality. I would imagine being on this attraction, but holding onto something that grounds me. Someone that gives me strengh, so I don't lose myself.

For a long time, I held hands with Luke.

Then of course, something did go terrible wrong, as if they goddess Aphrodite wanted to watch an exciting, action packed romance movie, with the plot twist of I-hate-to-love-you-because-you-left-me trope. Something like this.

Well, I think the movie sucks. In the last months, everything was just not right- Luke leaving camp to join Kronos? Betraying everyone and kidnapping me? Showing up here, messing with me and then holding my own dagger to my throat? (Deja vu)

No, that just isnt what I Imagined to happen in the future. I didnt want my boyfriend to turn into the bad guy, who we swore to fight.

But now I guess, thats up to me. At least some part of it.

"I think Luke ist turning into Darth Vader." Sometimes I'm not sure whats going on in Percys head.

"I never heard of this monster?" Annabeths parents are so wrong for not watching Star Wars with her.

"Guys, after we discussed this, you can have your movie night. But please, let's focus." My voice sounds harsher than I intended, so I immediately feel bad about it.

"Sorry, it's just very complicated. I want to know what our next steps are, what we are planning to do with this- situation." I don't know how else to call it.

"We need information. Who is the spy? What are Kronos plans? Where will he attack? Who joined him? So many unanwered questions." Chirons voice sends a shiver down my neck. He's right, but how do we achieve it?

Percys gaze unnerves me and when I turn my head to meet his eyes, he immediately shakes his head.

"I am not letting you alone with him this time. Nope." I sign, conflicted how I would want to deal with this.

All eyes are on me and when I turn to them, I try to explain my plan. But I cant even finish my second sentence and already everyone seems to be against it.

"We cant let him out!"

"He will kill us!"

"His army is already searching for him, he would escape!"

Annabeth raises her hand and the voices calm down. As she looks at me, I sense her own doubts about the situation.

"They are right. How do you know he would trust you? Could you convince him?"

I nod my head, ignoring my doubts.

"I can."

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

The moon shines beautifully in the sky, but it helps nothing to calm down my nerves. Im so stupid, why did I thought I could pull this off?

"Youre sure, you want to do this? You dont have to." Percy's standing next me, as always trying to comfort me.

"He will believe me. I always had dreams, where I thought he-" I need a moment to finish my sentence.

"-died. That he got hurt or is in pain. When I had this sort of dream, I would always sneak out of my cabin and came to him. I would walk into his cabin and he somehow always knew what happend. He would tuck me in his bed, letting me cry and cuddling me. Resurring me that everything is going to be okay, that he will live. That was always my biggest fear, that he would die and I would be helpless to do anything against it. He knows that."

We stand in silence for a moment.

"If you need me, I will be there. Just be careful." I smile at him.

I take a deep breath and go trough the doors, seeing that the only light he has, is a small lamp on the ceiling. I quicken my pace so he can hear me coming. When I stand in front of his cell, he is already on his feet. He looks alarmed.

"What-" his t-shirt is wrinkled and his eyes are sleepy. My breath catches and I don't even have to pretend to be confused and afraid, standing in front of him alone in the dark is enough.

The bars are the only thing that separates us.

At first I don't say anything, I just look at him with watery eyes. And just like I said, he knows it. He always knows.

"Another nightmare?" His voice is so gentle, it makes me remember the old days when everything was good. When he took me in his arms and wiped the tears from my cheeks.

I just nod, I don't think my voice is stable enough yet.

I have to play the role, I can do it. He has to believe me.

I slide down the wall and put my head in my hands, all the despair and pain I've been carrying for weeks suddenly coming out of me. I'm crying so hard that I'm almost afraid of waking up the others.

"Shit, princess- what can I do? Let me help, please." He sounds so desperate and it's only now that I realize, that I don't actually have to act. Because my tears are real.

"Y-you ruined everything! And I'm still s-so scared that something h-happens to you" I meet his gaze and see the remorse in his eyes. His heart hurts too.

"I didn't want something like that to happen- please, darling. Come here." Sniffling, I stand up. My knees feeling weak and unsteady. If I go in there now, I won't be able to defend myself properly.

“You hurt me, I shouldn’t even be here. You're an idiot, Luke. I hate-" but I can't bring myself to say it. I cant say that I hate him. Because I don't, at least not yet.

"I know, believe me. I hate myself too. Only your belief in me has always held me together." He grips the bars, I see the inner conflict within him.

"But you won't change. You've never been able to do that well." I know I'm right and he knows it too. Silence surrounds us.

"Let me hold you. Just for- a few minutes. Please. I can't stand seeing you like this. You've always been the sunshine in my life. I don't want my sun to be obscured."

The key jingles in my hand and I look at it uncertainly.

"I won't hurt you, never again, I promise. I also got an anklet. I can't escape." His eyes look so honest. I'm feeling nervous, my heart is beating way too fast.

I put the key in the lock and open the door, freezing in my movements for a moment. What am I doing here? But then I hear his voice and I know why.

“It’s not that comfortable on the floor, but you can sit on my lap." I close the door.

As I move towards him I see how thin he has become and how brown his eyes still are.

Slowly, he raises his hands and when I stand in front of him he puts them around my waist. My knees buckle and I sink carefully onto his lap. My hands rest uncertainly on his shoulders, then moving down to his neck. Playing with the strands of his hair, lost in thoughts.

His face is right in front of mine, both of our breaths are uneven. His hands linger on me, holding me tight to him. Warmth fills my chest as I look into his eyes.

"You're so beautiful. So, so beautiful." A sob tries to escape me, as I do something, I always loved. I put my head in the crook of his neck and wrap my arms around him.

He holds me for a few minutes, stroking my back and whispering soothing, sweet nothings in my ear.

Once I've calmed down, I'm basically lying on top of him and can hear his heartbeat. It's almost soporific.

"Luke?" my voice is calm.

His head turns to me. "Yes?"

"I...I want to be with you. I don't care how or- or where. I just know that I can't live without you." I see his eyebrows furrow.

"You dont mean-" I am silent. Just looking at him, sitting up a little, straddling him.

"I need you. I tried not to need you. But it's out of my control, nothing helps to ease the pain. Only you, only you matter."

Is it the truth if the words escape me so easily?

His hand finds my cheek and I lean into his touch.

"We're the only ones that matter. We will get through this, together and united. You don't have to fight my darling, you just have to be by my side." His hand around my waist pulls me towards him, the other one, he continues to lay on my cheek. Caressing the skin, drawing invisible heart-shapes.

Then his lips meet mine and my eyes flutter shut. The kiss so intoxicating, that I forget for a moment my real intention. Forget why I'm participating in this madness.

As he pulls away from me, I hear his whispering voice.

"You won't betray me, right? You won't do that to me?" He tugs on my hair, ever so slightly, to get my attention.

"No, Luke. I won't." Lie.

The key in my hand is no longer idle as I remove his shackles carefully.

"Then princess, let's get out of here." I slowly get off his lap, but before I stand up, he lifts me up in his arms.

"I promise you that I will never hurt you again. You deserve only the best." As cliche as it is, he carries me out of the cell, which isnt locked anymore.

He lets me down outside and breathes in the fresh air. It's still night, maybe 4 a.m. Everything is quiet.

His hands cup my face and place several kisses on my skin.

"You are incredible, I knew you would join me. For real this time." He takes my hand and intertwines our fingers. I don't see Percy anywhere.

"Let's go. I know where my troops are stationed. Nobody will notice that we're gone until it's too late."

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

Joining Kronos' army was the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life, and that includes keeping the truth from Luke.

That I'm a spy for the camp, better hidden than anyone else ever could. No one would accuse or suspect the leader's girlfriend, because everyone can see how much I love him.

After all, it's the only reason I'm tolerated here. Because Luke would kill anyone who even came near me. He has already done it to a dragon lady who was too pushy and even when I tried to stop him, he showed no mercy.

Because he can't afford to do that, if he shows that he has a heart, it will be taken away from him.

Every day it is torture to witness this evil, to help maintain cover, to save my friends.

And every day I feel worse, because I lie to Luke. But it is the only way. I cannot help in the camp, if my heart is somewhere else. Here, with him, my thoughts are not always here, but my heart is.

At least it's enough for me to function. When Luke isn't distracting me.

When I wake up that morning on the Princess Andromeda, it is still quiet. In the presence of these monsters, I have not been able to sleep well for months. Even the dreams I have, make me wake up in the middle of the night and the only thing that calms me down is Luke's touch.

His fingers gently stroke my exposed skin, and as I turn my head and look at him, I see an emotion in his eyes, I've only recently noticed. There is a desire in his gaze, as if he wanted to consume my entire being, to have me just for himself.

My voice, my body, my thoughts, my feelings. Simply everything. He wants it all to be his.

"I wish I could erase every bad dream you have and send whoever is responsible for it to burn in hell. It should scare me that you make me think like that, but if I'm honest, it doesn't. Are you scared?" His eyes look into mine.

Slowly, my fingers intertwine with his. "Not when you're with me."

The next thing I notice is his lips on mine. The way his hands grip my hips and pull me onto him.

He leans towards me, his lips caress my ears and I hear his whispering voice. "Every day I hear one my followers talking about you. That they want to have you, to decorate your beautiful body with scars, with their initials." I freeze at his words, wanting to pull away and look at him, but he holds me tight. Makes me continue to listen to his voice.

"They want to see you bleed, to alternate between pain and pleasure when they push their cocks into you. Do you like that? That you are so desired? That you turn everyone's heads, when you go by and they start wanting to see my head roll? To get close to you, huh?" I want to shake my own head, but he holds me even tighter.

"Do you know how hard it is not to execute every single one of them? Do you know that? I would, if I could. I would kill every single one of them, in front of you, so that everyone knows that you belong to me. Do you understand? No one will speak to you anymore, because your voice is mine. No one will look at you, because your sight is mine. You keep your hands to yourself, no more help with injuries, I don't care if they die. Your hands only touch me."

As I start to sqirm, he leans back, keeping his hands on my hips until a finger strokes my cheek.

"No one will ever kiss you except me. And anyone who even thinks about fucking you, I will let die in battle. You may think my loyalty is to Kronos, but it is to you. My beautiful girl. Now think carefully about who you are pledging your loyalty to."

When his eyes look into mine, I fall silent. Then, even though I try not to, my voice trembles.

"What do you mean? I'm loyal to you, Luke."

His hands caress my skin, examining how the sun shines on me. I'm only wearing one of his T-shirts and my panties. His hands, stroke my bare thighs.

His eyebrows rise, slowly his fingers wrap around my panties, pulling them down until I am revealed to him. My heart is pounding so loudly in my chest, that it feels like it's about to give up. I hold my breath as he places the tip of his cock at my entrance.

What am I doing here?

"I think you're not being completely honest with me, princess. Let's try again. Who are you loyal to?" As he slowly enters me and his hands hold my hips, I moan. I lay my head back for a moment and enjoy the stretch, feeling his hands slide under my shirt and stroke over my stomach, to my breasts and to my neck.

"Luke, what's going on? I'm here with you, I'm-" But I can't finish my sentence as he plunges into me with a violent jerk, right up to the edge. My eyes roll back.

"These sweet lies that come from your lips. Of course you are here physically, but with the mind? Oh no, while I fuck you, your thoughts are on Camp Halfblood. On Jackson. Can you believe it?" His hands push my hips down until I am connected directly to him and can feel every inch inside me. I almost melt as one of his hands presses into my lower back and I move even closer to him.

When I try to answer him, my voice is a mixture of horror and pleasure. "Luke, that's not true. I only want you, I'm on your side- ahh-" Faster than I can react, he thrusts into me. Once, twice. So hard and ruthless that he hits the spot inside me, that makes me see stars. I can't concentrate.

"How I wish you would tell the truth. There's nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. Admit it, I already know. My girlfriend is the traitor. Behind my back, she talks to the person I hate the most and yet, she sits on my lap and rides my cock. What would Percy say about that?"

His hand wraps around my neck and holds me tight, his hips keep pounding into me and even though my brain tells me to stop, my guard is down. I want this.

"How-" But when I want to ask, he pushes me onto him again. So fast, too hard, it almost hurts, but it also feels so good.

"I have my eyes everywhere. It took me a while to figure out how to deal with it, how to deal with you. But I found a good solution. After all, Percy lets you be here, without cover, without protection. Hoping I wouldn't find out that you were passing on information. That I wouldn't hurt you."

His last sentence makes me tense up, but even though his face twists in amusement for a brief moment, he doesn't stop talking.

"Your pussy won't save you either. And since I have given you my word, I will not harm you. I found a better punishment. A choice."

He suddenly stops moving and I almost cry, wanting to move myself, but he takes my face in his hand, tightly. Focusing all attention on him.

"Either you stop your underhanded loyalty to Jackson immediately and serve me, or I will make the wishes of everyone behind this door come true and you will be used like a beautiful, little doll. From each one of them, I assure you. But after that, you won't be so beautiful anymore."

Tears well up my eyes, whether it's from the tight grip he's holding on me or from his words, I can't tell. And I'm scared, it feels like I'm being buried alive. With no prospect of ever being able to breathe or be free again.

Without me saying anything, he starts moving inside me again, letting my hips sink onto his. I breathe in loudly.

"Come on, move. Your choice. It's either my cock or anyone else's."

When I look at him, the person I once loved has disappeared. It's like looking at a stranger.

My heart feels like it's been stolen and in the back of my mind I realize, that I should have never gone with him.

But then I close my eyes, put my hands on his shoulders for support and sink down onto him. Again and again, even stronger. Until my thighs shake and tears run down my cheeks. Until I hear Luke's quiet voice again.

"If you think you are strong enough to be like me, treacherous, cold-hearted and ruthless, then I have to disappoint you. Your heart will be soft forever unless the world hardens it. I will protect you for that, princess. Forget camp halfblood, you only serve me now."

His lips are hot on my skin, a strong contrast to my heart, which feels like it's made of ice.

And when I receive the next secret sign from Annabeth a few days later, I ignore it.

#luke castellan #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy series #percy pjo #camp half blood #x reader #smut #fanfic #betrayal #angst #bad ending

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withacapitalp · 2 years

Text

Countdown Pt 3

Part One Part Two

Tw: Slight suicidal ideation and general grieving

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

They only carry a couple things with them on the run.

Surviving the apocalypse isn’t pretty, and it’s easier to make a quick escape if they’re always traveling light. Essentials only, with a few sentimental items so they don’t completely lose their minds.

Nancy had her journals, Max had her skateboard (even if she couldn’t use it right now), Will brought a pack of colored pencils, and Steve was pretty sure Hopper had somehow saved a half a pack of smokes.

And Steve….Steve has a shoebox.

It’s an old thing, held together with duct tape and decorated with sharpie doodles. Wayne had given it to him right before he left town, along with the necklace that Steve kept around his neck every moment of every day.

He’s never let any of them look in it. They think he’s insane, but they’re not the ones with zeroed out timers.

This shoebox is all he has left of his soulmate.

What’s inside would seem like junk to most people. A handful of rocks of varying size, shapes, and colors. A leather cuff with spikes that Steve had immediately put around his timer wrist to hide it from view. A matchbook from a gay bar in Indianapolis, a Spalding bouncy ball. Some hand-sewn patches with logos he didn’t recognize, three different mini figures, a dozen faded beautiful photographs, and a single mixtape.

Only Robin knew about the mixtape. He had only told her in case they needed a song for him. That mixtape was the only thing in the world that had the song that could save his life.

But the most important thing in that box was the letters.

He read one every night. He had promised himself he wouldn’t read more than one. It was routine. When it was his turn to be on watch and the rest of their family was sound asleep, Steve would open his shoebox, pull out a letter, and read it.

The first one is probably his favorite. It was written in dark red marker on yellow construction paper, the edges ripped and torn with age. The marker bled through the back of the paper where the child who wrote the letter had pressed down too hard, and Steve could imagine the way his fingers must have stained from the ink. Blood red. The same way his fingers were stained when he died.

7/4/1971

TWO SULMAYT,

HI.

I AM EDDIE MUNSON. I AM FIVE YEARS OLD. I LIKE TRUKS. YU SHUD LIKE THEM TO. WE CAN WATCH THE BIG TRUKS!

WHAT IS YUR NAMY?

BIE

LUV EDDIE

P. S. I HAD A NANA FOR BRIKFEST. YUM.

There was a picture of two giant monster trucks under the words, and a tiny thing Steve assumed was a banana under the postscript. Steve keeps that one tucked in his jacket pocket, just in case he ever loses his bag or his precious shoebox.

He keeps the first in his side pocket, and keeps the last one in the breast pocket right above his heart

6/13/1986

Hi Love,

The first one says ‘Two Sulmayt’ but every one after that starts with ‘Hi Love’.

Steve can’t help wondering if Eddie would have eventually called him ‘Love’ if they had gotten more time.

Well, if you’re reading this, then I guess my plan to be the one that lived really didn’t work out. Damn, that sucks. Probably a little bit more for you than for me.

I don't know how you dealt with knowing we only had five days, but I thought it was kinda fucked. Like damn, really? Five? The universe sure has a funny sense of humor, doesn’t it, Love? Or maybe it just hates me. That is also a very real possibility.

Maybe. But if the universe hated Eddie, then it must hate Steve more for making him continue to live. For giving him other people to love, people to care about, people to force him to not give up.

Anyways this is how I dealt with it. If you only get five days to have me, I’m going to make sure you know me. Or know who I was at least. One letter a month for the last 12 years, and a bunch of random one off ones from when I was little. Before I lived with Wayne it was kind of catch as catch can with paper and stuff, and I was also like seven, so how many letters do you really want from a seven year old who still can’t spell ‘Difficulty’?

I know how to now, by the way. Mrs. D, Mrs. I, yada yada. Do you ever wonder why all those women are married? I think that’s stupid. Forced conformity, even in our nursery rhymes.

That joke always made Steve laugh. He’s read this letter so many times it’s starting to come apart at the creases, but it still made him pause and chuckle.

Anyways. This is yours. Eleven letters a year for twelve years is one hundred and thirty two. Adding in the ones from before, it’s probably around a hundred and fifty. It’s not the same as having me around, but if you spread them out, you might get thirteen years or so before you have to start rereading them.

Or read them all in one sitting. Do whatever you want.

Steve had counted. It was one hundred and forty one. He read one new one a night, because every single day they survived seemed like a miracle right now.

He only had seventy three more left.

Not like I can stop you, haha.

That’s probably not as funny to you as I want it to be. Sorry, Love.

It wasn’t funny. Not in the slightest. Steve wanted Eddie here, wanted him to tell him to wait. He wanted Eddie to write him more letters.

Oh, I also included a bunch of stuff I thought was too cool to lose, and a mixtape with songs that I wrote for my band. I thought you might want to get to hear my voice. It’s probably stupid, but you don’t have to listen to them if you don’t want to.

Steve listened to it. They had been forced to scrounge up new batteries for his walkman three times because it kept dying.

Everything in this box is yours, Wayne has strict instructions to give it to you. And, anything of mine Wayne doesn’t want is for you too.

Wow. A whole trust fund of trailer park trash. Some people leave their soulmates huge inheritances. I left you rocks and pictures and a shit ton of letters. Aren’t you lucky, Love?

He was lucky. He had seventy three more letters. Seventy three more reasons to survive another day.

After that…Steve wasn’t sure if he would be lucky anymore.

Now if you’re good at math- which I hope you are, because I’m terrible at it- then you might be saying to yourself ‘Is my soulmate an idiot? Does he not know there’s twelve months in a year?’

No. I’m actually incredibly smart, even though my grades don’t really show it. I rewrite this top of the box letter every year on my birthday, and then I burn the last one. It’s a fun, extremely morbid, tradition.

I’m 20 today, Love. I wonder how old you are a lot. I hope you’re close to my age at least. Maybe you’re like fifty years older than me, and I meet you when you’re on your deathbed, and that’s why we only have five days.

They had only gotten five days because Steve hadn’t just taken Eddie and run. He should have just told Eddie to go as far from Hawkins as possible the second he realized. Fuck the rest of the world, fuck stopping the apocalypse. The best part of Steve was already dead.

Two whole decades, but somehow I’m still in high school. I failed. Again. I wrote a lot about it in my letter last month, so I’m not going to talk about it again. Suffice to say I’m pretty bummed. I mean, c’mon, even Steve Harrington managed to graduate last year, and that guy barely even went to class during senior year.

That part of the letter always made his stomach turn. He hated the reminder of all the wasted time, the little nudge that always told him it was his fault they barely had any time.

If he had only looked up.

Oh, well. This one is it. ‘86 baby! I’d say I want this to be the year I meet you, but I really want to graduate, so maybe hold off for just one more year? Stay wherever you are for just twelve more months, Love, just to be safe. Then I can put a picture of me flipping off my principal in this box for you. I’ll add my diploma in too, just to prove to you I did it.

Eddie wasn’t going to get a diploma.

If you wait a year, I’ll give you twelve more letters. So just wait one more year. By then, I think I’ll know what to say to make this better. I’ll know what to do to fill the gap I know you’re going to have. I’ll have something to say that will fix all this. I say that every year, and I never do, but hey, ‘86.

Nothing anyone said would fix this. Nothing Eddie could write would fill the hole left in Steve’s soul. Nothing.

I’m sorry.

I say that every year too.

Steve didn’t want apologies. He didn’t want letters. He didn’t want a hard to hear voice on a single mixtape.

He wanted Eddie.

Well. Happy birthday to me. One more year without meeting you. Eleven more letters. You better be doing something just as nice for me in case it's you that bites it, or I’m bringing your ass back just to kill you again.

Steve didn’t care if Eddie killed him. Eddie could reappear right now and immediately shoot Steve and he would die happy. He just wanted one more minute. Just a little more time.

…Wait just a little bit longer. I’ll have better words next year.

Can you do that for me, Love?

P.S. You should read the first letter I wrote to you, just to appreciate how eloquent and charming I am in this one.

Eddie called him ‘Love’. Eddie asked him to wait. Eddie wanted to have the right words. He wanted to live long enough to save Steve from his own broken heart.

Steve wishes he had waited.

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 2 years

Text

Doctor Who, but Chronologically 26

It's 1913 and fuck me but this episode fucks like a rabid rhino as it's time for Human Nature.

Holy.

Shit.

And it kind of makes sense! Remember when the Tennant Doctor talked to Jackson Lake? And told him about how Time Lords sometimes store memories in fob watches? And then remember how Tecteun and the Ood had a fob watch they used to be a dick to the Whittaker Doctor? And she was maybe going to open it? Fob watch! We know all about these!!!

So, we start with Tennant and Martha, sprinting into the TARDIS to escape "The Family". These, it transpires, are aliens made of lurid green gas who can possess people, so we're off to a simply fantastic start right there in terms of saving the budget. To escape them the Doctor turns himself human, and gets Martha to basically guard him in The Past because as a human he remembers nothing, which

A) means we are treated to David Tennant's acting changing to being Subtly Wrong, right down to the way he smiles, which is unsettling as fuck; and

B) fucking sucks ASS for Martha because she's now a black maid in a posh white English boarding school and this episode is not interested in portraying posh white English boarding schoolers in 1913 as anything other than raging cock-heads who make you glad there's a world war around the corner to wipe two thirds of them out.

Although I say English. That's St Ffagans, that is. With some exteriors up by Llangors. I know my Welsh historical sites.

Anyway, Martha yeets herself bodily up the rankings with this one. She's capable, and clever, and marooned in a fucking awful time as a bodyguard for a man who doesn't remember her and treats her like shit, and she is so achingly alone. She's stored the TARDIS in a shed, and she goes to it for some normalcy, and to dream of going home. She's made friends with Jenny, another maid, and their friendship is sweet and wholesome, the only bright spot left, and the whole thing would make you weep if only, um, Freema's acting was good.

(I'm sorry I adore her but she is just... very hammy)

So it's very depressing when Jenny becomes an alien host.

BUT it's also an AMAZING SCENE, because Martha has managed to source some afternoon tea for them to share, and Jenny comes in and is Weird, and Martha doesn't just notice - in a move that had me going "Well THIS scene was written by a Welshman," she looks Jenny in the eye and says "Okay, shall I put some gravy in the teapot? We could have jam and herring." And Jenny falls for it just as a changeling would, and Martha gets the fuck out. Incredible. Martha for the win. Everyone should know their changeling lore. Martha clearly does. Good girl.

Although shout out to the Family actually; the Daughter is a little girl with a red balloon and the same nursery rhyme backing track as the sinister little girl with the red balloon in Remembrance of the Daleks who turned out to be possessed by a Dalek or some shit, which is very cool, although these little girls with red balloons and sinister nursery rhyme backing tracks are about as good at acting as each other, which is to say, not really. BUT the Son is played by what's his tits off of Game of Thrones, you know the one? Played the little blond inbred lad who loved dragons. He's fantastic in this! Plays it with just the right amount of menace and charm, it's great. It could easily have become hammy and undermined it, but it's just great. Who knew you could sniff in a frightening manner and make your eyes glow with the Power of Acting alone?

Um, what else, what else... oh yeah, the Doctor as a human is a trembling virgin who gets a girlfriend played by Jessica Hynes. He falls down some stairs because he's so flustered about asking her to a dance. He literally starts saying "Um, I've never..." before kissing her, as though that's at all news to anyone watching.

Anyway, plot-wise, the Doctor dreams of his real life and has written it all down in a dream journal, which he insists on explaining to every woman who looks his way with the tediousness of people who keep dream journals everywhere. He keeps the fob watch on the mantlepiece. He has left a list of instructions for Martha, of which number 23 is to open the watch as a last resort.

But, one of the students in the boarding school is that kid from Love, Actually who later was an American chess player in the Queen's Gambit (side note, I swear like half the cast in the Queen's Gambit was British and putting on lacklustre American accents). Turns out this kid is Mildly Psychic in the way that people often are in RTD's era because why the fuck not, and so he has, in fact, stolen the fob watch because it spoke to him. Occasionally he opens it and learns about Time Lords, but that means the Family can smell the Doctor. This means Martha tries to open the watch, only to find it missing.

So they all go to the dance, which is in the old Oakdale Working Men's Club, and my dad used to go drinking there. It's in St Ffagans now. They're moving the Vulcan there just next door which is fun, because I used to go drinking in the Vulcan, so it'll be two generations of us moved to a museum. I've forgotten what I was talking about.

So they all go to the dance. Unfortunately, this includes the Family, who are armed with a heady mix of alien guns and extraneous scarecrows. In a cliffhanger that lets down the rest of the episode, they grab Martha and Jessica Hynes, and tell a very confused Doctor that he has to change back from human or pick which of these women to kill. It feels a bit needlessly stapled on, tbh. But it's nice to see Oakdale Workies again.

Anyway I think no new questions? Other than "How will they get out of this?" but the second half is next even on this batshit watch order, so we can ignore that one. That's fun. However we do still have a fob watch hanging plot thread for Whitaker, so there's that.

The list!

“She” (an unknown person) is returning (perhaps River returned as Missy. Maybe Me? Maybe Clara???!)

There is something on Donna’s back

An entire planet, Pyrovilia, just… disappeared, somehow. (Maybe because the TARDIS is exploding??? Saturnine was also lost, and that WAS because of the TARDIS exploding. The lion man’s planet was also lost but he was a bit of a knob about it if I’m honest.)

Amy is maybe dead (she’s not)

The Doctor has been cubed (he’s out, but how?)

River is possibly blown up (unless she’s Missy)

The TARDIS has blown up (It’s fine now. Except it’s sort of melting now because it’s corrupted, but it’s fine again)

The universe appears to have ended (the universe is back again)

The Doctor has employed(?) Nardole (And Nardole was “reassembled???”)

There’s a vault in the TARDIS and it contains Missy but we don’t know why (sometimes she knocks for the bants)

What has happened to all these companions and where are the new ones coming from?

There’s an immortal Viking girl now. Her name is Me and she’s now looking after the people the Doctor abandons

What’s With The Silence?

Why was Rory entirely unconcerned by the entire world suddenly going silent when that is Not Normal and should have been, at the very least, extremely disconcerting?

What did the Doctor do to Queen Lizzie One?

Who is Captain Jack Harkness? (Is he the one who gave the companions a warning about the lone cyberman?)

Why is Amy seeing a one-eyed woman in a vanishing window?

What’s with the Doctor’s future involving getting shot by an astronaut?

Is Amy pregnant and why is it inconclusive?

Who is Sarah-Jane Smith?

How is the Doctor Bill’s teacher and why/where does he have an office?

What is going on with the Cyber War and the Cyberium???

Who did the Doctor lose to Cyber Conversion?

What happened with the Other Cyber War?

What happened with the Third War that deleted the void?

Why does Rose seem particularly important?

What’s with the Weeping Angel statues, and why can’t you blink at them?

What order do these Doctors go in? (Eccleston, Tennant, uncertain, Smith, Capaldi.)

Which companion just… forgot the Doctor, and how?

Yaz and Vinder are about to die as Mori/Mwri/Muuri

There is a Lupari shield around Earth.

What’s a Time War?

What’s the Rift?

What’s Bad Wolf?

What happened with Amy’s pregnancy?

In which war did the Doctor become a war criminal, and how?

Who is the Master?

Why has Amy forgotten Rory?

Is Rory plastic or not?

Why is the Doctor sulking on a cloud?

How exactly does the Doctor have a cloud?

What exactly happened with Strax to, uh, tame him?

Which friend killed Strax?

Which friend brought Strax back?

Where did this lesbian lizard and human couple come from?

What happened with Clara as Souffle Girl and the Daleks?

How does Clara actually join?

Why so many Claras?

Why is Missy apparently in robo-heaven?

Why is probably!Missy pushing Clara and the Doctor together?

What is Trensilor and what happened there?

Who is Handles?

The Doctor is about to be dissolved by a beautiful geode man

The universe is being crushed by the Flux

Will the Doctor open the fob watch? (NEW INFO: he also needs to open a fob watch as Tennant, but this presumably won't count.)

Sontarans are invading Earth again

Who is Kate?

Who is Osgood? Another name of Clara’s again?

The fuck is the deal with the Grand Serpent

#doctor whom #and yet we are continuing

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azrielslightintheshadows · 10 months

Note

Your work has been bringing me a lot of comfort so thank you first of all 🩷 I've been going through it and your writing has been helping me stay slightly sane which I can't thank you enough for

Could I request one where cassian helps the reader through a really bad depressive episode? Like she isn't coming to training and she brushes it off as being sick at first but after awhile he gets suspicious and goes to check on her when he notices her skipping on meals as well only to find her buried in her covers surrounded by her stuffed animals trying to deal with the depressive episode on her own. Maybe he drags her out of bed and draws her a bath, makes her her favorite meal and cuddles her to help her feel like herself?

Thank you again, you're doing great!!

Not alone.

Cassian x f!Reader.

Masterlist.

Warnings; depression.

Before we begin I want to write a few words about this request. I was in tears when I read your kind words, thank you so much. It means the world to me that in some way I helped you. I've been there too, so I opened this blog and started writing. My fics are a way of escaping the real world, the inner circle has become my family and this blog is a way to live in their world. I want you to know that you are not alone and if this is helping you cope then I will be glad to write as many requests as you want. If you ever want to talk to someone I'm here! I really hope you enjoy this... it might be a little messy because depressive episodes are like that and I wanted to point it out.

Night came… but the sun was out, the darkness around you made it difficult to tell day and night apart. You had been through this multiple times and you dreaded the moment it would happen again. You were right.... this time it was harder, you didn’t want to move but you couldn’t stay into one place for long as you would feel a weight pushing down on you. Breathing became a burden, after two breaths a sigh would escape. There wasn’t an actual reason why you were going through this, it just happened out of nowhere like someone was sucking all the happiness out of you leaving you broken and tired. You were so used to it that with the first sign you blocked the mating bond so Cassian wouldn’t realise what was happening. You didn’t want your mate to see you like this, you knew he would do everything in his power to help you, but you didn’t want to bother him… after all you were used going through this alone.

The door of your bedroom opened slowly and Cassian walked in, a worried look on his face.

“Hey doll, did you forget about training?” His voice was soft and he took a seat next to you on the bed. You were laying face down, hugging your pillow. Cassian rubbed your back as he waited for you to respond.

“I don’t feel good, I think I’m catching a cold.” You murmured.

“Okay... I will get you some tea and then we can go see Madja!” He replied and got up.

“No it’s okay, I’m a bit nauseous so I don’t want to drink anything. You should go to training, the Valkyries need you”

He stared at your back for a few minutes and then let out a sigh.

“Okay… but pull the bond if you need anything and if you get worse we are going to Madja.” he sighed.

“Okay” you replied and he left.

Tears filled your eyes but never escaped, you weren’t holding them back but still they just blurred your vision… maybe your body was so tired that it couldn’t bother to let the tears out. With a sigh you got up and gathered all your stuffed animals and placed them around your bed, creating a small nest and laying in the middle of it.

Cassian finished his training and headed to the dining room with a smile on his face expecting to see you there having lunch. The smile turned into a frown when he scanned the empty room. He turned around ready to come find you when Rhysand’s voice in his mind stopped him.

Cass I need you in the river house. Now.

He cursed and headed to the balcony, stretching his wings and shooting up.

They spent most of the day in Rhysand’s office talking about Keir and his plans, Azriel’s spies had informed him that Keir was acting suspiciously but they didn’t know what was happening.

Rhysand rubbed his face as they once again fell into a dead end.

“I will send my shadows” Azriel reassured him.

“We need to find out what he is planning as soon as possible, I won’t risk Nyx getting hurt.” Rhysand sighed.

Cassian nodded and left the office, he stopped by your favorite bakery and bought some cookies he knew you loved.

He landed on the balcony of the house of wind and walked inside, grinning as he saw Nyx on the ground playing with some toys.

“Hey Cass where is y/n?” Feyre asked him and he frowned.

“She is not here?”

“Oh…I don’t know she didn’t come for dinner so I thought she was with you” Feyre furrowed her eyebrows.

Cassian only nodded and left the room, his long strides taking him to your shared room quickly. He opened the door and his frown deepened at the sight.

Your small body was curled between your stuff animals, your gaze lost and your breathing uneven.

“Oh baby again?” Was all he said as he approached you. You nodded and he sighed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-I didn’t want to bother you” you sniffled and he picked you up.

“Don’t you even think of that ever again, you could never bother me babygirl” his voice was soft and he left a kiss on your forehead.

He placed you on the edge of the bathtub and lifted his oversized shirt over your head, you stretched your arms and helped him remove it.

Once you were naked he picked you up and softly placed you into the bathtub, the warm water making you moan. He smirked and hurried off only to return a few minutes later with a tray, you glanced at it and noticed; one plate of your favorite meal, some fresh fruits and your favorite cookies. He steadied the tray on the edge of the bathtub and removed his clothes, slipping in behind you and engulfing you with his strong arms.

“You need to eat” he whispered in your ear leaving a kiss afterwards. You leaned back against him and closed your eyes an indication that you wanted him to feed you. He chuckled and picked up the fork.

After you were done with your food he picked you up again and carried you to the bed, he helped you in one of his shirts and laid on the bed. The sight was hilarious, Cassian was laying on the bed, his arms wide open waiting for you and your stuffed animals around him, he even picked a few that fell off and placed them on his wings to keep them from falling again. You giggled and crawled into bed, sighing when his strong arms wrapped around you.

“You forgot this” he whispered and gave you your favourite teddy bear, he had gotten it for you on your first anniversary.

“Thank you” you mumbled and pressed yourself harder against him.

“Good night sweetheart” he kissed your head and his hand rubbed soothing circles on your back.

Maybe you didn’t need to go through this alone this time.

Requests are open but delayed!

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chutkiandchotte · 4 months

Text

On gold-diggers

So if you watch any amount of Indian tv at all, then you are familiar with a common belief in the world of rich people of ITV (and IRL as well of course, this is how audiences think too), that poor women are always on the make, looking to trap rich husbands for a better life, the double edged sword of the term "gold-digger". I uhhhh rambled a bit on this topic.

The idea of the "gold-digger" is so ingrained that we all instantly understand the negative power of it. We may object with horror and anger when the asshole hero, or his backwards family levy this charge against our beloved female lead; but we, the very same audience won't hesitate to turn around and levy the very same charge against the "vamp" character; the girl in tight clothes who drinks alcohol and *gasp* has no sanskaars - like clearly, SHE is in it for the money, otherwise why would she put up with such a toxic boyfriend?

(like of course it cannot be that the vampy girl is sticking around for the same reason that WE the audience are falling for this toxic male lead despite knowing how much he sucks - it cannot be that she finds him hot & values his good qualities & as for the bad qualities, he's just a traumatized lil baby, i can fix him! - no, that can't be it, because then it feels uncomfortably close to relating to the vamp, and that cannot happen, of course!)

no, she, the vamp, only loves his good looks and his money and his hotness, she doesn't love his "true" self at all, she's a GOLD DIGGER!!! we revel in the power of the gold-digger charge, and how it humiliates her.

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what inspired this rant? i had an intense argument with someone on another platform, about Lavanya's character (from IPKKND). this person insisted that Lavanya was a gold-digger who never loved Arnav. But La is rich, I argued. So what, she said. Even if she is rich, she isn't as rich as Arnav. Arnav is 10000 crore guy, Lavanya is just 1000 crore girl. A gold-digger. She just wanted him because he was a "catch" while Khushi wants him for his true inner self. But La put up with his family for his sake, I argued. She did so much to please him. Well, this person said. That's the proof. Lavanya tolerated all of Arnav's and his family's BS without objection, hence, she MUST be a gold-digger. didn't I know? rich men are always targets of "girls like Lavanya". of gold-diggers. she kept using that word over and over again for Lavanya, probably because by then she had realized how much it was pissing me off. (what can I say? i can definitely be an easy target for trolling at times).

internalized misogyny often goes like - most women are sluts/stupid/useless/greedy schemers/<insert other sexist tropes>, but I - I will prove myself worthy of men's affections by being not <sexist trope>, then maybe I won't suffer the negative consequences those other women do!

and yes, I speak from personal experience. what woman HASN'T harboured deeply toxic thoughts borne out of internalized misogyny at least once in her life? we live in society, how do we escape it's influences?

and caught in these confusions, when we read stories, we project.

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there are, of course, real life cases where there are women who (to quote Amy March) look upon marriage as an economic proposition and make matches based on financial gains. the horror!

of course, that its both men and women, who make decisions about marriage/love based on money, doesn't cross often our minds when we think about gold-diggers. that in desi society at least, majority of marriages ARE economic propositions involving heavy financial transactions, is not at all the same topic. because those transactions are done by the elders; by the men in power, and their enablers. those are transactions that keep society running in its status quo. the horror! the gold-digging horror of it comes in, when its a woman by her own volition seeking to better her financial status as easily as she possibly can, without making any sacrifice or compromise! how dare she? how dare! doesn't she know the tax of living for a woman is sacrifice. you can't pass go without it.

and the OTHER much much larger parts of reality definitely don't exist while people are busy labelling women as gold-diggers. the parts where the leading cause of sudden death for women is murder at the hands of an intimate partner, where 3 out of 10 women have been abused by a partner (and this is just reported stats - who knows what the real figure is). And what about the reality where one of the key aspects of an abusive relationship is financial abuse & power imbalance due to the victim having no resources.

in India, especially, the sad, sorry, disturbing TRUTH is, justice is a monetary transaction. the richer you are, the more you can get away, especially in the matter of women, since as a society we are ever-ready to disbelieve women.

this is also why in this reality we live in, many girls families themselves INSIST on paying dowry - on sending more and more gifts even after marriage - because you know what they're buying? no, not merely a "respectable" husband for their daughter. what they are paying for is the safety, respect, and dignity of their daughter in her married family and their own "standing" in society. its a grand and most successful blackmail scheme; because everybody knows, the girl who brings nothing to her husband's house, is fair game for every other type of exploitation. she's got to pay her dues somehow.

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

so. when a poor girl marries a rich guy, it might seem like a fairytale on the outside. it might seem like, its every poor girl's dream. but in REALITY, what it is, is the girl signing up for a statistically much higher risk of being abused, raped, and murdered. not a dream so much as a nightmare.

yet, its always the woman's character that is on trial - SHE has to prove that she isn't a greedy schemer out for his money but a pure hearted girl genuinely in love - while all HE has to do, is stand there and be hot and rich; he never has to prove that he won't abuse her. heck, he will provide categorical proof of being a future abuser, and its absolutely no stumble in a romance path. the power of the word gold-digger is always hanging on her head; the hero as well as the audience, her lover and society, ever eagerly searching to judge her for the same; a little slip, and she could be in vamp territory!

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I tend to be...passionate...about my fictional people opinions. I have definitely heard "its just a story" many times in my life. But I disagree.

These conversations we have about fictional characters are reflections of our realities. And these are Indian daily soaps, not grimdark crazy premise sci-fic/fantasy HBO shows. The same court in which we judge fictional characters, also becomes a court in which we judge real people around us. This is the power of stories, the danger of them - they can reiterate the worst that is in us, reinforce our worst selves; or they can open us up to new perspectives and expand our empathy.

i mean we have seen SO MANY iterations of the angry anti-hero young man, embodying every trope of toxic masculinity, and then turning out to be a perfect husband at the end. character development and taming the beast. alls well that ends well. men can be fixed. sometimes love looks like hate. etc.

i long for a story where we see a heroine who IS a "gold digger"; who is practical, realistic, and smart, who has a career and ambitions but maybe has tasted too much of poverty to ever choose it for herself if given an option. who chooses and chases a guy because the thing that matters to her is financial security and an easy life. why does this girl always have to be the villain? if abusers can reform, why not gold-diggers? why can't SHE be hit with a character development stick, in the same general standard of dignity as a corresponding male lead, and learn some lessons and fall in love and become the best version of herself? and if she does get to do all that, why does she HAVE to be humiliated in some evil way, and/or die at the end, why can't she live, learn and have a happily ever after?

why, in fact, do we reserve so much passionate vitriol for the fictional female offenders - the vamps and the career girls and the ex girlfriends - the ones driven by jealousies and insecurities - while keeping infinite reserves of forgiveness for their male equivalents?

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No - Lavanya has to be a gold-digger, a hopeless harlot, for Khushi to be a perfect wife, for Arnav to be absolved of his sins against Lavanya as well as Khushi, for the audience to be in no danger of relating to a woman as evil and out of bounds as Lavanya, for us all to maintain our collective delusions that rich men are victims of those women, as opposed to being their predators.

EVEN in a show like IPKKND which went out of the way to have a different, ground-breaking narrative...there's this reading of the text. There's the cognitive dissonance to judge/hate Lavanya for certain traits while finding Arnav sexy for those same ones.

I don't think it is at all surprising that Indian tv can never seem to get over its madonna/whore complex - because honestly, we the audience, seem to enjoy it too much!

#this is a post inspired by an online argument so yeah its a ramble lol. i was angry but it also made me self-reflect.#when i was younger i have definitely internalized these attitudes #i've reacted from this place #of holding fictional female characters to much higher standards than male ones #because that is just #how we think in reality too #i like a story that challenges these ideas in a fun away #IPKKND was that with regards to Lavanya #IPKKND

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ana-snz · 4 months

Text

My Dashboard is broken and I can’t see anything at all but tbh it’s kind of perfect timing bc I’m a bit burnt out and probably (hopefully) gonna take a lil break from here. Unfortunately with how much mental energy I’ve exerted over the past few days I’m crashing pretty badly and need to just turn my brain off for a little bit to recharge.

I know a handful of folks think this whole thing was overblown and unnecessary, but I think it did serve to highlight some underlying problems in the community. It sucks to see this pattern of minimization and dismissal that so many of us disabled folks are familiar with in the real world repeat in what is supposed to be a fun place to escape and enjoy ourselves. No one wants unnecessary drama or to argue over something like this, but disabled people also don’t want to be spoken over or dismissed when we’re trying to voice our concerns and point out ableism when we see it. Of course everything can be taken too far, policing the ways people can and cannot express or enjoy themselves on their personal blogs is also not a good or healthy thing to do, but occasionally pointing out harmful rhetoric when it occurs is part of all healthy kink spaces and helps keep our community safe, and it is disingenuous to equate that with being puritanical or overly rigid or moralistic.

Also I think it’s worth mentioning that yes, at the end of the day this is an online community and none of it is That Serious, but by nature of it being it a kink space it is also quite vulnerable and I don’t think it’s abnormal for people to want to feel safe and accepted in it, and that includes other people being respectful of the IRL shit we’ve all got going on, because we’re all real people outside of this app.

I will probably still be lurking (since I’m housebound I have very little accessible to me besides low-pressure scrolling on my phone) and depending on how long this particular crash lasts I might not be gone too long, but just wanted to give a heads up & also remind all my fellow disabled baddies to give themselves a little extra love & compassion this week. It might not seem like a big deal, but getting involved in this kind of discourse (idk why I keep using this word lol, my brain’s just latched onto it) can be more mentally taxing than we realize as it’s often tied to health / medical trauma for many of us.

I hope this doesn’t sound too ✨dramatique✨ lol I just want to highlight that with illnesses that impact energy levels, even things that are important and meaningful to us can put our bodies over their limit and make us sicker, so it’s crucial to make sure we’re pacing properly and taking good care of ourselves. This is supposed to a fun space and if it’s starting to feel more stressful than enjoyable, it’s probably a good idea to take a little break. Love y’all.

(Oh look, another long post! Haha a bitch likes to talk 📢)

#snzblr #snzblr discourse #if there’s one thing I love it is a Long and Overanalyzed post

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klausysworld · 1 year

Note

Could you write something with yandere klaus and he’s kidnapped the reader but she’s slowly becoming a yandere over him and refusing to let him have attention on anyone but her or to leave her alone?

I think…I love you

It started of like a nightmare. I was trapped and i hated him, i wished him dead or locked away like he had me.

I felt like a caged animal, i am caged animal…or i was?

It’s gotten confusing over the months. The more he spent time with me, the less i seemed to mind. To begin with i would yell and rile him up and he would lash back, be cruel and rough but once i gave in and stopped kicking or hitting and screaming, he wasn’t so bad.

The food he gave me was of the best quality and there was no shortage of snacks in the cupboards he had put up in my room.

Over time my room went from just a bed to a full on apartment. There was a kitchen section with a stove that only he could turn on, after the small incident that i caused when he originally installed it and tried to burn the room down, and then a microwave, sink and fridge freezer

“Now we can cook and bake together, my love, no more waiting for me to disappear and remerge with the food, you have your own” he said with a smile as he opened the cupboards filled with crisps and chocolates and such.

That was a moment I wouldn’t ever forget, I practically threw myself at him hugging him so unbelievably tight he could barely breathe. After a minute of shock he hugged me back before we baked dozens of cookies and cakes.

Next was the TV. That was a game changer.

Again i had jumped on him so suddenly he fell back onto the sofa he had bought with me on top of him. His eyes were wide as i slammed my lips to his, he moaned in surprise as my tongue met his in a frenzy. His hands were in my hair as he managed to get himself above me, my legs wrapping round his waist much to his surprise.

Now we didn’t go all the way but he was overly happy to have his fingers inside me. He seemed to be in more pleasure than i was-if that was possible- as he continued to groan into my mouth and curl his fingers against my spongey spot to have my chest pushing to his and my mouth opening wider for him. And when my head was thrown back while i cried his name and came all over his hand, he was sucking dark marks into my neck with a growl of satisfaction.

We had become much closer since then. I found myself drawn to his talented hands, aching to have them back on me, in me. And he was all the more happy to oblige. I knew once we had sex i would’ve finally given in completely, there would be zero chance of ever leaving my room. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t let him have me in other ways.

Now he was allowed to touch me he was all the more eager to get me whatever i wanted. He was like a gift from hell. He could be so horrible, demanding and selfish but then he would be kind, loving and giving. And I couldn’t help but want him around. I didn’t try to escape anymore, there wasn’t any point. I was…happy here, with him. There wasn’t anyone left for me in the real world, he had made sure of that ages ago so he was all i really had and i he had everything i needed so why run away?

There was one small problem though. He was often leaving, never able to stay too long because of another problem in town, his family, Salvatores, everything.

At times i even had to beg him to stay, anything for another ten minutes. It was horrible being in here alone, it felt empty and lifeless. Besides he enjoyed my pleading and grasping for him to stay, almost guaranteed me extra time with him.

I began to grow upset when he mentioned other women. One name in particular: Caroline Forbes. Someone who had very clearly taken an interest i him and yet he seemed oblivious

“She likes you” i stated and he laughed

“No she’s using me, she thinks she has me in her pocket but it is i who is winning this game” he muttered. A game? With a girl? Not good.

The annoyance in his voice was clear when he spoke of Elena and Bonnie, though sometimes he was a little too impressed by Bonnie’s power which always twisted something inside me. He liked me to be weak, enjoyed the hold he had over me so why was he so enamoured by hers?

Something when he didn’t come down to sleep beside me, my mind began to wonder. Was he in someone else’s bed? Were there other girls with their own room somewhere else i this place? Did he love me at all? I was well behaved now, obedient. Surely he wasn’t still mad at me for our earlier interactions?

That fear drove me. It had me clinging to him relentlessly, I needed him to stay with me like i would him. He had to be mine if i were to be his.

———————————————————————

I waited patiently as i heard his footsteps nearing. The door unlocking before he walked in dressed impeccably. His suit was tailored perfectly and his hair was gelled. His bowtie was white like his shirt with his blazer, pants and shoes were black.

“My love” he breathed as he pulled me into his arms. I hugged him lightly before pulling away with a frown

“Why are you dressed up?” I asked and his lips twitched into a smile

“It’s my mother, she has returned, she’s throwing a ball and so my siblings and i had to attend, bring dates and all that” he waved his hand dismissively before pressing his lips to mine but i pushed him away making him frown

“Dates?” I questioned, that sick feeling rising throughout me as i glared at the thought

“It’s only Caroline love, i had to otherwise it would be suspicious. I can’t have anyone suspecting you down here” he explained softly but his faux innocence only caused my fear and anger to rise

“How on earth is that fair? You have me! You don’t need her!? Am i- am i not enough? Oh god you’re going to take her too aren’t you?” My emotions were running a thousand miles a second as i backed away from him

“No, love no, of course not. You’re more than enough, i love you. It’s just an act sweetheart, i don’t mean anything by it. I’m not keeping anyone else like i have you, you’re all i will ever need, ever want” he assured but my head shook as my heart began to race, my breaths coming closer together

“You’re lying- you keep giving me things to distract me don’t you? Because you’re with other people… is- is this because I won’t sleep with you? You need someone else to-“

“No! No that is not what is happening at all!” He yelled, his eyes wide and his hands coming down to my shoulders but the contact made it worse. How many people were being touched by his hands? Fingers that had been all over me, in someone else?

“Y/n look at me, look at me bunny” he pleaded quietly, my eyes reluctantly rose to his as i felt tears cloud my vision. His thumbs were quick to wipe any away as he held my face gently

“I would never, and will never, do that to you. You have no idea how much i love you sweetheart. I watched you for weeks, months before coming to take you home, i know you my love. You’re mine, and i am yours, completely and utterly yours. I would do anything to prove that to you” he confessed as i saw his eyes glisten over as worry seeped in

“Then why do you leave me for her?” Her i whispered, my voice breaking as I attempted to withhold the sobs that were clawing at the back of my throat.

“To protect you” he murmured “that is all, you must believe me, i wouldn’t have done all of this just to throw you away, i love you more than could ever love anybody else, you mean an impossible amount to me”

“Why can’t we just be together Klaus? Why cant we have our own house and we can be together” i asked quietly now the tears ran down my face

“It isn’t safe for you to be outside” he explained

“Then I won’t leave. I’ll stay in the house, you can spell it, we can stay inside, together, isn’t that what you want? Just us..forever?”

He smiled sadly at me as he pressed a kiss to my forehead

“I’m afraid that just isn’t possible in my life, my family will always find me, my enemies will always find me, this. This is the only way to keep you safe and with me. I wish there were another way, and there is in a different world but not this one love, this is the only way” he whispered desperately trying to have me believe him

“Please don’t go to the ball with her” i uttered

“No love, I won’t” he promised pulling me into a hug and hiding his face in my neck, kissing tenderly. “I’ll just stay here, my family won’t notice just this once” he muttered as his lips moved down to my collarbone, sucking gently

“I think…I love you” i told him so quietly i was surprised even his supernatural side could hear me.

But i knew he had when his face hovered just over mine, his eyes shining as he smiled down at me

“And i love you, more than you could believe” he reminded

“I want to be yours, fully” I muttered bringing his hand to rest over my heart. “Please, i know you want to”

His eyes darkened as i moved his hand to squeeze my breast

“Not like this” he murmured “you’re vulnerable and upset, we will soon, I promise… but under far more romantic circumstances” he kissed the corner of my mouth before bringing me over to my bed, sitting me down in the middle “But if you lay back, i can still certainly help you feel better” he purred as he emerged from between my legs, his hands pushing my knees apart making me laugh lightly

“You know you’ve done the pleasing an awful lot over the past months, perhaps i can help you this time?” I offered, my hand reaching down to feel his crotch, my brows widening feeling him already hard and much larger than I expected. I could see his smirk as his hips gently rocked against my hand

“If you come here we can please each other” he grinned and my face grew hot

“I love you” i told him leaning up to kiss him

“And i, you”

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thatfanficstuff · 7 months

Text

Open Wounds - 23

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Soulmate!reader

Warnings: violence and angst and stuff

a/n: only a couple of chapters left on this one.

The corner of Phil Coulson’s mouth curled in a smile. “You haven’t called me that in a long time.” His gaze softened as he ran his eyes over you looking for any sign of injury.

He wasn’t real. He couldn’t be. This was some side effect of the shit they pumped into your veins. You were hallucinating. Or you were dead and he was here to greet you. You were pretty sure you hurt too much to be dead though. Either that or the afterlife sucked.

“I don’t…” you started as you took a step in his direction, not trusting your own senses. Your hands trembled. “You died. You bled out while I was on the other side of the world chasing ghosts. You can’t be here.”

He stepped forward, holstering his weapon before holding his hands out to the side as he closed the space between you. You vaguely registered the callings of all clears ringing through the base and the hallway filling with SHIELD and Avengers alike. They maintained their distance from the little group of you gathered near Strucker. You were vaguely aware of Bucky hovering somewhere close behind you. But for once, he didn’t hold all your attention. Not when you were faced with the ghost of your father.

You narrowed your gaze at the man in front of you as you reached out a tentative hand to touch his chest. As soon as you came in contact with a solid form, a broken sound escaped your throat and you threw yourself into his arms. You gripped him tightly and buried your head against his chest. “How are you here? Where have you been? I don’t understand.”

“It is a very long story which I will explain in detail once we get you home.” You nodded and pulled yourself together as you released him. You had a job to do. One more thing to take care of before this was finished.

You turned back to where Strucker waited on his knees. You made a point of not looking at Bucky. You didn’t know how you’d begin to explain to him the things you’d done thinking you were saving him. He’ll be so disappointed in you when he learns the truth. He moved so he was a warm wall at your back and said your name softly.

You closed your eyes and took a breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

One large hand found your waist and gave a gentle squeeze. “What are you sorry for, baby?”

A low, ugly laugh grabbed your attention and your eyes snapped open to find Strucker sneering at you. He was still on his knees, Wade keeping guard behind him with a katana resting against the asshole’s neck. Explained why’d he’d been quiet thus far. “She is apologizing for what she became in your absence. She isn’t yours anymore, Barnes.” Disgust dripped from his lips as he spat out the name. “She is Nicto. She is ours.”

Wade smacked Strucker in the back of the head causing his monocle to drop from its usual position and bounce against his chest. “Shut it, Mr. Peanut.”

You couldn’t help the huff of laughter at the nickname. Only Wade. “What are we doing with him?” Stark asked with a gesture to the prisoner.

“We take him into SHIELD, of course.” That was Steve. America’s righteous son, always wanting to do the right thing. Sometimes it wasn’t that easy.

Your dad cleared his throat. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea. We have to consider the possibility that SHIELD is compromised.”

The chatter in the hallway quieted as everyone took in the implications of those words. The SHIELD soldiers that were in the room with you shifted uneasily on their feet. “Are you sure?” you asked him.

“No, but this operation had to be taken off book. None of us are officially here despite the fact this is a major Hydra facility. There have been a lot of blocks across the board. Fury is concerned, as am I.” His tone was matter-of-fact and you only caught the concern in it because you knew him so well.

“So we turn over one of the biggest war criminals in years and he what, just disappears behind the red tape?” Clint asked, sounding disgusted.

“Something like that,” you answered.

Strucker snorted. “Why do you debate? We all know you will do nothing. You stopped Nicto from killing me. I doubt the rest of you have the fortitude.”

You twitched at his use of the hated name. You weren’t nobody. Not anymore.

“Oh my god! What is that?!” Wade yelled as he pointed down the hallway. Everyone turned in unison, aiming weapons as they went. It quickly became evident that nothing was there and all eyes turned back to Wade.

He was slipping his katana into its sheath as Strucker’s head fell from his shoulders followed by the body slumping to the floor. You blinked at Wade as you arched your brows. “Spontaneous human decapitation. Freaky,” he said with a shrug.

Since you’d returned to the tower, you’d managed to avoid most everyone, including your soulmate. The only people allowed in your room were your dad, Clint and Natasha. All of them smart enough not to ask questions you didn’t want to answer yet. Though they had all made it a point at one time or another to tell you that whatever you had to do to survive wasn’t your fault.

They could say whatever they wanted, but they hadn’t felt that brief flash of triumph when you killed another of their soldiers, as you took down the target. You were afraid Hydra had gotten so far under your skin you’d never be rid of them.

Days blurred into nights with seldom a word from you. You sought comfort from your family and let them fill the quiet with their own stories. With their pleas for you to eat. To try again to sleep. As if you had any desire to close your eyes and relive your time with Hydra.

Your teammates hovered in your doorway trying to reach you. Your soulmate most of all. But you were content in your semi-isolation. Then they came to a decision. Whether it was an unspoken agreement or they’d had a meeting somewhere away from your hearing you had no idea. You’d been left alone for the day and you’d laid in the silence watching the shadows lengthen as hour grew later.

The door cracked open, drawing your attention. Bucky stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. His gaze ran over you before meeting your eyes with an intensity you couldn’t look away from.

“Enough.” The word was a plea. Whether it was to end your suffering or his, you had no idea.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Your voice was hoarse from your days of silence.

He huffed a bitter laugh. “Neither should you. Not like this. Why are you hiding from us? From me?”

You closed your eyes and turned away from him. “I should have been stronger. You deserve someone stronger. I let them get to me.”

Fingers softly brushed along the side of your face. You opened your eyes and sucked in a breath at finding Bucky knelt beside the bed watching you carefully. “Surviving isn’t a weakness, baby. It’s messy and brutal. No one knows that better than me. But you’re here. You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

“You must think I’m stupid to be like this after everything you went through.”

“Suffering’s not a competition.” He grabbed your hand and brought it to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of it. “As long as you come back to me, I don’t care about the rest. Everything you did, brought you back to me. I could never hold that against you.”

You huffed a laugh and laid a hand against his cheek. “You’re too good to me Bucky Barnes.”

He grinned. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Does that mean I can hold you? I’ve missed you like crazy.”

You tossed the blankets back. He kicked off his shoes and climbed in beside you, instantly pulling you into his body. You buried your face in his chest, pressing a kiss over his heart. You’d missed this. Even when you thought you didn’t deserve it, you ached for it.

“I’ve missed you so much, doll,” he whispered against the top of your head.

“I’m sorry, Bucky. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” And you didn’t. It’s the last thing you wanted to do but you seemed to keep doing it anyway.

“Sush. There’s nothing to forgive. We’ll get over it together. But I’m not letting you out of my sight for awhile so you better get used to having me as a shadow.”

You smiled and glanced up at him. “Tell me something, Barnes, when’s the last time you’ve been on a farm?”

“Um…Seventy years give or take a decade. Why?” Curiosity danced in his eyes.

“I think it’s time I went home.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes soulmate au!#marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #series: open wounds

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gachawolfiebloom · 6 months

Text

Your Pursuit of Perfection

Story and Artwork By: @GachaWolfieBloom

Chapter 7: You Can't Escape Your Fears

Summary: A few months after the events of WOTFI 2023, SMG4 starts having really bad dreams about the "Its gotta be perfect" incident. One night however, his fear allows the nightmares to break through and he gets taken to a horrific dimension. He finally meets the tv adware, who manipulates him into returning to his insane ways, intent on claiming much more than the perfect video. Now it's up to his friends to stop this madness and save SMG4. Can they do it in time or will they lose SMG4 forever? (In case you are unaware this is a sequel to the its gotta be perfect movie)

Tags: angst, its gotta be perfect, love confession, luigi, mario, meggy, melony, nightmares, scary, smg3, smg4, smg34, smg3 x smg4, tari, tv adware

Saiko was putting on a rock concert for all the citizens of the Mushroom Kingdom. She thought she was doing well until the crowd started to turn on her. A chanting of booing came from the crowd and they all shouted mean insults.

"You suck!"

"I wasted my time on this!?"

"You'll never become a rockstar!"

Saiko could feel her fear overcome her until someone jumped onto the stage. "Saiko! It's not real!" Three had come to save her along with One and Two. "No! Look at this! I'll never achieve my dream of being a famous rockstar!" One tried to persuade her that this was all fake. "This is all just a nightmare. See?" Saiko turned to see how the crowd had a shadowy look to it. Of course! The mist of nightmares. "My fear is what's causing this?" Gaining back her confidence, Saiko picked up her guitar and shouted "I AM NOT AFRAID OF YOU MONSTERS!!!" She had escaped the smoke and was back with the other three.

Mario was despairing as the world had run out of spaghetti. Three came crashing through the door and yelled "Mario snap out of it! It's just a nightmare!" He was still shaking as he said through his tears "But...Mario will never be with his true love again..." Saiko used her hammer to slam through. "Wake up Mario! We need your help!" He remembered how much he loved his friends and how he really wanted to save Smg4. He stood up and screamed "You think you can scare Mario with your dumb tricks. Well guess what? Mario is strong and he will not let you control him!" The scene faded away as he hugged his friends and thanked them for saving him.

Tari was surrounded by hundreds of angry ducks. "I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you all. I just love you so much." The ducks didn't listen as they inched closer. Mario hurdled into the room with a gun and said "Freeze!" Three came up behind him with Saiko and said "Tari those ducks are stupid fakers!" Mario grabbed one and shook it with all his might. "FAKER!" Tari was still panicked induced as she still defended her "little friends." "No. They are just scared. I should have treated them better." Saiko pulled out her hammer as the ducks attacked her. "Look around Tari! This is just the work of the nightmare mist!" Tari gasped as she said "How could they?"

Bob was trying to be a successful rapper, but nobody supported him. All the friends that he had made over the years went back to their old ways of rejecting him and pushing him aside. Even Birdo didn't think he was cool anymore. He was about to give up when he heard clapping in the distance. Mario was supporting Bob and the others had came to get him. "This is just a nightmare Bob!" Saiko questionably said "Your worst fear is being rejected from rapping?" Bob tried to deny it. "NO." Saiko then knew what to do to snap him out of his nightmares. "Then prove it." Bob took his microphone and smashed it on the ground. "SHUT UP! I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK!"

Melony's nightmare was taking a huge hit on her. She had failed to rescue Axol and now she was all alone. Zer0 had won and killed all of her friends. Just then a huge team of heroes stepped in to fight the eldritch monster. "Melony help us!" Tari called out as she looked up from her tears. "B-b-but Axol i-i-is..." Saiko sighed and said "I know. But we defeated Zer0 and we can defeat this nightmare as well." Melony rubbed her tears and inquired "This is a nightmare?" She turned to the huge creature and remembered how she saved all her friends in 2021 and 2022. That filled her with determination, as she pulled out her sword and ended the life of this bad dream.

Luigi was running his successful flower shop until he got terrible news that it was being shut down forever. He curled up into a ball on the ground and started crying. "Luigi!" He looked up to see who that familiar voice belonged to. "Wake up!" shouted Mario as he kept slapping his brother on the face. "What about my flower shop?" Tari stood in a confident pose and told him "Remember when Meggy coached us. Don't let her or your friends down. I faced my fears and so can you!" Luigi remembered Meggy's final assignment as a flashback of her giving him a thumbs up was playing and Boopkins was dressed in her beanie and headphones. He got up with a determined face and yelled "You're just a stupid nightmare! You don't scare me!"

Boopkins was crying while holding a picture of him and JubJub. Bob burst in and said "LET'S GO BOOPKINS!" He turned and said "I failed on protecting my brother. I'll never see him again." Bob rolled his eyes and said "BEING SAD ISN'T AN EXCUSE! GET A MOVE ON!" Boopkins wiped tears from his eyes. "THIS IS A NIGHTMARE!" Boopkins looked around and realized that it was. JubJub was back home and safe. Boopkins threw his arms in the air and yelled "I am not afraid!" Bob watched and then turned to the camera. "DANG BOB. YOU'RE A NATURAL."

There was only one person left...

Meggy had lost the big game of splatfest. The crowd was yelling in disbelief and Desti looked at her. "You promised to win splatfest for me." One Shot Wren shook his head and said "I expected better things from you kid." She held her head in her hands and whispered "I tried. I really did try." Her friends came running into the stadium. "Meggy snap out of it! It's only your fear!" Three tried to call out to her, but the opposing team started shooting them with their splatshots. While they all tried to avoid it, Three said to them "You distract them while I try to save Meggy." Bob immediately pulled out his grenade launcher and says "NOW YOU'LL SEE HOW A TRUE ATHLETE DOES IT!" Three slipped through the crowd up to Meggy, but the nightmare versions of Desti and Wren stopped him.

They tried to punch and kick him, so he thew them off the ledge. "Get out of here you stupid nightmare creatures." He ran up to her and tried to snap her out of it. "Meggy let's go now!" Her eyes were still full of tears as she whimpered "I lost. I'm a failure. I deserve this..." Three stopped in his tracks when he heard what Meggy said. "Believe me, I know how that feels." Three mumbled as Meggy looked up. "All those times I was lost in thought, it was about Four. My worst fear is that I failed to protect him and he died because of me." Meggy didn't move an inch.

"I just don't want to lose him...or you." He looks towards the ground, but then feels a warm embrace. Meggy hugs him and says "Thank you Three. I don't want to lose you either." He smiles and puts his arms around her as well. After a few seconds he pushes Meggy away from him and reverts back to his tsundere behavior. "Okay that's enough. Give me some space squid." She giggles and looks down to see that the rest of her friends are in trouble. She grabs her splatshot and fires at all the inklings. Once she defeats them, the scene melts away and they all find themselves back in the Nightmare realm.

They weren't alone as the icky creatures were surrounding them. "Ooooo very scary goop." Mario said, wriggling his fingers. They then see a man with a tv head come out of the shadows. "But some of you still are." He said as he directed his attention to Three. "Isn't that right Smg3?" He backed up, but didn't let his guard down. "I won't believe your dirty lies." The smile on the screen did not fade away. It actually got a bit wider. "But there is something you fear. If you surrender, I might be willing to spare your little friends."

An uneasy expression went across his face as the TV Adware continued. "After all they have done for you, this is how you repay them? Taking Smg4 away from them?" Darkness crept closer as Three yelled out in a state of defeat "No! They did nothing wrong! I'm the one who deserves this! I will-" He was about to make a deal with the Adware till Meggy stopped him. "NO! Smg3, you're our friend and you aren't going anywhere. Nobody blames you for what happened."

He stops in shock. "I'm your friend?" They all nodded. "Of course! Mario loves you!" Tari took a gentle approach. "And we know we can trust you." The TV Adware backed up and said in a slick voice "Well I see you have some real friends. Those who would do anything for you."

"This is your last chance. Before they see what you let happen." The others were confused, but Three knew what he meant. "You wouldn't dare..." Only Meggy, Mario, and Three saw their corrupted friend from the inside. Everyone else had taken on the goop outside.

The Adware chuckled and said "Well it seems we are not able to make an...arrangement. Don't worry though. I came prepared. I will get the kingdom I so desperately deserve."

A pink light started to shine through as a figure came up behind him. The creature had pink cracks on his face, his clothes were dirty, and his eyes looked desperately strained. When he was seen clearly in the light, everyone gasped in shock as they all said the same thing. "SMG4!?"

"Now you will all be destroyed and the Mushroom Kingdom will be defenseless! Meet my new friend...NIGHTMARE FOUR!!!"

Your friend is mine now...

Chapter 8: Are You Ready For The Next Show

#angst #it’s gotta be perfect #love confession #luigi #mario #smg4 meggy #smg4 melony #nightmare #scary #smg3 #smg4 #smg34 #smg3 x smg4 #smg4 tari #tv adware

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