#Naive and Sentimental Music

[strnilolover]

INTRODUCING . . . paparazzi!matt and famous!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ paparazzi - by lady gaga ⊹ ࣪ ˖

౨ৎ paparazzi!matt . . . hats. black leather jacket. jeans. plain t-shirts. suits. sliver jewelry. comfy pj pants. hoodie and jackets. shoulder bags. stubble. cameras. long walks and hikes. music. being alone. salty and savory foods. family man. games. filming. keeps to himself. memorable objects. resourceful. strategic. clever. curious. introvert. persuasive. loyal. protective. romantic. quick thinker. sharp eyes. stays in the back. risky. bit of a perv. bit of a stalker. a bit obsessive. 24. youtube. paparazzi.

౨ৎ famous!reader . . . dresses. skirts. tights. tight shirts. sweatpants. jeans. comfy pj’s. baggy clothes. pinks and blues. sliver jewelry. cute hair styles. make up. hoodies. tiny bag for her things. bracelets. music. posters. polaroids. stuffed animals. poems. staying up late. sitting on roofs. the alone time she gets. warm showers. sweet and savory foods. knowledgeable. empathetic. reserved. romantic. magnetic. perfectionist. gets overwhelmed. restlessness. curious. visionary. self-taught. resilient. sentimental. can be naive. 19. actor. model. singer.

[kakiastro]

Astrology Observations and notes of all things Cancer related

This how cancers act when they’re home alone😅, just vibes and music😅

In honor of Cancer season, If you have Cancer, 4h, dominate Moon aspects placements, this post is for you !

-besides Crabs, other animals such as Elephants, Wolves and Bears are also ruled by the moon

-cancers are known as the nurturing sign and they most definitely can be, however, they struggle with being feeling vulnerable. Due to their sweet aura, they attract all kinds of people but it takes a lot for them to come out their shell.

-Cancer energy can also be very cold when they get angry. I know they are known as being “cry babies” but from what I’ve researched and seen, they can turn cold like sub zero, they turn into their sister sign capricorns(dark side of cap) 😭🤚🏽 they have the memory of an elephant, they’ll remember what you did to them forever in this lifetime and the next 50😭

- people who have Mars Cancer do NOT play when it comes to protecting their family members. Their anger is down right terrifying because how sweet and naive they appear. Oh no, they turn full on gangsta if you hurt anyone they love. 🤺

- I noticed you all are named after someone in your family or you get told that you act like a certain family member. You may be named after a women in your family or get told you act like her in someway

-motherhood may be a big theme in your life. This can include your own mother, friends who are mothers, working with mothers. Even if you don’t want or have kids, motherhood is still apart of your life somehow. Maybe being a mother to your own mother, the mom friend, the cool auntie that gives off mom vibes, mom to your siblings.

-Moon/Neptune aspects may struggle with fog memory. They can remember the big things in their life but have trouble with the small events. Taking pictures or journaling can help with this. I also notice they have these random moments where they remember the most random things at random times😅

-Moon/Sun aspects have such a powerful energy about them. You really light the room

-Cancer rising either have a face shaped like 🌝 or like🌛

- speaking of Cancer risings, them dimples! They deep like the moon craters

- acne problems, it’s even worse during adolescence but it does get better as you get older but you may occasionally break out. I also notice you guys have oily skin.

- Venus Cancer loves them a home cooked meal. They’re the type to go home to their mom or grandma for dinner. They may have a family recipe that’s passed down to them or they create one and pass it down to there kids

-they have a hard time with letting material things go especially if it’s sentimental to them. To the outside world it’s junk but to them it’s treasure. I get it tall I do lol

- Moon 11h attract a lot women as friend groups. Strangers may feel too comfortable with telling their personal business unprovoked

- leader of the family, it doesn’t matter what your role is, you are the one that holds the family together, people may be heavily dependent on you especially emotionally. You may be the first person in your family to accomplish something big.

-Cancer Suns may be the firstborn or firstborn daughter or son(not always). They are born during a time when their parents were especially father was ready to settle down and start a family. They could be born during a time where the family was going through some sort of emotional event and you were the fresh start. Will either feel more emotionally connected or feel disconnected due to trying to live up to his efforts and family ideals.

-Cancer moon feel a deep connection to their mothers theses are the type of children that will live with their mom into adulthood. Even if they move out, they calling they momma lol. Maybe very dependent emotionally on mom. If they don’t have a good relationship with mom, they will get will partners who can feel that void. It’s a lot harder for men with this placement.

-Moon/Jupiter comes from families with such strong belief systems and ideals. They carry these ideals into adulthood, it may be hard to break away from them. They may have a belief that they family viewpoint is everyone’s. They have to leave there nest and see the world for themselves and realize their family viewpoint may be short sighted. This can be triggering because you wonder what else were you not accurately taught.

-if you have 28°, that’s matriarch energy

-have you noticed Cancer starts in June which is the 6th month. 6 in astrology is ruled by Virgo. Summer months are chaotic because your starting a new routine for the season lol

-it’s also interesting that Cancer is the start of Summer season. All the kids is out of school and at home. This is one of the rare times of the year where families are vacationing and spending time together. Visiting other cities and countries. Cancer literally rules home countries and cities y’all lol

I’ll stop here but happy Cancer season and birthday Cancers

[kitasgloves]

Having thoughts about arranged marriage au! with FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY. He only married you to get associated with your family's wealth. Oh, but poor naive you, who always believed in fairy tales and love stories. You believed you could love a mysterious, cynical, and dark man like Fyodor.

How pathetically determined you were trying to win his affection. Fyodor thought you were some sort of idiot for not taking a hint that he wasn't interested in romance. You two didn't share a room even if you two were married. There were no tender sentiments or words from him. He told you he wasn't keen on physical affection, surprise gifts, planned dates, or celebrating anniversaries. He strictly told you to keep your distance and listen to everything he said. The fact that you were eager to obey him made him think of you as positively foolish.

However, you were persistent. You tried to cook him food and sneak him small gifts. You made attempts to sing him love songs and throw small parties. You were a true romantic who believed in the magic of love. You were eager to have your husband fall for you as you fell for him.

Unfortunately, Fyodor was at his breaking point. You were so damn annoying and stubborn that it was getting difficult to contain his frustration with you. He snaps at you during dinner when you've planned another extravagant surprise for him.

"Didn't I tell you to quit that? We are not lovers, [Name]. We are only spouses on paper. I do not care about your affection for me"

He couldn't forget that evening. The moment Fyodor spoke those words, the glimmer in your eyes died. He felt momentarily satisfied thinking that you have finally snapped out of it. The following days were a series of odd changes from you.

Mornings were...quiet, for once. You stopped babbling nonsense to him and only focused on cooking and cleaning up. You ceased the gifts and surprise parties. You even quit playing those annoying love songs on the radio that he despises so much. It seemed as though someone had taken the battery out of you.

At first, Fyodor was pleased but as the days progressed, he felt...uncomfortable. He wouldn't like to admit but he does notice a lot of things about you. Such as your habits, and how you seemed to forcefully change them despite your discomfort. With your sudden quietness, he could see how you were avoiding his gaze and biting your tongue when alone together. And lastly, the disappearance of your fondness for him.

He despised to think how he appreciated how you paid attention to his preferences. You always knew which tea he liked, what classical music was his favorite, and how you often looked out for his health considering he has anemia. Now, you grew distant and stopped bothering him for attention.

Has your foolish infatuation with him vanished? If so, why does his chest feel tight? Fyodor waited for you to revert to you how you used to be. Cheerful, loud, and affectionate. He expects you to surprise him with a gift. The house seemed so empty without your constant talking.

Have you given up on romance? Or was it all just a childish dream to you all along?

You don't understand why Fyodor has been staring at you lately. He's been hanging around the house so much that it's suspicious. You can feel him following you around in every room as if expecting something. You're done trying to woo him and you've come to accept the fact that your husband is a cruel man. So, you grant his wishes and stop pestering him. However, in return, he's begun to silently pester you.

When you wish to be alone, Fyodor's always trailing behind you. He was beginning to praise your cooking unlike before. He invites you to go to the library to read or listen to Tchaikovsky with him. Whenever you leave without his knowledge and then return home, Fyodor wants to know where you went.

The old you would've been over the moon from all the attention he was giving you, but you've grown to lose your positivity about this marriage.

"Fyodor?"

"Yes, [Name]?"

"I think we should have a divorce"

The sound of the teacup clattering against the saucer fills the air. You slid the divorce papers across the table towards your husband. Fyodor swallows and blinks, registers his spilled tea and the divorce papers you have produced. He collects his composure.

"Why?"

"I don't see the point of this marriage anymore"

Fyodor likes to convince himself that he's not affected. It should be a benefit or a good opportunity to find someone better to marry. Yes, he's indifferent to the sight of your glassy eyes and wobbling lip. He does not care about the misery you carry of being married to him. Oh, what an absolute liar he was.

"No"

"...What?"

"We are not getting a divorce, [Name]"

You watched with ache as Fyodor took the divorce papers and tore them into shreds in front of your face. Your blood felt hot. Was he purposely torturing you? He has to be. Fyodor is nothing but a selfish man. He revels in your misery of bearing his last name.

Truly, Fyodor was selfish. Why? He couldn't bear to see you go or remarry somebody else. He couldn't stand for you to find your perfect fairytale romance with someone else. Your fondness should only belong to him. Was he not your first romance? Was he not the first one to ever witness your tender eyes? Fyodor just couldn't fathom you gifting another your previous affections. Nobody seemed worthy enough but he.

"We will make this marriage work"

You looked at him from across the table with contempt. You fail to register the determined and passionate look in his eyes.

You will learn to adore me again, one way or another

I've been brainrotting about Fyodor who tries to win his spouse's love back realizing that they're falling out of love with him like pleaaaase he's so unhinged when he's in love

[leezlelatch]

Trying to get back into writing, and I'm starting with a sort of continuing series of untitled snippets set in the same world with all the Papas. Stay tuned for more and I hope you enjoy. <3 Cardinal Copia x f!reader - intrigue, mystery, flirtation, talk of death, implied dark!copia.

You glance up from your place in the corner of the library, classical music playing through your headphones. You don’t know the piece, or who composed it, but the haunting melody that falls from the pianist’s fingers turns you introspective. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re introspective often these days. The flicker of a form just out of the corner of your eye makes you smile, but when you turn to look, there’s no one there. If there’s one thing you’ve learned since joining the Ministry, it’s that ghosts are real. And you’re never truly alone.

A few Siblings of Sin pass your table, and your eyes follow them to a few of the worn chairs that litter the library. They were red, a small golden pattern woven into the fabric, but you doubt there ever really was a prime for these pieces of furniture. To you, they’ve always been like that. Eaten away by some mite, stuffing sticking out of cushions that were either the best thing you’ve ever sat on, or a literal pain in the rear. There were many things like that in this abbey. Things, and even people, so old that you’re sure they’ve always existed just as they are, and no one was around to remember them before. 

The Siblings are staring at you, and you look away with an apologetic smile, having zoned out so hard, you didn’t realize you were practically gaping at them. Having an overactive imagination can put you in all kinds of embarrassing situations, or maybe it’s ADHD. Whatever is wrong with you, you’re sure there’s some acronym that explains it. Or maybe you’re something new altogether. A silly girl with a silly mind. Not exactly a rarity.

A muffled curse interrupts your thoughts and you turn your head to look into the stacks, right into the black biretta of the Cardinal Copia. He’s bent over, picking up a book, one gloved hand holding his biretta steady. You’ve never interacted with him outside of communion, but he was kind where it mattered, but something altogether sinister when he was angry. Or so you’ve heard. Every member of the Emeritus line had a story. Some were fanatical, some downright perverted, but the sentiment was always the same. The men that ruled your lives carried something dark within them. 

“How do you think they gained power?” A friend said to you one evening over dinner, the mood light. 

“Because it’s patrilineal?” You responded. “His father and his father and his father, you know how it goes.”

“Do you really believe that?” They asked, suddenly serious. Serious in a way that had sent a chill up your spine.

Whether you believed any of the stories is another thing entirely, but you aren’t so naive to think that behind a pretty accent and a perfectly placed, “cara mia,” there isn’t something lurking behind their white eye. And you were staring again. And the Cardinal notices, looking back at you with an eyebrow raised, his upper lip twitching as he regards you with a sudden defensiveness. 

“Eh…, may I help you, Sister?” He asks, his voice going up and slightly cracking around the question. You blink rapidly, a sort of startled noise of apology leaving you, internally berating yourself for staring at a member of the upper clergy like he’s a museum piece. 

“No! Oh, Go-, Satan, no. I’m so sorry, your Eminence,” you manage, standing up from your chair as if he is a drill instructor and you need to stand to attention. The Cardinal’s expression rapidly clears, and he dips his head a little, watching you with, you believe, amusement. 

“Still having trouble switching between G-O-D and Satan, hmm?” He muses, his head tilting a little to the side as he speaks. His right eye is soft, warm, and his left eye cuts like a knife. You aren’t sure which one you should be looking into.

“Did you just spell out…you know,” you say, waving your hand up, suddenly wondering if you weren’t actually allowed to say the word beyond just learning how to curse in Satan’s name instead of God’s. 

“Sì, sì,” he says slowly, leaning toward you just a little bit, the grucifix at his chest catching the light from the window as it dangles. “We don’t want that son of a bitch hearing, yeah? Oh wait, that’s Jesus.”

You burst into startled laughter, and the Cardinal smiles. His teeth are crooked, and it’s one of the most charming things you’ve ever seen. He’s trying to make you comfortable, you realize, a warmth filling you as all your anxiety falls away from one bad joke. “I’m sorry for gawking,” you clarify, safe now in the Cardinal’s gaze. “I was daydreaming, and I wasn’t staring at you, but through you, so…” You trail off. 

“No, no, I understand, heh,” he says, his shoulders rising at the same time he nods his head. “I, eh, I am familiar with the daydreaming, too. Also. Yeah.” His hand punctuates every word, rising and falling with the cadence of his speech, and then dropping to his side, his fingers scratching rapidly at his leg. He’s nervous. Something so sweetly human, you smile. 

You offer your name, and the Cardinal glances away, his brow pinching for just a moment. It’s there and gone, an expression you can’t read, and then he glances at you, catching you in his white gaze, the pupil a pinpoint. “I know,” he says easily.

“How do you -,” you begin to ask how he knows your name, but the Cardinal interrupts you, sweeping from the shadows of the stacks. He’s suddenly quite close, leaning over to peer at your book sitting closed on the table. 

“Ough,” he makes a noise, something between a hum and a word. “The Great Mortality.” He reads the title, tilting his head to pin you with a look. It’s far more knowing than you anticipate, like he’s reading you as easily as the pages of your book. He straightens. “You are interested in the plague, eh?”

“I am. The Black Death. Although it wasn’t called the Black Death, it was called the Great Mortality, see that’s a misconception,” you say, the information spilling from your lips. You shut your mouth and look at him, but he merely smiles, nodding his head for you to continue. “The plague wasn’t called that until sometime in the 17th century, from a Danish translation, I believe,” you finish.

“That is very good,” he says, tapping his fingers on the cover, his attention entirely fixed on you. “Very good. But a very morbid subject.” His eyes trace your features. “You will let your Cardinal read this when you are done.”

It doesn’t occur to you that he doesn’t pose it as a question, and you nod eagerly. “Are you interested in the subject, Cardinal?” 

“It seems I am becoming more and more,” he says, his eyes never wavering from your own. “We will discuss after? A little, uh, book club. We will see what we make of the pale rider.” 

You tilt your head a little in curiosity, and he follows the movement, his lips curling into another smile. “The pale rider?” You ask.

“Sì, tesoro. Death.” His smile grows, and you suddenly register the quiet. You look over your shoulder. The other Siblings are gone. It’s just the two of you, here in this corner of the library. When you turn back, you make a small noise of surprise, the Cardinal slipping past you, the very edge of his shoulder brushing against yours. “Until then,” he says, not looking back as he leaves. “Happy reading.”

[heartbreakgrill]

stiles stilinski: breakable heaven; pt. 7, “i’m drunk in the back of the car and i cried like a baby coming home from the bar. said, ‘I'm fine,’ but it wasn't true.”

a/n: sad, but gets hopeful! one more part after this, i think :)

“i’m glad i never ended up having a party at my house.”

danny fell into step beside y/n, their shoes scuffing against the sidewalk. they had to park all the way down the street from jack’s house because there were so many other people here. because it was so late at night, the air in beacon hills was cool. y/n hugged her arms around herself, wishing she hadn’t worn a tank top beneath her jacket. her breath came out like a fog as she spoke.

danny made a face at the thought, “too much work. imagine the clean up.”

“yeah, no thanks,” she shivered.

the music coming from the house ahead of them got louder as they neared it. some popular radio song reverberated in their ears. y/n felt her heart beat in her throat, thumping along to the bass. danny lit up once they reached the door, excited to drink, dance.

he always was the party type. he had so much fun moving to the music, losing himself in the crowd.

on the other hand, there was y/n, who didn’t normally drink at parties. she was a go-to for being the designated driver, choosing to watch out for her friends and play with whatever animal the owner of the house had sniffing around.

tonight, however, she wanted to let loose. needed to, more so.there was nothing better after a heartbreak than getting messy-drunk at a high school party.

it had been a week. a whole week since her and stiles’ fall out. a week since she’d seen his face. sure, she saw his figure in the hallways sometimes, but she would run the other way. he’d start to chase her down, but danny was usually close by and he’d shoot stiles a glaring look. it turned him away. he’d texted her nonstop, called her about a million times. but, after the fourth day, when he realized she just wouldn’t be responding, he stopped. all lines of communication fell out. any hope of fixing what was broken was squashed out.

when y/n thought about it too much, she felt sick. nausea tumbled through her stomach. her head became fuzzy. stupid, naive girl, she’d think to herself. it’s all your fault. so, every single time her mind started to wander, she’d shove her nose into her homework, pick up a shift at work, get so high out of her mind that reality felt like a television show.

tonight, her choice of thought erasure was getting wasted at a high school party.

y/n squeezed her hand around danny’s bicep once they walked in. in response, he kept her close to his side as they wormed through jack’s house, in search of their friend group. eventually, they found leo, megan, jack, and a few others. they were in the kitchen, standing around the island counter. glasses were scattered around the house already, though the party had just started barely an hour or so ago. the group cheered when y/n and danny came through the door, holding up some of the red solo cups.

megan came to y/n’s side, her tipsy stature morphing her usually quiet attitude into something more sentimental. she clutched onto y/n’s arm. she touched y/n’s cheek and gushed over the curls swinging over her shoulders. “i loooove the hair, girl. you look so pretty with it like that. you’re always pretty, though. oh, my god, you know we haven’t hung out in forever and it makes me so sad. please, please say we’ll hang out soon.”

y/n giggled at megan’s state, wrapping a securely protective arm around megan’s waist. “i promise, okay?”

y/n was the first to admit that she’d been so caught up with boys over the last few months. she hadn’t exactly pushed away her friends, but she hadn’t prioritized them, either. she was in her head with her own issues, and didn’t make the time others. it made her feel a little guilty. but, before that feeling could snowball into the depressive heartbreak she’d been plagued with, megan continued.

“what’s new with you? what have you been up to? i hope you’re not still sad about sam. you should know you’re so much fucking better than him. you deserve so much fucking better than him. he’s such a whore. fuck him.”

“no, i’m over that,” y/n said, confidently waving megan off through a giggle. and she was telling the truth. “i’ve just been…hanging out. ya know. working.” her gaze became distant, words slow as stiles’ face flashes through her memories. y/n didn’t say what she had been really doing. it was embarrassing to admit that she’d gotten herself into another shitty situation with a guy.

though, megan squinted her eyes, analyzing her friend’s words. she knew, “oh, no. oh, no, no, no. fucking stilinksi. i fucking knew once danny told us- okay. listen- you don’t even have to say anything, kay? tonight, we’re just gonna have fun. here, jack, pour us some shots!”

y/n couldn’t help but grin in response. there wasn’t time to imagine stiles- to envision his lips ghosting the curve of her skin, to try to remember what it felt like when he’d draw out movement from her body. because, next thing she knew, megan was shoving two to three red solo shot cups into y/n’s hand- all in a row. and y/n didn’t let herself hesitate. she swallowed them easily, ignoring the burn in her throat, her heart, her chest, and head.

jack cracked a smirnoff open for her. danny caught y/n’s eyes as she took a sip and gave her a thumbs up. when she waved him off, he winked, then wandered his way into the living room, where people were dancing. he’d mentioned something about ethan being there. y/n looped her arm through megan’s, pointed in that direction. megan nodded excitedly and pulled them to the makeshift dance floor.

they danced for what felt like hours but, really, was only maybe forty five minutes. jack and leo, avid partiers, continued shoving shots into their friend’s hands, traveling between the bar in the kitchen and the dance floor. y/n losing track of time turned into her losing track of how much she was drinking. one smirnoff turned into numerous empty glasses that she’d abandon on the coffee table beside her.

she had to take her jacket off after a while, sweating too much in the jean material. y/n tossed it, absentmindedly, on the couch. she probably wouldn’t remember it there later. she’d probably have jack in a frenzy, texting everyone tomorrow about random articles of clothing in his living room. she’d probably lose the 20 stuffed into the pocket to some wandering hands. but it didn’t matter.

nothing really mattered. not when her favorite song played, not when megan spun her around, when danny would yell lyrics into her face and ruffle her hair. y/n just kept throwing her head back, giggling like a mad woman.

it didn’t matter. it did not matter to her. the entire, fucked up situation with stiles. it didn’t matter that he had used her, that he had been seeing lydia the whole time. it did not matter that he had kept so many secrets from her. it did not matter that she broke her own rules, that she let him get beneath her skin, that she fell in love with hi

it did not really matter if she loved him.

y/n turned on her heel, dancing around in circles with megan, both girls holding each other’s hands like they were schoolgirls. her hair whipped over her shoulders, in waves behind her back. her eyes couldn’t focus on the blurred, bright lights passing her vision as they spun. the bodies surrounding them turned into smudges against her vision. she couldn’t tell who was who.

but she thought she saw stiles standing in the doorway to the kitchen, clear as day.

y/n stalled in her tracks. she nearly fell over from how quickly she stopped. megan bumped into her shoulder, grabbed y/n’s arm to steady herself.

y/n couldn’t breathe. she squinted her eyes, rubbed at them, smudging her mascara.

her sight cleared and there was nobody there.

megan laughed loudly in y/n’s ear, tugging on her arm, “why’d you stop?! keep going! spin, spin!”

y/n took a deep, shuddering breath, staring at the spot where she had pictured stiles. “i need air,” she mumbled.

megan yelled, “what are you saying?”

y/n pulled her arm out of megan’s, “i’m going outside,” she barely looked at her friend. this is why she didn’t like to drink.

y/n stumbled through the house, being shoved left and right by the sweaty, dancing teenagers suffocating her. she didn’t know when she’d started crying, but her face was slick was tears. she wiped her hands across her cheeks, smearing more mascara and eyeliner, blackening her palms. she couldn’t focus her thoughts, nor did she feel like herself. this is why she didn’t like to drink. because she wasn’t logical, she was out of control.

y/n found the side door, the one that led to jack’s garage, and slammed it shut behind her. once she reached the garage floor, she slowly lowered herself to the bottom step, hugged her knees to her chest. she didn’t know if she was having a panic attack or a full mental breakdown. but she couldn’t breathe. and she just wanted to be sober so she could figure out her shit.

y/n pressed a hand to her chest, hoping the pressure would do something: ground her, snap her back to reality. all she could do was sob, rock back and forth like a baby. as she did so, her phone fell out of her back pocket. somehow, her camera roll was open on the screen. staring up at her. a picture of stiles and winnie was there, taunting her.

y/n didn’t have any inhibitions, too far gone to know what crossed the line of boundaries she’d made when she was sober. so, she picked up her phone, her hands shaking.

and she hit the little telephone next to his contact. she stared at the picture as it rung.

she needed him. she needed him to hold her, bare-naked under his bedsheets, warm against his chest. needed him to rake his fingers through her hair and to kiss her forehead, call her baby again. even just say her name. she’d even pretend, like she did a dozen times, just for him, that she didn’t notice his lips linger there. she’d pretend it never happened.

anything for him. if he wanted her and lydia- that was fine. he could have her. she was his, completely, fully. all of his. every inch of her skin that he had laid eyes, that he had touched his with fingertips, every inch of skin that he had nipped at with his teeth- it was his.

he picked up immediately.

“y/n? oh, my god, i’m so fucking- i’m so sorry. i don’t know what i did-“

“stiles,” she cut him off, voice barely above a whisper.

his tone instantly softened. a soothing one replaced his usually hectic vocal demeanor, “oh, baby.” he knew, from just the smallest whimper barely uttered between her lips, he knew that she didn’t want to fight. she didn’t call to argue. she didn’t call to make up, either. she just called to hear him, to talk to him. she needed him.

she’d never know how much he needed her, too.

his voice, breathy in her ear, sent a shiver down her spine. y/n sniffled, knuckles white on the hand which held her phone. her head lolled down, chin hiding into her chest.

“what’s wrong?” he asked.

y/n chewed on her lip for a moment, willing it to stop wobbling, “i mis-“ she stopped herself, jamming a different word onto what she was saying to cover it up, “i mistake. i-um, didn’t mean to call you.

it took him a second to reply, “oh. ok.” he knew it wasn’t true, but he didn’t know what else to say. he didn’t want to press her into a conversation she didn’t want to have. but he didn’t want to end the call. he wanted to be whatever she needed in this moment.

they sat there in silence for a good two minutes, not even the sound of their own ragged, anticipatory breaths making any noise in the other’s ear. y/n’s hand was shaking. she loosened her tight grip on her knees and stretched her legs out in front of her. the shift in position helped her breath a little bit better.

she sniffled again, tilted her head back. as she stared at the ceiling, she suddenly laughed. “i didn’t make a fucking mistake, stiles. god, i meant to call you.”

“oh, good,” his tone remained still and flat. he was focused on reading her words. there was meaning between the lines that he couldn’t read. and she was acting strange. he was decoding everything.

“i mean to call you because every single second that i’m not with you, i feel like i’m going to die!” she exclaimed, tossing her other hand in the air.

stiles rubbed his lips together, brows furrowed, “i’m glad that you called.” he, also, felt like he was going to die without her. but, he didn’t know if he should tell.

if only stiles knew that if he would have just told her, honestly, how he felt, as soon as he felt it, months ago, this entire situation could have been avoided. alas, it was a lesson he was still learning.

“good,” y/n huffed. hearing him calmed her down. knowing he was there coaxed her off the edge of anxiety. now, her drunken self took back over her body. and drunk y/n wanted to dance, “okay. i’m going back to the party-“

“party?” stiles interrupted her, his concerned tone back. she was annoyed that he cared where she was at. he didn’t have any right to that feeling- though, also, it made her feel good, that jealousy, that toxicity.

drunk y/n was feeling a lot.

she nodded, though he couldn’t see her, stating matter of factly, “party. i’m at a party, stiles. i’m drunk, and i’m having a blast. well, i was having a blast until you popped into my mind. god, do you know how badly i want to punch you in the face? i just wanna give you, like, a knuckle sandwich, ya know? maybe being hit will make you figure your shit out. okay, whatever. like i was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, i’m going back to the party. i’m going to go dance with my friends-“

stiles had just left the animal clinic, where he, lydia, allison, and scott had met to discuss plans to combat the killer still in beacon hills. chills were lingering on his skin, thinking about all of the photographs stolen from the station, picturing dead students cut at the throat. every time they’d pull another out of the beige manila folder, y/n’s face would appear in his head, attached to a battered, beaten corpse. he’d been worried sick about her the last week, especially since the murderous rampages had slowly spread, closer to home. and, they were more vicious as every day passed. he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t stay outside her house every night, parked in his jeep down the road, barely able to sleep.

her, drunk at a party, was the last situation stiles needed her to be in. it was dangerous. he didn’t want to show up to a crime scene with her corpse lying within a body bag. he couldn’t lose her.

of course, she didn’t know that that was a possible ending to her night. everyone knew about the serial killer, but average citizens of beacon hills didn’t really seem concern themselves with something that seemed so out of reach. teenagers, especially, were naive and vulnerable to things like that.

“who’s with you?” he interceded her words, again. y/n groaned in response and went to complain about how he always did shit like that. but, he spoke again, more firmly this time, “y/n, who’s with you?”

“my friends, just danny, megan, jack, leo. a bunch of other people i don’t know,” she listed off, staring into space. “why do you care?”

“where is it?” stiles demanded. sure, he didn’t have claws, fangs, or anything that would stop a literal supernatural serial killer besides a beat-up baseball ball and his annoying attitude which would eventually drive the creature even more insane. but, he needed to be there. heather had died at a party. the ending scene of a slasher film always happened at a party. parties were breeding grounds for death, as if they were the tenth circle of dante’s inferno or something.

y/n, danny, leo, megan- they were all sitting ducks. targets for something really bad yet to happen.

so, he needed to be there. convince her to leave, if he could. if she wouldn’t leave, he’d stay. he’d stay for her.

anything for her.

y/n hung up on the phone once he said he was on the way. she’d scoffed and said, “yeah, fucking right. danny will beat the shit out of you.”

the beeping tone of a hung up line hit stiles like a truck. he still didn’t quite understand what he had done. if he did, he’d had fixed it by now. he was always good at fixing things. maybe he didn’t have glowing red eyes, or the ability to predict death, but he always was able to fix the jeep. he pulled his dad out of his alcoholic pit after his mom’s death. he was a problem solver. he was good at it.

but, he didn’t what was broken.

tonight, he intended to find out. he didn’t care if danny beat the shit out of him, or if y/n wouldn’t listen. he’d wait for her to open her ears to his incessant bickering, holding an ice pack to whatever bruises danny had left. he knew she’d break eventually.

if she really was done with him, if she really didn’t want to hear him out, why else had she called him?

–

stiles broke about a billion traffic laws. but he managed to get there, quickly, in one piece.

he couldn’t locate y/n anywhere inside the house, but did find all of her friends dancing in the living room. had they been there the whole time? did they even know y/n was on her own? probably not. you’d think, with a serial killer on the loose, they’d care more about each other’s safety.

his jaw dropped at the sight of them, carelessly floating through the crowd while one of their friends was drunk and alone, in some dark corner of this house. it pissed him off, as did all of the people pushing against him, alcohol sloshing over the rims of their cups and onto his shoes, the smell of sweat, and the sight of teenagers making out against walls, doors, other couples.

he had always hated people, but parties reminded him just how much of that hatred existed within his chest.

stiles checked the upstairs bedrooms, bathrooms, called her name out, down the basement steps, peeked into the empty garage, and even looked inside a pantry in case she’d stuffed herself somewhere like that.

stiles was grateful to, eventually, find her, outside, on the edge of the pool. her sneakers and socks were flung into the yard behind her. she swung her bare feet in the chlorinated water, completely soaking the bottoms of her jeans. y/n’s palms were planted on the concrete beside her thighs, her head thrown back, eyes closed as she swayed to the music. she didn’t seem to have a care in the world.

stiles huffed when he saw her, the deep, worried breath rattling in his chest. “y/n,” he said, hoping to garner her attention. his hands flung about him, as they normally did when he spoke.

she didn’t seem to care that he was there, but she definitely heard him. he knew she had because he watched y/n’s shoulders flinch, ever so slightly, at the sound of her own name.

stiles squatted down beside her, curling a soft hand around her bicep, “y/n, hey-“

she pulled her arm away, as if his hand was made of lava. “go away, stiles.” his hand stilled in the air where she’d pushed it, fingers flexing at the rejection.

stiles then pressed the hand to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut with frustration, impatience. “y/n, please-“

she looked up at him, jaw slack from her drunken state. her eyes looked darkened, the deadly stare enhanced by her ruined makeup. “what the fuck do you want?”

stiles met her eyes. his face softened, concern overwhelmingly her features. just seeing her face, though it was a wreck- it sent goosebumps across his skin. she was so fucking pretty, even though she’d been crying. why had she been crying?

“i want to talk to you-“

“go away,” she waved him off. y/n then pulled her legs from the pool, dripping water all over the concrete. stiles’ eyes moved down her body, ensuring she was in one piece. he noticed the goosebumps all over her bare arms. she was freezing cold.

he stood with her, following her quick feet. “where’s your jacket?” stiles began to pull off his zip up jacket while she grabbed her shoes. he reached out for her arm again. his fingertips on her shoulder felt like a zap of electricity.

y/n flinched away again. she whipped her head back towards him, a deep frown enlisted on her features, “fuck off, stiles! don’t even try pretend like you care about that shit right now! seriously, go the fuck home! i told you not to come!”

stiles took a step away from her. he wished he knew what he had done so fucking badly. he wanted to kiss her eyelids. he wanted to clean off her makeup, wrap her up in his bedsheets, rub circles into her back until she fell asleep, soundly in his hood.

but, all of that couldn’t really be at the forefront of his mind right now. it couldn’t matter. he was here to protect, whether she wanted him there or not. and, she very obviously did not want him at this party. well, too damn bad. he pushed the thoughts aside.

“i’m not going anywhere,” stiles threw his hands up, as if to challenge her. if she wanted him gone, she’d have to drag him out of there. he continued to follow her. she found a chair and sat down in order to put her shoes on. he continued, “look, i don’t know what i did, but you don’t even understand what’s happening in this town. i have to protect-“

“bro, get the fuck away from her!”

stiles felt a pressure against his chest as someone’s abnormally strong had pushed him away from y/n’s presence. she looked up from her shoe laces that she was struggling to tie, brows furrowing at the sound of stiles’ grunt. she watched as stiles stumbled over his feet. he straightened up, quick, and met the eye of his assailant.

“oh, fuck off, dude,” stiles tilted his head to the side, slowly shaking it in annoyance. his jaw clenched, fists flexed at his sides. he took an intimidating step forward.

y/n glanced between stiles and sam owens, taking a deep, shuddering breath. sam puffed out his chest, towering over stiles by a couple of inches. although he was buffer, taller, a couple years older, he didn’t seem nearly as threatening as stiles did. the devilish qualities to his features seemed to heighten themselves in defiance to sam’s presence.

the black haired boy glared his eyes at sam, pupils blown out out with a stormy darkness. she knew it was wrong, but seeing him so angry at sam- y/n couldn’t help but admit that it made her stomach twirl.

they’d never really had the sam talk, at least she hadn’t told him every single thing. she’d mentioned sam, once, when she and stiles were talking about something else. it was offhanded, when she brought him up. danny, however, had spilled his guts to stiles about the short situationship y/n and that “douchebag” had been in all summer.

and stiles was pissed the fuck off. he knew about sam’s girlfriend at college. he knew sam had used y/n for sex over the summer. he knew that sam had told her he loved her right before breaking up with her.

oh, was stiles angry.

that was, after all, his girl now. and nobody was gonna fuck with stiles’ girl. nobody was gonna fuck with stiles.

he stepped forward, now nearly chest to chest with sam, who replied, “who the fuck are you? y/n told you to leave! want me to show you the door, kid?”

“who the fuck am i? watch your mouth, dickhead. you have no fucking business here-“

y/n quickly stood, wary hands before herself, “stiles, it’s not worth it, i promise.” she stalled his words, but stiles wouldn’t even look over at her. his dark eyes bore a hole through sam, and she knew he was probably going to hit him.

y/n, who was now feeling quite sobered up, glanced to the house. she knew that if they started fighting, stiles would get his ass handed to him. sam was a wrestler in college, the best in his weight class. he was a fucking state champion.

so, she needed to get to danny, who was definitely stronger than stiles, at least. he’d probably be able to keep them apart long enough for her to calm stiles down.

but, she didn’t have any time, because sam was mouthing stiles off again. and stiles really was the best at banter. so, he was getting himself into a lot of trouble.

“you put your fucking hands on her, and she told you to stop. makes it my goddamn business-“

“oh, my god, shut the fuck up!” stiles rolled his eyes at sam. he opened his mouth to shoot off some other sarcastic remark when sam reared back a fist and clipped the side of stiles’ face. stiles nearly fall back on the concrete alongside the pool, but he caught himself. having a werewolf as a best friend had taught him a thing or two. so, he was ready to fight.

stiles hit sam in return, most likely breaking his hand- definitely breaking his hand, he knew it. but the punch tossed sam onto the lounge chair behind him. it surprised both stiles and y/n, who had to jump out of the way. she nearly getting taken out by sam’s thrown body.

stiles met her eye and the sight of her, standing there, scared, softened him. he reached for her, closing the distance between then within two long strides. he set his hands on her biceps, ignoring the throbbing pain in his left one. blood dripped from his cracked knuckles, bleeding onto her skin. she clutched onto his elbows in response, any anger for him washed away by fear and worry.

“shit, are you okay? i’m so-“

before he could continue, y/n was shoved to the ground. she scraped her palms, cut her elbow open, and busted her tailbone, hard, on the concrete. she thought she hit her chin, too, but she couldn’t really tell, because y/n’s vision blurred from the fall.

sam tackled stiles to the ground with another punch. they landed in the grass, and went at each other. it took y/n a second to clear her pained head, but she managed to push herself up on her feet. some of their classmates continued partying around them, most just ignoring the fight. but a small crowd gathered to watch it, like it was something exciting, something fun to do. the bystanders made y/n feel sick. nobody was doing anything.

she didn’t even take a second to look at stiles, knowing that seeing him like that would stall her in her tracks. instead, she turned towards jack’s house, danny’s name screeching out of her throat.

she ran inside, feeling like she was pushing through thick, slow jello. she continued to yell out his name. luckily, she found him, on the dance floor still. ethan was there, too. good- he could help.

ethan was already meeting her, setting a kind hand on her arm. “what’s wrong?” his eyes glazed over, and he looked to the side, as though he could hear the fight. he ran outside.

danny shoved through the crowd, towards her. he caught her chin in his hand examining her wounds, “what the fuck happened? what’s going on?”

y/n, breathing heavily, sobbing again, stumbled out, “sam and stiles!”

danny pushed aside as he fell into a run. y/n followed, though the burning of her cuts and scrapes became more intense on her nerves. she seethed a breath between her teeth, stumbling over her feet, but pushed on.

ethan had shoved sam to the grass, though he was getting back up, again. danny immediately lunged in between them before sam could get to stiles. danny sent a harsh punch to sam’s gut, forcing him backwards again. danny then grabbed stiles by the shirt, helped him become balanced on his feet, before danny pushed him away, too. ethan came back in, grabbing stiles around the chest to hold him back, though stiles fought against the tight hold. sam somehow got up, again, clutching his stomach, and jumped towards stiles. danny punched him again and shook out his fist after. the look on his face was annoyed, but also, somehow, vengeful. he had been waiting all summer, all of fall, to punch this motherfucker.

“fuck you guys!” sam spat at danny and stiles from his knees, more blood trailing down his already slick chin.

stiles grunted, fighting against ethan’s hold. “you’re a piece of fucking shit! pussy ass bitch-“

“shut the fuck up-“ sam cut him off, then added, “i don’t even give a fuck about that bitch!“

danny shook his head at the words spitting from sam’s mouth. stiles looked angrier, if at all possible. ethan’s hold loosened on him, shocked by the insults sam threw at y/n. ethan did care for her, too, even if he barely knew her. she was everything to danny.

all three boys were seething with anger. sam had called her a bitch, and they did not like that.

sam simply smirked up at them, his words and expression challenging them. he went to wipe his mouth with his sleeve, but he didn’t get a chance to even take another breath because danny had lunged after him again.

ethan let go of stiles, purposefully, and the boy followed suit. ethan, a little more controlled- even though the situation pissed him off, too- grabbed danny, but not before allowing him to get a few punches in.

y/n ran forward and tried to grab stiles’ arm. she failed, and instead tripped over his shoe. she tumbled into the grass. she quickly pulled herself up, again. when she looked for stiles, she saw him being restricted again, this time by scott’s arm. she didn’t know when he had arrived, but she was glad for the extra help.

it made her heart swell that all of these men cared about her so much to fight sam like they were, but it really needed to end already. it shouldn’t have even gotten out of hand in the first place. she was nauseous, hurting in all of the places she’d been wounded, and extremely tired from the alcohol still coursing through her system.

y/n stood up. scott was rushing out words to his friend, “hey! stiles! stiles, cmon, dude! calm down! stiles!”

“stiles!” y/n called. she crouched down in front of him, reaching for his face.

stiles finally met her eyes and a steady rhythm graciously caught his breath. she cupped his jaw in her delicate fingers. his blood smeared across his face, all over her hands.

a few tears ran down his face, falling into her palms. she didn’t know why he was crying, if it was because of his injuries or his anger. but she wiped them away with her thumbs.

“it’s okay, baby,” she whispered, for only him to hear. “i’m okay, it’s okay. please, just calm down.”

scott, who had let go of stiles, turned to sam, who was standing up from the ground. scott was charismatic, and could usually easily demand people. he put out a cautious hand towards sam, “leave it, buddy. just leave it, trust me,” scott warned him.

stiles slumped forward, on his knees. y/n squatted, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. she used all of her strength to stand them up, brushing the sweaty, bloody hair from his face. sam watched her tenderness as she cared for stiles, feeling a surge of jealousy. sam knew he didn’t want her. he knew he had willingly given her up. but, that didn’t mean he wanted anybody else to get to have her.

so, just when it seemed like it was over, sam scoffed, “yeah, you’re right. i’ll leave it. she’s not worth it. she’s just an easy fuck and a cheap ass date-“

now, scott was angry. he roared, and y/n thought she saw his eyes flash a bright red. he went after sam, just to shut his stupid fucking mouth. he swept past y/n and stiles, who clutched onto her waistline protectively. he tried to duck them out of the way, but his foot skidded over the concrete, and they tripped towards the water.

she yelped, clutching onto his neck, as they fell into the pool. the water enveloped them, but tore them from one another. y/n kicked her feet sporadically, shocked by the cold, by the alarming fall they’d taken. she grabbed for stiles’ shirt and gratefully felt his hands fluttering for her hips.

she blew out a lot of bubbles, struggling to hold her breath from all of the shock. stiles tugged her tightly against him, again, and swam them to the surface. y/n wrapped her legs around his waist and clutched onto his shoulders. she was shaking, with fear, with pain, from the cold water nipping at her skin. it was all so much all at once that she just laughed.

stiles stared at her as she tossed her head back, giggling like a maniac. he furrowed hit brows, jutted his chin out, “what are you laughing about?”

y/n barely met his eye, continuing to laugh at the fucked up situation. “this is just so stupid!”

he remembered she was drunk and tapped her hip, “okay, let’s get you out of here-“

“it’s stupid, stiles!” she slapped a hand down onto his shoulder. “you’re stupid! that fight was fucking stupid! sam’s stupid! this night is stupid! i’m stupid!”

“why am i- why are you stupid?” he didn’t want to make it all about him. she was clearly grappling with something, something she needed to talk out.

she couldn’t continue to push everything away, including him. “i’m stupid! i let you and that stupid boy fuck up everything! i let it happen not once, but twice! what is it- fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me? i’m a fool! you and sam are, like- oh, my god, im just stupid. and that was so fucking stupid- you and sam fighting over me! you guys fought over me, but both of you are the reason im so fucked up in the first place! it’s your guys’ fault and you just had some stupid pissing contest-!”

“me and sam?” stiles sounded out his words carefully, working through her rambles in his fuzzy head.

the night she’d ran out of his house, in a craze, a mess because of his phone blowing up- what had triggered that?

who had called stiles that night? who had been blowing up his phone? was it-

it was lydia.

lydia, the girl everyone at beacon hills high knew he’d had a major crush on for, like basically, ever.

y/n must have looked at his phone. she must have put together, based off of the texts he’d been sent, based off all of the context clues laying right in front of him, that he and lydia were together.

meanwhile, am had had a girlfriend the entire time he and y/n had gone out. every day, he’d see his girlfriend. then, usually on the weekends, when it was dark, he’d bring y/n out like a toy.

y/n thought stiles was just like sam. y/n thought stiles was using her.

she had no clue that she was everything and the sun to him. she had no clue that he needed her like water, that he craved her like wine. she didn’t know that he spent every night rereading their texts, analyzing their conversations, going over their interactions, decoding everything to find a way for her to love him despite her hurt, despite what they agreed on.

she was used to being broken by people who claimed to love her, and stiles was just another part of that system.

so, he needed to tell. right now.

stiles gripped onto her hips, shaking her body just once so she’d meet his eyes. “listen-“

“no, just- get me out-“

“y/n, you beautiful, gorgeous, sweet woman- just listen to me! okay? just listen!” stiles demanded, “i’m not with lydia, alright? i’ve never been with her. i don’t want her- i’m in-“

“stiles!” scott called his name from above, standing at the edge of the pool. his eyes still glowed red, his face was still morphed into that of a wolf. scott’s chest puffed out, in, heavily, with deep, ragged breaths.

stiles knew something was wrong based off of his friend’s demeanor.

“we have to get to the school. lydia’s in trouble.”

stiles looked to y/n, who’s face had lit up from the possibility of stiles’ words. her expression morphed into confusion. he wanted to say something, to say sorry. but, he couldn’t. he couldn’t focus.

so, y/n took her turn to speak, graciously replying with, “stiles, i know there’s so much that you’re still hiding from me-“ she glanced up at scott, who tilted his head with shame, “so, i’m coming with you. if you want me to trust you, i have to come with you. i have to know.”

stiles knew she was right.

so he drug her, head first, into the world of the supernatural.

[nocturnalserenade]

Midnight Man

@senshixshitennouweeks This is my (very late im super sorry!!) second entry to the Rei x Jadeite week of last year. Prompt was "Recognition". It's kind of a re-write, or rather an 'expansion'?, of episode 3 of Sailor Moon classic, the one where Jadeite hijacks a radio station, but from Rei's perspective. Inspired by: sm episode 3 obviously, the manga, and this song. Enjoy! (AO3 link)

The day had come to an end.

Finally.

Rei took a deep sigh after closing the shoji screen of her room behind her. She couldn’t wait to slip under the covers and just be done with it. That had been a weird day, for sure. Not tiring or particularly busy, just… weird. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was that had disturbed her peace of mind; even her meditation didn’t go as well as usual and she somehow found herself continuously distracted; maybe it was all the fault of the nonstop chatter at school about that new late-night radio show. She didn’t catch a lot about it except that it was some kind of romantic program and it involved love letters. And that had been more than enough to irritate her greatly. Why in the world were so many girls at her school suddenly so invested in some random, superficial, romantic show?

Well, it was surprising, but not entirely implausible.

Even though the T.A. Academy was a very austere and strict environment, where girls had virtually no time nor incentive to dwell on frivolous things such as talks of romance, sentimental gossip and the likes, she knew her classmates were not immune to that altogether. She had occasionally overheard excited, secretive whispers in the hallways, accompanied by nervous giggles and flustered faces. There had been fleeting rumors about girls having some kind of secret relationship inside the school, right under the nuns’ noses. And one time, a girl was found in possession of a novel that wasn’t exactly… innocent. She had to spend a few hours in the punishment room waiting for her parents to come and then endure a probably embarrassing lecture from them and the nuns. All the girls had talked about it for days.

But this was different. She had heard about the damned radio show three times already, from different groups of girls, all in a single day. With a little too much enthusiasm for her liking too, and very little effort to conceal it. What in the world might even be the deal? It was just a stupid radio show. She sighed, and quickly changed into her night robes.

Except she was curious.

She shot a suspicious look at the radio in front of her bed. Maybe I should check just to see what the fuss is all about. She pursed her lips, pondering the idea. Her senses were strangely alert, like when an imminent danger is near; there was probably something behind this that was worth the bother to discover. Something nasty. Maybe it was a big scam. A scam made to prey on naive girls with their heads filled with romantic bullshit.

Yes. She hated the thought enough that she finally decided to momentarily leave the comfort of her bedsheets to go and pick up the radio from the shelf and put it on her nightstand, near her bed.

She turned it on.

Fidgeting with the dial to find the correct frequency, she stopped when the buzzing of the static softly melted into a smooth jazzy melody. Her hand froze, still on the dial, as a voice broke through the music, low and sultry.

“I want to see you. I want to see you one more time,” the voice pleaded, suddenly filling the room, almost startling her. It took her a moment to recollect herself, and realize that she had in fact found the right program, and that it was likely the host that she was listening to. Reading through what was undoubtedly a passionate love letter. Yes, he was just reading a letter, nothing more.

But damn.

The man sure knew how to use his voice, she mentally conceded, quite bitterly. For a cheap radio show, there was no denying that the host was putting quite the effort into making it sound almost believable. Almost. She crossed her arms and slightly lifted her chin, determined to keep listening, but with renewed defiance.

“If only you knew how much I regret our parting…” he continued, and she quickly found herself completely unable to move as she listened, barely breathing. “I still think of you every day, every night, wishing I could still see your smile, wishing I could hold you in my arms… close to me… closer than we’d ever been before”

With a sharp breath, Rei adjusted herself on the bed, shifting her position to distance herself just a bit from the radio. Her heart was pounding, and she couldn’t understand why. She did expect something incredibly corny, maybe even embarrassing to listen to. But this was having a completely unexpected effect on her. For a silly radio show, and one that she had never even listened to once before, something about it felt… too personal somehow. Was it because of the words? Unlikely. She never was particularly susceptible to cheesy romantic talk. On the contrary. Was it the voice? Sure, the host was extremely good at conveying the feelings of what he was reading and making it feel real. But Rei knew she was better than that. She was above falling for such insidious little traps. She sighed, then closed her eyes, trying to shake off the lingering sensation and focus instead on understanding why that voice was evoking such a strong reaction. There had to be a logical reason for that, a serious reason; she just had to concentrate harder.

Breathe Rei, breathe.

(Keep reading on AO3 as it turned out a bit too long to post all on tumblr)

[cilil]

Manwë Week Day 1

"Brother, where are you going?"

Day 1: Family | Breath & Air Relationship(s): Manwë & Melkor Synopsis: Despite many rejections, Manwë tries to connect with his brother Warnings: / AO3

To Manwë, his brother was nothing short of a miracle. Older, greater and so intelligent and wise in his innocent eyes, he was the light of his life and the very first being he had ever perceived right after his birth, even before he had heard his father's voice for the first time. 

To Melkor, his brother was a nuisance, and his callous willingness to express such sentiments caused Manwë a lot of grief and hurt. 

Whenever he wasn't cradled in the arms of his father or instructed in the ways of music and the making of things, the young Vala followed him around the Timeless Halls like an ethereal, cloud-like duckling. He soon began to mimic the way his older brother shaped his spirit as well, assuming a form with arms, legs and a head; one he would one day recognise as reminiscent of his father's yet unborn children and the appearance He Himself took while handling them, from which he assumed Melkor's inspiration had come. 

Manwë's form, still small and clumsy, was shrouded in a gentle white and blue glow and covered by fluffy clouds he had breathed into existence all by himself, a feat that had made his father proud and Melkor laugh at him with something he not yet understood as contempt. He only knew it was bad because Eru had scolded the older Vala for it. 

"Brother, where are you going?"

Melkor was once again leaving him behind after singing together for their father, abandoning him in front of the throne, and Manwë hurried after him, hoping that maybe he would feel inclined to play with him this time. His optimism and faith in the ultimate triumph of good, undying and eternal like he himself was, had already led to many rejections, at times even being pushed away and thrown around by his mightier brother, but his innate desire to love and please those around him was ever stronger. 

When Manwë reached out with his spirit, he was instantly met with a wall of a strong, distinctly unfriendly emotion he didn't understand; one that he would one day learn was called anger. 

"Go away." 

"But why?" 

He approached Melkor without fear, opening his heart freely to show him his love and admiration. 

"Can I come with you?" 

"No. I don't want you to."

"Can we maybe play together?" 

"No. I don't want to play with you."

"Can we sing together?"

"I need no other voices. Only you do." 

Manwë's spirit shrunk a little. He was not so young and naive anymore as to not grasp the concept of being unwelcome, but he still didn't understand why, and his brother had never bothered to explain. His best guess was that he was simply too small and unimpressive for someone as amazing as Melkor, even though his father often told him how lovely he was. 

"But why, brother? Have I done anything wrong?" Manwë asked; while he was willing to leave if it made his brother happy, he felt a strong need to at least understand his mistake. 

"Because I need no others by my side." 

Melkor turned to leave him behind once more, as he always did.

"You don't have to need me. We can just... be together?" Manwë tried. Yet instead of placating his brother, it only resulted in their exchange being cut short and him being pushed back, blown away like a feather in the wind. 

All he could do was float in place and watch Melkor vanish into the ethereal light of their father's realm. 

— — — 

Manwë had considered returning to Eru to be with him instead, yet his spirit felt heavy and burdened with an unknown emotion he would one day understand as shame. He wanted to make his father and brother happy, not to have them be upset with him or on his behalf, so he hid himself and searched his ëala for whichever shortcomings prevented him from connecting to his beloved sibling. 

Alas, his search was — as it had always been before — unsuccessful, for Manwë in his youth and innocence couldn't grasp the concepts and emotions that Melkor's heart had begun to conceive ever since others were born beside him, most notably the ability to hate and envy; and ever and anon would these things elude him, as Eru had designed him to be free of what would one day be called evil. 

Thus Manwë eventually wandered the Timeless Halls alone, repeating all the melodies he remembered and making more little clouds that he shaped to his heart's content, moving them around by summoning his element. His father had told him that he would one day be the Breath of Arda, the world that was to come; and whereas his understanding of such a destiny was as of yet limited, he nevertheless felt that it was good to practice. 

There was a shape he loved in particular, one born and growing from the slowly awakening seeds of inspiration he carried within him. Manwë imagined creatures he was going to make in the future, beings of wind and air like him, with wings and feathers and other features he would devise together with Yavanna. 

He had shown Melkor his ideas, proud that he had finally been inspired like his great brother was all the time, and had been told that his designs were silly and stupid. Still, Manwë held on to his winged creatures and played with them when he was by himself, shaping their likeness with his element and carrying them around like the Children would one day have their stuffed toys. 

It was then that he came upon his brother again by accident, holding on to the biggest cuddle-cloud he had made yet. Melkor was curled up in a corner and unusually still and silent, seemingly resting from whatever he had been up to in the meantime. 

Surely it must have been a great and miraculous deed if it could exhaust his strong sibling so, Manwë thought in awe, and approached him as quietly as he could. Perhaps Melkor hadn't meant to hurt him earlier and merely thought his little brother was too young to join him. Perhaps he was protecting him like his father always did. 

Lighting up with joy, Manwë wanted to curl up beside him and snuggle up to him, but something inside him told him not to. As great as his optimism and love for his brother were, he had on some level understood that his presence might still be unwelcome; yet even so, he wanted to do something to show Melkor just how much he loved him, to give him a part of himself to nurture their bond. 

Tenderly and carefully, Manwë nudged the older Vala's ëala until its limb-like appendages opened up and placed his cuddle-cloud in its embrace. Melkor shifted then, seemingly sensing that something was nearby, but remained in his state of meditative rest. Instead he embraced his brother's creation, and a few soft notes of contentment emanated from him. 

He likes it! Manwë thought to himself, glowing brightly with pride and joy, and continued to watch his brother for a while longer until he left him alone again. 

Maybe Melkor didn't need his company and thought he didn't want it either, but there was a part of his ëala that liked when a part of his brother was with him and sought comfort in the closeness of another; and if Manwë was going to return to his father's loving embrace, he should get some cuddles as well. 

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-defense-attorney @singleteapot @stormchaser819 @wandererindreams @manweweek

[universallydestinytaco]

The Little Smiling Mermaid (Chapter 7)

Thank you Roony AKA @sometimes-sleeby-octopus for this lovely gift! 💕 Please follow them and check out their awesome content, it would make both of us smile!

TW: Emotional Abuse and Brief Physical Abuse

“So, where is this grotto?”

Damien would soon get his question answered as he was lead by the cackling wisenheimer to where his littlest sibling had been hiding out for the past few days, after some 11 minutes worth of swimming passed, Damien was then greeted by his little “sister’s” absurdly large collection of discarded “land things”, much to his shock and horror. While he felt the way Pim was punished via ad hominem and property destruction was overkill, he still felt uneasy over how “she” was still fascinated with the culture of what he and the rest of the family deemed as “fish-mongering barbarians” and prayed to Neptune that Pim wasn’t naive enough to hold in “her” possession any of what their fruitcake cousin Graham Nelly dubbed a “grappling hook”. Damien’s gut feeling was to stand there and wait for Pim to return so he’d firmly let gently talk “her” into abandoning this grotto and returning home to the palace…with that said, his curiosity was starting to nag at him to see just how dangerous any of these items where. A now-bored Damien spent some time poking around the grotto, flipping through the collection of books until finding deep interest in a book about animals from the surface, laughing at how silly they all looked. Damien also toyed around with a snow globe and unironically found it quite satisfying to repeatedly shake it up and watch the faux snowflakes fall down even if he had no idea what snow was, assuming it was supposed to be a school of tiny white fish swarming around an oddly-shaped kelp bush decorated in shiny ornaments. Lastly, Damien swam up to a display of music boxes Pim had recovered from many a shipwreck, one of them was topped with a dancing couple of land critters in formal wear. Damien picked up the orient box and gently turned the key, omitting a “twinkly” tune. Damien smirked at the funny little music box, opening it to find Pim had stashed “her” own trinkets inside, among these keepsakes where a flower hairpin with a pearl in the center and a photo of way back when all three of the siblings would play in the garden. Damien felt sentimental and guilty, as he used to play with his siblings all the time until he hit a certain age where his father started barking at him to stop being “childish” and focus all his time training for combat and keeping up a serious façade, he soon started to winced recanting how he would start brushing his siblings off when all of a sudden their big brother no longer wanted to play with them anymore…oh, how he wished that he could take it all back.

As Damien spent more time goofing off with the assorted gadgets and gizmos in the grotto, he heard the sound of one mercritter swimming into the premises, and while he couldn't see who was coming, he knew right off the bat who it was going to be....”DAMIEN!"...or at least, Damien thought that it was going to be Pim as the harsh, rugged voice with the thick Aussie accent wiped the whimsical smile off his face as his blood turned to ice, making him drop the music box and it's contents on the sandy ground in shock. "WHAT ARE YOU OF ALL MERPEOPLE DOING WITH ALL THIS SURFACE GARBAGE?!" Damien caught the deathly glare of his cantankerous father, menacing towards his eldest with balled-up fists in rage, one of them holding his iconic trident. "I raised you better, boy, why I oughta-" In a fight-or-flight response masked with stoic coolness, Damien looked at King Steven square in the eye with a tough look he perfected over the years, clarifying: "I was simply inspecting these items, since I was told this is where Pimberly had been hiding from us." King Steven stopped for a brief minute, then his eyebrows furrowed with an expression where you could tell he was aggravated-yet-not-surprised. "Of course that little shit would be hiding here, apparently she needs to be taught another lesson..." his cold stare heated up into a vengeful grin, prepared to aim his trident at every single item in the grotto. "Stand back, boy."

~

Meanwhile, on the way back from the surface, the trio came across sunken treasure, precisely, a literal fallout from Prince Charlie's crazy birthday party that went south. Obviously, Pim was over the moon over the unexpected discovery, squealing and giggling in twitter-pated awe as he swam up to give the campy statue of his crush some affection by curling his tail around the statue's toreso and rubbing his cheek onto Statue!Charlie's nose. Alan looked away, flustered, while Glep chuckled at Pim's antics. "Oh Charlie, run away with you?" Pim whispered in a mischievous, somewhat-seductive tone, before turning his head to his friends to exclaim: "Oh, we have GOT to figure out a way to bring this back to the grotto!" A concerned Alan replied with his two-cents: “Pim…that’s a literal statue, do you have any idea how long that’s going to take us?” Pim opined: “I could borrow Graham Nelly’s you-haul and push it all the way to the grotto!” Alan had to talk some common sense into him: “That would take all night!” "But Alan, did you SEE me out there, rescuing Charlie? It's a wonder how a dainty little thing like me was able to lift that radiant muscular hunk!" Alan began ponder if Pim was losing his marbles.

Unbeknownst to the party, they where still being watched over by one sinister sorcerer was awaiting for all the pieces to fall into place, grabbing a tray curating a smorgasbord of otherworldly hors d'oeuvres such as pickled sea pig, seasoned sponge wrapped in kelp and toasted coral garnished with freshly-ground plankton to go with the piping-hot tea he brewed to perfection. “Dinner and a show, indeed.”

“Look, just leave that carved boulder over there for the night and we can take turns pulling and pushing it with enough helping hands, we’re all happy to help you but it’s getting late.” Alan concluded. Pim yawned in agreement, “You’re right, c’mon Glep, let’s swim back to the-“ Pim was interrupted by an audible explosion from afar, startling the group and prompting the pink mercritter to hide behind the statue for security. “What the halibut-?!” Alan squawked, turning his head to-and-fro as Pim and Glep peeked from behind, closely inspected two figures emerging. As Pim picked up in their conversation, his eyes widened in horror. “-those items where important to her! Are you trying to completely drive her away?!” “No excuse, that little freak KNOWS better! She’s a disgrace to this family.” Pim curled up in fetal position, tuning out best he could with daydreams he had of himself and Charlie exploring together…just then Pim felt a big meaty hand yank his hair from behind, causing him to yelp. “YOU!!” Pim’s vision went blurry, all he could hear was Damien’s pleas for compassion falling on ears with selective hearing. Once Pim retained a clear vision, he found himself face-to-face with King Steven, staring right back at his youngest with undiluted rage for five seconds before suddenly throwing him back on the ground coupled with profane venom spewing from his mouth. Pim miraculously gathered all his confidence and glared right back at the old man: “Why bring me back home when you can’t stand me whatsoever?” King Steven paused with a stunned look, then hissed: “No daughter of mine is gonna go on the lamb and not continue the legacy of our bloodline, I’m picking you out a suitor that’ll keep your ass in line.” Pim spat out: “Too bad, I already decided who I want to be with.” Alan and Glep huddled together in fear as Pim swam up to Charlie’s statue, once again cuddling it. Flabbergasted, King Steven scolded: “Have you lost your senses?! That bloke’s a land critter, you’re a mermaid!” Pim roared: “DADDY, I LOVE HIM! SO THERE!!” King Steven looked as if a jellyfish stung his ass. Less than a minute of silence followed as everyone stood in place. King Steven grinned, aiming his trident at Pim without warning, causing the mercritter to flee as the bolt struck the statue and blew it up to smithereens. King Steven smugly grinned as Pim witnessed the debris floating down before him, his eyes leaking tears as he held Statue!Charlie’s broken nose. “You’re a lost cause, obviously.” King Steven scoffed, “Don’t bother coming back, I’ll tell everyone you died in the abyss.” With that, he swam off. Guilt hit Damien like a boulder as he saw his baby “sister” in utter despair, weeping from the unpleasant reunion. He turned to Glep and Alan, the guppy shaking his head and the lobster shooting a vicious glare at him, knowing already he spilled the beans. Attempting to make it right, Damien swam to Pim, patting her back. “I’m so sorry-“ SLAP! He had no idea Pim’s little hand could leave a stinging mark on his cheek. “Go away, leave me alone.” Damien knew he fudged up big time and there was no coming back from this. Dejected with shame while not wanting to be seen sulking, Damien took off. Alan and Glep scuttled over to comfort Pim, only to stop in their tracks when a tall shadow emerged, hovering over the weeping mercritter. “Hey, babe, what’s your damage?” Pim looked up, introduced to a slimy-lookin’ eel-esque mercritter who looked at least a little bit sympathetic to the former, of whom trying to respond. “Whatever it is, I know this dude who’s able to solve whatever crap you’re dealing with.” Pim’s sorrow turned into curiosity. “How?” Gnarly answered: “Well, he could like, I dunno, turn your tail into legs.” Pim figured this sounded way too good to be true, but it would be worth a shot. “You may lead the way.”

….Alan and Glep had a bad feeling about this.

✨Chapter 8 coming in two weeks ✨

[rottenpumpkin13]

Okay so touch of angst here. But I’ve kind of been thinking about the canon idea that Sephiroth holds no attachment to objects, and that his apartment is really sparse.

And I kind of thought, what if it’s not? What if it’s the opposite? We know he holds onto his mothers photo for dear life, so what if Sephiroth actually has a bit of an issue with getting rid of stuff because of the fact he wasn’t allowed to have many possessions as a child? What if Sephiroth’s apartment is an ordered mess of things that he’s squirrelled away from under Hojo.

I’ve got this idea that maybe Angeal and Genesis have tried to help him sort through it but they struggle to get him to let go of things because he seems to have a story and an attachment to everything. And their shocked because you wouldn’t think Sephiroth is a particularly sentimental person. In fact in everyday conversation he comes of as the exact opposite, but where his stuff is concerned, Sephiroth just cannot let go.

I dunno dude, I’m making myself sad. Thought I’d share.

Let me add my two cents, I hope I did this wonderful idea justice:

• Sephiroth's apartment is indeed minimalistic and neatly-kept at first glance. He has a few personal touches here and there, such as a nice, blue throw blanket on his couch that used to be Genesis's, a few of his favorite books scattered around, a potted plant Angeal gifted him that he takes care of, all normal things.

• But every drawer, closet and cupboard is packed, filled with things he tries to keep as organized as possible but ultimately fills due to the sheet amount of stuff.

• Items Sephiroth refuses to let go of include:

• Newspaper clippings of comic strips he accumulated. There was a brief time in his life where the only joy derived from his day was reading the funny pages in the newspaper every morning. So he saved each one of those moments of bliss in a shoebox under his bed.

• Various toys and trinkets in almost every drawer of his apartment. He is a compulsive buyer of toys he was never allowed when he was a child. He rarely plays with them. Yes he will keep buying them.

• A music box that has long stopped working. It was the first purchase he made with his paycheck that was made purely because he wanted it.

• A jar of candy wrappers that has been sitting in his nightstand for five years. It had been once filled with sweets, but he, Genesis and Angeal ate them all once one night, talking, laughing, and goofing around. It had been one of the first times Sephiroth felt like he truly belonged and was finally making friends. At the time, he had been convinced that he would never be as happy as he felt in that moment. So he kept every wrapper, and hangs onto that memory to this day.

• A pair of wool mittens he keeps in his glove drawer. They're a bit ripped and don't fit anymore, but professor Gast gave those to him. It was the first and only present the professor had given him.

• A broken, plastic hair clip. When he had begun growing his hair out, Genesis had just cut his shorter and no longer needed the clip, so he gave it to Sephiroth. Sephiroth naively tried to lay down with it and broke the clip upon impact. Though he never got to use it, their subsequent shared laughter was enough to make the hair clip special.

• A broken blender in his kitchen cupboard. It had broken long ago, Sephiroth had always meaned to get it fixed, but there is a small chicken wing sticker on the base of the blender that either Genesis or Angeal had gotten from a cereal box and placed there. After a particularly stressful week where he barely ate, Sephiroth looked at the chicken wing sticker and was suddenly struck by the craving for fried chicken. It was the only thing that got him to eat that week. He keeps it around in case it ever happens again.

• A drawer full of magazine clippings of women who vaguely look like that picture of his mother.

• Multiple sweaters and hoodies. The lab was cold and Hojo was stingy with layers, oftentimes insisting that Sephiroth was fine with that he had and reprimanding him for being so weak. As a result, Sephiroth has far too many sweaters, blankets, and layers. Far more than he will ever be able to use. Some of them don't even fit him anymore because of how much he's bulked up over the years.

• A yellow flower pressed and preserved in an old book. It's the very first flower he had seen as a young boy being sent out on a mission.

• An old, green baby blanket he's had since was young. Though Hojo would never admit it, he suspects it could have been given to him by his mother. It's certainly colorful enough, different from the sterile white ones he would've expected. He often wonders if she too held it like he holds it every night before he falls asleep.

[n33dlew0rk]

..and very old men, they dream of summers

rated G | 1102 words | cw: major character death, mention of drug use, hurt/little bit of comfort

for @steddieangstyaugust prompt “ghosts” (day 2)

Vaguely and very creatively inspired by “Ghosts” by The Presets

Remnants of snow are clinging to the ground as a few shy flower buds slowly emerge, following the sun like Eddie is following the gravelly road back home.

Strangest walk of shame to ever be treaded the one you take after an entire life of big cities, sparkling lights on blurred faces, extremes explored and barely survived to.

Strange because c’mon who runs back home after more than forty years on the road? What even is home when the only sense of belonging you ever found was in the lingering spaces between too many words spoken, in the quiet hours before sun dawn, in the foggy and fuzzy brains chasing drug-induced highs that claimed to self-fulfil all of one’s youth-driven naive dreams?

Strangest because never in all of his nine cat-like fast-burned lives would Eddie ever have said that it was the Indiana torrid and unforgiving blitzkrieg summers he wished to warm his old bones to. Mid-May’s traitorously cold spring tail end was kicking his ass, but Eddie could be patient for this. 

Wayne’s old trailer looked like a vintage memorabilia, something straight out of the eighties. Eddie bought it out of the city-owned land for way more money than it was worth it because they were a sentimental little clan, the Munsons. More like a duo maybe. Now a one-man band since Wayne passed nearly a decade back. 

Eddie had briefly come back then, just to retrieve his beloved uncle’s ashes, scattering most of them over Wayne’s favourite fishing lake and keeping some to melt into a customised guitar pick because he was a morbid gremlin like that, Eddie.

Thing is ‘course this is home like he spent the majority of his young life between those tin-foiled pressed baking tray walls mock-off, how could he not think back with nothing but fondness about it, slowly climbing the porch steps and sitting down, hugging his cane like he once held a too big guitar during endless strumming-filled nights.

But as a few weeks pass by, the first seeds of summer expanding warm late afternoons into longer comforting nights, when the sun packs its bag for the day and grazes the horizon, Eddie knows he has another ghost to chase before he can settle for good, before old deeds are taken care of, before he can rest.

-- in peace?

You see memories are kind of a funny thing when half of your brain has been fried by poor life choices you don’t really regret but sometimes wish could have left you with some more cooperative neurons.

So when Eddie spots the familiar mop of hazelnut hair he sighs and gets up from the old deck chair, aching bones rattling and all. He could take the car, but he knows it would kill half the fun despite what his knees have to say.

Once he reaches the road outside the trailer park, it’s a solitary basketball rolling down the asphalt guiding him.

“You know I’m not picking it up, right?”

A light phantom laugh travels in the breeze, mid-June still a short way from summer, but the air feels warm and playful.

Eddie sees shoulders shrugging in a yellow sweater, a smug smile, happy crinkled eyes. 

The still waters of Lover’s Lake shine behind him but no that’s not right he’s still walking down the street, the woods are in the opposite direction. 

Colourful neon lights make it difficult to focus on his face but that’s not right either, this is not San Francisco, this is Hawkins, Indiana.

-- you really are old.

So Eddie keeps on walking, no basketball in sight but a quiet whistling reaches his ears, Fleetwood Mac maybe?

“Oh so your music tastes finally got better at least, that’s a relief”.

Vespertine nostalgia coats the inside of his mouth with smoke and cheap beer and he needs a moment to catch his breath because now it’s the weight of arms around his neck that makes it difficult to keep walking, the weight of a hug he hasn’t felt in a long while too much for his battered back.

“How much longer?”

-- just a little bit more, Sunshine.

Eddie scoffs at the willful unending mission of never acknowledging his Prince of Darkness nature just to fuck with him.

 there’s no darkness in you when you smile at me.

“You’re very talkative today”

-- you’re home, closer now.

Eddie lifts his gaze to meet the rusty gates of the old cemetery greeting him, creaking their welcome. As he goes through them, they merge with the glass sliding doors of a big fancy house, humidity radiating from the pool in front of him sticking to his skin. 

His brows knit in confusion and he stares at the headstones further away. He starts to walk around the pool to reach them, but a soft hand to his chest stops him.

-- no need to, loverboy, just walk beside me.

So Eddie follows and as he looks down, there’s actually no pool, which ok weird, just wet patches of grass, Spring’s late goodbyes he guesses.

“I’m cold.”

-- I know, just a few more steps.

His cane gets stuck in the mud so he drops it, kind of stumbles forward, closing the distance between him and his destination.

             Steve Harrington

October 17, 1966 - March 27, 1986 

       Beloved and dutiful son.

best friend

brother

babysitter extraordinaire

Eddie sits down by the grave, shivering a little. He traces the dates and the scratched cliches devoid of any actual feeling his parents left there, smiling at the way the truer later contributions by the ones who truly loved Steve steal the spotlight.

“I miss you, y’know?”

-- I know, Sunshine.

“I’m sorry I didn't come back sooner”

-- sooner wasn't the right time, rockstar.

“Do you ever think about how things could’ve been different?”

-- no, because they couldn't.

Eddie sighs once more but stays silent, regret is an ugly parasite to eradicate.

-- Life does what life does, nobody could've known. I’m glad you got to live a full life, Eddie. More stories to tell me, now.

Eddie lets a small sad smile fight for space on his wrinkled face. “I guess”.

He didn't even notice the sun slowly spilling into a new day in full force, warming his skin.

-- I wanted to wait so you could feel Summer instead of Ghosts.

Eddie laughs, a hearty low rumble escaping his smoke-fatigued lungs. He lifts a hand and rests it on the gravestone, patting it with affection.

“Oh but you are both, sweetheart. And I dreamed about it for a very long time now”

        Edward W. Munson

June 21, 1965 - June 21, 2035

            Beloved freak.

Sunshine

[pjsk-story-summaries]

April Fools Year 2: MikuDemy

TL;DR: The members of each unit have been invited to attend a year at the prestigious MikuDemy school. Through this school year, they make friends within their classes, participate in a sports festival, and tackle a graduation challenge.

The Solid Heart class consists of Shiho, Airi, Akito, Nene, Ena, and WxS KAITO. They tend to be reasonable and care deeply for those in the Pure Heart class.

The Passion Heart class consists of Saki, Minori, An, Rui, Mizuki, MMJ Rin, and VBS Len. They are an energetic group ready for action.

The Cautious Heart class consists of Honami, Haruka, Kohane, Tsukasa, Mafuyu, L/n Luka, and VBS MEIKO. They are kind and considerate leaders.

The Pure Heart class consists of Ichika, Shizuku, Toya, Emu, Kanade, and n25 Miku. They are a calm, if slightly airheaded and naive, group.

Some translations (potato ghost) are available here and here. Missing dialogue scenarios have been referenced directly in-game.

Song (Be the MUSIC!) 2DMV

Upon login, Miku asks you to check in on the others at a new school in a strange version of Shibuya?.

The only Virtual Singers that appear in this event are the leaders and Miku variants.

Introductions

Leo/need discuss their excitement towards attending the brand new MikuDemy academy, a prestigious music school. They're a bit surprised about suddenly receiving admission letters, though. They were asked to look for "something special" while there.

MORE MORE JUMP! walk together to campus. Their Miku was the one to get them acceptance letters. Airi's excited, since the school has produced many great idols.

Vivid BAD SQUAD arrive on campus. When An points out how Principal MkuDayo looks a lot like Miku, Toya points out that MikuDemy is just a nickname. They'd all received challenge letters to attend.

Wonderlands x Showtime explore the school campus. They'd been invited to attend after saving Principal Dayo from a gutter. Nene's especially excited to attend. Miku cheers them all on.

Nightcord at 25:00 arrive at campus. Mafuyu points out the "MikuDemy" nickname only works in Japanese, and it's technically a university, not an academy. Miku had been the one to recommend they come.

The Virtual Singers (minus Miku) took the train to campus together. They're excited to have the chance to get closer to those who have strong feelings.

The Leaders (human) watch Principal MikuDayo's entrance ceremony. MikuDayo explains the core themes of the school as being "respect", "creativity", and "challenge". Though admission is only one year, she's excited for everyone to become close friends. MikuDayo jokes that classes are assigned by putting on her head.

Solid Heart Class

Nene, Shiho, and Akito introduce themselves. Nene's glad to already know some people. Shiho asks Akito if his sister is also in this class, to his annoyance. Shiho understands the sentiment. They all think the class name is a bit strange.

Ena sneezes in the hallway while walking with Airi. She bets Akito's complaining about being put in the same class as her. KAITO approaches and introduces himself to the two. When Ena seems surprised at his kind demeanor, KAITO lies and says the one she knows is a distant relative. He asks to hear more about the ones they know.

Ena thanks Nene for giving her singing tips. Both Nene and Shiho were suprised that Ena's already such a good singer since she's just in charge of illustrations. Ena praises Shiho's voice in turn. Ena notices Nene too shy to ask a question and prompts her to join the conversation.

KAITO and Airi gossip about Akito watching Ena make friends. They believe he's likely shocked to see Ena acting like a good older sister. Akito tells them that she's usually annoying and selfish at home.

KAITO, Airi, and Shiho practice ping pong together. VBS Miku stops by to offer her help (though she doesn't confirm her identity). She's never played ping pong, but she's never lost a game of hanetsuki.

Ena asks Nene what sport she's thinking about. They're both considering the penalty shot game since they aren't too athletic. Akito calls them out for taking things easy. Ena and Akito start bickering, which makes Nene anxious.

Ena asks Shiho about the graduation assignment. They're all a bit worried abotu what it could be, but at the same time, they know they'll be fine.

Passion Heart Class

Rin does some idol catchphrases for An and Saki. An asks if Saki has an introductory catchphrase like her brother. She runs through her own rendition of it, but gets embarrassed after.

Mizuki points out both themself and Rui will fit in perfectly in a class called Passion Heart. They run into Len and Minori. Mizuki's super excited to be in a class with one of their favorite idols. They talk about the excitement of finding friend's names on class rosters.

An, Rui, Saki, and Len discuss the upcoming sports festival. An wants to play basketball, and Len soccer. Rui and Saki feed off their excitement.

Minori, Mizuki, and Rin discuss their lecture on the history of idols. Their assignment is to predict what idols might be like in 10 years. Mizuki and Rin think MORE MORE JUMP! will be a legendary group by then.

Minori decided to play a penalty kick game. Mizuki will play kickball with Saki and Rui against Akito and Tsukasa. An decides to ask Rui for some ideas on how to beat them. MMJ Miku cheers them on from the shadows.

Rui asks Rin and Len what sports they're going to play. Len wants to do soccer, and Rin's doing ping pong. Rui decided to go wherever needs more people since he's excited about all of them. Rin and Len both try and get Rui to join them.

The class discusses a recent challenge to play as a music ensemble together using the instruments found around school. Though it was difficult, they all found the experience to be highly valuable. They're glad they got to be good friends with each other through the year.

Cautious Heart Class

Tsukasa, Mafuyu, and Luka greet each other as classmates. Tsukasa recognizes Mafuyu as the one who helped Rui, and is surprised to find a Luka wide-awake. Mafuyu asks if Luka knows someone that looks like herself. Luka isn't phased by the question, but the two kids are shocked by her casualness.

MEIKO, Kohane, Haruka, and Honami greet each other. They guess that their class shares similar characteristics as deliberate and cautious. MEIKO teases Kohane over her shyness.

Luka asks Honami to not be so formal with her now that they're classmates. Haruka understands Honami's nervousness, since she feels strange calling her MEIKO "MEI". MEIKO feels jealous of that version of her, so Haruka calls her MEI. Honami tries calling Luka a nickname, too. Neither of them like it.

Tsukasa, Mafuyu, and Kohane chat about the sports competition. Tsukasa also is helping Kohane find who sent Vivid BAD SQUAD the challenge letter. Mafuyu suspects Principal MikuDayo was the one who sent it.

Tsukasa and MEIKO play ping pong against Kohane and Luka. Kohane sends over a curveball shot and wins the point. Tsukasa and MEIKO agree to practice even harder. L/n Miku watches on.

Mafuyu and Haruka run into Honami practicing for the sports festival by herself. The two of them are working on plays for the basketball team. An was the one to convince Haruka to join basketball.

Kohane, Haruka, Mafuyu, Tsukasa, and Honami discuss graduation requirements. Tsukasa belives they'll be fine as long as they attend class. Kohane still isn't sure who challenged her team. Honami also isn't sure what the "something special" she was asked to find is yet.

Pure Heart Class

Toya, Ichika, and Shizuku introduce themselves. Ichika's happy to be in the same class as Kanade, too. Toya asks her to introduce them.

Kanade and Miku arrive at class. Emu runs over to them and introduces herself. She starts talking about anime and invites Miku over to watch with her. Miku realizes she's made a friend.

Toya greets Shizuku, who is reading a picture book to Miku in the courtyard. Toya asks if they'd be interested in some of his picture search books and agrees to bring some over the next day.

Ichika talks to Emu and Kanade about their instrument class. Kanade found the various materials producing different sounds to be intriguing. They decide to ask Toya more about instruments.

Toya asks Miku and Kanade what events they'd like to play for the sports festival. Both Kanade and Toya are considering the penalty shot game because they're not athletic. WxS Miku (who denies her identity) runs in and offers to train them.

Ichika, Shizuku, and Emu discuss the sports festival. Shizuku wants to do the ping pong race, but Ichika wants something more involved. Emu invites her to play kickball with her.

The class discusses the graduation challenge. Everyone's glad Miku had so much fun that year. Ichika guesses the thing she was supposed to search for that day was "smiles".

Miscellaneous

The various SEKAI Miku watch the sports festival from the sidelines. Principal MikuDayo thanks them for all of their help.

Graduation is nearing. The SEKAI Miku are all sad the day will end soon. Principal MikuDayo asks for their help in ensuring things go well right until the end, to which they enthusiastically agree.

The Virtual Singer leaders (minus Miku) gather right before graduation. They're sad they all have to leave after finally getting so close. KAITO, Luka, and MEIKO believe the "something special" they'll all get out of this are fond memories.

Closing

On the day of graduation, Principal MikuDayo asks if everyone was able to find their "something special". The SEKAI Miku reveal themselves as the secret graders. They thank the others for being sources of joy (looking to the Pure Heart class), will (to the Solid Heart class), enjoyment (to the Passion Heart class), and confidence (to the Caution Heart class). With that, everyone graduated while singing the school anthem, "Be the MUSIC!".

Miku thanks you for watching over the kids. She hopes that you've found "something special" too.

[merao-mariposa]

Who will you call?

When the end draws near who are you going to call?

The sky is burning and there is nothing to fight for, nothing to fight against because your opponent is invincible, the fear of death swallows you alive but its march is inexorable and you know in your heart that it is all, suddenly your life passes in front of your eyes and you call a name, what is it?

Chayanne!

The little warrior have fought well but it is all for, only at the end can he feel his heart tighten, have he failed? Again? This can't end here he don't want it to end here and suddenly he calls his papa Missa.

Whenever he's not with Tallulah or another egg to protect, I think Chayanne would call Missa.

He is terrified that it is the end of him, they (his family) love him and he knows that there will be no danger for his papá here. He does need consolation, Is it too much to ask?

He is a good boy, a great warrior, and he did try so well. He knows that either of his parents will assure him that he did the best he could. He knows that they will give him soft guarantees that will make the feeling of inadequacy and pain diminish.

But he wants his dad Missa.

He knows he's not thinking, anyone knows that Dad Phil can face any danger better than Missa would.

But he's not being rational, he's being sentimental, he's not being the big brother, he's being the little egg who he knows he is.

He wants the tranquility that Missa can offer with the simple aura; he wants the happy optimism that Missa sticks out like a sore thumb in his gloomy and ominous appearance.

But Chayanne knows better that his father is naive, and so kind that's why he has to protect him! Even though now it seems that he won't be able to.

He doesn't want dad Phil to see him like this almost as much as he longs for his gentle protection and the right words of encouragement from him. Chayanne wonders what would he think of him?

Nothing bad, he would probably be filled with worry, concentrating on speaking sincerely and with his heart in his hand.

Like the last time…

But Chayanne knows deep inside, at his young age that this is the definitive one for him, there will be no another time.

So if he can't have all together, his family (please let the boy have all there he loves them and he needs to see them one last time)

Then he would ask for his father, the man who sang the first song he ever heard in his life, name him, teach him water drops and how to cook, the one who teach him how to turn his violence into something profitable, he wants the man who makes him happy with only his appearances in his life outside of his busy schedule.

He wants, he does need to feel loved and protected like he once did when he was a tiny egg just came to life. Maybe it sounds so childish but a part of him needs to feel like a loved and silly child again.

So this is the end…

Chayanne seeks the comfort that his papá Missa inspires, Oh how he wants to hear him sing one last time…

Tallulah!

Her lungs squeeze painfully in her chest, the chaos around her roars like a thousand beasts indiscriminately that she already has enough pain in his body without having more, there is nowhere to run, can't run, and the name Philza turns to her tongue…

Beyond the first eggs, like Chayanne, that were loved upon arrival, Tallulah arrived with a heavy heart from the beginning.

Spreading her love everywhere as a mere defense against abandonment or at least in part (it was not the intention of the islanders to abandon her, the adoption process was not well done, some with two eggs and others with one, it was not fair for her or hope)

But on the other hand she knew what it was like to not feel the love she saw in others, she strove to give it to everyone to share just what she lacked.

In this context she comes to Philza, holding hands with Missa will not deny that she embedded part of his appearance in herself, so similar; music, ghosts, and even colors.

It was easier to protect herself from the bond that she could have with Chayanne's father if she looked like someone else (even if he was still another of Chayanne's father).

But if there is something that hurt Tallulah, it was loneliness, every bit of it was like returning a little to that Federation attic, alone eating dirt to survive.

Her fate could have been worse than this, that would have been a lonely, tragic ending.

She knows it now but before she wasn't so sure.

A mixture of jealousy and anguish choked in her throat when she saw the other children so… complete and free without having to earn anyone's love /God, she and Missa are so similar, those who say that he is not her father are so wrong.

Then she was struck down by overwhelming guilt because she had someone she had Phil! But Phil is Chayanne's father, not hers.

Never hers.

While all the other children freely adopted these traits of their parents, Tallula is happy to just see herself as her own person because she does not believe that she can bring herself the shame of imitating her loved brother's father.

She will never be able to steal it! Only sometimes it is impossible for her wings to not be blackish or for her hair to be so dark.

They are all she have, all the family she knows and that she can say about them beyond the fact that they love her deeper than she has ever let herself love others.

Words will never be enough to explain how grateful she is to them.

So she expresses it with actions, her flute, flowers, nicknames, always looking for a way to convey her feelings that she does not verbally, to share a little of how happy they make her even with the black cloud hanging over her head.

The black cloud refuses to abandon her, be it the Federation that left her behind, the monster that traumatized the people she loves most in the world, being kidnapped multiple times (isolated for a moment, alone, so alone) and walking through hell.

But they are always there, especially dad Phil!

When they took them back to that dark attic that she thought she would never return to, and when they visited that macabre place called egg island her dad Phil was always there, late sometimes, but always there, always found her.

He managed to pick her up when the code stabbed her and she arrived just in time to pull him out of the water after his (failed) leap of faith.

Could she begin to repay him for all the love and security that he made her feel? Maybe not, but that didn't matter.

Because now he understands that he doesn't have to “pay” or “earn” her father's love, she can simply… have it. To have love, to have a father and to be a daughter without being ashamed or guilt. As Chay once told her; "The more people, the more love to share."

Tallulah has been through terrifying things before, she sees it in how her life flashes before her eyes but she surprises herself that she has peace in this moment because she knows that her dad Phil will arrive, even if it is not to save her, she knows he will be there, He will be there with her and that is more than she could ask for (although she would ask for her entire family to be there)

There are worse ways to die and now she knows it better than dying of hunger in an attic forgotten by God, at least where she is now she knows that she is loved and when the storm passes she will still be loved.

She hopes that dad Phil is proud because she fought so hard and came so far. She knows that he is...

[joesalw]

It's really interesting to see how swifties create their narratives to their own swift world. Looking at the more recent examples of their mass clown hysteria:

I remember the Joe Fairy Tale, after folklore's release: "Oh, she had exes who made fun of her music but now she has her soulmate who writes love songs with her!" Lmao, sure. If you can stomach the corniness of it all, you can possibly find it to be actually a very sweet sentiment. But if you really look, the part about exes who scoff at her songs is a reach about Jake G (which is insane if you think about it, this was an ex of a million years ago, but oh well), which is an interpretation that they got from her songs and just ran with it. They're shitting on an ex to compliment a current bf.

Now, Joe tied her down and put her in a tower, and Travis is the new prince. The All American Boy has come to her rescue, she's bringing her back to us! USA! USA! Which is a conclusion they also got from her songs and indirect shade. She never truly addresses it, but simply hands the material for her cult to do as they please. Her stans are glad to stop pretending that they see her as her own woman and a real person and starts to joyfully define her entirely on the men she's been with. And scene.

I'm actually curious about what's the next narrative. Travis is a wild card and he might end up doing something crazy. Or not. Maybe swifties will switch it up a bit and not hunt him for sport, who knows. I, naively expected that they had retired such methods and would leave Joe alone, lol. But her queen has commanded them and as always they're ready to serve.

Sorry for the long text. I'd love to watch a documentary about this crazy behavior in a couple of decades in the future, that of course if miss americana doesn't private jet us all out of an existence.

on point

[bunny-hoodlum]

The main Narutos of Narutoland so far:

Landlord!Naruto: Looks like Gutsy. Househusband. Sentimental. Old school romantic. (You hear 90s Romantic movie soundtracks and Vance Joy whenever you're with him.) Service Top. Never has anything bad to say. Respects your independence. Hates long periods of time apart. Tries to not be clingy. Great gardener. Better home repairman. Deep Kissing Kink. Pure passion. High Compersion, but bad at sharing. Probably likes to watch but won't admit it.

Moving Company Foreman!Naruto: Looks like The Last/19yos. Street smart. Professional. A straight-shooter. Versatile. High body count. Likes people. Likes seeing them happy. Somewhat distant but highly compassionate. Lots of piercings, but keeps his face clean on the job. Got one of the teen Narutos into punk/emo music. Moved to the mainland and never looked back. Eye Contact kink. Looooves to watch you fall apart on his dick.

Postman!Naruto: Looks 25yos. Workaholic. Punctual but airheaded. Naive and earnest. Has never stopped to think about what he wants. Big 'Born Sexy Yesterday' vibes. Can only do quickies because his entire self-worth is wrapped in his work performance. This man needs a vacation. And a hobby. Secretly talented at slow-fucking when given the chance.

Farmer!Naruto: Looks 19yos. Smells like tomato vines and petrichor. Knowledgable. Unpredictably patient and impatient. Will fuck you in the fields and make you the dirty girl that you are.

Produce Hawker!Naruto: Looks 19yos. Sells the farmer's goods. Doesn't get enough business because very few Narutos buy vegetables other than the Landlord. Has all the time to fuck on the job. Lacks the good sense to fuck somewhere sane and private, like in his home above the shop. Has convinced himself he must man the stall at all times, leaving you to 'pay' for your vegetables right then and there in front of the other Narutos in the street market.

Menma/Emo!Naruto: Looks 15yos. Black hair. Individualistic. Looks up to Foreman!Naruto like a big brother. Wishes he could go to the mainland with him, or he would visit more often. None of the other Narutos in his age range understand why he likes 'that' music. Feels lonely living in this backwater prison of an island surrounded by mostly self-involved adult versions. Pessimistic but thoughtful and protective. Needs a lot of guidance during sex, but has very talented hips. Also is the most vocal. Praise Kink. Praise him. Pet his hair. Pet, pet, good boy.

Butcher!Naruto: Looks 35yos. Gruff. Crass. Dominating. Degradation kink. Daddy kink. Taker before a Giver. Just... the Daddiest. Has the good sense to make love to you in private. Will make you wait for him first, fuck whatever your plans were for the day. Will reserve you the best cut of meat. Best BBQ grill man on the island. Bit of a provider. There's rough sex and then there's the roughest sex. Will fuck you like he's ready to start a family. Will parade you and use you in front of his poker buddies, then give them turns with you after. Only one allowed to cum inside. Can be overly aggressive. Only willing to get violent with his 'brothers'. Plays rough with you often skirting the line of good taste, but has the most precise motor control of any of them. When he's delicate, he is delicate. Secretly the most vulnerable of them all.

The Hermit/Naruto: Looks 50yos. The second-most Daddiest. Currently in self-isolation.

[degenrcy]

jeff da killa puts you to sleep ->

warnings: rape, blood, death, stalker, he totally loves you

link to ao3 if you want to read as i update, because who knows when or what i'll post on here!

a calm summer night. fresh sheets and a new pajama set. you lotioned up well, did your skincare, put up your hair securely after its own special treatment. a 3-wick vanilla scented candle filling up your room, soft music playing from your open laptop.

you slipped your panties on after sliding off your towel, showing off to the laptop and potential dark web perverts watching you through your tapped camera... just kidding! that stuff wasn't even real, who cares, nothing bad has happened to you ever anyways.

you were perfect; smooth and clean, smelled like a girl, looked like a girl, you probably felt like a girl. you were mesmerizing, clueless, naive, dumb, stupid, stupid, stupid bitch. a dumb, fucking idiot who left their window open on this calm summer night. multiple windows, just in case a possible intruder murderer rapist burglar wanted to do a house tour before intruding murdering raping raping again and robbing you.

i guess girls stay up late too, the light of your phone dulling out the shape of your face. expressionless, smooth cheeks, no longer smiling. just scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling. one day you'll find the one- the perfect video to wrap up the night. not tonight.

boots touched down in your bathroom, mirror still foggy with products lined up on the sink waiting to be properly closed and put away. you were messy, lazy. you buy all these things, but don't have a place for them. you're useless.

he pondered the thought of flickering the bathroom lights. getting your attention. stabbing you through the shower curtain. it wasn't fun like that. this was going to be fun.

not much decoration for a girl like you. there's a dedicated board with pictures of friends and maybe some other meaningful sentimental items. he ripped off a photo booth picture of you to stash in his wallet and show you off to his friends... right. if he could smile anymore, he could. he wanted. he was.

slow calculated, heavy steps closer to your room. the vanilla and coconut and strawberry and burnt hair from the dryer wafted through the air. it was adorable, you trying to be so many kinds of girls at once... but there you were, in all your glory. natural state, relaxed, no performance in sight. his eyes widened at the sight-

girl. bra-shirt. pink. shorts. panties under shorts? alone. looking at phone, headphones, perfect. wait, even better, you tossed and turned a couple times before finally settling on showing your bare back to him. ass.

he slipped through, caressing the blade in his pocket. his fingertips twitched against the sharp side, edging closer and closer to nicking himself. but that would hurt. that's why he does it to others.

he watched your phone with you for a while, the mass amounts of content you ingest at once and switching through the same 3 apps was bound to drive you insane at some point. no wonder you haven't fallen asleep yet. ah, your ass jiggled a little. nice.

you couldn't even scream when he finally pounced on you, perma-crazed eyes forcibly locking onto your fear-filled ones. cold against your throat. pressure on your stomach holding you down. smooth, smooth, silky smooth skin. his fingers were disgusting against your mouth and nose, no more vanilla-coconut but dirt-blood-disgusting-horrible-oh-my-god-howdidyougetinherepleasedontkillmeohmygod

he was just gonna help you fall asleep!

"lift up your shirt." he commanded, twirling around the very used knife in front of you, leaning back to let you move. this is where you scream, attract your roommates and neighbors- oh wait thats right you're alone and he would've killed everyone else in the place and look at that, whimpering and lifting up your shirt. tiiiiits.

your phone buzzed with a text message, briefly lighting up the room. his face now dimly lit, and your face was completely disgusted. now you hurt his ego, so you were really gonna get it.

he twirled the knife back into his grip, stabbing through your precious phone. his free hand found its spot back at your jaw, gripping tightly until your cheeks smushed together and dug into your gums. he stared, unblinking, lowering the knife closer to your warm skin. he wanted to crawl inside you, burrow himself in your ribs, feel your womanly-warmth all the time and have you coddle him and rock him around while you walked around.

"take off everything now, slut."

you shook like a newborn deer taking its first steps and he was the obsessed hunter growing his collection of cute deer heads on his wall. he hummed in satisfaction as you peeled away your soft panties, trying to cover up and slow the process as much as possible. jokes on you, he loved a strip tease.

his knife tapped your knee, mouthing "open. up." silently, smooth shiny legs parting open for him. the flat of the blade rode up your thigh, your frail hands daring to try and stop him. a quick turn of his wrist and slice the first little baby cat scratch stretched across your bare thigh. your lips trembled underneath his fingers, tears welling in your eyes. you took it like a champ!

he let the blood soak up the blade as much as possible, giggling to himself at how sick you looked and how you writhed under his weight when he rubbed it into your face. he made a smile on your face with your own leg-blood. he licked your face, laughing even more as you cried. he spit on the knife, a bloody gob dripping down the length of it, then slid it down to your cunt. his heart swelled at your body freezing up, tensing, preparing for the worst. no no no, he wasn't cruel, not a monster.

"don't move," he huffed, undoing his pants as quick as possible and finally freeing his dick from its constraints. he rubbed the knife on himself, grabbing your wrists with on hand, holding them above your shaking-no head. no-no-no, side to side. "go on, beg me not to."

"p-please," you obliged. "anything but this, please, i-i don't know what you want..."

he rolled his eyes- heard it all before. he wiggled his way inside you, being as scared as you were made it a tight fit. it always did. he loved it.

you gave in so easily, you weren't even trying to kick him, what a little fucking whore. the nerve to make it seem like you didn't want it, hilarious.

he slashed your beauty a few more times, letting it trickle down your sides and into the bed sheets. he rubbed it all over your chest and stomach and face, tonguing your mouth with iron-taste filth and cigarette residual. you were getting quieter as he moved his hips faster, eyes rolling up to stare at the ceiling instead of the hideous creature inside you right now. he understood, the bodys way of coping and all.

he could let go of your hands now, they remained above your head anyways. phone out, flash on, record. in another life jeff would've loved to be an amateur pornstar. he got the best angles to watch his dick slipping inside you, blood inside and out and all over, it was fucking hot. he closed in on your face, the flash forcing your eyes closed and mind back to earth.

"n-no, please, don't." you only could cry, single word demands fall on fully hearing ears that didn't give a shit. he dug the knife into your face, ripping a scream finaaalllyyyy from that pretty throat. he tore a smile across your face, pushing himself to cum as deep inside you as he could. he groaned, eyelids twitching and buried in your cunt. he pumped himself a couple times, using you to the fullest. he dropped the knife on your bloodied-pink satin pillow, kissing you harshly.

he moaned into your teeth, it was like a fountain of blood pooling into his mouth from yours- it was perfect. the smell of sex and blood, perfect. the smile on his girl's face after fucking her to sleep, perfect.

you hiccuped as he rummaged through your stuff, not much use to him. lame diary, cheap jewelry, not many electronics other than the one with a hole in it beside you. he was getting hard again just at the sounds you were making, whining for round two. moaning from the pain.

"yeah yeah i'll be right there." he waved you off, palming himself through his boxers while emptying out bags and purses and wallets. when he was done, he caressed the side of your face as he slid his cock along your ruined face. the bloody slit that was your mouth did wonders, especially when he dug the blade into your chest and you started gurgling and bubbling. it felt fucking amazing. he's never had a girl like you. so perfect.

you soon went limp, arm dangling off the edge of the bed and dripping onto the fuzzy little carpet you had for your feet in the morning. the floors got cold, but you always forgot to put on your slippers. he sliced open your arm, just for fun. he peeled back the layers of skin and fat and bone and muscle, he's sorry he put you through all of this. his fingers wiggle between your nerves and tendons- jeff even wondered if he dug deep enough, pull on some strings, could he move your fingers around like a puppet? get you to jack him off even in death?

[cha0ticspacebi]

Trying to date after escaping an abusive relationship is hard. Thankfully Eddie can provide just what you need. Freedom.

Pairing: Dark! Obsessive! Eddie x Naive! Trusting! Female Reader

Word Count: 6.8 K

Tags: Serial killer! Eddie, he kills in the name of love but murders nonetheless, graphic depictions of violence (very Dexter like), possessiveness, obsession, knife play, oral sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, talks of domestic violence, Billy is reader's abusive ex (I'm sorry if you like him, he's my default villain!), other characters make a minor appearance. I’m not creative enough for song lyrics so I pulled out some real dusty ones from my emo days. Please mind these tags, this story is the darkest thing I've ever written! ⚠️ 21+ MDNI ⚠️

A/N: This story is 100% inspired by and dedicated to @eddiethetwisted. If you are here for dark and twisted, Yandere Eddie please check him and @eddiemunsonfuxks out! You won't be disappointed!

divider by firefly-graphics

It’s been 3 years since you escaped from your worst nightmare. 1,095 days since you last had to see his face in that courtroom. It had taken a while for the bruises to fade. It’s taken even longer for the nervous glances over your shoulder anytime you went out to subside, but you felt better. Supported by your friends and a therapy group for other survivors of domestic abuse, you were healing. 

“Have you given any more thought to my suggestion?” your friend Barb spoke so sweetly as you had lunch with her.

You pondered the suggestion in question. A few days ago she brought up the idea that you try dating again. Her words and positive sentiments replayed in your mind, just because Billy was a piece of human trash doesn’t mean that all men are. You shouldn’t feel like you have to be alone for the rest of your life just because of what he did. There’s somebody out there meant just for you and what you need– I can feel it! 

The truth was you did want to try again. You missed having someone to hold you at night or kiss you goodbye before you left for work each day. But that’s how it began with Billy. He was kind, supportive, loving…until he wasn’t anymore. How can you trust that the same thing won’t happen again?

You sipped your iced tea to avoid answering right away, “I don’t know. I mean I want to but,” she cut you off.

“Just come out to The Hideout tomorrow night with me and my friend Nancy from high school. There’s a local band that’s going to be playing, even if you don’t meet anymore, I’m sure you’ll have a good time!” she smiled brightly at you, adding to her plea and tugging at your heart strings.

“Ok, I’ll come along.”

Billy liked to control everything you did. Who you were allowed to hang out with, where you were allowed to go, not to mention controlling every aspect of your appearance. How you styled your hair. The clothes you wore. Even the colors of makeup you were allowed to use. Everything had to be approved by him. It had taken a lot of hard work to unlearn some of the things he had driven into your mind. It was still a daily struggle.  

Even now, standing in front of the mirror wearing a skirt that never would have been allowed felt wrong. You’re showing way too much leg and men will see you for the whore you are– you shook away the thoughts! That was Billy’s insecurity, not yours. He never wanted you to feel good about yourself because that meant you were easier to control. 

People wear things like what you had on all the time. There was nothing wrong with the way you looked. Trying to hype yourself up, Barb walked into your place using the key you’d given her and joined you.

“You look so pretty! Don’t change! I can see that look on your face,” she wagged a finger at you.

You jumped, surprised by her sudden appearance but laughed, “Guilty! I was just about to go back to jeans and a sweater.”

“Don’t you dare!” she scolded, “I told you, it’s just drinks. No pressure. We’ll listen to some loud music and have fun.”

You nodded while finishing up and then grabbed your purse. Feeling excited for the first time in a while about the prospect of going out and possibly meeting someone special. 

The small, sleepy town of Hawkins, Indiana hadn’t been your home forever but it was where you had settled and weren’t about to let Billy take your home from you too. Unsurprisingly, since Billy never let you go anywhere, you hadn’t been to this particular bar before. It was a hole in the wall bar, a local watering hole filled with a seemingly tight knit group of loyal patrons, thankfully ranging in ages from 20s to 60s. If you had walked into a bar filled with nothing but mean, grouchy looking old men, you’d have turned right around and went home. Still, some of the confidence you had managed to build up vanished as soon as you stepped inside.

“There’s Nancy!” Barb waved at a pretty girl with brown curls on the far side of the room, “Come on let’s get drinks and then join them.”

Meeting a new group of people could’ve gone a lot worse. Barb’s friends were all really nice. You met Nancy, a journalist for the Hawkins Post. Then there was her girlfriend Robin, a freelance painter. Finally there was Steve Harrington, a newly single high school history teacher. You learned that they all went to school together, along with the guys from the band that was playing tonight. It wasn’t long until you had finished your first drink and longed for a new one because much to your surprise, you were having a lot of fun.

“I’ll be right back,” pointing to your empty glass.

Doing things on your own has been a goal of yours since leaving Billy. He had often forbid you from doing things alone, claiming it was for your safety but you learned it was just another thing he wanted to control. Going to the bar to order your own drink was honestly something you never thought you’d be able to do again. 

It helped that the bar wasn’t super busy and the bartender looked nice. She took your empty glass and suggested something new that you could try.

“Hey toots,” a gruff voice from beside you broke your focus, “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone on a Friday night?” He flashed you a grin with yellowing teeth and smelled of stale cigarettes, like the one currently clutched between his fingers.

Moments like this tested all your resolve and work you had done trying to recover. It would have been really easy to fall into old habits. Claiming that your boyfriend was in the bathroom or some other excuse and then run as far away as possible. Your therapist had prepared you for the fact that when you were ready to try dating again, you might encounter more thorns than flowers. He was staring at you waiting for a response.

“Oh there you are sweetheart! I’ve been looking all over for you,” a velvety sound hit your ears and sent shivers up your partially exposed spine. With just a slight turn of your head, you were met with a pair of dark brown eyes and a smile you wouldn’t soon forget.

The man put himself right between you and the creep before grabbing the drink that was sweating on its coaster, “Silly girl, come on! You don’t want to miss my show do you?”

You played along, not wanting to miss the escape this man was offering you from your current predicament, “Of course not.” You grabbed the drink from his hand, “Let’s go.”

He smiled and then addressed the man who had been bothering you, “Careful now Gene that pacemaker was just replaced wasn’t it? Would be a shame if you worked it too hard and something happened again.” You could hear the man at the bar grumble something in response but couldn’t quite make out what it was. 

Once you had walked a safe distance away you realized you’d still been following this man who you didn’t know. “Um,” You grabbed his sleeve to stop him from where he was still walking ahead of you, “T-thank you for that. He was making me really uncomfortable.”

He turned and gave you a better view of his face. He was the most handsome man you’d ever seen. His dark brown curls perfectly matched his eyes and his smile was even better now that you could admire it properly. He spoke so warm and kindly, “You’re very welcome princess. Men like him are a waste of breath. May I ask your name?”

You tell him your name and learn that his name is Eddie. But the larger development that takes place is when Steve walks over looking very confused, “Munson!” He smacks Eddie on the back, “So what, you two know each other or something?”

He shakes his head, “I am but her humble savior and defeater of evil.”

You can’t help the little giggle that you let out, “He rescued me from some old creep at the bar.” You motioned between the two of them, “Do you two know each other?”

Steve explains that they went to school together and that Eddie was actually in the band you were here to see with your friend. Which must have reminded him that he was needed backstage once again since they were about to go on. 

Before departing from you though, he grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on the top of your knuckles, “Until we meet again princess.”

Your heart fluttered more than it reasonably should have. You’d known Eddie for all of 5 minutes and he had already consumed your every thought. He was so sickeningly sweet and kind with every word he had said to you. Then watching him perform only amplified the feelings up to 11. 

He took to the stage a few minutes after leaving your side. You had rejoined your group, of course regaling the tale of your sudden savior. As soon as the lights dimmed you heard his voice again coming through the mic. You were mesmerized by the way his ringed fingers pressed into the strings of his guitar and then moved along the neck with ease pressing into a different fret causing a change in the sound. Matching perfectly with the bassline and drum beats provided by his bandmates. You were so lost in his beauty up there that your brain couldn't truly process the weight of his lyrics.

He dropped you off

I followed him home

Then I stood outside his bedroom window

You caught words like bloody, valentine, and love. You wondered how he made a song that sounded so violent seem so romantic. 

Standing over him, he begged me not to do

What I knew I had to do

Cause I am so in love with you

His eyes locked with yours the entire time. You tricked your brain into thinking he was singing right to you and no one else. For a brief moment, it’s as if all your anxiety and concerns about coming out tonight never existed in the first place. For the first time in a really long time you forgot about everything you’d been through and allowed yourself to entertain the idea of happiness. Maybe Eddie could make you happy.

After the show he emerged from the back and came to stand right beside you again, “What’d you think of the show sweetheart?”

You bit your lip, a bad habit Billy hated, “It was really good Eddie. You’re a great singer. Do you write the lyrics or is it more of a group effort?”

He took a drink of the beer one of the guys had delivered to him, “It’s all me princess. Why did you hear something you really liked?”

“Well, they were pretty dark but honestly,” You thought back to that first song, “There’s something kinda romantic about the notion of killing to protect the one you love.”

Barb gave you a look that you couldn’t quite decipher, it was quizzical but also hopeful, “Yeah you think so? I mean that song about murder is still murder but I guess the fantasy of it could be alluring.”

Nancy joined the conversation, “I’ll have to disagree. Sorry Eddie,” he nods to indicate no offense taken, “There’s nothing sexy about the idea of killing an innocent person just to show your love and affection for someone.”

Eddie didn’t miss a beat though, “But what if the person wasn’t innocent? What if it was someone who deserved it?”

“That’s why we have a court of law, due process to clear those who are innocent and punish those who are guilty. People who take the law into their own hands are just as bad as the criminals they claim to hate so much,” Nancy made her position clear as day on the issue.

As soon as she was done, you felt you had to speak up, “But what about when the courts that are supposed to protect the victims fail and end up favoring the abusers? Real life just doesn’t work like it does in a textbook. Our court systems are incredibly flawed.” For a second you forgot who you were talking to and that Barb was the only one who knows about your past, “They certainly didn’t help me any. All I got was a lousy restraining order and he got a slap on the wrist.”

The table was silent.

Eddie downs the rest of his beer in one gulp, “Who hurt you sweetheart?”

You felt the burn of the spotlight that was suddenly on you. You had let your guard down and exposed a part of yourself you wanted nothing more than to hide away from the world. Finally the words came but they were broken, “I- it's not important.”

The tone in Eddie’s voice lowered and darkened but still managed to drip with sweetness, “I’m so sorry you think that sweetheart, but that’s not what I asked. Who made you think that?”

You swallowed hard, “My ex Billy.”

For the first time all night, his eyes were on his hands instead of you, “Does this Billy have a last name?”

Your brows furrowed as to his sudden interest in your ex, “H-Hargrove. Billy Hargrove.”

Steve could see your distress and tried to make the conversation shift away from you. After that brief drop in his tone Eddie bounced back and was once again laughing along with everyone. The topic of discussion thankfully drifted further and further away from murder and the morality of killing someone who deserved it. You blended into the background as the old group of friends spent the rest of the evening reconnecting. 

After last call was made the bar was nearly empty. Only your group and a few other lonely souls that would rather spend as long as possible at the bar than go home alone remained. One of whom was the yellow toothed creep who tried hitting on you earlier in the evening. 

Barb grabbed your hand, “Are you ready to get out of here?”

“Actually,” Eddie spoke, picking up on the implication that you didn’t drive here since neither of you seemed to be making a move to grab your keys, “I’ve only had this one drink so I’m good to drive you home if you’d rather save some cash on a cab.”

Nancy agreed but offered an alternative, “Eddie, your trailer is in the opposite direction of Barb’s place, I’ll drive them back.”

You didn’t know where Eddie lived but if he was in the opposite direction from Barb, that meant he was in the right direction for you, “Nancy why don’t I just go with Eddie? That way no one has to drive out of their way.”

Eddie’s face lit up with fireworks exploding on his cheeks and in his eyes, “See Wheeler? It’s a win win really.”

“Will you be alright?” Barb asked.

Eddie wrapped his arm around you, “I swear I will protect her with my life.” He gave your shoulder a squeeze, “She has never been safer than she is right now. Cross my heart!”

Eddie led you out to his van. It was old. The peeling blue upholstery of the passenger seat lifted slightly as you sat down. The engine showed its age too as it started up. You looked around curiously, inspecting the cigarette butts sitting in the ashtray and the two plastic coke bottles on the floor by your feet.

“Sorry for the mess,” he somehow managed to look at you and the road at the same time, “I wasn’t expecting to have anyone in here tonight.”

Now that you were alone you wanted to make sure you thanked him properly for his help earlier, “No worries. I really appreciate the offer to drive me home. Especially after you already helped me, a perfect stranger, out with that little issue at the bar.”

He waved it off, “Don’t mention it princess. A beautiful lady like you shouldn’t have to put up with crap like that, especially from scum like him.”

His words couldn’t help but have a profound effect on you. Billy never called you beautiful. Hot or sexy sure but never beautiful. It was really nice to hear and even thought you felt yourself slipping, there was nothing you could do to stop yourself from falling. You were too far gone already. You really liked Eddie. 

He turned on some music, obviously one of the groups that served as inspiration for his own music. You glanced behind you as he drove expecting to see various musical equipment but instead you saw only a black duffle bag, several tarps, and a few loose articles of safety gear like gloves and glasses. You turned back to him, “Where’s your guitar and amps and stuff?”

“My uncle works construction so he sometimes uses the van for work,” he shot his thumb pointing backwards, “It’s pretty dirty back there so we started using Gareth’s truck to move the stuff around.”

“Do you live with your uncle?”

“Yeah, he took me in after my asshole dad got locked up,” he turned down the street that would lead to your house after following your instructions.

You pointed out your house to him and he pulled up into the driveway. To your surprise he got out with you. 

“What?” he smiled, “I told your friend I’d make sure you were safe.”

You laughed, “Nothing’s going to happen to me between here and the door though Eddie.”

“I’m nothing if not thorough sweetheart. When I set my mind to something I see it through to the end,” he even opened your screen door for you as you dug in your bag for your key.

“Thank you for the ride Eddie,” you lingered in the doorway for a moment. Waiting to see if he would make a move, granted you didn’t have a lot of experience, but it seemed like he was into you, or at least that’s what you hoped.

“You are very welcome,” he kissed the back of your hand again, “Would you do me the great honor of going to see a movie with me tomorrow?”

“I’d love to Eddie, pick me up at 8?”

“On the dot princess,” he planted one last kiss on the hand he was still holding, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You locked the door behind him and fell asleep for the first time in a while feeling hopeful for the fate of your love life.

• • • • • • •

Somewhere in the forest outside Lover’s Lake later that night.

“Oh, don’t bother begging for mercy now Gene. You shouldn’t have tried to take what didn’t belong to you,” a dark voice speaks low to the terrified man from where this assailant hovers over a nearly broken leg and bloody arm.

His breathing was labored, “Y-you’re i-in-sane!”

The man shrugged, “Maybe. But I did try to warn you about that pacemaker, didn't I?” He knelt down and pressed the tip of his pocket knife into the man's thigh, “Tell you what, since you were good and kept your hands off of her I’ll give you another chance.” His voice lifted and dripped with a touch of mania, “If you had touched her perfect skin with your disgusting fingers I’d be breaking each of them one by one.”

Gene went white but didn’t have a chance to react. The man was speaking again, “If you can make it to the lake before that little piece of metal keeping your heart beating gives out, I’ll let you live. You can even tell them what I did and how that Munson boy is as crazy as everyone says he is!”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Unfortunately for him, Eddie had already done a number on him. He was bleeding from several places and had no idea what direction the lake was in. He hobbled frantically and panicked through the forest, desperately searching for the lake. Under different circumstances this old local might have noticed the change in soil texture or the shifting foliage signaling that water was nearby. But at god knows what time in the morning being chased by a madman, he felt the beating in his chest begin to falter. He collapsed to the ground.

“Oh,” Eddie had caught up to him with ease and stood over him watching as the older man struggled to breathe. The silver of his blade shining in the moonlight, “Too bad.”

• • • • • • •

Eddie was precisely on time for your date the next day. He drove the two of you to the theater in town and paid for the tickets.

“Do you want a snack princess? Are you a popcorn girl or maybe something sweeter just like you,” Eddie’s constant flirting was consuming you. It felt so good to be desired in a way you never had before.

“Popcorn is fine Eddie,” you grabbed his hand, “Thank you.”

Everything was going perfect. You had dressed up and not once thought about what Billy would say. Eddie was a perfect gentleman and even let you pick some romantic comedy that Billy never would have seen with you. The movie wasn’t great, it was cheesy and predictable, but that wasn’t the important part. Eddie’s hands never left your skin the whole night. Whether he was holding your hand, wrapping his arm around you, or just mindlessly thumbing over your wrist while the movie was playing. It was the best date you had ever been on. Until you stepped out into the night air of the parking lot following the credits.

“Well well sugar, fancy seeing you here,” a voice you never wanted to hear ever again hit your ears and you froze in place.

Eddie was right there to catch you before you could fall down that slippery slope of fear, “Sweetheart? Who’s this?”

“Who the fuck are you freak?”

“Billy please!” you felt yourself shaking as you tried to speak up for yourself, “I- I still have a restraining order so just leave me alone.”

He stepped forward just once before Eddie cut him off, “You should listen to her. Wouldn’t want to make any trouble.” He looked around, assessing that Billy was here alone, “Seeing a flick all by yourself?”

“Fuck off freak,” Billy looked right at you from where you were cowering behind Eddie, “You’re still as weak and spineless as you were when I left you. Just now you’ve shown your real slutty colors.”

Eddie’s tone dropped again like it had last night when he was protecting you from that guy at the bar, you thought he might address Billy again but instead he pulled you tight into his body, “ Come on princess. Let’s get you home. Something just came up and my evening suddenly looks very busy.”

You didn’t have time to process what could have possibly come up in those few seconds of interacting with Billy but you were just thankful to be back in the car with Eddie.

He was driving slowly towards your house, “Sweetheart? I need you to know I really like you and I have a very important question to ask. I know it might be difficult to talk about but I need to know. Just what did Billy do to you?”

You rubbed anxiously at your legs, “I really like you too Eddie. I feel safe with you. Unlike with him.” 

You somehow manage to describe a condensed version of the hell that Billy had put you through over the years you were together, “He was my high school sweetheart but he started getting really controlling, that led to me breaking his rules which eventually reached the point where h-he would hit me, or kick me, always making sure to target spots that I could easily hide with long sleeves or pants though.”

Eddie was quiet so you continued, “I finally managed to get away with Barb’s help and I thought he had moved away after serving his pitifully short jail sentence, but I guess not. Tonight’s the first time I’ve seen him since the trial three years ago.”

He arrived in your driveway and grabbed your hands, “You’ll never have to see him again. I swear to you. He’ll never hurt you ever again.”

It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable position being pulled in for a kiss from across the center console, but the feeling of his lips on yours was divine. He kissed you like his life depended on it. Like he was drowning and you were his only source of oxygen. Your heart raced and pounded louder when you felt his hands moving down towards your chest. He stopped right at your heart.

“Go inside and wait for me. I have something to take care of but it shouldn’t take long, ok? I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

You obeyed and watched his van back out of your driveway before pulling off down the street. 

• • • • • • •

The movie theater parking lot was still busy. Perfect.

Eddie parked his van close to but not directly beside the blue Camaro that he had seen Billy leaving just a little bit ago. Eddie had to plan this timing perfectly. If the movie that walking shit stain was seeing was the average run time he had to work quickly. He grabbed some rubber gloves and pliers from the glove box and got to work hot wiring the Camaro.

It roared to life and he managed to avoid any noisy onlookers tonight. He drove it to the side of the currently desolate highway and staged a scene. Left the headlights on, opened the doors and rummaged through the contents as if someone had disposed of the driver before robbing them blind.

After he was satisfied he took the long walk back along the road not wanting to leave any footprints in the dirt of the forest. He checked his watch as he reentered the movie theater parking lot for the third time that night. If his calculated moves had been correct, ahh right on schedule. Billy was walking out and hadn’t seemed to notice yet that his car was missing.

Eddie hurried to his van and grabbed his signature chloroform soaked cloth and waited in the shadows for the perfect moment to strike. 

When Billy was walking past his van to possibly inspect a different row looking for his car, Eddie grabbed him and placed the cloth over his mouth. As they all do, he struggled for a minute but eventually went still. Allowing Eddie to toss him in the back of the van on the tarp he’d already laid out before diving out like nothing had happened and headed for the abandoned lake house he saved for special occasions like this. 

Just off Holland road sat his destination.

A few years back, his old supplier Rick, had gotten busted for good this time but his family still paid the bills on this old place so Eddie had started using the old boathouse for purposes just like tonight. When a so-called man made a foolish decision like getting anywhere near one of his girls he’d bring them here. Not that any of his girls ever knew what he had done for them. No one even gave him the time of day, until you. He thought about your perfect face, your smile, your chest, and the way your hips moved as you walked–focus! 

He was going to enjoy this kill.

He readied the space and then went to retrieve Billy’s still unconscious body from the back of the van. Now he just had to wait.

The telltale signs that his victims were coming to were always the same. The grogginess, the hazy look in their eyes, and the same inane questions of where am I or why are you doing this?

He was done waiting so he smacked Billy’s face a few times, “Wakey wakey Billy boy. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.” Eddie pulled a knife out from the black roll of cloth that concealed his tools sitting beside him, “You hurt someone very important to me and now I’m going to make you pay for every single time you dared to lay a finger on her.”

Billy’s eyes widened with panic as Eddie stepped hard on the ground towards him. After making the first cut along Billy’s cheek, he got down to business. 

Eddie wasn’t usually this messy when he worked, he was colored crimson with this filth’s blood. Even the real pieces of trash who he killed didn’t look this bad when he was through with them. 

After enduring his beatings, cuts, torturously slow breaking of each finger, they were usually still recognizable. Not Billy. Eddie had all but bashed his head in and was currently in the process of dismembering his corpse and placing each piece in a duct tape wrapped garbage bag. 

Once he was finished, he cleaned up and disposed of the parts where they’d be lost to the lake and even if they were ever discovered, they’d be beyond the ability to identify. Not that Eddie believed even for a second that someone would report a piece of crap like Billy missing. 

Besides, he had better things to worry about. He’d gotten a little carried away and kept you waiting longer than he wanted to. So he had to get going.

• • • • • • •

After Eddie had dropped you off, you changed into some soft comfortable pajamas and brewed a pot of tea. All the things your therapist had suggested to do when you got overwhelmed with the feelings of what Billy had done. It helped a bit but the thought of Eddie returning helped more.

He was gone longer than you anticipated but your spirits lifted when you heard the sound of his van pulling up into the driveway. 

Carefully you set down your teacup and hurried to unlock the door for him. On the other side of the door however stood a very different Eddie than the one that had left you. He was covered in blood.

“Sorry I’m late sweetheart, I have something to take care of.”

“Eddie!” You panicked and couldn’t understand why he wasn’t panicking too! He was obviously injured from something, “Are you alright? Were you in an accident? Oh god we need to call an ambulance!” You yelled.

He looked down at himself as thought it was raining heavily and the liquid soaking through his clothes was water and not dried blood, “None of it’s mine I promise.”

Your face froze. If it’s not his, that means it’s someone else’s, “E-Eddie? What exactly did you have to take care of ?” 

The smile on his face was just as bright as it had been when he picked you up earlier, only now accented by the blood staining his face, “I told you princess. He’d never hurt you again.”

Your stomach dropped. The pieces fell into place. It made you sick but there was a part of you that was– happy, “H-he’s dead?”

“As a fucking doornail princess, can I um, come in?”

“Oh! Yes, yeah! Wait! Should we lay down plastic or something?” you looked to see if his boots had blood on them.

He laughed, “Nope we’re all good sweetheart. Just need to ditch these clothes and use your shower.”

Your brain worked in overdrive trying to process all of this as you waited for him to finish in the bathroom. You didn’t have any guy's clothes for him to change into so you had dug to the back of your closet looking for some old oversized shirts you saved for painting. You managed to find a shirt and then pulled out a pair of sweatpants you thought might fit him. Lastly, you grabbed a trash bag for him to toss his bloody clothes in. Then you heard the shower turn off.

Your voice was quiet as you tapped on the door with the back of your knuckle, “Eddie? C-can I come in?”

“I’d love you to come in here with me sweetheart.”

You slowly pressed the door open and you saw that he had the towel wrapped around his waist, “I don’t know how well they will fit but here are some clothes a-and a trash bag for you know. Your dirty clothes.”

“You’re an absolute dream,” he took the clothes and the bag then motioned towards the door, “Why don’t you wait in your room for me? Can’t have any of this dirty mess getting on you can we?”

Without another word you just nodded and closed the door again. Your weight sitting on the edge of your mattress felt heavier than normally. The man you just met had killed the man who made your life a living hell and you weren’t sad. You should be calling the police and hiding in case he decides to kill you too, but you somehow knew he wouldn’t. You still felt safe with him. Not only did you feel safe but you were pressing your thighs together as that familiar feeling bubbled in your core. You wanted him.

No matter how wrong it felt, you wanted him to come in here and absolutely wreck you.

“You look so cute in those pink pajamas princess,” he was wearing the clothes you’d given him and you felt your cheeks heat up even more. He stepped towards you and sat on the bed with his body pressed right up against yours, “You’re trembling love, you know I’d never hurt you right? Just like I said last night. I only hurt people who deserve it.”

“I think I’m trembling Eddie because I can’t believe the nightmare is finally over, no more looking over my shoulder wondering if he’ll come back one day and kill me,” you looked up into those brown eyes that somehow still managed to look soft and caring, “I know you won’t hurt me, you did this for me right?”

He lit up, “Yes! Yes I did this for you and it makes me so happy that you can see that. It’s my god given duty to protect you and I’ll never stop killing for you sweetheart! I took care of that creep who bothered you at the bar last night too!”

You knew in the reasonable side of your brain that you shouldn’t be feeling this way. That you shouldn’t be turned on by the thought of a man who loved you so much that he was willing to kill anyone who hurt you, or even slightly inconvenienced you. But you weren’t thinking with the reasonable side of your brain.

You crawled into his lap and felt his cock twitch beneath you, “You did so good Eddie.” He blossomed at the praise, “Can I make you feel good now?”

“Just holding you makes my cock hard as a rock, baby. It’s my job to make you feel good,” his hands grabbed at your hips. The pads of his fingers tracing lightly over the skin of your midriff exposed from your crop top. 

You rubbed your hands along his shoulders, “Let me take care of you Eddie.” Slipping out of his lap, silencing the little whine that left his lips with a kiss and your hands on his crotch. You rubbed his covered cock before pulling at the waistband of the sweats you’d just worked so hard to find for him. His cock sprang out with a flourish. Your eyes widened and you sucked your bottom lip up into your teeth, biting down to hide your smile.

“Yeah?” he ran his fingers across the top of your head, “You like what you see angel?” He chuckles at your little nod.

“Can I suck your cock Eddie?”

He let out a pleased hum, “Mmm, that sounds great sweetheart. I can’t wait to feel your pretty little mouth on my cock.”

Not wasting anymore time you took him into your mouth and rejoiced in the pleasant stretch his cock gave your throat. He was big and you didn’t even try to stifle the chokes and gags you made as you took him in and out of your mouth.

“Fuck! That’s my good girl, I’m gonna fuck that throat of yours ok?”

“Mhmm!” you adjusted yourself back on your knees as he stood up from the bed. Getting a better grip on your head, he fucked your throat until you felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

“M’gonna fuck your pretty throat until your gasping for breath sweetheart,” your lips vibrated against him with want at his words, “Wanna see those sweet eyes roll back in your head and then just before you pass out on my cock, m’gonna absolutely wreck that cunt of yours. Sound good?”

He pulled back just a bit to let you answer, “P-please! Thank you Eddie!”

He pressed your head right back down onto him and listened to the sounds of your gags fill his ears, “Such a good girl with good manners sweetheart. Fuck!” He slammed back in harder.

Your brain was turning to mush. Getting lost in the feeling of his length bruising your throat. At some point he pulled out and tossed you up on the bed. He was careful as he slipped your pajama bottoms off but before he could tear your underwear off you grabbed his wrist.

“Knife–” words were hard but you tried to ask in some semblance of coherency, “U-use the knife I saw in your back pocket. Don’t like these ones anyways.”

A devious grin covered his face, “Fuck you really are perfect! My perfect princess.”

He left for just a moment and returned quickly. The silver of the small blade shimmered in the dim light of your bedside lamp. He licked his lips and grabbed the edge of your panties. The metal was cold where it just barely touched your skin. He was careful not to cut you. Just slicing through the fabric like butter on the right then again left, exposing your wet pussy to him, “I’ll just keep these for later.” He tucked your torn panties in his pocket. Then he turned his attention to your bare pussy. 

“She’s beautiful princess,” he pressed his thumb to your clit and twirled it in small circles. Delightful whimpers and whines filled the room, “That feel good baby?”

“Yes! So good Eddie, more, more please!”

“Anything for my best girl,” he turned his wrist and with ease slipped 2 fingers into your sopping wetness while his thumb continued attending to your clit. 

You screamed out for him, you’d never been touched like this before. It felt incredible! He was reaching places inside you that you could never reach by yourself. Bringing you to your climax faster than ever before, “M’gonna come Eddie! Don’t stop!”

“Never princess, come all over my fingers.”

The building pressure broke the dam and you cried out, cunt pulsating as you squirted all over his hand. The liquid dripped down between your ass cheeks and pooled on the bed.

He pulled his fingers out and you were so fucking glad you opened your eyes to see him licking your juices off his fingers, “Ready for my cock baby?”

“Y-yes Eddie, fuck me please!”

He took great care to adjust your body on the bed and support your head with a pillow before pressing right in with his bare cock. The sensation of his warmth filling you brought you right back to the edge. You didn’t even care that he wasn’t wearing a condom. If he asked you’d probably let him come inside you. 

Lewd noises filled the room as his thrusting squished the wetness in and out of your hole. Both of you were moaning loudly without a care. His pace quickened, “M’close sweetheart. Gonna fill you up ok?” His voice was labored from fucking you but it still held that same sweetness, “You’ll look so pretty all round with my baby princess. I’ll take such good care of both of you. You’ll never have to worry about anything ever again.”

With just his mere suggestion it was suddenly all you ever wanted in life. The man who killed your worst nightmare? There was no one else you’d rather start a family with.