#chip dove edit

[vamprross]

yaoi from a toxic yuri movie

[riverphoenixsgothwife]

half of fall out boy fans are writing entire essays daily about why pete wentz is a good guy actually and half of fall out boy fans are like "he's actually fucking terrible. anyways"

[stenopxlous]

they sincerely needed more cast photos because ??? where were these two when you needed them

[jennifersbodyfanclub]

Fake polaroid's I made for my pinboard.

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 6

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a (!) player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, you get your very own samantha from her (2013) lol, time skips as a plot device!, this has an arc i promise, if anybody here plays disco elysium you’ll find that i took concepts of “the pale” as inspo at some points in this chapter lmao A/N: Oof this one’s a little longer than any of the previous chapters. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3 (and just a heads up, this might be the last chapter I post before I kick it off for the holidays. advance happy holidays! if you guys celebrate that sort of thing.) 

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9

There’s a quiet stillness brought by the morning after that makes the problems of a heavier night seem like a fairly distant memory. 

For at least a few minutes past the moment you blink away the stubborn grit in your eyes—you don’t remember the last time you’ve been this well-rested in ages—you lie, listless, on the soft powder-blue bedding of your twin-size mattress, watching specks of dander and dust drift from the amber sunlight that filters through the cracked panes of the casement window. 

It floats aimlessly; unhurried. Much like you.

The echo of last night’s events return to you in sporadic flashes—fragmented and unsteady. The whispered exchanges, the playful banter between you and your unlikely conversation partner play back in your mind, like some half-finished supercut. 

And the more you recall, the more awake you feel, chipping away the last traces of daytime lethargy weighing you down. 

“So, what happens now?”

The sound of a car backfiring breaks through from the outside, like a starting pistol signalling the beginning of another day. A familiar, heavy weight presses against your side, and you thread your fingers through the scraggly fur of the purring feline who’s taken the empty space on your left, just above the covers. 

You breathe in deeply, closing your eyes. 

“I wish I had an answer—I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”

You realize how many questions still linger, a lot more left unanswered. Far more than what you were able to glean, at least. From what little you’ve learned, an entirely new moral dilemma emerges—one you never imagined you'd have to contend with. 

There’s a lot of things you’ve never expected to happen. Yet here you are. 

“Seems we’re at an impasse.” 

It’s an odd thing in itself. You keep waiting for the disbelief to catch up, for a shred of sanity to surface and make you reject the situation you’ve found yourself entangled in. You should be feeling the same, pesky feelings that pulled you sharply out of your flight of fancy last night; a sense of trepidation for what lies ahead in this tenuous game of two. 

But instead, you’re here. Now fully awake, and already looking forward to the day with wary acceptance. Looking forward to resuming where you’ve left off with that charming anomaly who’s upended your world, and left you suspended in an exhilarating limbo of uncertainty and excitement.

“...Indeed.”

You crave it—like the first stirrings of a neophyte druggie teetering on the edge of an irreversible habit. 

You need another hit. 

“Why the long face, little dove?”

Because if desire could manifest into being, it would’ve been Sylus. 

“We can figure this out together, can’t we?” 

You pick up your phone. 

––––

“You’re here? Make yourself at home.” 

You look at him, deadpan. He looks back at you serenely. 

Your voice takes on a dry monotone when you respond, “Keep talking like that, I’m about to cum.” 

There’s a shocked silence; then––

Sylus barks out a surprised laugh, immediately breaking character. 

You snort. “Good morning to you too, I guess.” 

He meets your gaze with a look of scandalized amusement, his smile wide enough to flash teeth. 

"Good morning, indeed."

––––

You two fall into a natural rhythm even before the day comes to a close. Perceptive as he is, Sylus hasn’t let you linger in the unease left over from last night any longer than necessary—which to say, should be left buried and forgotten, past its provenance. 

“So you could, like–hypothetically, top up my ascension materials… indefinitely?” There’s a manic shine to your eyes when you confront him back at the home screen, gleeful and triumphant after you boost almost all the 5-star cards you have of him up to max level. “Like an infinite glitch?” 

He’s content to just simply listen to your excited chatter from his languid perch on the seat, one palm resting against the side of his face as he watches you—half-lidded and relaxed. Utterly entertained by your antics.

The slight twitching of his mouth, the subtle tilt of his head… each minute shift in his expression makes a whole world of difference from the version you’ve known him longest—almost a lifetime ago. 

Now he acts so human, so alive, that it’s almost unreal. 

(It’s almost imperceptible, but you swear the air also feels different; like the pixelated space around him is bending, stretching, to accommodate this newer him.) 

“Sure,” he shrugs, lips quirking up into a half-smile as he notices the deep crease forming between your brows. 

He knows the question you’re about to ask—curious thing that you are.

“How, though? Like, what are ‘materials’ to you?” You make air quotes with your fingers, making you appear all the more endearing to him look at, in your process to make sense of a world that’s unfamiliar to you.

“Think of it as upgrades,” Sylus explains patiently. “You place the order to modify the equipment I use, in whichever situation calls for it.”

“And Memory Cards?”

“... A video reel, maybe. Or a restricted case file—locked until you’ve got enough to trade for the information you want.”

“And I suppose the dealer in question here is you?”

He arches an eyebrow. “Who else?”

“Huh,” you say, considering. “So, Deepspace Trials. That’s something you do on the daily? Because I… make you?”

“More or less.”

“And you never thought to question that?” 

“Mm, maybe I’ll start charging for my services this time around.”

You roll your eyes, already accepting his analogy for what it is. “Oh, please. With the amount of money I’ve spent on this game, consider yourself paid in full.” 

––––

You were right about your earlier prediction—this new Sylus in combat mode is something else. 

For starters, he’s a lot chattier.

“Ouch, kitten– don’t charge in like that.”

“Why are you using a sword? Don’t you like the guns I’ve given you specifically for this?” 

“What are you waiting for? Make her resonate with me now.” 

And, instead of sticking to his lines and responding to whatever the MC’s programmed to say during battle, he focuses on whatever you’re fussing over—no matter how… moronic it is.

“Ah, fuck! I hate that spinning thing!” 

“Move, then. Let me handle it.” 

“Block it, block it!”

“I would, if you weren’t halfway across the field. Stick closer to your partner next time, yeah?” 

He doesn’t say any of his usual lines. Nothing from his scripted prompts. When all Wanderers are defeated, there’s no post-battle banter between him and the MC. 

“Goddamn, you’re strong!” You whoop giddily, completely energized by straight winning almost twelve Orbit trials in a row. I guess that’s what a fully awakened Solar pair gets you, huh? 

Sylus lets out a chuckle, infected by your enthusiasm. He doesn’t sound the least bit winded, despite all the damned fighting you’ve put him through.

“We make a good team,” he allows. And because he likes the little nose scrunch you do when you’re annoyed— “Although your dodging really needs more practice, sweetie.” 

Before you could think of a comeback, the pop-up window for the next stage comes up. Ass.

––––

Come Monday morning and you’re once again swamped with work. 

You barely have enough time to scrounge something up for lunch—if it weren’t for the persistent reminders from Sylus, chiming in every five minutes once the digital clock on your phone had hit eleven-thirty, you’d probably skip eating altogether.

And make something else than just boiling a pot of instant ramen, sweetheart. You’re on track for an early grave at this rate. 

“I could… add an egg?” You suggest, unsure. “Maybe cut up some tofu, make it gourmet?”  

He doesn’t even dignify the egg suggestion with a response. Tofu’s a good start. Now, what else do you have in your pantry that has nutritional value? 

“I despise that,” you mutter, but start rifling through the cupboards anyway. 

After amassing enough ingredients—or what looks more like a sad pile—that might, with some effort, turn into something healthier than your usual go-to fix, you start Googling recipes online.

‘tofu easy lunch recipe’

‘10 mins tofu recipes’   

‘begginer recipe using tofu frozen dory mixed veg—’ Ping!

… Really, kitten? 

You don’t even have to see him to know he’s giving you that look, the one that’s practically dripping with judgment over your dubious life choices. 

(You know it all too well. Personally, in fact. You see it on some relatives' faces at the family get-togethers you’re always required to attend.) 

Great. Heat creeps up your face as you mumble defensively, “Stop. Not everyone’s a culinary genius, okay?”

After that, he lets you be – something you’re thankful for, really. He’s being too distracting anyway. 

Swallowing down the–stubborn and suffocating–embarrassment that's now stuck in your throat, you keep scrolling through Tasty dot co, praying you can whip up something edible with what (little) you have. You’re fully aware that you’re a grown-ass woman who can’t manage a basic life skill and that you’re probably about to burn down your kitchen—

Another notification pops up.

Pull up your tabs, sweetie. I think you’ll find something there that we could put together easily.

Confused, you do as he says. Sure enough, four tofu-related recipes are neatly grouped together in your Chrome browser, ready to be tried and tested.  

Your eyes widen. “Wait—you did this? How?”

He doesn’t answer your question. He does, however, offer: Want me to coach you through it? Cooking’s more fun done with a partner, I’d say. 

-

-

In the end, you manage to make something that tasted way better than you thought you could do by yourself. You have him to thank for that.

“You happy with it?” Sylus asks, grinning at the satisfied look on your face.

“Mhm!” you hum around a mouthful of food. “Fanks, Sy.”

“Anytime, darling.”

––––

“Do you really have to call me ‘kitten’? You sound like a Discord mod.” 

Sylus has no idea what a Discord mod is, but judging by the contempt in your voice, it’s clear that you’re not giving him a compliment.

"What do you prefer, then? Princess? Poppet? Sweet thing?" He pauses, tilting his head. "Baby?"

You blush and look away. "... Ugh, whatever. Kitten's fine."

––––

Your routine with Sylus settles into a seamless, effortless flow as the days go by; it’s almost second nature, talking to him. So much so that you’d think nothing could faze you anymore.

Well. Almost nothing. 

A message bubble from an unknown number appears on your lock screen: Hi, sweetheart. X

You almost ignore it—brushing it off as some dumb prank from a bored rando—when, not even five seconds later, another text pops up. 

+0063-XXXXXX: Its Sylus.

… Huh? 

“Is someone fucking with me right now, or…” 

+0063-XXXXXX: Nobodys ‘fucking with you,’ kitten. 

Then–

+0063-XXXXXX: Send a reply so I can see how it shows up on my end.

Your jaw drops. “Holy shit—you can text?? How are you doing that?” and, “Did you just cuss...?” 

+0063-XXXXXX: 👍

+0063-XXXXXX: And Ill let you know if you text me the question 🙄

So you do. You tack on a now spill?? at the end for good measure. 

You watch the “typing…” bubble appear, holding your breath.

+0063-XXXXXX: Its a complex mix of technical code and harnessing the energy from a dormant protofield Ive discovered, just south of Vagrants Land.  

+0063-XXXXXX: The energy I got from it felt different somehow from your normal protofield. I figured I could put it to good use. 

+0063-XXXXXX: Oddly enough, theres an… indescribable effect to oneself when youre nearing the centre of disturbance, shall we say. 

+0063-XXXXXX: I can only decrypt the waveforms by the rarefield border surrounding the AoR. Any further and Im afraid the adverse effects may do more harm than good.

+0063-XXXXXX: But if amplified, it seems responsive to the filament of what connects your signal from deep space to this planet.

+0063-XXXXXX: Who knew it could act as a transmitter to send you something as rudimentary as a telegraph? 

… Sometimes you forget how smart Sylus really is. 

You: that’s pretty amazing ?? wtf sylus  

+0063-XXXXXX: I get by OK. 

You could practically feel his smugness radiating from those four words. You scoff, shaking your head in a mix of awe and begrudging admiration.

He sends two more messages. 

+0063-XXXXXX: Im just glad we can communicate through other means, sweetie. 

Sy-Sy (??): Now save my number. Sy Sy will suffice 😉

––––

Since your latest discovery that Sylus can now text (!!), you’ve been talking to him outside the game non-stop. It’s like talking to a very active friend who never leaves you on read, and you couldn’t be more ecstatic. 

You: so no one else in ur universe knows anything abt ur situation?

You: no one else acting funny or sumn ? >.>

Sy-Sy (??): None that I know of, no. I prefer to keep it under wraps. 

Sy-Sy (??): Now that you mention it, Mephisto has been acting quite suspicious lately. 

You: ?? suspicious-suspicious or just reg suspicious??

Sy-Sy (??): Hes with his other crow friends now. They might be attempting a murder. 

You: ………. is that…. supposed 2 be a joke……….

Sy-Sy (??): Im running on 3 hours of sleep, give me a break.   

Sy-Sy (??): Also your textspeak is horrendous, sweetie. 

"Um, hello—?" 

Your gaze snaps back to the–very real, very present–person sitting across from you at the table, sporting box-dyed blue hair and a frown. You're at the Annex House; a sleek, new-age Japandi-style bar downtown, just an easy five stations away from your place. You both decided to try it for their infamous Rotten Apple cocktail and, of course, your weekly catch-up.

Khol, your friend of eight years since college, is currently giving you a mildly annoyed look.

Oops. 

They point at you accusingly while complaining, "Ugh, we don’t use our phones when we’re hanging out! That’s the rule!"

You smile at them, sheepish, pocketing your phone as discreetly as you could. “I know, I know. Sorry.” 

Then, puffing out your cheeks, you meekly ask, “You were talking about Anna...?”

They roll their eyes but go over the gossip a second time, much to your benefit. Phew.

Your phone vibrates. Twice. 

…

You sneak a quick, final peek.

Sy-Sy (??): Enjoy your night out, darling ❤️ 

Sy-Sy (??): You let me know when youre back home, OK? 

Biting back a grin, you send out one last text in reply. 

You: will do !:9 

Sy-Sy (??): Good girl. 

––––

"Um–so this is my cat, Maru," you say by way of introduction, holding the plump, orange tabby in front of your phone that’s propped up against a carton of Koko Krunch. There’s a slight struggle in lifting his left paw between your fingers to wave at the man on the other side of the screen. "Say hi, Maru."

“Hello, Maru,” Sylus greets amicably in return, watching the both of you with clear amusement in his eyes. “Care to tell me the origin of this proud beast?” 

You recount the story where you’ve first seen Maru five years ago, nothing more than a scraggly little runt at the time, hiding in the gap between a dumpster and the interstice of a cragged wall. You were walking home from a night out drinking with your uni buddies, when you heard the incessant meowing. 

It drew you in like a siren’s call. If the siren in question had the vocal prowess of a warbling whale on the brink of death.

Upon closer inspection, the grimy fluffball revealed a stubby, crooked tail and wide, beady eyes. In your alcohol-fueled haze, you briefly wondered if you were staring at a tiny ginger rat.

“Well, it’s definitely all cat,” your friend Bee declared by noon the following day, calmly retracting a scratched and bloodied hand from the disgruntled feline, which promptly hissed and darted right back under the bed.

You hummed in agreement, passing her a wad of tissue. 

"I couldn’t decide between Nospurratu and Catpin Meow," you say matter-of-factly, giving your capricious son a scritch under his chin. "Bee suggested I stick to something simpler, like Maru. Hence the name."

Your explanation is punctuated by an offended nip on your pointer finger. 

Sylus is covering his mouth, but nods solemnly. “I think Maru is a nice name.” 

There’s a moment where the two seem locked in a silent standoff, neither breaking eye contact nor making any sort of outward reaction. Just as you’re about to step in and interrupt the bizarre staring contest, Maru gives a slow, deliberate blink.

Sylus takes it as a sign of victory—or perhaps a ceremonial seal of approval.

 With a faint smirk on his lips, he offers the cat a small bow in respect.

––––

You’ve practically emptied the entire arcade of plushies—enough to put it out of business if it were actually, you know, real—and you’re bored to tears. 

“Another round of Kitty Cards, perhaps?” Sylus suggests, but a single glance at your face is enough to let him know that you’d rather gnaw off your own hand. Or his. He might just let you.

Sighing dramatically, you complain about the limited playability of the “mini-games” in-game.

“There’s literally nothing else to do. Same old shit, over and over again.” There’s a pout on your face that Sylus wants to nibble on, not that you’re aware of the forming thoughts in his head. “No new banners. I’m stuck between Kitty Cards and the claw machines... I’m bored, Syyyyy,” you whine, stretching the last syllable for effect.  

To be fair, he has tried to make it a bit more challenging for you. He stopped fucking around during Kitty Cards—no more extra two cards in exchange for one of yours, no longer placing different colored kitties deliberately in the wrong cups. 

After six straight losses, your frustration is palpable. The fun is gone.

He makes audible commentaries during each of your six tries at the claw machine. Every time you manage to snag a plushie, he praises you for a job well done (It flusters you—not that he needs to know that). When your luck runs out and you grab onto nothing but air, he wryly points it out through some slight ribbing, but nothing that’s actually hurtful (This flusters you too—again, not that he needs to know any of this).   

There’s nothing else to do. It’s like you’ve exhausted all you could in this small, curated window of his that you’re privy to. If only there’s a way to leave the mini-games behind, to do something new, perhaps outside of what the game has to offer…

Oh, wait. 

“Hey, Sy,” you call the man to attention. “Wanna try something out?” 

-

-

You beat him at Words with Friends by a small margin.

“Ha! That’s thirty-nine points, buddy.” You crow proudly, after putting down Devotees in a straight column.

He eviscerates you at Zynga Poker. 

“... How are you so good at this??” 

“Comes with the package, sweetie,” he says with faux-modesty after revealing (yet another!!) full house, winking like he hasn’t just wiped the floor with you.

By the end of it, both of you are in high spirits—except, maybe, for your bruised ego.

––––

“Say my name, say my name… If no one is around you, say baby I love you…”

“It’s nice to know that we have another thing in common, little dove.”

 

It takes you a moment to process what he’s implying. 

You stop singing, affronted. “Wh—how dare you.” 

––––

“Are you having fun?” Sylus asks, his tone droll as he stands there, hands on his hips and a small scowl on his face. You’re too busy spinning him around, thoroughly entertained by the number of outfits and accessories you’ve forced upon your slightly reluctant model in the photoshoot that's currently taking place.

It’s more amusing, knowing that he’s fully-aware of what’s happening. And that you know he’s aware of what’s happening. 

He’s like your personal, sentient Ken doll—if Ken had ashy grey hair, red eyes, and a mercurial attitude.

“I am, actually,” you shoot back, grinning as you plop a tomato stuffie on top of his head. “Look, you two match!” 

He exhales a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head in mock exasperation.

Not that it stops you. Fluffy bunny ears, a fish headband, an uncharacteristic halo—you’re relentless. “Hey, can you try a different pose?”

“That depends on the pose… and how nicely you ask.”

“Dear Sylus,” you sing, jutting your bottom lip forward and fluttering your eyelashes exaggeratedly, “could you please, pretty please, flip the camera off?”

He snorts but obliges, raising his hand to deliver the most effortlessly cool middle finger you’ve ever seen. “Happy?”

Woah. That’s… hot. “Oh! Uh. Yeah. Yeah, that’s—”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your reaction. You giggle nervously. “You look… hot.”

“Mm?” His smirk grows, teasing and predatory. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” you blurt out, but the pinking of your cheeks betrays you. He’s definitely enjoying this now.

“I could be convinced to do another one,” he murmurs, voice pitching a little lower.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to say the first thing that comes to mind. Stop, you whore. 

Your nerves get the best of you. Without thinking, you switch to putting the MC back on screen. 

Sylus blinks, red eyes narrowing as he looks at you, perplexed. 

“Uh,” you shift your gaze between her frozen stance and his idle figure. The sudden silence hangs a little heavy in the air. “Would–would you like to do poses? With her?”

He opens his mouth, an automatic response—but he stops, expression flickering into something unreadable. Confusion? Hesitation? 

His brows knit together, and for a short while, he just studies you, the space between you thick with unspoken questions. 

“Do you want me to?” he asks finally, his voice quieter, almost careful.

No–I don’t want you to— To pose with someone who looks so-–

perfectperfectperfect by your side—I only want to see you—

I want to see you––

Why do I care–?

I don’t care––I care, I care so much–– 

“Why not?” you choke out, the forced cheer in your voice grating even to your own ears. You shrug, nonchalant in all the ways you’re not. “I’ll dress her up real nice, and then—” You slap a pink bow onto his head. “You can try to keep up.” 

He doesn’t move, not paying the offending accessory any attention. His gaze is solely locked onto yours. 

I don’t care. I don’t. 

You take the first shot. 

____

“What’s the song you’re playing?”

You pause mid-mop, cocking your head to the side in slight surprise. 

“Uhh—Pedestal,” you answer unsurely. “By Portishead. You like it?” 

He hums, eyes glinting with interest. “I do. Play the rest.” 

And just like that, you’re introducing Sylus to modern twenty-first century music—and to Spotify.

____

From that point on, Sylus begins using your Spotify account to discover a whole new world of music—quite literally, in his case. Sometimes he steals the control from you, overriding what you’re currently listening to, just to hear the most random track play from your speakers.

In the middle of a mundane afternoon while you're completely locked in at work—hyperpop synths blaring in your ears—you’re suddenly jolted by the sound of heavy mandolins as an honest-to-god Russian military march blasts through your headphones, shattering your focus like a damn rhino in a china shop. 

And so with the level of patience that could put the Virgin Mary to shame, you painstakingly explain to your friend the courtesy of not stealing the proverbial AUX cord from the “driver,” especially when it’s their turn on the radio. 

The two of you reach a compromise, and thus the birth of your “shared” playlist. Sylus reluctantly agrees to explore on his own time—when you’re not using the app. Like when you’re busy with other things. Or when you're asleep. 

-

-

-

You wake up to the first strings of a Muse song. One of your favorites, in fact. 

Sy-Sy (??): Good morning, sweetie. 

Sy-Sy (??): Last night was enlightening. I have you to thank for that.

Sy-Sy (??): Oh, and I hope you could indulge me. I added some songs to our playlist. I think youll like them. We both seem to have a thing for alt-rock.

Sy-Sy (??): Give me time and Im sure Ill acquire a taste for electronic music too. Be patient. 

You huff out a laugh, lazily rolling over as you check your shared playlist. Sure enough, there’s twelve new songs on it.   

You: awe that’s great sy :)) and these songz r rly good !! u got sum of my faves here

You: based on what u like maybe u can try looking up sum david bowie, probz massive attack idk 

You: i’ll add stuff later for u to listen 2!!! <2

You: <3* 

Sy-Sy (??): Alright, sweetheart. Im looking forward to it. 

Sy-Sy (??): ♥️

____

From the outside, the studio is just another unit among endless rows of dull grey—small and unassuming. Tucked away on the sixth floor of a nondescript building, it’s built as unremarkable as the rest.

Through a window stained with a mix of corrosive ochre and burnt sienna, there’s a quiet hum—the presence of something that wasn’t there a week ago. Life has shifted, ever so subtly, from an oppressive achroma to a much warmer vibrancy.  

There’s a faint hint of movement. Inside, the young woman wears an almost-permanent smile, her phone an extension of her hand as she taps away with no semblance of rhyme nor rhythm—only in a continuous staccato. Her eyes are locked on the screen, as if drawn by an invisible force.

It’s elusive; this connection—something beyond. Supranatural. It weaves through the room like whispered secrets shared in the dead of the night, beneath a city blanketed in deep ultramarine. Soft, like a wind brushing through a still everglade. 

The apartment, once steeped in a self-inflicted solitude—one that went by unnoticed for a long period of time—comes alive as an intangible presence fills its nooks and crannies with the steady warmth of companionship. There’s a gentle heat to the space now, like the glow of an invisible hearth. 

The flickering of the string lights, the muted laughter shared with a voice through the tinny speakers of a handheld device, a slight signal interference… all feel like the genesis of an impossible story.

Outside, the evening sky is fading into twilight.

And as one looks out onto the street below from the sixth floor window, it’s almost as if the world outside doesn’t quite matter anymore. 

Inside, the air is full of life, in ways it has never been. 

____

“Come to me, just in a dream

Come on and rescue me

Yes, I know I can be wrong

And maybe you’re too headstrong

Our love is––”

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @i2sannie @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @slyfoxtsu @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @tinyweebsstuff @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean

(if..... for some damn reason..... the tags still don't work i rly don't know what i'm doing wrong T_T i'm posting this from a macbook is that it, is the ghost of steve jobs fucking with me rn)

[eddiernunson]

Really Drives Me Mad | EX-bfs dad!Eddie Munson x Reader | 18+

Previous Part | Master List | Next Part

Word Count: 12.8k

Big big thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing for me I appreciate it, bestie

Another big thank you to @bebe07011 for spitting ideas and giving feedback.

Warnings: Degradation/praise, eating out, public sex, daddy kink, and several scenes where smut is mentioned but not described. There is about 1k of words just from Dylan's perspective but its worth it trust me.

Eddie is a bit of a sugar daddy in this part, but its ok cause we all want him to spoil us anyway.

Author's note: Some of y'all are gonna make me cry with how kind you are with your words for this fic. I cannot believe how much this story has truly taken over my life. People have expressed sharing it with friends and I just cannot get over that. Thank you.

-

Your hands held a home-made cocktail on ice while The Princess Diaries played on the tv, a soft blanket covered your crossed legs as you sat with both Sky and Bethany in your living room, scattered along your couch.

Bethany often snuck a joint or two while she visited, the window staying open to minimize a smell with a 20-dollar fan in front of it to promote air circulation. It was nice to have a girls’ night, to order bags of chips and candy over SkiptheDishes, wear face masks, do your makeup for the hell of it, and just let loose.

Bethany made her way over about a movie and a half ago, and she was now explaining a stupid mishap from her office administrative position that quite literally pulled the company to a halt for 45 minutes. “I swear, you could not pay me enough to put up with those drivers.” She claims, taking an inhale from the joint in her two painted fingers.

Sky makes a sudden movement in her seat, reaching to the remote next to her to pause the movie. “Holy shit. Did I tell you I saw Eddie?” Her question is directed across you to Bethany, and you’re left wondering why the hell your boyfriend is the new topic of discussion.

“Wait, what?” Bethany asks, wide green eyes moving back and forth between you and Sky. “When and where?”

“Our date?” You interject her, a little weirded out by the turn this conversation has taken. “When Eddie picked me up, she was here.”

“Oh, I see.” She hums to herself. “Well, since she won’t show us a photo, please tell me what the man who’s old enough to be her father looks like.”

You roll your eyes at this, a cheeky thought occurring to you. “Well Dylan might be great; but he is a sequel. Ain’t nothing compared to the original.”

Sky nods, agreeing. “Eddie is… very good looking.” You shoot her a warning look, for some reason, her just alluding to his good looks makes you feel territorial. “Show her a picture if you don’t want to hear it, damn! Just telling the truth…”

“It’s not that I won’t show you guys,” you explain, unlocking your phone. “It’s that he doesn’t use social media, so he has no good photos of himself.” On the internet, at least.

“What, no throw back photos from Dylan’s insta?” Sky asks, mostly joking.

You go to Dylan’s insta, and you can’t view it. Fuck, you forgot. He blocked you. Even though he seems to be on better terms with you, simple reminders like being blocked from his social media or him refusing to tell any details about his life remind you he’s still nursing a healing wound. “Still blocked.” You look up, and their faces tell you they’re not letting up on it. “Fine. I’ll go to Eddie’s Facebook.”

Eddie added you as a friend the day after your date, adorably waiting as you went on your phone to accept it. The moment you did he went onto your profile and dove into your photos. His eyes were comically wide as he scrolled through them, and after the first few swipes he lifted his head to you. “You just put these on here? Fuck.” The photos weren’t even particularly bad, just you in a bikini on the beach or in a summer dress, he’s just that obsessed with you. You asked him if he minded and he shook his head comically, his dimples so prominent from his wide smile, he looked manic. “Oh, I never said to stop, sweetheart.”

Your thumb slides into Eddie’s profile, and while you were afraid of the calls from a judgemental relative about the relationship with him the word single on his relationship status still hits you hard in the chest. You move to his photos, past the useless profile picture that was his company logo of Munson’s Garage and swipe through the regular posts, past Dylan’s graduation from college, from high school, a picture of a nice car, an old one of his ex with Dylan, (barf), until you finally got through to a throwback, one posted in 2011.

It was taken in the 90s, so a picture of a picture of him sitting at an old kitchen table arm in arm with another dude. One of his feet was up on the table, and he was clutching a beer, lifting it to the camera. His friend was talking to someone off camera, distracted for the moment, his slightly freckled face in a scowl. His friend had brown hair down to his neck styled specifically in a swoop, and they seemed about the same age.

His friend was quite attractive, but younger Eddie made you fucking drool. God, he was so gorgeous. He wore a leather jacket under a denim vest, ripped blue jeans over his big black boots. Fuck. You almost didn’t want to share this photo.

You go to the next photo, and a giggle leaves your mouth as you see him posing with a friend, tongues out and devil horns on their heads as smiles peek through. The background is a stage at an Iron Maiden concert, and they both look ecstatic. It’s a different friend in this one with curly hair, but it looked like he had posted from the Iron Maiden concert. A few more scrolls told you that the throwback photo would be the best option.

“Ok.” You finally say, and both girls have been waiting so long at this point they’ve started scrolling on their own phones. “Guys. You wanna see it or not?”

You hand your phone to Bethany, indicating he was the one on the right. The possessiveness that hits you when you see her reaction, her wide eyes and jaw literally dropping, stunted you. “Holy shit. This is him from how long ago?”

“In the late 90s, I guess.” You tell her.

She hands the phone to Sky, who was asking for it repeatedly as soon as Bethany let out her reaction. “Oh, yeah. He was a cutie. Honestly, he’s hotter now.” Your teeth grit, and you take a deep breath in to calm yourself.

“How?” Bethany asks, gesturing to your phone.

“Ok. Enough. He’s very good looking. But he’s fucking taken.” You bark out, holding your hand out for the phone.

They both stop talking, your sudden anger very uncharacteristic of you. Usually when you find someone particularly good looking, you’d show them off, agreeing with your two friends when they would praise their good looks. This wasn’t anything like those times. Hearing their praises just makes you want to sink your teeth into Eddie’s neck and mark your territory the next time you see him.

“Woah, girl.” Sky says, laughing lightly to diffuse the tension. “Never seen that side of you before.”

“Well, I didn’t even know she existed until a waitress looked at Eddie on our date and I wanted to throttle her,” You admit, grabbing the nearly empty cocktail and taking a sip. “I just…I don’t know why I’m so territorial over him, but God, the thought of him with someone else makes me sick to my stomach.”

Bethany holds her hands up in surrender, “Alright, we won’t compliment him anymore. But you did good, girl. You did mighty good.”

-

As per usual, the girls'-day-in resulted in the three of you falling asleep in the living room, blankets and pillows scattered across the three of you. The sun cascading through a window by the couch wakes you up, disgruntled, as you pat around for your phone. The screen greets you harshly, your notifications indicating you have three messages from Eddie, two from a manager at work, and the several random ones, which you clear out, not caring about Instagram stories for the moment. Eddie texted to say he was going into work for a few hours. The next two messages indicated if you were there when he got home, he wouldn’t be against it.

Basically, he just told you to please be there when he got home. Fuck, the feeling of him reaching out first was enough to send a wide smile to your face, staring stupidly at your phone. You message him back, letting him know you’ll be there.

The messages from your manager were one from two hours ago, asking if you’d be able to come in for 10 o’clock– Which was thirty-five minutes ago– and the second asked if you were able to come in at all. You quirk your eyebrow, glad your read receipts are off for her, because you’re planning now to text at 3 o'clock to let her know that, oops, you just saw this. No, you’re not going in on your day off, you’ll be spending it with your ridiculously hot boyfriend.

You leap from your couch, running into your room to pack another overnight bag. You’re out the door before the others even stir.

As you pull into Eddie’s driveway, you notice Dylan’s truck there, but Eddie’s is still gone. You wonder when he’ll be back, because although Dylan is civil towards you, interactions with him are still stunted. You open the front door, grateful Dylan tended to leave it unlocked. You drop your overnight bag and pillow off at the staircase, its usual spot, before you trot off to the living room where Dylan sits watching tv.

As you plop down next to him on the other side of the couch, Dylan looks to you, startled by the movement, but his eyes roll in exasperation when he realizes that it’s you. “Hi.” You sing-song to him, knowing you’re annoying him, but having fun with it anyways.

“Hey.” He deadpans, watching the tv instead of looking over to you.

“Oh, wow you’re almost caught up.” You say, indicating to a show that you had recommended he watched a while back.

“Turned out to be a good show.” He comments, sounding annoyed.

“Well, how about that?” You retort, and Dylan rolls his eyes before a small smile lands on his face.

Progress.

Less than an hour later, the front door closes, indicating Eddie’s homecoming. He walks in, and as you pay attention to a particularly good episode in this series, you hear a big stretch come from him. “Hi, Ed!” You call out, finally turning towards him.

Fuck. Holy shit.

A few grease stains paint Eddie’s hands and chin, and he’s wearing a pair of blue coveralls from work with a patch on his chest of his name. The grease monkey suit shows off his muscles beautifully, both sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His hair is tied back into a messy bun, and you’re sure he forgot about the reading glasses on his head. Oh god, he is mouth watering.

A throw pillow hits your face, completely startling you. You whip your head around, glaring at  the culprit. “Little drool.” Dylan mouths, pointing to his chin.

“Oh, little drool?” You mock, getting up to hit him with the pillow hard. He chuckles, fighting you off.

You push his shoulder off, shuffling into the kitchen. You turn to see Eddie moving around the kitchen, making himself a quick sandwich. “Hi baby!” You greet him, reaching out for him.

“Oh, hi baby.” He says, following up with an air kiss. He breaks into laughter at your scowl. “Sorry, you don’t want this grease on you. It smells terrible and it’s not fun to wash off.”

“But there’s no grease on your lips.” You point out, staring at those pretty pink lips of his.

“Baby, I cannot kiss you without touching you and there is grease all over my hands.” He chuckles, holding them out.

You want to point out that he’s getting things dirty with grease in the kitchen, including his sandwich, by his own logic, but you have a feeling you won’t get away with it very easily. “Fine. Come see me when you’ve had a shower then.” You tell him, attempting to waddle back to the living room.

“Ah, ah.” Eddie tuts, grabbing your hand. “Come with me, after I shower, I need time with you in my bed.”

“In your bed? Or, in your bed?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing suggestively at the second option.

“If you didn’t know the answer by now, clearly I haven’t done my job right.” He says in a lowly, his eyes darkening in an instant.

Eddie turns around to the sandwich he made as if he hadn’t said a word, grabbing it quickly before tugging on your hand to take you up the stairs.

He hops into the shower, you scroll through your phone on his bed as you wait, somewhat impatiently, your panties already uncomfortable from his stroll into the house in his work uniform.

Fuck, he was hot. You thought about him. His muscles, the slight glisten of sweat, and your phone was tossed aside before you even realized your hands were roaming over your body. You close your eyes, the image of him busy at work on his back on one of those…rolly things in your head. His forearms flexing, the look of concentration on his face.

Your hands itch for your center and you can barely hold back anymore, thankful you opted for a pair of stretchy shorts. Your fingers graze your center easily, rolling around in small circles as you picture the easy access his coveralls would give you, showing up with a dress and no panties and just riding him in his office. Fuck, maybe you wouldn’t even make it there. Goddamn, the images were too hot, your panties finding their way around your ankles as you grind up against your own fingers.

“Fuck.”

Your eyes fling open to see your boyfriend in his towel. You were so wrapped up you didn’t even notice the water from his shower turn off. He’s staring, open mouthed and eyes dark, and Jesus… This was a fantasy of yours from the beginning. You continue, staring half lidded back at him, hand grabbing up at his bed frame when it started to feel so fucking good.

Eddie’s towel drops when his brain catches up, jumping into his bed to lay next to you. “Couldn’t even wait, huh?” He asks, and you let out a whimper as he lightly kisses your neck. “Just couldn’t fucking wait.”

“You were so hot—” you gasp out, moving faster on yourself now. “—in that goddamn uniform. Wanna…wanna ride you in it.”

The very indication that you were playing with yourself because you found him that hot in his uniform is too much for Eddie to process. He nearly moans, leaning for another kiss on your neck. His hands are itching to help you, itching to take off the rest of those clothes that hide your gorgeous body, but he holds back, needing to know more about it. “What—what were you thinkin’ ‘bout, baby?”

“You, in the uniform…” you tell him, your hips starting to move when your want grows. Why isn’t he helping?

“C’mon, baby. I wanna touch you but I just gotta know.” Eddie tells you, his voice gruff.

A gulp moves through your throat before opening your mouth to tell him. “Your dick out of the uniform, and me with no panties and a dress at your shop, riding you anywhere…your office, the rolly thing, god, just you in that uniform…Ed…”

Goddammit, was that an idea Eddie certainly had before. He has wanted to show you around his workplace, but also christen it with you, and he had had the exact idea with his uniform and you in a dress, to boot. “Fuck, my horny, eager little slut, hey?” Eddie asks, watching your closed eyes as you continue to work yourself.

“Please…please touch me?” You ask him, the torture of his voice there but not actually helping you is too much. “Want…want you.”

“Hmm. Horny little slut didn’t wait for me…I dunno if she even deserves my help.” He bluffs, wanting nothing more than to reach out and feel the slick of your wet pussy.

You nearly cry out in protest, not calling him on his bluff. “I’m sorry, couldn’t help myself…you’re just so…fuck…you’re so fucking hot, Ed.”

He leans in to kiss you and you accept it gratefully, a smile against his lips. As his lips move against yours, deepening the kiss to easily work his tongue against yours, his hands land on yours against your pussy delicately, gently pulling your fingers to the side. He slides a digit in and you whimper into his mouth, your hips thrusting up. “Oh, so fucking desperate.” You nod your head, agreeing with him. You’re desperate for more. Even with Eddie on your mind, your fingers never even compared to his.

He leans into your neck, the scent of his aftershave and body wash strong but oh-so-goddamn good. He slides your shirt up your torso smoothly with his free hand and pulls it from your neck fiercely. You feel his hand somewhat desperately go around your back to unhook your bra, and as it falls casually over the edge onto the floor, he moans at the sight of your exposed tit, your nipple just begging to be touched.

He leans in to mouth the bud, and you whimper at the sensation. He pauses, breathing heavily and open mouthed onto it. You gasp, his hot breath sending waves down your body. “Fuck, so pretty.” Eddie mutters to himself, dark eyes watching your face as you get closer.

A desperate hand of yours tugs him up to your face, desperate for more of his wet and hypnotizing kisses. “Fuck me.” You gasp, suddenly feeling that his fingers weren’t enough. “Need…need your cock. Please.”

Eddie’s mouth opens at the prospect of you simply begging for him, and you can feel a shift in his energy as he starts to kiss you deeper and hungrier. “When you beg so sweetly, how could I possibly say no?” He hums, his hand framing your face.

He finishes yanking the last of your pants off your ankles. As he settles himself in between your legs, he can’t help himself. He leans down, taking one long lick along your folds, for just a taste. You whimper in response, knees springing up to your chest. Eddie chuckles, crawling up slowly until his chest lines up with yours, the tingle of him against you too much to handle. Slowly, he moves into you, and as he stretches you open, your eyes roll back and your toes curl. Eddie watches the utter bliss that takes over your face.

“Oh that beautiful face you make, sweetheart.” He grunts, smoothing his hands over your forehead. His words make you pulse around him. “This fucking tight little pussy wrapped around—�� he stops, grunting as you continue to pulse around him. One hand moves down to your hip, caressing it softly he uses the leverage to buck into you.

A hushed swear comes out of you, the simple pleasure from his cock alone sending you into euphoria. Eddie continues slowly, enjoying every inch of your heat around him. “Your pussy…god how did I live without it?”

You clutch onto him, staring up into his darkened brown eyes. You open your mouth to respond in kind, but the particularly harsh rut into you leaves your mouth gasping open and your eyes fluttering shut in pure heaven. “Oh, that’s it.” He mutters, hips moving faster. “That’s my cock-drunk little whore.”

Your nails scratch down his back, and he moans in response. “Eddie, your cock. There’s…I…please.”

“I-I know, baby. I know.”

He collapses onto your chest, and you feel his cock twitch into you as your orgasm takes over your body. His hand carefully sweeps your sweaty forehead as he watches you recover, your eyes losing their haze as you return to earth. “Hi.” He mutters, leaning in to kiss you softly.

“Hi.” You smile. For once, he does take his dick out of you right away, despite your protests. However, you can’t protest any further when he comes back and wraps his arms around you with his chest pressed against your back, his still steadying breaths lulling you into a quiet nap.

Somehow, you know that his arms are always going to be the best place in the world.

-

About an hour later, you’re snuggled against his side, legs intertwined as Eddie watches his show and you work on a crossword puzzle. “What’s a six-letter word for angry?” You ask him, stumped for a good minute.

“Uh…grumpy? Heated? Hmm…raging?”

“Raging! Fuck, I couldn’t get that one. Thanks, baby.” You tell him, receiving a kiss on the head as a response. “Why’d you go in for work, Ed?”

“Other than making my baby horny?” He jokes, muttering it into your hair. “Well, one of my best-known clients called and my men know that when he calls, they need to call me in, because his car is just—” he cuts himself off, holding out the OK sign. He continues talking about the mechanics/politics of handling a car like this in his job. The caliber, the horsepower, the specialized engine, and everything else.

It’s not like you know a whole lot about cars. Most of what he is saying comes out as gibberish. But you listen to him, watching as he gets more and more animated, his hands gesturing wildly as he excitedly explains his morning. You watch him, a soft smile creeping up your face as he describes…what, you weren’t even sure, to you.

He stops as he notices the peculiar look on your face, your eyes glazed over. “What?” he asks, wondering if you caught even a word of his story.

“I love you.” It comes out before you even realize. But it’s true.

With your whole chest, you love him.

Eddie inhales sharply, and he looks at you like you had placed each star in the sky just for him. Because you did. “I-I’ve been wanting to say that to you since I first saw you.”

His words feel both impossible and like they make the most sense in the entire world. Because since day one, you have been captivated by him in every sense imaginable. Taking the time to get to know, see and love every inch of him before recognizing that yes, this is love.

This all occurs to you within a second, because Eddie’s hand is framing your face and you feel his lips on yours, deep and caring to a point that takes your goddamn breath away. Your tongue collides with his, and his fingers are so gentle as they cradle your face it barely feels like he’s holding it. He tastes so good, like the air you breathe is suddenly useless, and all you need to do is breathe him. His fingers intertwine in your hair, he gasps as his forehead collides with your own, clinging onto you for dear life.

“Will you say it?” You ask, realizing he still hasn’t.

“I fucking love you.” He says in a low, soft voice. He uses a hand to force you back and you open your eyes to look into his beautiful brown ones. “I love you.”

Your chest inflates rapidly, like all the emotion just bursts into it. A giggle escapes your lips, the smile on your face seeming to be permanently etched there. He tugs you into the tightest hug, and you feel his heart beat rapidly against your own as your arms fling themselves around his torso, burying your head in his neck.

God, it’s like you fit perfectly there.

He slouches down, ignoring the book you dropped and the forgotten tv show, and lays you down, chest to chest, his arms wrapped around you as you curl into his chest. He nestles his nose into your hair, breathing you in, feeling the breath, the life in you as you breathe in sync with him.

Any sense of time, responsibilities, or the outside world become muted and pale in comparison.

It’s just you and him.  

-

The sizzling sounds of bacon for dinner mixed with Eddie’s humming to some oldies fill the kitchen. Every time he turns around from the stove to grab something, he shoots you a smile that captivates his face, something that you wholeheartedly return each time. The acknowledgement that this is love somehow didn’t feel like it had tied you to anything or that any new expectations were put on either one of you. You simply want his company and he, yours.

You scroll through your phone absentmindedly, though the sight of his hips in his low sitting sweatpants are much more enticing than anything your phone’s algorithms have to show you. Playfully, Eddie keeps dancing a little too hard to the music, head banging and swinging his hips to even the softest of Dad Rock.

God, it’s Heaven. As Eddie serves up a few plates, Dylan comes down dressed in one of his better date night outfits.

“Ooh, hot date?” You ask him, leaning forward onto the kitchen island.

Dylan’s brows furrow, stopping mid stride. “Yeah. Not talking to you about that. You’re still my ex. And you’re still seeing my dad. Weirdo.”

Eddie sends a glare his way, eyes darkening in a split second. Dylan rolls his eyes, sneaking around him to grab a bite of bacon. Ignoring it, Eddie places a plate in front of you with eggs, bacon and toast, and you thank him as he leans in for a kiss.

“Love you.” Eddie mutters, and you smile into his lips and feel him do the same.

“L-love?” Dylan spits out, his voice exasperated. He shakes his head, still chewing on the bacon. “Fuck right off.”

“Dyl.” Eddie starts, leaning forward as he takes a bite from his toast. He has a devious smile on his face, chewing on his idea. “Quiet. The adults are talking.”

If you had expected something out of pocket, it certainly wasn’t that.

The brown eyes Dylan shares with his father widen in pure exasperation. “What?? Dad, I’m six months older than her!”

You barely keep in the laughter that bubbles out of your chest. Eddie grins at you and lets out his own chuckle. “That’ll teach you to be an ass, huh?”

Dylan doesn’t respond, just grits his teeth and yanks one more piece of bacon before leaving through the front door.

-

Dylan Munson got dealt a dirty fucking hand from whoever the fuck is in charge of this shit.

It was only a mere nine weeks ago when you made your way across the mixer to say hi to him that he thought things were going his way. The more he saw you, the more he thought that this had to be leading to something. It made sense to him, but as he had started mentioning long term plans or anything of the like, he could feel you clam up. Every time he mentioned something requiring commitment, your shoulders tensed up, your face winced by only a smidge, but when it became a regular occurrence, Dylan realized you might not have been ready as you thought you were.

He was willing to accept it. So, he took matters into his own hands. Honestly, he would’ve been fine paying the daily fee for parking, but he knew his dad was there, and he was excited to introduce you to him. Boy, what a shit show that turned out to be.

As he woke up to an empty bed, he had expected you to be downstairs. Instead, he was faced with a bowl of cereal without the milk, and he couldn’t tell how long it had been there. He searched the whole house. Your bag, clothes, and shoes were still there, so he knew you couldn’t have gone far. Turns out, he was right. You didn’t. You went two doors down from his own.

The sight of you and his fucking dad in the white sheets was already too much to bear, and then the stab of betrayal from his own father hurt more the initial shock of yours, tugging angry tears from his eyes as he ran to his room. The torture of hearing your whimpers, a sound he knew well, while downstairs trying to cheer himself up was fucking brutal.

When you finally left, his dad came home with a terribly apologetic look on his face as he walked through the front door. Dylan refused to hear a damn word out of his mouth, dismissing all his claims of ‘holding back as long as he could’ and ‘I’ve never felt this strongly about anyone before.’ Shit just hurt.

A day later, Dylan couldn’t hold it in anymore. He screamed at the top of his lungs, the anger finally kicking in. His dad did yell back, but mostly at the choice words aimed at you. It hurt for a moment, as it felt like he cared more about someone he had met last week, his (now ex) girlfriend.

When you and his dad showed no signs of slowing or stopping any time soon, he realized this would become a new normal. Didn’t mean he liked it.

He came home after a relatively long day at work to you and his dad sitting and watching a movie comfortably. His knee jerk reaction was to swear angrily, but the look on your face stuck with him. You had never relaxed with him. You were always looking around corners or there was some part in your body unable to lean into him completely.

As you apologized awkwardly on his bed, his hurt finally felt acknowledged by you, and fuck, he needed to hear that he didn’t do anything wrong. He genuinely started to wonder if he did.

Most of his nights he spent going out, his friends asking where the hot new girlfriend he was bragging about now was. He just said you cheated on him and it was over and they called you a bitch and moved on.

Yes, even Ethan. (The one friend you actually liked)

He drowned his sorrows in alcohol, always making his way back to the house where his ex was expected to be at any given time. God, it was so shit.

After your apology, though, he had to admit, you looked good together. It seemed like his dad’s smile just hadn’t left his face for days, and goddamn, was it annoying to admit that you were good for him. That remaining anger seemed to itch at him, unable to forgive or forget, a buried hatchet with an X to mark the spot.

Ethan eventually brought his girlfriend to boys’ night out, which was met with disgruntled groans from the collective group. Ethan’s girlfriend invited a friend who would be joining, and Dylan fought hard not to roll his eyes.

An hour into the night, a drink, and a few good dances in, Ethan’s girlfriend brought her in, and Dylan stopped dead in his tracks. Okay, no one said she would be fucking gorgeous.

If Dylan thought you were out of his league, then Maya wasn’t even playing the same game. His heart pounded out of his chest, and he knew he had to grab this girl a drink and get her number, now. As he pulled into an easy conversation with her, the hairs stood on his arms as it felt electric just being near her.

Maya met his enthusiasm, agreeing to a date within the first hour of conversation with him. One of his buddies mentioned Dylan had been cheated on by his most recent girlfriend, and Maya was floored. If any girl was lucky enough to have him, how could they even think of cheating?

As Dylan rode home in the backseat of his friend’s truck, drunk on her undivided attention and, well, plain ol’ drunk, something his dad had said came to mind. “I can’t explain it, I just had to know her. In every sense of the word.”

He felt the same way about Maya. Everything about her drew him in. Her smell, the way her jeans hugged her hips, the shine of her red hair. God, she was fucking beautiful.

As he smelled bacon on the way down the stairs, he decided to grab a piece on his way out to his first date with Maya, jitters galore. You asking him about the date was kind, but still too weird for him to gush about the gorgeous girl from the bar he met when that ‘gorgeous girl’ was once you.

Love you, his dad said. The word struck him, it occurred to him he doesn’t truly understand how much you and his father cared for one another. The L word didn’t come easily to Munson men, after all. Dylan walked to his car, disgruntled as the interaction rolled over in his mind.

What a mess he would be bringing her home to, if he ever got lucky enough.

-

Since you worked the next day, you had to go home for the night. The lingering kisses at Eddie’s door were too much to bear.

Too much for Eddie, too. You get a text about twenty minutes after you get home, Need you.

You grit your teeth, you need him, too. Working four days in a row sounds manageable, at least it usually does. Without Eddie to come home to or to wake up with, it’s nearly torture. You ignore Skylar’s comment of codependency. Fuck co-dependency, it isn’t that you depend on him too much, you just need him too much. You need to come home to him, to sit and watch tv with him… It’s the domestic bliss you miss.

Somehow, just reading a book at the end of the night without his even breaths has you on edge. You shoot him a text letting him know you’d be there soon.

As you walk through the doorway of Eddie’s house, he welcomes you and you hop into his arms, inhaling his shampoo as soon as you get close enough to, his familiar scent bringing you an indescribable feeling of safety.  “Need you to stop leaving for so long.” He mutters, feeling nearly crazy for missing you so much while you were gone.

You hum in response, staring into his pretty eyes as they stare down at you lovingly, resting your chin on his chest.

“Move in with me.” It’s impulsive.

You blink, unable to register what he just said. “Uh, what?”

He chuckles, hoping the stunned look on your face is a good thing. “It’s stupid for you to keep moving back and forth between here and your apartment all the time. Move in with me.”

It’s a tempting offer. Could you do it? Realistically, could you bring your things in, set up your skin care routine in his bathroom, have a horde of snacks at your disposal, bring Bethany over for sleepovers…is it possible? He watches as you think it through, and his heart skips a beat as he watches it falter. “I-I can’t. Not yet, at least.”

His head tilts curiously, eyebrows furrowed. “Hmm?”

“I’m still tied to my lease for another three months.” You can’t abandon Sky, not after all this time. “Skylar would be pissed if I just up and left her to either scramble for a new roommate or for a new apartment.”

Was that it? “Oh,” Eddie says, relieved. “I can pay that.”

His answer momentarily stuns you, and a gorgeous laugh escapes his lips as he takes in your slack jaw and wide eyes. “W-what?”

He leans in, kissing your lips sweetly. “Sweetheart. I’m not gonna wait another ninety days when I can just pay it now and get you here tomorrow.”

“You’ll pay my half?” You ask, eyebrows raised, a light smile on your face.

“What’s your rent?”

“1800 for the apartment, we both pay 900 plus utilities.”

He does the quick math. “Oh, so 54 (hundred) to buy the lease out? Yeah, I’ll pay it. Might relieve Sky from being pissed at me for stealing her roommate.”

The casualty of his words drench your underwear, his urge to take care of you sending a heat to your center you can’t explain. You lean in, swiping your tongue on his bottom lip, showing your appreciation. “Can-can we go upstairs?” You ask him, out of breath.

Eddie smiles, taking in your lust-blown eyes and slack expression. “You know that’s not why I offered, right?”

The overwhelming happiness bubbles up from the inside and you shoot a wide smile up at him, chin resting on his chest again. “I know. Still, baby. Want you. Please,”

Eddie smirks, framing your face with his thumbs lightly. “When you say it so nicely, how could I ever refuse?”

You tug him by the hand and start running up the stairs. A yelp echoes through the house as Eddie grabs at your ass near the top, and when he lies down on the bed, you can’t get his cock down your throat fast enough.

-

To say the least, Sky couldn’t find it in her to be angry. She was going to miss you, more than she could describe as her roommate. She also had a three month warning to find a new roommate or a new apartment and had ample time to put at least some money aside while she didn’t have to pay for rent. She really had nothing to complain about. Still, she was gonna miss you.

As soon as the lust of him offering to take care of you died down, you went into overdrive, remembering how stressed you were when you had to move in your current apartment, a lease you’ve renewed twice now. You started making a list of things you needed, working between your phone and a random spiral notebook you found in a junk drawer. How many boxes did you need to get? If you used both Eddie and Dylan’s trucks how many hours would it take to move down the stairs-only building you had?

“What’re you working on?” You hear his voice over your shoulder.

“Oh, just working out the kinks of moving. My car won’t be enough, I’ll need your guys’ trucks to help. I also have my own furniture to worry about. The entertainment center is hers, but the couch is mine. My dresser, my bed, my bathroom shelf, all my bathroom junk—”

“Baby.” He interrupts you, a hand sliding up to your neck. “Relax. I can hire someone to take care of all of this for you. Just focus on packing your things and directing the men around on where to put them.” He places his hands delicately beneath your chin. “Ok?”

Fuck, you might just blow him again.

“Ok.”

And you did just that. You shared your list to Eddie’s phone, who called a smaller moving truck with three men to assist, hired an organizer to assist in organizing what you do or don’t need and who will handle selling your furniture, and finally, paying the rest of your rent to your front office without blinking an eye to get you out of the lease.

Soon, you were on the driveway on a hot day, watching as all the boxes containing your clothes, shoes, makeup, and other junk went up the stairs to Eddie’s (and now your) bedroom, a few staying downstairs.

He stands next to you in a white muscle shirt with a band you don’t know pictured on the front and some sweats, hands on his hips as he watches the movers go back and forth between the house and the truck. He radiates authority, each mover couldn’t be much older or younger than you, but they all look to him with respect, all of their words followed by the word ‘sir’.

“Sir, huh?” You ask, teasing him.

Eddie slightly grimaces, rejecting it. “Yeah, they insisted.”

“Dunno, kinda suits you.” You tease, and you walk back to the house, missing the audible gulp that comes from his throat, imagining it. You, on your knees, begging for him, calling him sir…

“Sir?” One of the movers asks, getting his attention. He flicks back, seeing the clipboard held in front of him. “Need you to sign.”

“Oh, shit, sorry.” He mumbles, picking up the pen to sign.

As he signs his name, Dylan pulls up, taking in the men, the truck, the boxes on the floor visible past the open front door. “She’s moving in?”

Eddie looks at him, apologetic. He had asked you yesterday, and since then, he hasn’t had time to sit down and tell Dylan in person. “Sorry, bud. Kind of just happened all at once.”

Dylan thinks of his new girlfriend’s apartment, the night he had just spent wrapped up in her sheets. “I-I get that.”

Eddie blinks, expecting more of a push-back. “So, dad. I met this girl.” Oh, that explains it. “She’s…” the smile that lands on Dylan’s face is peaceful, and Eddie feels both curious and reassured. “Anyway. I wanted to bring her over for dinner to introduce her. Is that okay?”

A firm hand lands on Dylan’s shoulder, bringing him for a hug. “Of course, bud. When did you want to bring her over?”

“Friday at 6?”

It’s Wednesday, so that gives you both ample time to unpack and get the house ready for a dinner guest. “Friday works. Bring her over.”

“Hey, do you guys need any more help with the boxes?” He asks, running into the house.

Eddie doesn’t answer as he stands, stunned at the change in his son over the last, what, week?

The next two days make Dylan realize although he was in a much forgiving mood, he’s going to need to move out and fast. Just when he thought the two of you were bad, he didn’t realize how much worse you’d be when you moved in. In hindsight, he wasn’t sure how he didn’t see it coming.

Soon, he texted a friend he knew who was looking for another apartment about maybe moving in together after realizing your moans were not coming from your bedroom as he grabbed his keys and booked it for the front door.

You were on Eddie’s laundry room floor, wrapped in his arms, with only your shirt around your torso and his hair halfway out of its ponytail. You were still in the middle of recovering; Eddie edged you twice before finally letting you finish. “Did you hear the front door close?” Eddie asks, still breathing heavily as he does.

“N-no.” You gasp, moving your head up to face him, his chest hair tickling your chin. “Were we that loud?”

Eddie laughs, letting a thumb pet your face lightly. “Have you ever tried to be quiet, sweetheart?”

You shut him up with a kiss, slippery, but filled to the brim with everything you had. “Shut up.”

“I love you.” He mutters as you wrap yourself in his arms, and you whisper it back into his chest. “We do have company coming over, so we should probably finish unpacking.”

You groan lightly, but Eddie takes your hands and forces the two of you onto your feet, your knees lightly buckling. “I have so much stuff! There’s so much left to unpack.”

“Oh, I’m sure unpacking yourself into the second half of the walk-in is so hard, baby. C’mon, I’ll help you out.”

Again, Eddie’s house looks humble from the outside, but it was nothing to snark at. As he made more money, he slowly upgraded and renovated instead of just moving into a bigger house. The one upgrade that wasn’t really for him, but a constant reminder of what he lost, was the his-and-hers closet he had made for his ex, something she only enjoyed for six months before leaving him. He was excited to see your dresses, skirts, pants, and underwear in his closet, and especially your smell. Basically, he was excited for your invasion of the house.

You walk over to his–your–room where there are still boxes sitting, waiting to be unpacked. You start unpacking the one labeled dresses/skirts. As you start laying out a pile, separating the skirts you knew you weren’t gonna wear from the ones you would, Eddie sidled up beside you, pulling one you knew looked good on you up from the pile you weren’t gonna wear. “Hey, hey. Why haven’t I seen you in this one?”

You hesitate in your answer, pulling two more dresses out before answering. “Dylan fucked me while I wore that.” You admit, and he drops it immediately. He pulls another one up, hands moving over the silky blue fabric. Damn that one looked great on you. “That one, too.”

He drops it unceremoniously, hands moving to his hips. “Which ones hasn’t he touched you in?”

You put your hands on the much smaller, less appealing pile. “These.”

Eddie sighs, scratching his head. “Alright. We’re going shopping.” He announces, placing the pile of your old ‘rejects’ onto the floor.

“Huh?” You ask him, not sure you heard him correctly.

“Yep. Just leave all the clothes in a pile right there, and on Saturday I’m taking you shopping.”

“Baby, I work Saturday.”

“So call in.”

After Eddie helps you settle in for the next day and a half, you spend a good portion of your Friday in the kitchen, working in tandem to make supper together. You place plates at the dining room table Eddie and Dylan barely used, straighten up the napkins and the utensils when Eddie comes from behind you, and you feel his cock press right up against your ass. You grind back into it, closing your eyes and whimpering.

“Ed, they’ll be here in like,” you let out a sigh, “half an hour.”

He turns you, giving you a dirty kiss and gripping your hips harshly. “Then we better get moving.” He slips your dress up your hips and your underwear down.

“Hmm…take off your pants.”

He slips his cock in, bending you over the table, making you gasp. “Already off, baby.”

-

Dylan pulls up in his truck, now having to park in the same spot you did in the street since you took over his spot on the driveway. “So, this is my house.”

“For three more weeks?” Maya asks, teasing him.

He lets their hands intertwine, leading her to the door. “I did grow up here.”

“Yet your dad is kicking you out.” She says, eyes narrowed.

“No, not kicking me out…” He drifts off, when Maya’s green eyes silently ask him, he dismisses it. “I’ll tell you later. C’mon.” He unlocks the front door, and as soon as it’s open, a very peculiar, very annoying sound is heard echoing in the house.

“Fuck, Ed, oh shit.”

Maya’s eyes go wide, it takes her a second longer to understand what they were listening to than it did for Dylan. Dylan shuts the front door, shoving his hand into his pocket for his phone. He dials his dad right away. “…Hello?” Eddie asks after three rings.

Dylan puts him on speaker. “Dad, wrap it up, we’re here.”

“Shit, sorry. Give us five—” the sound of your giggles interrupts him, “sorry, ten minutes. W-we’ll call you.”

He hangs up.

Maya’s face is the picture-perfect expression of what the fuck. “Dyl, when you said your family dynamic is odd…”

“I meant it. C’mon, let’s go for a walk to the corner store.”

Maya is taken aback, but she easily falls in line as Dylan holds his hand out for her. “Can’t believe the first thing I heard from your dad was that.”

“Darling, I have never meant it more than I have right now.” Dylan assures her, and she can see how much he means it in his brown eyes. “My dad has met my girlfriends in worse situations. Just be glad we didn’t see anything…’cause that was not coming from their bedroom.”

-

Eventually, you had to go upstairs to find a new dress to wear, Eddie having completely soiled it during your tryst as he phoned Dylan to let them know they were in the clear. Turns out, the two of you had time blindness when it came to one another, because neither of you were even close to done when Dylan had called.

As you climb down the stairs, there’s a knock on the door, and Eddie meets you there in time to open it to face Dylan and his new girlfriend. It was an intriguing feeling, opening the door to Dylan while Eddie’s arm was behind your back. Like a couple welcoming their son home. It was…bizarre to say the least. “Hey, sorry about—”

“It’s fine, dad. Rather not talk about it.” Dylan insists, his arm around a pretty redhead.

“Sure. Come on in.”

They step in, Maya taking a look around at the place as she does. “Maya, this is my dad and his girlfriend, Y/N. Guys, this is Maya.”

You weren’t used to Dylan being suddenly so cool with you and Eddie being together. He’s never out loud said that you were his dad’s girlfriend before without rolling his eyes or gagging. Whatever he had with Maya seemed to bring him some peace.

Thank god, you didn’t know if you could handle more eye rolls from Eddie’s 25-year-old teenage son. “Maya! Nice to meet you.” You hold your hand out to her, which she accepts graciously.

You remember meeting Eddie as a father to Dylan, and while your thoughts were occupied, whatever you were expecting for Dylan’s dad, it certainly wasn’t Eddie. You could see it clear in her face she wasn’t expecting this metalhead, either.

“Hi, Mr. Munson, nice to meet you.” She extends her hand to Eddie, and Eddie just about loses his mind.

“Ew. Don’t. Call me Eddie. Please.” Eddie gags, the same reaction he had when you addressed him that way when you first met.

“Oh. Sorry. Nice to meet you, Eddie.”

Eddie smiles back, purposefully dressing himself down as a parental figure. You could tell he was poising himself differently for them. Whether it was self consciousness over the last time he met a girlfriend, or making it clear to Dylan he had no plans for a second contender, it did the job.

“Alright, the dining room is this way.” You extend your hand out down the hall, leading the way out of a somewhat awkward situation.

The four of you sit at the table, both men at the heads of the table while you and Maya sit across from one another. Eddie picks up the salad bowl, plating himself quickly and handing it over to you. “So, Dylan. Tell us how you and Maya met.”

They both start the story, eager to share. “Oh, can I tell, Dyl? You always get to.”

“Fine by me.”

Maya giggles softly before facing you and Eddie. “Well, my best friend sort of ditched me to tag along to guys’ night, and I refused to be ditched, so I got myself ready and ended up being fashionably late. When she invited me, I was already done for the night, pajamas and all but I got dressed up out of pure spite.” You chuckle, that’s something Bethany would do. “I got to the club, and suddenly I saw Dylan, and I didn’t want to talk to anyone else for the rest of the night.” She looks over to him, her eyes soft and her pink lips in a sweet smile. “He just drew me right in. We talked for so long we didn’t even realize it was time for last call.”

“Wow.” You comment, taking the last bowl in rotation from Eddie’s hands, the stir-fry vegetables. “Sounds like you guys have a great connection.” You look at Dylan at the last word, hoping he receives your message.

“Oh, we truly do.” Maya grins, Dylan shooting a wink at her in response.

Eddie grabs your hand under the table, and you hold it, petting at the tough skin and colliding with his rings.

“Our first date was incredible.” Maya mentions off-hand but doesn’t elaborate. If it was anything like your first date with Eddie, you knew better than to pry further. “So Dylan told me how you guys met, tell me about that.”

You and Eddie share a look of surprise at how casually she mentions it. You weren’t expecting her to know yet, in fact you were wondering if Dylan was going to tell her at all. Eddie lets out a chuckle. “A shitshow, let’s just say. When Dylan found us, it just became real messy in here.”

Unfortunately, Eddie missed the continuous waving Dylan was doing across the table to stop, please!

“How would meeting online make things messy?” Maya asks, the story Eddie had just told her and the story Dylan explained not exactly lining up.

“What?” Eddie asks, now unsure himself.

Your hand meets your mouth in understanding, facing Dylan with his head in his own hands. “Baby, I don’t think he told her, yet.”

“Nope.” Dylan musters out, annoyed.

“Oh.”

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” Maya asks, watching everyone’s facial expressions one by one.

Dylan sighs, not ready to explain this part. “They didn’t meet online. Remember, my ex? The one who cheated on me?”

Maya rolls her eyes. “Of course I remember that bitch.” She says, giving you a look that says, ‘am I right’.

Dylan sighs, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Uh, Maya?”

“Hmm?”

“That’s her.” He says, pointing to you. “She cheated with my dad.”

Maya looks at you, dumbfounded, as you wave with a tight smile on your face. Being called that cheating bitch behind your back was certainly a new development from him. Not the…greatest feeling in the world. She looks to Eddie, who isn’t smiling, somewhat insulted on your behalf, but gives a friendly wave nonetheless.

“O-oh.”

“I said my family dynamic is different, didn’t I?”

“I thought you meant with how young she is…”

“There’s that…and there’s this. It used to hurt me a lot more, but honestly, since I met you, I don’t really feel that pain anymore.” He says to her. “I wish we could’ve had this conversation in private, but I guess I didn’t warn them.” A new hardness reaches Maya’s eyes as she looks at you, and you’re slightly taken aback by it. “Don’t be mad at them, because I’m not anymore. Well, mostly anyway. My dad said when he met her that he had to know everything about her or he was going to lose his mind.” You look to Eddie, and he winks at you slyly as you mouth the words I love you to him. “I used to think that was bullshit… But when I met you, Maya, I felt the same way, and I realized I couldn’t blame them for pursuing it if it was half as strong as what I felt when I saw you.”

The ice in Maya’s stare all melts the gloss in her eyes. “That’s still super messed up.”

“One hundred percent.” Dylan looks over to you and Eddie, and you’re wondering if the two of you were supposed to leave the table and give them privacy. “But now…they look good together. They’re good for one another. She puts this smile on his face that I never get to see anymore, and she seems more happy with him than she ever was with me.”

Your phone buzzes in your chair under your thigh. A text from Eddie. For the record, no one feels as strongly for anyone as I do for you. No one ever will.

You look at him and he nods once, his lips in a firm line. Your hands reach for his, interlocking with his. “Maya, I know you didn’t mean to but I would appreciate you not calling her a bitch.” Eddie tells her, parent voice on. “Now that we have all that out of the way, Maya, tell us what you do for work.”

-

Maya was a peach, and she seemed great for Dylan. As she helped clear the table she asked Dylan a question and it led to him announcing he was moving out. Out loud, Eddie gave him a proud hug, telling him it was a great idea.

To you, Eddie pumped his fist in celebration. As you washed the dishes that night, insisting Dylan and Maya go enjoy a movie on the couch, Eddie comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. “When Dylan finally moves out, I’m fucking you on every surface in this house. I might just tell you to stay naked for easier access.” He leaves a wet kiss on your neck, and you’re left to imagine the possibilities as he adjusts himself while clearing the rest of the table.

True to his word, as Saturday dawns, Eddie wakes you up two hours before you start work and tosses your phone to call in sick for it. You text your manager at his request, and as soon as you hit send, Eddie sends you to his bathroom to get ready for a shopping day. In your first outfit, a pair of shorts and an oversized sweater, Eddie looks up and down at you exasperated and tells you to go get all dressed up and put some makeup on.

When your hands land on your hips at this he backtracks hard. “Of course you can wear what you want, baby! I just know that you love to get all dressed up, and I thought it would be fun for you. That’s all. We’re going to be trying on lots of clothes and I want my girl feeling her best.”

Okay, he has a point. An hour passes by, Eddie moving around you as he gets dressed up himself, less dramatic than his date night outfit, but dressed up all the same. As you finish, a wing on your eye, he comes behind you, looking over your shoulder for something. “You know I used to wear eyeliner all the time?”

“I…no?” You stutter, turning to face him.

“Might put some on today.” He mutters, slightly teasing you.

“If you don’t want to scare the general public, maybe we’ll save it for a date night, Ed.” You yank the pencil away from him, terrified that if you look away for one second, he’ll go overboard.

“Not even a little on my water line?” He asks, and you suddenly realize that yes, he does want some makeup for the day.

“I don’t see why not.” You shrug.

Now you walk hand in hand in the largest mall in town, starting the journey down the large aisle, leading Eddie. But eventually, Eddie ends up leading you, knowing exactly which stores he wants to go to. In the first store he takes you to, you look around the racks timidly, putting away anything you see over 20 bucks. In less than five minutes, Eddie comes by with a pile of clothes in his arms. “I’m gonna get a dressing room started, ok?” He pauses, noticing the 45 dollar dress you just put back. “Ooh, can you hand me that?”

“No, it’s too much.” You insist, looking at the large pile of clothes he has. You thought he meant like, three or four items at the most.

“I didn’t ask how much it was, sweetheart. Hand it over.” He tells you, to which you do. Only five minutes later, as you have only picked out two or three more dresses yourself, does he swing by and tug you to the biggest dressing room, the walls decorated with clothing.

“I-I’m not trying all of this on, am I?” You look around, it would take you at least an hour, and that’s if you hurried.

“Yep. And you’re showing me every piece.” He says, before closing the door on your stunned face.

“Eddie, this is way too much.”

“No complaining, just show me the first one!” he yells to you, no real bark behind his command.

The first dress you wear was a bit revealing, an open back, up to your thighs with a cowl neckline that shows cleavage. He smiles at you, leaning his elbows onto his knees in the seat offered in the dressing room. “Nice… Do a spin.” You roll your eyes, spinning for him slowly and timidly. He whistles lowly. “Man, I’m good. Next!”

He asked for a spin in everything you modeled for him until he didn’t need to, you did it for him. With each new piece, you were learning to not care if you were in a store with him, posing for him as he assessed each piece. Some you thought looked decent on you, he put in the no pile, while others you thought were a sure no, he put in the yes. He told you ultimately, it was your decision and if you felt uncomfortable, you could put one in the no pile, but he knew your body better than anyone. If he insisted it looked good, it must’ve looked good.

At the last piece you put on, he can’t seem to decide, asking an attendant for her opinion. She says she thinks the shirt looks amazing on you but isn’t sure about the style of pants. “Yeah, I chose them just to see if you’d wear it.” You shook your head no, feeling uncomfortable in the business type pants. “Cool. Get dressed in your clothes, we have more stores to hit up.” You toss the shirt to him after yanking it off, and by the time you make your way to the register, the attendant is already handing over two oversized bags to him.

“Eddie, this is enough clothes, I really don’t need anymore!” You insist as he directs you to a store only three spaces over.

As soon as you walk in, they see the big bags Eddie’s carrying and immediately offer their assistance. Eddie rolls his eyes, knowing he only ever gets the star treatment if he’s walking around with the occasional designer bag. (He likes their underwear). “Well, I don’t know if you noticed, but the women’s side of our closet is huge, and you didn’t have nearly enough clothes to fill it anyway.”

Our closet. You’re so fixated on the use of the word our that you don’t realize he’s waiting for you to talk. “Doesn’t mean I need more.”

“Oh, that’s exactly what it means!” He turns to the employee who’s been following him around and hands her the bags. “Be a dear and hold on to these, will ya?” He turns back to you, resting one hand on the rack beside him and staring down at you intensely. “Baby. I want to spoil you. Let me. Please! Pick out some clothes you want, I’ll pick some out, too, and you can try them on.”

“You’ve spoiled me so much already!” You insist, gulping at the sincerity in his eyes. “You’re all I could ever ask for.”

“That’s exactly why I have to spoil you.” He retorts, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “I love you. Let me show you how much. I have a stupid amount in savings. I kind of want to chuck some out just to keep me humble.”

You giggle at this, finally, fully giving in to his madness.

Madness, it is. As you go from store to store, he gets about two more bags full from each one, and you’re sure some of these outfits will never see the light of day after you see how he looks at you in them. About ten percent will just be something you put on for about two seconds before he takes it off you. He’s buying dresses he knows he’ll be the only person to ever take them off or see you in them.

At one point, he runs back to his truck to put the eight bags he got tired of carrying around away, coming back to meet you in the store he left you in. It wasn’t much of a clothing store, but you had a basket of things you were planning to buy for yourself. Earrings, a knick knack for your desk, a cute notebook and the like. (There was a shirt you found for Eddie that you got just for the hell of it.) You're waiting in line, and you’re digging through your purse for your wallet when Eddie comes behind you, wallet out, card in the machine. “I—”

“Baby. Your money is useless today. Let me.”

You roll your eyes, and the cashier’s wide eyes at his pet-name for you catches your eye, a laugh escaping you. “Yeah, sorry. Guess I forgot to mention my boyfriend is also in his 40s.” You giggle, having just gushed about how Eddie was spoiling you to him.

“What? 40s? I’m clearly in my 20s.” Eddie asks, acting offended.

The poor cashier looks genuinely frightened, holding up his hands in surrender. “He’s joking. He is. Likes to make people squirm.”

“Oh I love to make you squirm—”

“Eddie!” You berate him, yanking him out of the store as he lets out a bout of laughter. He catches his breath, still laughing as you cross your arms, waiting impatiently for him to stop.

“Sorry, sweetheart, you made it too easy! C’mon, two more stores, then we can grab food.”

“Can I pay for food?” You ask, holding his hand.

Eddie smiles, petting your hand with his thumb. “Of course.”

The second to last store he brings you to is an underwear store. Eddie lets you do all the picking, following closely behind and offering any commentary when you ask for it. For once, he doesn’t insist that you model for him, claiming that just seeing you go through the lacier drawers of panties was torture enough. You walk out with a wardrobe’s worth of new underwear, bras, and a little bit of lingerie. It was the first time you were there to see the total, your eyes widening as Eddie takes out his card.

He smirks at your stunned expression. “Oh, this isn’t even the highest bill, sweetheart.” The transaction goes through and the kind lady behind the desks offers the bags to him. “This isn’t even half of it.”

The bill was at about 700 dollars, so the very idea drove you insane that he had already collected every receipt and refused to let you see them.

He brings you to one last store, wall to wall, covered in clothes. He goes a little ham this time, and you notice he focuses on basics. Sweatpants, sweaters, shorts, and under shirts. There’s one thing he chooses that has you struggling to get the zipper up, and eventually you call out for him for help after a good five minutes of fumbling .

He opens the curtain delicately so as to not reveal anything, and you look at him helplessly as your hand can’t reach the zipper sitting low on your ass. His fingers are light to the touch, as one hand rests on your shoulder, one on the zipper as it goes up to your neck, your hair held by your hands. You can’t help the shiver that runs through you as your hair curtains down around your neck, and you turn to face him, holding your hands out to silently ask him what he thought.

What does he think? He thinks that this fucking dress looks so good on you that it would be a crime to get you to start trying on those shorts and sweaters. Hell, you knew your size, you were probably good to go. It was much less revealing than any dress you tried on, a number he’ll probably get you to wear on your next date. He couldn’t help himself, surrounded by the privacy of the small room, he leans in to kiss you sweetly, one hand going up to frame your neck. “Baby.” He mutters, his voice sounding desperate. “You look…fucking gorgeous.”

You smile into it, your hand tracing the seam of his shirt along his torso. “Thanks. Help me out of it? I still need to try on all these clothes.”

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, surprising you. A slight whimper escapes you as he backs you into the wall against a few clothing articles hanging there. “I will absolutely help you out of this dress.” He says, his voice husky and a touch of arousal lands in your underwear as you realize why. “But then I’m going to get my cock in you.”

“In-in here?” You ask, highly aware you’re in a public space.

“Mmhmm. Be quiet and no one will suspect a thing.” he says, hand slipping under the skirt of the dress to start palming at your folds over your panties. You whimper at the touch into his mouth, focusing all your energy on not alerting the kind sales lady that you were hooking up in her dressing room. “Oh, good girl, keeping herself quiet.”

“It’s…it’s hard.” You whimper, the light touches over your panties not enough, but still causing more arousal.

“So am I.” Eddie chuckles, watching your face as he teases you. He slips the hand into your panties, letting them drop on the floor. “Oh, so wet, huh?” He asks you, eyebrows furrowed as he plays with the slick on your folds.

“Mmhmm.”

“Does daddy buying all the pretty clothes make you all hot, baby?” He asks, voice in your ear and fingers rubbing at your clit gentle, but enough to start you to your destination. You nod your head, because on some level, this was a big turn on for you. “Oh, you horny little slut.”

“Good girl…” You whimper, and Eddie leans back from your shoulder. “Good girl. Please?” You ask him, the slut shaming wasn’t doing it for you.

“Oh, you wanna be called a good girl, huh? Daddy’s good girl?” You nod, your eyes closing as he starts to rub at your clit faster.

“Feels…feels good, Daddy…”

“Daddy’s gonna make you cum, and since you’re a good girl you’re not gonna make a fucking sound. Okay?” You nod, holding a whimper in your throat from the finger he slides into your heat. “Oh she’s close.” He mutters to himself, placing gentle kisses on your neck. “Fall apart on my fingers so I can fuck you, my good girl.”

Your mouth is open in a silent scream, an orgasm shaking through you as you wither against the dressing room wall.  

“Oh, that’s my good girl, such a good listener. Now, turn around and hold on to those hooks.” You do as he says, and as you brace yourself with your hands awkwardly against the hooks decorated with hangers, he zips the dress off you, lifting it over your head and nearly forgetting to muffle his own moan when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra. He lets his pants fall around his calves, and as his cock pushes you, you let your jaw open and eyes close, doing everything you could not to moan out loud.

He slowly bucks into you, and you close your eyes and lean against the wall headfirst while the scent of store clothes invades your senses. Soon, Eddie leans forward, forcing your torso up against his back as he places his ringed hand around you like a necklace. He kisses at the skin he can reach sweetly, eyes open as he watches your reaction to everything he does to you.

While the prospect of being caught by someone was hot, Eddie found himself watching for your visual reactions than listening for your audible ones. Hmm. He didn’t realize he had begun to rely on them. “How’s Daddy’s cock?”

“G-good.” You whisper, leaning into his chest with your head back against his shoulder.

“Gonna cum in you.” He mutters. He starts fucking into you a little harder, and it has to be perfectly timed because if he went all the way in, the sound of his balls against your pussy would be a dead giveaway.

“How’s everything in there?”

“Speak.” Eddie commands you, and you have to tear yourself from outer space for a moment.

“Great, thank you!”

“Just a reminder we try not to encourage two people in one dressing room.”

“She was just needing help with a zipper. Almost done.” Eddie pipes out, sounding relatively normal for someone seconds away from cumming.

“If you need any help or sizes, let us know.”

 “Thanks…” Shit, that sounded out of breath.

“Cum in me.” You whisper, and Eddie does just that, slowly fucking his way through his orgasm, his cheeks flushed, shirt clinging onto the sweat.

You nearly protest as he takes himself out and tucks himself back into his pants. At this point, you were so turned on you kind of wanted to blow him while you had him in the room. You hold his face in your hands and connect your foreheads. “Is it bad I still want more?” You mutter under your breath.

Eddie swears softly, his boner fighting harshly against his slacks. “Fuck. No, I do, too.” He tugs your naked self into his arms, kissing your hair softly. “But…she was suspicious. Unless we want to get kicked out, we should quit while we’re ahead.”

“Can I blow you when we get home?” You ask him, turning to grab your own clothes off the floor.

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head as he grabs the clothes scattered around the dressing room. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

It took multiple trips from Eddie’s truck to bring in all the bags. You truly didn’t realize how many pieces of clothing he had bought you until you saw it all scattered on the closet floor, all ready to be reorganized. Eddie starts hanging them, and you notice the outline of his cock in his slacks. He was still throbbing.

“Can I?” You ask, sitting pretty on your knees and looking up at him.

“Fuck, I’m never gonna say no to that.” Eddie answers, placing a hand under your chin.

You undo his pants, giving him a hungry look as his cock springs free. “You’re still hard?” You ask, knowing you’ve gotten food at the food court and walked around the mall a bit more before coming home.

“Mmhm.” You smile, jerking him lazily as you eye the length hungrily. You have the idea to tease him more, but the need to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue is too much. Eddie swears loudly as you take him in your mouth, gripping onto the center console for accessories and underwear. “Fuck”

You slowly bob your head up and down, staring up at him through your eyelashes as you relax your throat and allow your nose to meet his stomach. His hands skim through your hair, moving your head lightly, and again, you find it ridiculously easy to submit to him.

Eddie is uncharacteristically quiet, head thrown back in bliss as he feels the spit gather at his base. His stomach starts to tighten up a little bit and under your hands, his thighs are tense. Somehow it spells out to you he’s close.

You prepare yourself, moving your head faster on your own accord, opening your eyes at him again to watch for his reaction as you double down. A goddamn whimper escapes his throat as you continue, and suddenly it’s your goddamn mission to make him make that sound again. “Fuck, baby. Fuck…” Without any warning, the warm salty taste of his cum hits your tongue and you moan around him as he rides through his orgasm.

For once, as you wipe your mouth, you can tell he’s the one that needs recovery. You move to your feet, waiting for him to catch his breath. “Need some water?” You ask him, somewhat joking.

“The fuck was that?” He asks, his face in awe as he looks at you.

You give a cheeky and quick little kiss to the hand on your cheek. “Wanted to make you feel good.”

“Jesus Christ—” he tugs you into a hug, habitually kissing your hair. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Uh Ed.” You push lightly on his chest to get out of the hug, giving him a look of disbelief. You look gesture around the closet to the half of the clothes still not put away. “How are you the lucky one?”

Eddie’s face breaks into a wide smile, his dimples prominent, his smile lines deep. “You keep thinking that, darling.” He laughs, tugging you back into his arms.

As you stand there against his chest, relaxing into him with your eyes closed, the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it. You put away my clothes since you know where everything goes.”

“I did design this closet.” He retorts, pointing a finger at you.

You walk down the stairs to the front door, seeing a tall figure facing away through the smart glass. You open the door to a gorgeous set of brown locks, perfectly coiffed. The figure turns around, and clearly doesn’t expect to see you standing there. “Hey, Ed- whoa.” You recognize his face, but you aren’t sure where from. You subtly fix your hair; suddenly aware you had just given head to your boyfriend. “Uh, sorry, little lady. Is Eddie here?”

“He’s upstairs in the closet. Can I help you?”

The stranger smiles kindly, and you notice the freckles on his face are like constellations. “Oh sorry! I told him I’d be coming through town, but I forgot to say when. I’m Steve, Steve Harrington.”

-

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

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[ladylaviniya]

AVATAR: THE NEW MISSION

|| Masterlist || Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: From a sweet little game to a total nightmare, you will do whatever it will take to protect the children, even face monsters.

Pairing: Recom!Miles Quaritch X Na'vi Reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Kidnapping, Colonisation, Weapons, Death Threats, Coercive Control.

Author Notes: Hi everyone! Life has been crazy but I finally got around to rewriting/editing The New Mission. I will post a new chapter once a week every Tuesday @ 3pm AEST

Inspiring Song: "Cosmic Love" By Florence & The Machine.

As Miles slowly opened his eyes, he was immediately met with a strange feeling of displacement. The bed beneath him felt unfamiliar, and as he sat up, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrored window panel across the room. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of his own reflection – the now distinctly blue skin and unfamiliar features staring back at him were both fascinating and disconcerting. For a moment, he had to remind himself that this was not a nightmare, but reality.

Waking up in a different body is always difficult. Well that’s what people with a second chance can say. Miles felt this was a curse at first. He hated how every time to passed a window panel the reflection of blue skin made him want to shoot it.

He hated how he had to crouch under door ways to get into the next room. Most of all he hated the way he was stared at. He thought back on his former human form, when people looked upon him with respect because of his rank and the battle-earned scar that marked his resilience. But now, it was different – people didn’t admire him for his achievements; instead, they gawked at him like some sort of aberration, a living testament to their ungodly science. Miles sat and pondered briefly...had the human race gone too far.

It came and went out of his mind just as quickly, consumed by the bitterness of why and how he came to be in this clone flesh suit he hated.

Confronting Jake Sully proved to be a rushed decision on Miles’s part, as his months spent with Spider had done little to equip him with ample knowledge about Pandora. He was, in essence, a greenhorn in this alien world, and the enormity of his possible failure dawned upon him with stark clarity. Miles was aware that his performance would have far-reaching consequences, not just for himself, but for his standing within the RDA.

The ride back on his Ikran was an ordeal, especially after the grueling battle fought on the fringes of Awa’atlu. He had nearly slid off the creature’s back twice due to his battered state. Arriving back at base, Miles was consumed by a mix of shame and anger, and he was promptly escorted to the medical tent to rest and heal. Weeks passed as he recuperated, until the shrill voice of the General invaded his solitude, a sound that brought a wave of uneasiness to him.

The General, standing on a stool to address the hospitalized Colonel, spoke with a chilling tone, her words sharp as a blade. “I granted you the opportunity to seek revenge, Colonel,” she began, her hand lightly resting on the bedside railing, “yet you have disappointed me. Your mission was straightforward – hunt and execute Jake Sully for his alleged crimes of terrorism and treason. But from what your team has revealed, your pursuit was anything but focused. Instead, you chose to chase after his children, wasting time and resources. Simply putting it Colonel, you fucked around.”

He longed to lash out, to tell her where she could shove her condescending attitude in a place where ‘The sun don’t shine.’. After all, here he was, nursing a broken rib, a split lip, a chipped tooth, a concussion, and a near-drowning experience, and she had the audacity to come down to the infirmary and give him an earful? It was clear as day that they needed him, yet now they were treating him like yesterday’s trash.

“General,” he began, forcing a strained smile even as he slowly sat up, disregarding the protests of the monitors and wires attached to his body. “If I may explain, my choice to pursue Sully’s children was a deliberate tactic. I intended to use them as hostages, to entice him out of hiding.” With a purposeful motion, he pinched off the heart monitor and swiftly removed the remaining cords that tracked his health. The machines worried and beeped loudly, attracting the attention of doctors and nurses. He rose to his feet slowly and bent at his hips to look down at her.

The General instinctively took a step back, taken aback by the imposing figure of the Colonel standing before her. Despite his injuries, his height and stature were intimidating, and she instinctively swallowed, her composure faltering momentarily. “Colonel,” she continued, her tone measured, “I regret to say that this incident has demonstrated a lack of confidence in your ability to carry out the mission effectively.”

Quaritch’s brows furrowed, his anger mounting within him, causing him to clench his teeth in frustration. But instead of lashing out, he nodded with resignation, his acceptance of her words thinly veiled. He would not succumb to the savage hissing urge building up in his throat.

The General let out a weary sigh, her gaze fixed on him. “I can’t afford to jeopardize more lives for your failings,” she stated firmly. “Consider yourself lucky that I haven’t demoted you or worse, discharged you from service.”

Quaritch’s eyes widened and his ears flattened in surprise at her words. He couldn’t help but retort sarcastically, “Discharging me, eh? Wouldn’t be much point in sending me back to Earth though, would there? Might as well stick me in the kitchens. Blue Shrimp! Order up!” he flashed his smiling canines down at her, they were gritting tightly. It took the power of whatever he called a god to not throttle the bitch.

The General’s nostrils flared, and she slammed her hands on the bed rail, her voice sharp. “One more smart remark from you, Colonel, and I’ll throw you out of this camp without a second thought.” Quaritch rolled his eyes in response, his patience wearing thin. Without another word, he stormed out of the medical room, clad in his scrub dress, determined to leave the infirmary behind.

Quaritch heard the General’s command echoing in his wake, “You haven’t been dismissed, Colonel!” He paused, the weight of her words and the eyes on him forcing him to consider her directive. But did he really care? No. Yet he remembered the gazes of the nurses, other patients, and the armed men standing guard – their stares burning into him, reminding him that he was nothing more than a freak, a monster, a clone of some nightmarish alien creation. What respect did he have left coming from them?

Quaritch whirled around, crouching down to meet the General’s eye level. He forced a smirk, and in a mocking tone, he inquired, “May I be dismissed, General?”

The General returned his smile with a sly one of her own, “No,” she replied, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re going to hear to your newest mission.”

Quaritch’s breath caught in his throat at her words. “New mission?” he echoed, his voice betraying a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. He truly thought he was done for with the walls caving in. He was being given a chance, again. This one he didn’t want to fuck up.

    Sitting comfortably on the plush grass, you listened intently to the sound of muffled giggles emanating from the trees above. Your little brother Häewip and his best friend Rìngeay were engaged in a playful game of stalk-and-catch, but it was abundantly clear that they were dreadful at it. Their giggles echoed through the foliage, their hiding spots easily detectable.

You chuckled, recalling fond memories from your childhood. This game was a favourite pastime, meant to teach youngsters the art of stealth, concealment, and stalking their quarry. Young Häewip and Rìngeay had pleaded to be the ones to hide while you took on the role of the hunter, and you always obliged, knowing that they cherished these moments together.

Ah, the memories brought a smirk to your face. You never lost this game, even as a child, always skilfully evading detection whenever it was your turn to hide. And when you were the one doing the seeking, your younger siblings and friends could never find you. After hours of playtime and gathering fruits and meat for the village, you decided to play one final game before returning home.

Finding Rìngeay was easy; her red tail guard stood out against the yellow petals of the tsyorina’wll flowers, giving away her position.

Dropping silently into the soft moss and grass, you crouched, your smile widening. The sound of their giggles meant they could still catch glimpses of you, but you knew you had to hide and stalk even more covertly. With quiet precision, you reached for the riata tied to your thigh, navigating silently through the foliage and vines. Every step was calculated, ensuring not a sound escaped your presence.

With a swift, feline-like motion, you moved around the base of a sturdy tree, adhering to its bark and beginning your ascent up its sturdy trunk. Unseen from the children’s view, you continued climbing, your slender frame blending seamlessly with the foliage. As you ascended higher, you keenly overheard their heated debate – arguing whether you were concealed behind the surrounding tsyorina’wlls or the paywlls nearby.

Unseen, you surpassed them, nimbly ducking to avoid their flicking tails as you continued your climb. As you ascended higher and higher, you finally positioned yourself just above the pair, ensuring they remained oblivious to your position. A swift flick of your wrist and a deft swing sent the lasso loop hurtling towards them, ensnaring them firmly in the air. Their screams of shock echoed through the clearing, only to be overshadowed by your joyful cackles and laughter.

“Taronyut yom smarìl! Hehehe!” The prey eats the hunter; everything possible that can go wrong does! Hehehe!

Your fingers dug and danced over their sensitive skin making them shriek with laughter.

Rìngeay cried with laughter as she was attacked with tickles while she was still bound in the tether, “Ftang! [Y/N]! Ftang!” Stop! [Y/N]! Stop! Laughing tears filled in her eyes.

You turned to smother kisses and tiny bites over Häewip little arms and cheek. He too begged for mercy with a smile before you spat out the tip of his pointed ears with a “Ftxìvä’” Yuck!

Their playful attempts to resist your victorious gloating were thwarted as they promptly wriggled out of their bindings and tackled you with a barrage of affectionate hugs. Laughter rang through the forest air, filling the space with joyful abandon. The three of you took a moment to catch your breaths before settling back against the sturdy branches of the tree. The game had been a much-needed respite, a temporary diversion from the anxieties waiting back at home.

The gentle warmth of the breeze enveloped you, its caress a soothing touch against your skin. The sweat trickling down your forehead spoke of an impending rain, as the humidity had slowly been building throughout the past several days, culminating in this humid day. The soil beneath you felt parched, yearning for a refreshing drink. The feeling was strangely familiar – you sympathized with the great mother, feeling just as exhausted and longing for a fresh change in your life, yet uncertain about the path you were expected to tread.

“Tsmuke?” Sister? Häewip suddenly asked.

“Sran?” Yes?

With a pleading look in his big, yellow eyes, he asked, “Fta si tswin rutxe oeyä?” Please retie my queue braid? A fond smile tugged at your lips, for this was a familiar routine. Despite growing older, he still sought your help, asserting that you could tie it just right – not too tight, yet not loose enough for it to come undone easily.

You let out a soft sigh, gesturing to the space between your legs. “Za’u,” Come, you instructed, signaling where he should settle.

Rìngeay swiftly crawled over, joining her friend, both eager for you to tighten their braids. As she waited her turn, she took the initiative and utilized your lasso to hoist the sack of freshly hunted meat up towards you all. She knew all too well the importance of safeguarding the fruits of your labor, ensuring no lurking animals could snatch them away. After all, hunting effectively with only a knife was no easy feat. Your mother had strictly forbidden you to use a bow for hunting, and her word was law.

‘Häewip is getting taller everyday now,’ you thought to yourself as you realised where he head sat and how high you had to lift your arms now to carefully braid his long black mane around his queue.

It had been only nine wet seasons ago that you sat beside the birth of your brother. Your mother’s weeping and her joy at a son. The joy your father had, picking you up on his shoulders so you could have a better look at the wet ball that was of newborn Häewip. You wondered how you must’ve looked twenty wet seasons ago. Perhaps just the same.

Häewip was growing more confident and ambitious, dreaming of becoming a warrior just like your cousin, Rawm. You silently hoped that he would never emulate Rawm’s recklessness and ride out into a storm, only to be struck by lightning. Fortunately, the chances of that happening seemed slight, as more often than not, Häewip was practically attached at the hip to Rìngeay, his unwavering companion. Although they were the same age, Rìngeay seemed to consistently adhere to the village curfew, unlike your more daring brother. When you inquired about her dreams, she would blush and shyly admit her ambition to being that of the wife to a great warrior. You wondered if it was her own little heart that held the nobility of a warrior instead.

Finishing the last strand in Rìngeay’s hair you suggested to the two younger na’vi, “Pxoe kelku kivä ko,” Let’s All Go home.

And they agreed. The distance was far and if they didn’t get home before the sun hid beneath the mountains it would be your head.

You reckoned somehow it would not matter anyway because today you had been disobedient...

You were supposed to be diligently gathering utumauti and pixayzekwä berries, preparing to simmer them into a hot boil to create a wine for your impending marriage ceremony to Pukxaw – a warrior Na’vi of another tribe.

The thought of your mother’s furious reaction upon your return to Greenhome filled you with dread. Her wrath would be intense, and your ears would undoubtedly be in danger once you faced her.

As you traversed the familiar path back home, your younger companions sprinted ahead, effortlessly leaping over logs and foliage. A warm smile tugged at your lips, as you silently hoped that the great mother would bless your future with children as exuberantly happy as them. However, your thoughts briefly strayed to your intended mate, Pukxaw. You secretly wished for a spouse far better than him.

Pukxaw was a warrior Na’vi from the Anurai clan. He was tall, thin and nearing his elder years, and his personality matched his appearance – he was a dull and stoic Na’vi with little patience. He enjoyed hunting, but your scholarly vows restricted you from using a bow, this seemed to irk him when you meet him at the last clan gathering. To your surprise, once the decision was made for your clans’ mating agreement, you found yourself utterly shocked at the prospect of being bonded with such a bland and unappealing individual.

You couldn’t help but wonder if Ewya, the great mother herself, would have bestowed upon you a mate who possessed patience and the ability to communicate effectively. You longed for a mate who possessed a genuine sense of humour and one who could provide the comfort of a warm embrace when needed. Someone who, above all else, would graciously listen to your thoughts about your people’s rich history. The prospect of being eternally bound to a reserved and disrespectful mate who solely provided you with skins for your labor seemed utterly unappealing.

Glancing over at the grazing Yerik, you immediately noticed a shift in their behavior. They had halted their movements, their eyes fixated in a particular direction. As a show of respect, you lowered your head, but to your growing concern, they continued their unwavering stare. Something felt amiss in the air – the wind turned chilly, and an eerie silence enveloped the surroundings. Your eyes widened as you wondered, ‘Why is it so quiet? Where are the children?’

Panicked, you frantically scanned your surroundings, but your brother and Rìngeay were nowhere to be seen.

“Tsmuke! Srungsi!” Sister help! You heard Häewip scream in the distance. Your heart sank like a stone, and a wave of dread washed over you. They were in danger!

Dropping the sack of meat you sprinted ahead and screamed back, “Tsmukan!” Brother!

You strained your ears intently, hoping for a response, but all you heard were the terrified cries of the two young ones.

With the riata clenched tightly in one hand and the dagger in the other, you prepared yourself for whatever might await you. Realizing you would have to engage the threat at close range, you cautiously advanced towards the source of the whimpering and crying.

As you got closer, the voices grew louder, and a wave of worry washed over you. Regret stirred within you for taking them so far away from safety.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and a cold shiver ran down your spine. Standing before you was a group of individuals unlike any you had ever seen before – no, they were not Na’vi. These were aliens from the stars, the dreaded Uniltìrantokx. Their unusual attire and strange, indecipherable speech sent a chill through your body.

Your heart squeezed tightly as you remembered the dark days of the war, the great battle – a tragic period that had befallen on Pandora fifteen wet seasons ago. The horrors and terror of that day still lingered, leaving emotional scars upon your soul.

Your heart sank further at the excited sound of a female Uniltìrantokx’ voice through the air. “Colonel, look at what we just found, two little blue rats!”

A surge of protectiveness flared within you, watching Häewip bravely threaten the aliens with dire consequences if they harmed “his” Rìngeay. However, his brave act earned him a sharp slap in the face from another Uniltìrantokx. Indignantly, your lip curled in anger at the sight, and a fierce determination surged through you as you plotted to make the offending alien pay for laying a hand on your loved ones.

Your nimble fingers hovered anxiously over the dagger’s hilt, contemplating your next actions. This was unprecedented; you had never confronted such a large number of foes before. Truthfully, fear and uncertainty gnawed at your thoughts, leaving you questioning your ability to overpower them all.

Retreating to Greenhome for help was not an option; the distance would be too great to cover in time. You would have to rely on your own skills and bravery to free your loved ones, and hope that a hasty escape would be possible. The plan was risky, but it was all you had at the moment.

The Uniltìrantokx held sinister-looking tools in their grasp – their dreaded guns. Memories of Toruk Makto, the legendary leader of the Omatikaya, sending these fearsome creatures away flickered through your mind. Rumors had circulated about their potential return to Pandora, yet you had always dismissed them as mere tales to frighten the children before bedtime.

The individual known as the Colonel responded in a dismissive tone, “Just our luck, Walker,” as he swatted away a bug that had landed on his shoulder. He surveyed the surroundings once more, his hand touching his neck, and spoke into a communication device, “Blue Bird, come in. We have what we need. Bring the chopper over here, pronto!”

His eyes scanned the trees and bushes and then he saw it…a whisp of blue. He smirked, he wasn’t surprised these kids would be all alone and so far from their village. This was exactly what he needed… an adult. He saw your numb expression in the bushes, devising an attack. His gaze met yours, and a sinister smile played upon his lips as he aimed his gun directly at you.

“Well hello, hello- Now, why don’t you come out and join us, friend?!” He spat and licked his canines chuckling, “we ain’t gonna hurt ya!”

Your grip on your knife tightened as you cautiously rose from the brush, your heart pounding in your chest. The Colonel gestured toward you, beckoning you closer, his weapon still pointing in your direction. You inched toward the group, and he observed your eyes nervously flicker between all five of the Recom. His smile turned predatory as he noticed your trembling hands and strained tail. He perceived you as an easy target, assuming your fear would render you vulnerable and helpless.

With a calm yet firm voice, you called out, “Lonu fo,” Release them.

Your footsteps moved cautiously around the group, your knife held firmly in your grasp. The Recom knew that your weapon was no match against their bullets. He had already devised plans for you, viewing you as a perfect addition to their plans in store

“Mefo eveng,” they are children, you pleaded, attempting to negotiate with the Colonel. Your body language – the tilting of your head and shrinking of your stance – was a clear sign of your surrender and willingness to cooperate. You desperately hoped that it would evoke a sense of mercy within these creatures, these pretenders.

The Colonel quickly realized that you were relinquishing control, and he noted your worried glances toward the rowdy boy and whimpering girl. He couldn’t help but speculate about you ‘Is she the mother of these two kids?’

 Rìngeay shouted out your name.

“Shut it!” the Uniltìrantokx who was holding her to her knees yelled causing the poor girl to start sobbing in fear.

The Colonel was not surprised seeing how your nostril flared and teeth bared like a wild cat.

He scowled, “Nga kem si ìnglìsì tslam?” Do you understand English?

Your breath came hard and fast, betraying your fear. He advanced toward you, his gun still aimed in your direction, but it was now resting on his hip, rather than held at the ready. He casually scrutinized you from head to toe, his eyes taking in every detail.

“Well?” He drawled.

Your gaze flickered between the children and the Colonel, your heart pounding in your chest. You took a deep breath before uttering, “Let. Them. Go.” The words tasted foreign on your tongue, your mind racing to recall the right terms in English.

A sly smile formed on the Colonel’s face as he revelled in your broken English.

“Let them go,” he mimicked, his voice dripping with condescension. He was taken aback as he felt the cold blade of your dagger pressed firmly against his skin. Clearly, you did not appreciate his attempt at humour. He stared into your eyes, which had widened with anger, and observed the way your teeth were beginning to bare intensely.

“Let them go- now,” You said fluently, “or I take all your lives.”

He admired your confidence. The sound of guns cocking surrounded you both. He huffed softly from the cold bite that came from your dagger.

“You alright boss? This bitch moves we’ll smoke her.”

The Colonel could clearly see the rage burning in your eyes. He recognized the determined glint in your gaze and knew that you were not about to back down. His own golden eyes flickered, betraying his surprise at your fierce perseverance, he grunted, “Stand down. Release the brats. We don’t need ‘em.”

The other interrogators exchanged puzzled glances, clearly unsure of how to react to this unexpected turn of events.

Meanwhile, the Colonel watched with amusement as a look of relief washed over your face when he ordered his companions to release the children.

Your voice rang out, filled with urgency, “Nìwin! Hifwo! Hum! Kä!” Quickly flee! Leave! Go!, you shrieked at the children, urging them to flee to safety.

Your eyes remained locked on the Colonel, listening as the sound of the children’s footsteps faded into the distance as they raced away. The Colonel contemplated sending some of his men after them, back to their village, but he quickly realized the suicide in doing so.

With a pained expression, he felt the sharp blade of your weapon press against his skin, causing a small knick. You hastily pulled back, a look of realization and remorse on your face. In a soft voice, you whispered, “Thankyou.”

He was now impressed by your english and knew what he had to finish today,

He smirked, “You’re a polite one aren’t ya?”

The Colonel couldn’t help but be impressed by your improved command of the English language, but he knew that there was still work to be done.

Suddenly, an Uniltìrantokx stepped up behind you and forcefully twisted your wrist, forcing you to drop your weapon. You cried out in pain as you were struck in the face with the butt of a gun, knocking you to the ground. Blood trickled from an open wound on your forehead, and you instinctively covered your injured eye.

In a swift motion, the Colonel dropped to his knees and forcefully pinned you onto your stomach, restraining your flailing body as you cried out in agony. He cruelly stepped on your tail, intensifying your pain and causing you to howl in torment. Despite your struggle, you frantically tried to claw at his arm, desperate for liberation. A sharp jab pierced your lower back just above your tail, leaving you writhing in pain.

As his grip loosened, you wasted no time in scrambling to escape. You managed to push passed the Colonel and sprinted beyond the tree line, urgently pursuing Häewip and Rìngeay.

The sound of the Colonel’s feet pounding behind you echoed through the forest, filling you with a chilling sense of fear. Your legs and tail throbbed with pain from the numerous scrapes and cuts that littered your body. All you wanted was to reach the safety of home as soon as possible.

With every nimble move, you dodged branches, ducked under hanging limbs, and scrambled across fallen logs, but his relentless pursuit continued to gain on you. Your weary legs grew increasingly numb and your back started to ache from the arduous run.

As you forced yourself to keep moving, your body felt heavier with every step. You were overwhelmed by a wave of nausea and exhaustion, your stomach feeling like it was weighed down by an invisible burden. Unable to continue any longer, you slowed to a stop, preparing to vomit, but instead, you collapsed onto your hands and knees.

With trembling limbs, you tried desperately to crawl away from the approaching footsteps of the Colonel above. Your fingers felt distant and disconnected, while your head buzzed with a dizzying sensation. You emitted a weak cry and tumbled headfirst into a patch of slippery mud.

The figure above you started to move and became a dozen shadows, his voice filled your ears, “Going somewhere sweetheart?”

Your vision grew hazy and your eyelids felt heavy, making it impossible to open them anymore. In your disoriented state, you could only hope that Häewip and Rìngeay had safely returned to the villages.

The Colonel’s lips curled into a sinister smirk as he looked down at your drugged and unconscious form. With ease, he hoisted your body over his shoulder, carrying you effortlessly toward the waiting helicopter.

  To Be Continued....

★HELPLINES★

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers. .

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

[the-apocrypha]

DVD Bonus Features: Fanfic Edition!

I have like 6k of cut scenes from my last fic (the fourth dimension) and many of them were not cut because they were bad, but because they weren't working with the overall story. Seems a shame to let them languish on Google docs. So, for anyone who might be interested - here's two scenes that didn't make the final cut!

<<<>>>

The hourglass is broken. 

The glass is intact, of course, as is the intricate brass housing Dream had spent so many hours bending and curving into symmetrical spirals. It is the spring plate that forms one of the bases—designed to depress slowly as the weight of sand gathers, thereby stretching a miniature steel coil beneath such that it begins to draw back a tiny gilt hammer. When the full weight of sand is upon it, the catch releases, and the hammer strikes the chime. 

Dream had left the mechanism skeletonized, proud of both the ingenuity and the beauty of the gears he had crafted. This is what allows him to see, today, that even though the sand piles upon the spring plate, the hammer remains stationary. The plate is not depressing.

He has migrated to the window for better light and turned the hourglass every which way. The symmetry of the hourglass means that an identical mechanism exists on the other side, for convenient comparison, and it is from this that Dream is hypothesizing that the issue is perhaps with the pinion gear. 

He will not know for certain until he attempts correction. 

And herein lies the problem, for in a masterful stroke of arrogance on his own part: 

The glass is intact. 

His only options now to access the mechanism are to melt the glass, or strategically break it apart, and in either case hope for both minimal damage to the contents and an aesthetically pleasing repair following the—

“What’s wrong, dove?” 

Or rather, what Hob actually says is hǒu is th' problem, culver?, because Dream is standing in the kitchen next to an abandoned bowl of muesli, because it is breakfast, because during breakfast they speak Middle English. Hob is before him, coffee in one hand, breakfast sandwich in the other. 

“It’s broken,” Dream replies. Is brokæ.

“It’s nearly eight,” Hob replies, eyebrows up. 

Dream abruptly sets the hourglass down. 

“So you noticed the Astrid Alarm was broken,” Hob says, as Dream swings the freezer door open and starts shifting ice packs and frozen pizzas about. “And then you didn’t set a different alarm. You didn’t eat your breakfast. You didn’t pack your bag.” 

“This is unhelpful.”

Hob goes quiet as Dream frantically stuffs notebooks into his backpack, then a water bottle (too light, probably empty), the peas, headphones, and a sweater from the back of a chair that is likely not his own. Three binder clips go into his pocket. All he needs is—

He turns to find Hob waiting, Dream’s wallet in one hand, sandwich in the other, meat now removed. 

Dream accepts both, and heads for the windowsill. 

“No kiss?” Hob complains.

The broken hourglass, too, goes into his bag. 

Dream doubles back, cups the side of Hob’s face more for the sake of injury prevention than tenderness, and presses a quick kiss of gratitude where it belongs. 

The hand on his wrist stays him. 

Hob’s fingers fall comfortably between the three watch bands that lie there, his thumb over Dream’s pulse point. 

“Tonight, five o’clock,” Hob reminds him. 

Dream holds up his other arm in reply, where a fourth watch glints golden. 

“Ah, perfect,” Hob says, beaming. “Hob Fob to the rescue.” 

It is one of the many great failures of Dream’s life, that this nickname has persisted. 

“Five,” Dream agrees, and pulls his hand free. “You will be wonderful.” 

“Best in my age group,” Hob agrees proudly, and raises his coffee mug just as Dream turns around to make for the door. The mug is a custom job from the internet a few years ago, chipped in both paint and porcelain, but the original black with white lettering can still be read: 

It does not belong to Hob. 

WORLD’S 

LEAST 

PUNCTUAL 

WATCHMAKER 

<<<>>>

(Originally there was an OC named Astrid that Dream would birdwatch with every morning, and Hob had a piano recital in the evening. Obviously these plot points went, and so the breakfast scene had to be rewritten.)

<<<>>>

A watch does not know the time it tells. 

It cannot feel the sun moving across the sky. It does not know the axis of the Earth, nor the ellipsis of its orbit. It does not reach into the fabric of the universe and pluck divine truth from the red-shift coefficient of the galaxies that hurtle through space as afterthought projectiles of the origin of existence. 

A watch begins with a mainspring—or perhaps a quartz crystal, or microscopic solar panels—but traditionally, a mainspring. This is where the potential energy is stored, to be released as the kinetic energy that will drive the gears to turn the escapement, which is what moves the hands of the watch forward, and would do so without rhythm or reason were it not for the staying hands of the balance wheel. 

The balance wheel is the best part of a watch. The most precise. The most expensive, for the precious gems encrusted upon it that almost entirely eliminate the enemy of constancy: friction. It is what decides the length of a second, for it is what checks the urgency of the marching army of gears that say go go go go go and instead says no. It says, stop. For one thousand milliseconds or one million microseconds or one trillion picoseconds, it holds the entire watch in perfect stillness. 

Then the second hand ticks over. The next interval begins. 

On, and on, and on, and on, it goes. 

<<<>>>

A watch does not know the time it tells. It is a mindless contraption, a work of metal and stone and glass, and it grinds inexorably forward with a steady tick, tick, tick, tick, tick that may at first listen sound like the drumbeats of progress. But listen closer. Listen carefully. 

It is not a ticking that you hear. It is one small gear, striking back against the machine, protesting, crying out again and again: wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

(I liked this little meditation on the nature of watches, but it's a few shades off from my central thesis, and in the end was not needed.)

And that's it! Alas, sometimes good pieces must be sacrificed in the name of a greater project.

[aphrcdites]

summary — rainy sunday headcanons with modern!bf!remus lupin

warnings — not edited or proofread. pure fluff. lowercase intended.

author’s note — i don’t consider myself a writer as i’ve never really written before, but it’s currently raining here & i’ve been thinking about this all day!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

cuddles & staying in.

when you wake up to a rainy sunday, you smile. you get closer to remus (if possible) and bury your face into the crook of his neck. remus, still half asleep, tightens his arms around you.

“morning, m’love,” you whisper.

“morning, baby,” he whispers back. he kisses your temple as greeting.

you both stay in bed, cuddled besides one another, enjoying the peacefulness the rain brings.

baking.

once it becomes a reasonable time to get up, you both do your morning routine and change into sweatpants and hoodies to keep warm.

once done with your routine, you both try to find something to do.

“what if we bake cookies?” you ask, looking at remus.

“sure, dove,” he agrees. making your way to the kitchen, he asks “do we have everything we need?”

you look through the cabinets and fridge, you find that you have all the ingredients you need to make chocolate chip cookies. “yep, we have stuff to make chocolate chips cookies!”

you both get to work, although it’s more like you’re working while remus distracts you. he kisses you, hugs you from behind, whispers sweet nothings (and other things) to your ear.

“let’s dance, dove!” remus says.

“we need music!” you giggle. remus shakes his head and offers you his hand. you gladly take it and begin to sway side to side as remus hums a simple tune.

you could stay like this forever you think.

watching movies.

once you’re done baking (and cleaning a bit), you’ll move to the living room.

“c’mon, dove, let’s watch something!” remus says. you nod your head in agreement.

what you watch can range between scary movies to rom-coms to disney movies. remus usually let’s you choose but occasionally will be in a mood to watch a certain film.

you both lay on the couch, with a blanket over the two of you. you laying on his chest, remus’s arms wrapped around you.

“i love you,” you murmur against his chest.

“i love you more,” remus kisses your head and tightens his arms around you.

a few minutes later, between the movie playing softly, the light noise of the rain outside, and remus’s heartbeat, you fall asleep peacefully.

remus looks down to see you’ve fallen asleep. he smiles softly and kisses your head. he, too, closes his eyes and, after a few minutes, falls asleep. his last thought before completely falling asleep is i could stay like this forever.

[eclipian]

Bubble Tea Subsystem

pt: bubble tea subsystem

reminder beings will almost definitely not turn out exactly as described, and these can be edited and changed as needed.

number of members: 3

divider credit + divider credit

" Life is like a cup of bubble tea: sweet, exciting, and full of surprises. "

System Name: The Boba Shop , Boba Bubbles , Bobba System* , Tea System* (*collective / plural)

Collec. Name: Alice , Opal , Tiffinay , Violet , Adeline , Annabeth , Charlotte , Trista , Rosemary , Vanessa

Collec. Pronouns: She/Her , Shy/Hyr , Sh♡/H♡r , Sh🧋/H🧋r , Sh🍵/H🍵r , Sh☕/H☕r , Ae/Aer , Cae/Caer , Dae/Daer , Fe/Fir , Fem/Femmes , Ge/Gir , Bub/Bubble , Boba/Bobas , Tea/Teas , Milk/Milks , ♡/♡s , 🧋/����s , 🍵/🍵s , ☕/☕s

Collec. Gender: Hologirl , Femme , Bubbleteanix , Teagender , Strawchabobaic , Strawbscentic , Genderteaparty , Mateaic , Brewlexic , Porcelaineic , Teaic ,

Collec. Attraction: Queerbian , Grejectum , Mangerum

Collec. Other ID: Artificial Strawberry Scent , Strawberry Scent , Teaxper , Teavior , Pinkvior

Origins/Modifiers: Willopartnergenic

Aesthetics: Cottagecore , Spring , Lovecore , Coffee House/Cafe

Name — Pronouns — Identity — Species — Role(s)

Lilly, Melody, Esther, Aura — She/Soft/Love/Tea — Demigirl , Shapeshifterdollic Dollshifter Anishift Simanic , Conceptum — Shapeshifter — Host/Outernaut Chef

Syren, Mermi, Lake, Selki — She/Mer/Maid/Water — Girlspike , Mermaidcoric Mergender Merlady Merfolkmesta , Aroacespike Lesbian — Mermaid — Caregiver

Alouette, Dove, Canary, Luna — She/Wing/Chips/🕊️ — Girlby , Parrofemorine Parrotkissic Parrotic Parrohonum Avilovic , Neptunic — Parrot Harpy — Comedian

tags: @bahtive & @drowntowns

[defjux]

50 of my favorite Hip Hop releases of 2023 i know it's a few months late, but i'm still posting this for whoever might find it useful. maybe there's something on here that went under the radar for you, or something from earlier in the year that you mightve forgotten about. the albums titles are all hyperlinked to the bandcamp or spotify page where you can hear them. i could also do a list for non hip hop albums from 2023 if anyone would be interested in seeing that. as always, i also want to know what your favorite releases were & what came out last year that's still in rotation for you? i'm talking any genre, not just hip hop. let me know! Chart with album titles included

billy woods & Kenny Segal - Maps

Aesop Rock - Integrated Tech Solutions

Armand Hammer - We Buy Diabetic Test Strips

MIKE - Burning Desire

AKAI SOLO - Only The Strong Remain

Fatboi Sharif & Steel Tipped Dove - Decay

King Kashmere & Alecs Delarge - The Album To End All Alien Abductions

Blockhead - The Aux

Aj Suede & Televangel - Parthian Shots

Sunmundi & Āthmaan - Midnight Oil

McKinley Dixon - Beloved! Paradise! Jazz!?

Theravada & Zoomo - Waste Management

KILLVONGARD - Life Is a Masterpiece.

Skech185 & Jeff Markey - He Left Nothing for the Swim Back

Onry Ozzborn - BlvckBeachBoi

Defcee & Messiah Musik - The Golem of Brooklyn Original Soundtrack

R.A.P. Ferreira - LILAC DIESEL

Unsung - Hand Painted Model Trains

Stik Figa & The Expert - Ritual

Anwar HighSign & Giallo Point - Whatever The Case May Be

Mary Sue & psychedelic ensemble. - CACOPHONOUS DIGRESSIONS

King Vision Ultra - SHOOK WORLD

Jack Jetson & Illinformed - CAMOGODSKIN

spectacular diagnostics - Raw Lessons

Bloodblixing - Sodom And Gomorrah (Gangsta Edition)

Backwoodz Studioz - High Bias

Fly Anakin & Foisey - Skinemaxxx

yungmorpheus - From Whence It Came

Earl Sweatshirt - Voir Dire

Ja'king the Divine & Javi Darko - Fear & Loathing In Long Island

Tomcantsleep & KILLVONGARD - The Sun is Yellow

Oddisee - To What End

Onoe Caponoe - Concrete Fantasia

Lukah - Permanently Blackface (The 1st Expression)

Open Mike Eagle - another triumph of ghetto engineering

Real Bad Man & Blu - Bad News

El Michels Affair & Black Thought - Glorious Game

Danny Brown - Quaranta

H31R - HeadSpace

Zilla Rocca & Jason Griff - Stacking Chips

Navy Blue - Ways of Knowing

Wiki & Tony Seltzer - 14K Figaro

Supastition - Every Last Word

Noname - sUndIAl

Skyzoo & The Other Guys - The Mind of A Saint

Nappy Nina - Mourning Due

G's Us - WHAT THEM DOGS DON'T KNOW THEY KNOW

illingsworth - i'm not supposed to be here

Jehst - Mork Calling Orson

Budamunk & Ill Conscious - Sakanoue

[raccoonfallsharder]

Day 24: Giftwrap

smut ♡ (day 24 ~ lingerie) 18+ only • Word Count: 6,383 Summary: semi-shy, ultrafeminine reader goes shopping with friends, picks out something nice for rocket. [minimal editing; no use of y/n.] silly sweet smutty fuckin nonsense. undressing, dirty talk, mild bondage. slight degradation/praise & use of slut/whore (affectionate). ♡ during kinktober we say "fuck everything - including plot.” ♡

mcu-rocket-based (post volume 3) but headcanon this however you want my doves ♡

based on day 24 of @flightlessangelwings’ Kinktober 2023 Prompt List banner created by @the-purity-pen ♡♡♡

The vendor’s cart is like a tardis, you think, or Mary Poppins’ bottomless bag.

You’re amazed at what fits in this space: clouds of chiffon dyed in Indigarran ombré, shimmering stacks of Spartaxian silk. Frail, frivolous underthings with buckles and ribbons and the tiniest little rhinestones.

“I’m kind of afraid he’s gonna think it’s silly,” you tell Mantis and Nebula.

Mantis’ brow creases and she frowns. It’s an adorable expression and it makes one corner of your mouth quirk up in spite of your anxiety. “Why would he think that?”

You shrug helplessly. “He doesn’t seem to care much what I’m wearing, as long as he can get it off me quickly.”

read more on ao3 ♡ lingerie read Day 20: Tech ♡ sex toys read Days 18 and 19: Good Dreams ♡ dacryphilia & somnophilia read Day 17: Triptych ♡ praise read Day 15: Sunshine ♡ against a wall read Day 14: Soft ♡ nipple/tit play read Day 13: Proof ♡ recording read Day 12: Heavy Artillery ♡ gunplay read Day 11: Nod for Yes ♡ blindfold read Day 9: Practice ♡ hunter/prey read Day 8: Turbulence ♡ cockwarming

@evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @pretty-chips ♡ @suicidalshitstick

[quackerzzz]

(Edit: updated the drawing because I didn't like how the previous one looked)

And now for the most controversial of the Rogues and one of my favorites (when he's not written as a pedo rapist), The Mad Hatter

Backstory under the cut (TW: Child death, psychological abuse, addiction metaphors)

Jervis Edwin Tetch was born to Temple and Lorina Tetch in Britain. When he was 6, his mother left his father for another man and they moved away to America. Later, his father married one Beverly Tockman and he got a half brother named William.

When he was older, he became an elementary school teacher who loved to teach children all about science. Particularly, he loved to teach about how the brain worked. He was fond of all his students and they were fond of him, in particular a young girl named Caroline Lewis. Jervis was almost like a father to her, and she admired him a lot. She'd always stay after class to learn more about his lessons.

Not everything good can last however. Jervis, always fascinated by the brain, would start looking into ways to control it. He worked day and night on tiny playing cards with chips, which would scramble a person's brain waves and allow them to be controlled by a special band worn by another. He mostly worked on this project from home, but decided one day to work on it while after class. Caroline, unaware of this, went to visit her favorite teacher like normal. However, her surprise visit startled Jervis and caused him to mess up the circuitry of the band, causing a small fire which soon grew. Jervis, panicked and not thinking of Caroline, dove out the window.

When he remembered this, it was already too late. The fire had already spread through the building quickly, so quickly that most of the teachers and students who were on lunch break did not notice until it was too late. Jervis was one of only 23 who survived the fire.

Although Jervis was never charged with anything due to the event being an accident, he would suffer horrid nightmares and symptoms of PTSD and survivor's guilt. He could not get over Caroline and so many other children's deaths, spending nights sleepless and days lying around the house. William, concerned for his brother, would decide to set him up with a highly recommended Arkham doctor by the name of Hugo Strange.

Unknown to William, Hugo would subject his patients to experimental technology of his own design, taking certain memories and erasing or altering them to his liking. At first, he only altered Jervis's memory so that he wouldn't remember that he left Caroline behind. It worked like a charm for a bit, but soon Jervis found himself coming back. More and more memories were erased and altered, even ones that had nothing to do with the fire. Soon, dates and his interests started being taken from him, his hair was starting to turn blonde, but he still starting going back for more. Bill protested against this, seeing how it started to negatively affect his brother, but Jervis simply dismissed him.

Soon there was nothing left of Tetch to take.

The Mad Hatter was missing his Alice. He didn't remember where she was, but he knew he did something that made her disappear. So using his magic hat, he began to search for his Alice. He found a girl like her, and used his magic hat to make her play with him forever. But then the Jabberwocky found him, and he was locked away in a big comfy white box.

It's okay though. He eventually broke out and did the whole thing again. And he met his other friends too, like the March Hare and Dormouse. Although, one of them, the White Rabbit, always calls him by the wrong name. He keeps telling him that he's remembering things wrong, but that's just silly. Silly White Rabbit!

[musingsofametamorphosis]

Okay, so I thought this would be fun to look back on next year! I had the thought to fill out all of our fave things/what were liking at this current moment and time, with some 'this or that's also. Think of it kinda like a myspace survey bc those were soooo fun to do. I'm going to cut and paste the questions twice with our names, and we can both edit this post and add our answers. HOW FUN :)

Kara

Favorites: 1. color- purple or blue I can’t pick 😭 2. season- harddddd but fall 3. drink- tea 4. savory food- steak 5. sweet food- chocolate in any form 6. dessert- hot chocolate with whip atm 7. celebrity male&female- cillian murphy & female is HARDDDD to chose. Too many omg. Maybe Rachel McAdams or the Olsen twins and their sister Elizabeth. Or I like Amy Adams. Shit too many. 8. movies- Minority Report, Matrix are some of the first to come to mind. 9. shows- Peaky Blinders, Dexter, Fleabag, Will & Grace 10. musicians- Leonard Cohen 11. song- Bad Memories-Meduza 12. dream vacation- Swiss Alps 13. activity/hobby- Reading 14. guilty pleasures- sweets 🍭 15. scent- Vanilla 16. comfort things- pajamas 17. clothing item- sweatshirt 18. app- Libby 19. shower/beauty products- Raw Sugar 20. actor & actress- same as celebs 21. restaurant- brazeiros 22. coffee/drink order- chai latte 23. animal- Wolf or Lion 24. flower type- Rose 25. holiday- Halloween 26. number- 17 27. day of the week- Sunday 28. room in the house- My bedroom or by the fire 29. ice cream flavor- Black Raspberry Chip 30. pizza toppings- tomato banana peppers olive 31. book(s)- Bear and the Nightingale 32. place to shop- Vendors Village 33. sunny day activity- Walking a trail 34. rainy day activity- listening to it from bed 35. plans to have for the day- Family park day

THIS or THAT:

Vanilla or chocolate? Vanilla Sweet or salty? Sweet Sour or spicy? Sour Chicken or beef? Chicken Hot chocolate or coffee? Hot choc Beach or mountains? Mountains Hiking or swimming? Swimming Ketchup or mustard? Mustard Hotel or Airbnb? Hotel Dogs or cats? Dogs Phone call or texting? Text Bath or shower? Shower Giving or recieving? Giving Delivery or dine in? Dine in Tacos or sushi? Tacos Movies or tv show? Movie Long hair or short hair? Short Gold or silver jewelry? Gold Visit future or go back in time? Backkkkkk Be too cold or be too hot? Too hot Lose your phone or lose your wallet? Lose wallet Be a mind reader or have photographic memory? Mind reader Play arcade games or board games? Board Be a celebrity or MEET your fave celeb? Meet Free clothes forever or free beauty products? Clothes Morning or evening? Evening Indoor or outdoor? Outdoor Plane to another country or cruise to another? Plane Inner tubing or jetskiing? Inner tube Visit ancient monuments or art museums? Ancient monument Be a fast swimmer or fast runner?fast runner Read minds or be able to fly? Read minds Lose your eyesight or lose your hearing? Lose hearing Vintage style or modern style? Vintage Cook or clean? Clean Live in africa or live in europe? Honestly depends what country! tea on the balcony or lemonade in the garden? Lemonade in garden ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Courtney

Favorites: 1. color- blue 2. season- fall, spring comes in 2nd 3. drink- Dr Pepper 4. savory food- spaghetti and garlic bread 5. sweet food- chocolate 6. dessert- cookies 7. celebrity male&female- Billie eillish, Theo James, brad Pitt, Dermot kennedy, Megan fox, Selena Gomez, Gordon Ramsay 8. movies- coraline, the notebook, Cinderella story 9. shows- tell me lies & mandalorian 10. musicians- Billie & tate mcrae 11. song- birds of a feather & chihiro 12. dream vacation- Ireland 13. activity/hobby- reading and coloring 14. guilty pleasures- lots of sweets 15. scent- vanilla 16. comfort things- fireplace videos & hot showers 17. clothing item- crewneck sweatshirt & fuzzy socks 18. app- TikTok 19. shower/beauty products- dove bar soap, castor oil, laneige lip mask, argan oil for hair 20. actor & actress- grace van patten & Theo James 21. restaurant- Jersey mikes, Maira Mediterranean 22. coffee/drink order- iced blondie w oat milk and extra shot 23. animal- monkeys and bears 24. flower type- lily 25. holiday- birthdays 26. number- 333 27. day of the week- Wednesday 28. room in the house- Scarlett’s room 29. ice cream flavor- buckeye blitz 30. pizza toppings- sausage onion black olive 31. book(s)- dowry of blood 32. place to shop- target, tj maxx, vendors village 33. sunny day activity- a walk or poolside 34. rainy day activity- good snacks & comfort film 35. plans to have for the day- getting a fun drink, going thrifting w Scarlett, sandwich for lunch

THIS or THAT:

Vanilla or chocolate? Chocolate Sweet or salty? Sweet Sour or spicy? Spicy Chicken or beef? Beef Hot chocolate or coffee? Coffee Beach or mountains? Mountains Hiking or swimming? Hiking Ketchup or mustard? Mustard Hotel or Airbnb? Airbnb Dogs or cats? Cats Phone call or texting? Text Bath or shower? Shower Giving or recieving? Giving Delivery or dine in? Dine in Tacos or sushi? Tacos Movies or tv show? Movies Long hair or short hair? Long Gold or silver jewelry? Silver Visit future or go back in time? Back Be too cold or be too hot? Cold Lose your phone or lose your wallet? Wallet Be a mind reader or have photographic memory? Mind reader Play arcade games or board games? Board games Be a celebrity or MEET your fave celeb? Meet Free clothes forever or free beauty products? Clothes Morning or evening? Mornings Indoor or outdoor? Outdoor Plane to another country or cruise to another? Cruise Inner tubing or jetskiing? Jet ski Visit ancient monuments or art museums? Monument Be a fast swimmer or fast runner? Runner Read minds or be able to fly? Flying Lose your eyesight or lose your hearing? Hearing Vintage style or modern style? Vintage Cook or clean? Cook Live in africa or live in europe? Europe tea on the balcony or lemonade in the garden? Tea on balcony

[wondereads]

Weekly Reading Update (04/08/24)

Reviews and thoughts under the cut!

Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut (8/10)

I don’t know if I’d say this book was enjoyable; it’s non-linear and doesn’t really build up to much. However, it is an incredibly strong piece of commentary on the horrors of war as well as many other social issues. While I didn’t enjoy it as a story, I thought it was an amazing dissertation and did something very interesting with the sci-fi elements.

The Lost Heir by Tui T. Sutherland (9/10)

This is a really strong book, one that kind of politics-heavy for a children's series and is narrated by an interesting but distinctly flawed character. This one is from Tsunami's perspective who, if I remember correctly, was my favorite of the dragonets, often tied with Glory. The worldbuilding in this series continues to be pretty amazing, and the pacing is good as well. I do wish it was clarified how old these dragons would be as humans because it sounds really weird when you're trying to marry off your six-year-old to your advisor, but the dragonets tend to act more like teens than young children.

Trickster’s Queen by Tamora Pierce (9/10)

This was a strong conclusion to this duology; the way things are wrapped up on the political side do it quite well considering the real-world reflections. I liked this book for a reason I like a lot of Pierce books, which is that she doesn't shy away from the day-to-day struggles of larger conflicts. It's not all huge battles and coups, it's slowly chipping away at a regime's stability through small signs of resistance, dissemination of information, and driving wedges in the ruling class. The characters are really strong, establishing a huge cast very well, especially on the romance side with Aly and Nawat. Dove is an amazing character, and as a reader, despite her age, I could see her being an accomplished queen.

House of Crimson Hearts by Ruby Roe (18+) (CR, 13%)

I was not anticipating a sex scene within the first two chapters of this book, but I'm not complaining. I really like that this sapphic romantasy is being unabashedly sexual, something queer books can struggle to get out there. Plotwise I'm not quite sure what the long-term goal is, but I find Octavia and her backstory very interesting.

To Gaze Upon Wicked Gods by Molly X. Chang (CR, 11%)

So far I'm kind of neutral on this book. The worldbuilding draws me in, as does some of the complex relationships being built up. On the other hand, it feels like there's a bit of info-dumping going on. Instead of weaving information into the narration, there are lumps of explanation that are inserted practically every other paragraph, which is sort of slowing things down for me right now.

Mystery Editing Stuff

I'm mostly just putting this here for my own tracking purposes, but I'm really excited to start talking about this book once it become generally available.

[urdeadpoet]

I ANSWERED THEM ALL CUZ IM IMPATIENT

angel - what’s your dream job? an actress <3 :))

swan - who’s your celebrity crush? bella rasmey, mikey madison, louis patridge, a LOT more

sea - five countries you would like to visit? italy, france, spain, canada, germany

star - what’s your favorite y2k movie? 13 going 30 and legally blonde

love - what’s your favorite aesthetic? dark coquette, downtown girl (i have more but i cant think of any rn)

sleepy - which are your favorite apps? pintrest, tiktok, spotify and tumble <3

earth - which continent are you from? USA :((

dove - pic of you. no thank you <3

sweet - what’s your favorite ice cream flavor? im a strawberry and mint choclate chip kinda girl

chanel - what’s your clothing style? comfy, downtown, oversized, dark colors

waffle - are you shy or outgoing? depends on who im with

tulip - cities you think that people should visit in your country. san Francisco and ny

home - what’s your favorite quarantine dish? grilled cheese

melody - what’s your favorite music genre? rock or pop

magic - what’s your favorite greek goddess/god? hades

cottage - what’s your favorite fruit? strawberries and green grapes

bee - what’s the last concert you went to? david grey

vanilla - what’s the next language you want to learn? spanish (know some of it) and french

cloud - what you most want to do after quarantine? im out of it sooo idk

sky - rainy days or sunny days? rainy

rose - do you want to get married? yes

moon - what’s your zodiac sign? aries

cutie - do you have any pets? 2 dogs 1 cat and im planning on getting a hamster soon

sunset - what’s your next goal? get clothing i feel fit my personality/i genuinely like

space - what’s your favorite planet? jupiter, Neptune, or earth (depends tho)

book - how’s life right now? shit but i cant wait till summer (i hate the heat but theirs no school sooo that's a win for me)

cozy - recommend us a tv show. arcane on netflix

letter - what’s your favorite barbie movie? Barbie in a Mermaid Tale

blue - what’s your favorite animal? dogs, cats, and hamsters

night - which are your hobbies? watching edits, martial arts, ice skating, baking, writing, painting, talking shit abt rude people and sleeping