#plus a few days of work in between + tutoring

[aloyssobek]

first day back doing crt work tomorrow...i'm not excited i am a little nervous but i'm hoping that it's a good day at the very least

[soul-controller]

It All Comes Out In The Wash

Happy Pride! Based on the poll results, y'all are torn between this story and Streamer to Streamer: Pride... so, I'll be posting both of them this month. The other story will be coming in a week or two, so stay tuned.

Whenever Theo Hastings had a rough day at work, there was nothing that could brighten up his spirits than some retail therapy. Although working in retail himself might have dissuaded him from stepping foot inside another retail establishment until his next shift, the 25-year-old stocker felt differently as it provided a much needed sense of relaxation. Without a manager hounding him to put things away at a breakneck speed 24/7, he now had the ability to roam aisles at his own pace and just waste time as cheery pop songs softly echoed from the shop’s speakers. Plus, there truly seemed to be nothing that could rival the thrill he felt of swiping his debit card and seeing “transaction approved” flash on the screen – not only due to his poor finances and the worry of getting rejected but getting to walk away with a bag full of items in tow.

So as Theo stood in front of the thrift store, whose weathered sign looked like it too had been thrifted, the man’s lips pulled back into a slight smile. With 30 minutes left to go still before his and his boyfriend’s to-go dinner order was ready at a restaurant inside the same plaza, he pushed aside the slight aching of his muscles and finally entered the shop.

Instantly, the man’s senses were assaulted by the atmosphere of the shop. Despite having a cozy style with the antiqued decor that surrounded the endless racks of clothing, the space was incredibly cluttered and the scent of mothballs so prominent that Theo could instantly feel the rumblings of a migraine begin to emerge. He refused to be deterred from his mission though, looking around and smiling before beginning to venture into the tight aisles of clothing.

Theo simply meandered through the aisles, his fingers unstoppable as they brushed against the various fabrics until he found something that spoke to him. Although he had nothing really in mind, the decision of stopping into the shop was due to his newfound desire to revitalize his wardrobe. After spending so much time in the same size since his college days, fraternity gear, khaki shorts, and Aeropostale had been all he had needed for the past few years. But as he found himself beginning to grow out of them due to the increased muscle mass occurring due to his physically-demanding job, Theo figured this would be the best way to freshen up his style without needing to pay hundreds of dollars.

Additionally, the man couldn’t deny that he was on a mission to find things that could potentially spice things up with Peter, his boyfriend of 5 years. Back in college, the duo had seemed like a couple pulled straight out of a fairy tale (or the fantasies of gay men everywhere) – a frat bro who fell in love with a meek, average-looking Engineering nerd. They had first met when Theo needed tutoring help with his courses, but those late-night study sessions soon divulged into drunken hangouts turned makeout sessions.

That time in their lives had been the source of many eventful and exciting days (and nights) together, but as the time since those days grew, the spontaneous and exciting days disappeared and were replaced with a comfortable routine. Part of this was due to their intense jobs, with Theo climbing the retail ladder slowly but surely as Peter was working every weekday at an engineering firm – leaving them both utterly exhausted by the time they got home to do anything more than cook dinner and watch TV together. But despite the sad state of their relationship currently, Theo wasn’t willing to give up just yet.

So as he browsed the shop, the man’s eyes darted around as he aimed to find any sort of attire that could potentially turn his boyfriend on and spice things in the bedroom via some roleplay. He had known that Peter had a bit of a thing for leather, so as his eyes landed on a sleek leather jacket, Theo thought that he had landed on the jackpot. He pulled it off the rack and admired it, noticing how the smooth, cool material was a stark contrast to his rough, calloused hands. "This could definitely work," he thought, slipping it on and feeling an immediate boost in confidence.

He continued to sift through the racks, picking out a few more pieces that caught his eye and made his horny mind imagine scenarios – a handmade pair of denim booty shorts, a vintage band t-shirt, and a chunky knitted sweater. As he looked at the items in his arms, he instantly imagined the scenarios required for him to wear such items: a classic stripper outfit that would work with his mesh neon crop top from one of their Pride festival forrays, a shirt to go with the leather jacket and create a domineering “daddy” image, and something that could go with his reading glasses and give his boyfriend another “nerd” to mess around with respectively.

With his arms full of potential new outfits, Theo headed to the dressing room. He closed the door behind him, the tiny space feeling even smaller with the pile of clothes he had accumulated. Upon taking off the leather jacket and setting it with the other clothes, the man finally began to undress down to his underwear. For a moment, Theo simply stared at his reflection – taking into account his current physique. Although his physique wasn’t as well-sculpted due to his intense days of working out and dieting back in college, it was clear that the man was still in solid shape. His gym regime had grown a bit lax due to his aforementioned tiredness from work, but luckily his job kept him quite active from lifting heavy boxes and putting items on shelves day in and day out. So even with the nagging restlessness and guilt that gnawed at him, the man wasn’t mad at all at what he saw in the mirror.

As he tried on the different items, Theo’s excitement only grew as he saw how well the items fit him. Although he had already tried on the jacket prior to arriving in the dressing room, he did it again after putting on the vintage band t-shirt, lifting up his arms and flexing to watch the thick leather curve around his solid biceps. Oh yeah, this would be great for Peter, he thought to himself, smirking as he felt a sense of excitement. This seemed like the right decision – something that would finally reignite the spark that life had dimmed between himself and his boyfriend.

With his boyfriend in mind and his excitement continuing to grow, Theo couldn’t resist pulling out his phone and taking a few pictures of himself in the mirror. He knew that Peter would love it, so why not give him a tease of what he had planned for him?

"Hey babe, what do you think?" Theo typed before attaching the photos. Right before he pressed on the send button, he hesitated for a moment before deciding to add something a bit more playful. “Thinking of wearing this tonight ;)”

He hit send and while waiting for a response, opted to continue trying on the rest of the clothes. A few minutes later while he was trying on the chunky knitted sweater, his phone buzzed. In an instant, Theo's heart skipped a beat, causing him to rush to his device to see his partner’s response. But as he clicked on the message and began to read it, his excitement quickly deflated.

"Looks good. Are you coming home soon with our dinner?"

Theo sighed, feeling a wave of frustration wash over him. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, his annoyance evident in his furrowed brow and stern expression. "That’s it? That’s all he had to say?!" he muttered to himself. He had hoped for something more: a flirty response or compliment… ANYTHING that would show Peter’s interest and continued attraction to him.

With his excitement deflated, Theo glumly began to undress and put his original clothes back on. What was the point in continuing when he couldn’t get his boyfriend to show any sort of interest? As he stuffed the clothing back onto their hangers and left them in the dressing room, the melancholic man was on the verge of tears while he made his way towards the entrance of the shop. He felt like an idiot for trying to spice things up just for his boyfriend to coldly reject his advances. In his mind,  the desperate man found himself wishing and praying endlessly to have that spark return to their relationship. All he wanted was a boyfriend that thirsted for him and made an effort. Was that really too much to ask?

With his mind set towards making a beeline towards the front door, Theo turned partially to the side before beginning to shimmy down the aisles – altering his stance to prevent his broad shoulders from ending up at odds with the congested aisles of clothing. Despite this, his fingers still once again began to graze against the fabric of countless outfits. As he did this, the man was suddenly feeling transfixed by the different consistencies that brushed against his fingertips – from the scratchy texture of old polo shirts to satin dress shirts.

But as the door was mere feet away, the retail employee stopped dead in his tracks as a sudden static shock hit his finger and caused his entire body to tingle. Upon gasping and shaking his hand in hopes of ridding it of its numb tingles, Theo turned in order to figure out what it was that shocked him. As his eyes lingered on the clothes rack and watched one article of clothing swaying back and forth on its hanger, he quickly pushed the other clothes to the side to give it a good inspection.

To Theo’s amusement, the item that awaited him was not one of significant monetary or aesthetic value – it was simply a used white undershirt. The concept of being shocked by the standard cotton fabric was quite amusing to the man, which caused him to reach out and begin to touch the fabric. But as soon as his fingers fully grasped onto the article of clothing, a sudden tingle coursed through his body. He suddenly froze, both hands still touching the fabric. Then, out of nowhere, a deep, resonant voice whispered in his ear.

“Buy the shirt, Theo. It will feel so good to wear it.”

Instantly, the man turned around wondering if someone was playing some bizarre joke on him. Unlike his own Midwestern accent, the voice that spoke to him seemed vastly different – sounding almost Middle-Eastern. Yet as he looked around for the culprit, he found himself alone in the cramped aisle. The voice had been so clear, so intense that it felt like it was whispered directly into his ear like a secret. Unsurprisingly, Theo hesitated for a moment, wondering if he was going crazy from a long day at work and just imagining things.

Theo’s hand trembled slightly as he lifted the shirt off the hook and continued to touch it. The fabric felt warm and inviting, almost as if it was calling out to him. He glanced around once more, his mind racing with questions. Was he going crazy? Was the voice real? If it was, why did it want him to buy it so badly?

Against his better judgment, Theo looked at the tag on the collar. Size XL, the same size he wore in all of his clothes. His fingers moved down the shirt until they found the price tag hanging – which revealed a price of only $3. Feeling oddly intrigued by the item, Theo draped the undershirt over his arm and walked to the checkout counter. He could feel the weight of the mysterious voice's command with every step.

As the cashier rang up the purchase, Theo’s mind buzzed with anticipation and a hint of fear. He had no idea what awaited him (if anything) once he put on the shirt, but something deep inside urged him to obey the voice's words. Upon handing over $3 and some change, the man reasoned that it was a worthy purchase no matter what. Even if he had simply imagined a voice and the shirt was nothing more than a piece of fabric, the item would still find a use for the man due to his innate desires to get back into the gym. With a second-hand shirt like this, he could feel no shame drenching it in immense levels of sweat as it found a new purpose.

Once he was handed a receipt, the man gave a slight nod before exiting the thrift shop. With each step Theo made towards his car, he found himself slowly being broken out of the intense spell that clouded his mind. Although he still had an innate desire to wear the shirt gnawing deep within him, the man’s slight germaphobia returned to remind him of the dangers of wearing second-hand attire. There could be countless types of bacteria or scents associated with the item, so as he headed towards the restaurant to pick up food, he reasoned the best way to quell his concerns was to put it in the laundry first. Then, once it was perfectly clean and ready to be worn, he’d put it on and figure out what would happen once it was finally on his muscular physique…

* * * * *

Despite being a highly affectionate and needy individual, Peter Thompson was relieved to wake up alone on Saturday morning. As he got up and made his way into the bathroom to relieve himself, the nerdy man yawned and thought mournfully about the previous night’s events. The status of his relationship with his boyfriend Theo had been feeling increasingly rocky over the past few months, but nothing compared to the explosive argument that occurred that evening. Upon arriving home with the couple’s food in hand (along with a small bag from a nearby thrift shop), Theo’s eyes stared daggers into Peter’s soul as they sat at the table across from each other in silence. It was clear that the nerd had done something to upset the man, but he had no idea what it could be.

Upon bringing the intense stares and wondering what he had done to upset his boyfriend, Peter sat in awe as his boyfriend instantly snapped and began complaining about their relationship. Instead of being loving and affectionate partners, the handsome muscular man coldly stated that they felt more like roommates who just happened to share a bed. Although Peter loved to view things with rose-colored glasses, he wasn’t oblivious to their evolving relationship as it became less and less sexually or emotionally intimate. He had become completely consumed by his projects at his engineering firm, which left him feeling like a shell of himself by the time he got home.

As Peter attempted to explain this away and state that was just how relationships evolve over time, Theo grew increasingly frustrated at the young man’s apparent complacency. From there, the civilized dinner devolved into a screaming match that ended with Theo and Peter both staying on opposite ends of the apartment and wondering whether this relationship was something they still wanted to fight for. Despite Peter’s apparent laissez-faire attitude, the notion of disappointing his boyfriend so severely gnawed at him and left him with a deep pit in his stomach. He felt incredibly upset and desperate to figure it out, but opted to just give them both the remainder of the night to cool down before engaging again.

Upon finishing both his trip to the bathroom and journey through the previous night’s events, Peter returned to the bedroom and checked his phone. It was there that he saw a text waiting for him from his boyfriend.

Theo: Went into work early, needed more time apart. Let’s talk once I’m home. Love you

Instantly, Peter’s heart broke as he read the last part of the man’s message – mourning for the usual blue heart emoji that was intentionally kept from signing off the text. It hurt him intensely to imagine the fallout of their relationship ending, wondering how living together for the remainder of the lease would work and how their shared friend group would be shattered as the friends were undoubtedly forced to choose sides. It was too much to think about, so he opted to find something to distract himself.

As he looked at some of the couples’ clothes strewn across the floor, the concept of doing some laundry sounded like a good way to take his mind off of things. He could start a load before going to make some breakfast, then switch from the washer and dryer as he opted to clean more of the apartment to try and forget about the soul-crushing fight.

He grabbed onto the various articles of clothing and began to make his way towards the bathroom, stopping himself from throwing the items into the laundry basket upon seeing Theo’s plastic bag from the previous night resting atop of the other clothes already there. Using one arm to grab the bag out, Peter then used the other to dump the other clothes into the basket. As he used both hands to finally pull open the bag, the man was confused to find that his boyfriend’s thrifting haul was solely composed of a used white undershirt.

He reached down to pull it out of the bag, nearly losing control as his fingers grazed against the fabric and caused a full-body chill to travel down his spine. Upon rolling his shoulders and attempting to get ahold of himself, Peter then reached in and pulled the item out and watched the loose bag hover down to the floor.

For a moment, the man simply observed the piece of clothing – noticing its slightly worn quality but finding no noticeable stains or tears. Overall, it looked like a normal piece of clothing – at least it did until the Middle Eastern voice began to speak to him.

“Yes, that’s right, Peter. It feels good, doesn’t it? Put it on.”

As the deep husky accented voice echoed through his mind, Peter froze as his heart began to race. He looked around the bathroom, half expecting to see someone standing there but finding himself completely alone. While Peter gasped and attempted to compose himself, the voice persisted as it spoke incredibly calm yet commanding.

“Peter, put it on. You must!”

Peter shook his head, trying to clear the fog of confusion that plagued his mind. "What’s going on? Who are you?" he whispered, feeling somewhat foolish for talking to what seemed like thin air.

"My name is Fadelellah," the voice replied. "I don’t know how else to say this, so I’ll come right out with it. I’m dead – I’ve been dead since 1994. For decades, I have been trapped in this shirt. Now please, put on the shirt and help me. I’m begging you!”

Peter hesitated, his rational mind at war with his innate curiosity about this bizarre trick being plagued on him. This had to be some kind of joke, it was either Theo playing some sort of trick on him or he was on the verge of a mental breakdown in the aftermath of their fight. Yet no matter how desperate he was to find a logical reason behind the mysterious voice, he had no way of explaining away how realistic the voice sounded to him. Not only did it sound so real, but the young man couldn’t help but notice the tone of desperation that coated the ominous words.

"Why should I? I have no idea who you are! Hell, I don’t even know if this is real or I’m just having a goddamn breakdown" Peter exclaimed, his voice trembling.

“Believe me Peter, I’m completely real,” Fadelellah said, “I’ve been replaying my death on a loop for decades, waiting for an opportunity for a second chance. I think that could be you…”

In response, a shiver coursed down the man’s spine as he tried to imagine such a cruel fate – not only trapped as an inanimate object but forced to recall his final moments nonstop. “But, why do you think I’m the one who can help you? How am I supposed to help?”

“I’ve been waiting for someone like you – someone who struggles with their life and wishes for something better. What if I told you that I could fix all of that? All you need to do is let me share a body with you and we’ll be unstoppable. All you have to do is put the shirt on.”

For a moment Peter hesitated, unwilling to make a decision as he attempted to comprehend what was being said to him. This random man wanted to share his body with him? That sounded like a horrible idea. Plus, how was he supposed to trust that this wasn’t some trick that would cause him to become a passenger of his own body? Hell, he couldn’t help but think about Theo as well – wondering about how a relationship would work with him having to deal with a boyfriend that had two souls sharing control. What if this Fadelellah guy was straight and tried to break him up with Theo?

As if the spirit was reading his thoughts, the disembodied voice spoke once more in hopes of squashing his fears. “Do not worry my friend, I know it sounds scary, but I promise it will be nice for the both of us. You know, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I overheard the argument you and Theo had last night. What if I told you I could fix that? When Theo first touched me in the thrift shop, I was able to tap in and learn everything about him. With my assistance, we could fix your relationship and make it so neither of you are ever unhappy again. Peter, I’m more than willing to do all of that to pay you back for helping me… all you have to do to make that happen is put the shirt on…”

Against his better judgment, Peter instantly found himself tearing off his own shirt. Although he still didn’t believe that this was really happening, there was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to fix things with Theo. He loved that man more than anything in the world, so if this random spirit said he could fix their relationship, he was more than willing to give it a shot!

As he slipped the undershirt over his head, Peter was stunned by how it was cool to the touch. Given his bigger status as a pudgier nerdy type, the fabric wasn’t baggy in the slightest – instead instantly grazing along his skin as he pulled it further down his body. By the time the shirt was fully covered over his torso, the man’s spine felt completely numb from the intensity of the cold shivers that throbbed.

After this sensation dissipated though, the man waited in hopes of Fadelellah’s voice returning and helping him fix his relationship. Yet for what felt like an eternity – nothing happened. Just as he was about to abandon hope and consider checking himself into a psychiatric facility, a warm sensation suddenly invaded his body. The sensation localized in his chest as it then began to radiate outwards towards his limbs and head.

"Thank you, Peter," Fadelellah's voice said, his desperate and somber tone now replaced with one of pure elation. "Now, I can begin to live again!"

Peter's heart pounded in his chest as the warm sensation intensified, transforming into a tingling that spread to every corner of his body. He felt like he was on the verge of having a heart attack, which caused him to look down in horror. Upon doing so, the man watched as something unbelievable happened – weight began to melt off of his frame. By the second, pieces of flab were evaporating from his form to remove his slightly pudgy belly and the modest flab that softly filled out his average frame.

Despite loving the concept of losing weight, the shock of transforming caused the man to freak out. As a result, the man’s hands went haywire as they tried to move towards the bottom of the shirt and pull it off. Yet although he could move his hands around, it felt like there was an invisible block preventing him from grabbing or touching the shirt.

Instantly, panic set in as he realized he was already losing total control of his body.

"What are you doing to me? Why can’t I take the shirt off?! Please, I changed my mind. I don't want this!" Peter cried out, his voice echoing through the walls of the couple’s average-sized bathroom.

"Do not worry, Peter," Fadelellah's voice replied, his tone coming across soothing like a concerned parent comforting their child. "This was just a precaution while our souls merged. Believe me, this is a gift. Embrace it. You’ll soon realize how much you’ll enjoy the change."

Perfectly timed, Fadelellah’s words led into the next stage of the man’s transformation. Peter’s body began to behave like a balloon as his newly frail frame began to slowly inflate. Muscles swelled beneath the skin, causing his arms and chest to quickly begin to thicken with newfound strength. As he looked down in disbelief, the man observed how a solid pair of pecs now jutted out against the tight undershirt while his biceps bulged against his widening obliques. The man’s jaw dropped as he watched the emergence of cobblestone abs emerge against the tight fabric of his shirt. It was absolutely insane to believe that he was transforming into a muscular man whose physique rivaled that of his boyfriend’s.

In response, Fadelellah let out a deep chuckle as he could feel his shared body’s face contort. "See? Isn't this better?" he cooed. "You are strong and that’s just the start. By the time we’re done combining, you’re going to be so handsome you won’t be afraid to look in the mirror. Now, take a moment to explore those new muscles of yours."

Once again, Peter found his body suddenly betraying him as his arms began to obey Fadelellah’s order. So despite wanting so badly to use those hands to pull up on his shirt and get a reprieve from the shirt’s influence, his hands instead began to feel up on his new musculature. As such, his senses allowed him to feel the well-defined ridges of his cobblestone abdominal muscles – a surprisingly pleasurable shiver coursing through his body as he compared that sensation to the pitiful pudge that his fingers usually grazed.

Despite his initial terror wanting him to resist the changes, Fadelellah’s words echoing through his brain caused Peter to re-evaluate his position. Was there really a problem here? He was becoming absolutely massive with muscles he could only dream of having! Opting to actually give these changes a shot, he decided to take control of his hands to finally marvel at his transformation thus far. He felt powerful for the first time in his life, no doubt due to his body now suddenly brimming with intense energy and vitality. He looked down at his new physique, awkwardly lifting up his arm and trying to tense the muscle. In response to finally getting it right, the man looked gobsmacked by the tense muscle that bulged to a size of a softball.

This initial sight was instantly intoxicating to the man, which caused him to explore more of his increased physique. He struggled for a moment but eventually was able to pop his pecs, stifling a chuckle as he bounced between each pectoral and established a rhythm. His hands wandered down the strip of sculpted abdominal muscles for a moment before reaching behind to his derriere. As the bottom in the relationship, Peter was curious to see how his ass fared during the changes. Upon realizing the globe-like shape of each plump yet firm ass cheek, the man’s boner (which had silently lengthened to become nearly 8 inches) rushed from a semi to a fully erect one while envisioning all of the fun he could have with Theo.

As he continued to look down at himself though, Peter soon came to realize that his body was still transforming. Instead of his pasty white complexion, his skin was quickly darkening to a more tanned hue. Initially this seemed to not be a problem, but as the color began to shift to a more olive-like shade, alarm bells began to ring as he realized that he wasn’t just getting tan… he was changing ethnicities.

“Wha- what’s happening to me?” Peter cried out, his eyes bulging out as he heard his voice beginning to deepen. “Oh– my v-voice,” he continued, the accent sounding oddly familiar for a moment until he realized why they sounded familiar – it was the same voice coming out of his mouth that he heard Fadelellah speaking in his mind.

“Do not worry,” Fadelellah began, his voice returning to his more condescending coddling tone. “The fates have just decided that we are meant to become Middle-Eastern like I once was. It will be great though, you’ll see! Since we’re together as one in this body, you’ll be able to read the Qur’an and speak Arabic like a pro. I can’t wait to share that with you!”

Peter's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He wanted to resist, to fight back against what was happening to him, but the allure of his new body and the perks it provided was overwhelming. He could feel Fadelellah's presence growing stronger, his control slipping away the more his body molded to accommodate its newest inhabitant.

As a tingle began to emerge across his entire head, Peter instantly pulled his head up to direct his attention to the bathroom mirror. Upon doing so, the man was left with no other choice but to watch as his facial features began to shift. In addition to taking on a more angular, chiseled appearance. He watched in awe as his eye shape altered – shifting from a more wide, bug-eyed appearance as the eyes sunk into a more rectangular-shaped socket. For years the man had been ridiculed for his prominent nose, but that soon became a thing of the past as it shrank and straightened to gain a more masculine appearance.

Peter watched in awe as his jawline began to crack and contort away from its former round shape – giving way to stubble that started to push out and cover his altered cheeks. But rather than the average light brown hair that resided on his head, this hair was a stark jet black that helped frame his cheeks and lips as a pencil-thin mustache wrapped around his plump lips. Once this facial hair traversed up into his sideburns, it caused a domino-like effect as every hair on his scalp then slowly shifted to match the same shade that adorned his cheeks and eyebrows until his transformation into a Middle-Eastern man was complete.

With the gravity of the changes fully hitting Peter, the man was growing incredibly desperate and scared. Although the visage that he now sported was absolutely an improvement over his former one, it was the biggest reminder of the fact that every morsel of his past self had been altered and erased. At this point, it was beginning to feel more like Fadelellah’s body rather than a shared one!

“Please, I don’t like this,” Peter begged, his voice coming out a meek whimper that would have barely registered had Fadelellah not begun sharing the same brain. “I don’t want to lose myself, this isn’t me!”

In response, a devious chuckle came from Fadelellah as he revealed his true intention. “Exactly Peter, this isn’t you… not anymore,” he said, his voice now beginning to sound relatively confident and cocky. “Instead, you’ll still be here, just tucked deep down within me. Your body was just the base I needed to come back and get a second chance. But don’t beat yourself up about it, just find comfort in the fact that I’ve turned you into something greater than you could possibly imagine.”

Despite his fear and desperation about his situation, Peter found his resolve wavering more by the second. The idea of his body being able to provide for Theo, to be the strong, confident partner Peter had always wanted to be, was tempting – even if it meant he wasn’t in control anymore. Maybe this was a chance for a new beginning, a way to reignite the spark in their relationship. It was clear that he was on the verge of destroying the relationship as it currently stood, so maybe it was better if someone else got to fix his mistakes…

"Promise me," Peter said, his voice now barely audible as he receded further within himself. "Promise me you'll take care of him."

“Of course,” Fadelellah replied. “Please do not worry, I will take care of both your body and Theo. Every day, I will cherish him like you once did. I know how important he is to you, so it’s the least I can do to repay you. Now, it’s time to let go Peter, I’m finally ready to live again.”

With one final deep breath, Peter obeyed the man’s words and surrendered. He felt himself fading, his consciousness slipping away as Fadelellah's presence filled the void. The last thing he heard was the man’s voice, being gentle and reassuring as he led his savior into a peaceful slumber.

As Peter's mind dissolved into darkness, Fadelellah gained complete control of a human body for the first time in 30 years. For several minutes the man stretched, relishing the concept of having limbs and a human body again after finally escaping his fabric prison. Despite being away from humanity for such a long time, he was able to peel his shirt off and navigate his new physique with no problem. With a smile on his face, Fadelellah lifted up his arm and flashed a wide smile.

“Damn, it is great to be alive again,” Fadelellah said to himself. “That went much easier than I expected, I almost feel bad for the dude. But hey, he chose this and I’m certainly not wishing to go back to being a shitty shirt!” the man chuckled to himself.

As he moved his hands down to his crotch, Fadelellah smirked as he tapped into Peter’s memories and was able to finally visualize the man who was almost his host body. Although Theo’s muscular and handsome body would have meant a quicker transition for the man to take over, the concept of inheriting a boyfriend to help welcome him back into the land of the living and adapt to modern-day living was a much more desirable outcome. Surely with a body like this replacing Peter, Fadelellah was sure that his new boyfriend wasn’t going to resist such a change.

With his mind continuing to envision Theo and all of the fun they’d have together, Fadelellah slipped his hand beneath his shorts and prepared to do something he’d been dreaming about for decades…

* * * * *

It had been three months since the fateful night in which Theo and his boyfriend had gotten into a huge fight, which had led to many unintended yet welcomed changes for the couple. Of course, Theo was initially hoping that their argument would lead to Peter just starting to put more effort into being romantic… so one could imagine his excitement when he came home from work the next day to find a candle-lit dinner awaiting him. However, that excitement turned to full-blown confusion when he found a random well-dressed Middle-Eastern man waiting for him instead of his dorky Caucasian boyfriend.

On paper, it certainly would have sounded ludicrous to believe that a simple used undershirt would transform someone not only in terms of physique but also ethnicity. However, given the fact that Theo himself knew about the mystical properties of the shirt due to the whispers that encouraged him to buy the item and try it on, it didn’t seem far-fetched at all.

Despite this, it was still a bit awkward and uncomfortable initially for Theo to find himself suddenly sharing a bed and apartment with a total stranger. But as time went on and the man realized how Fadelellah was able to instantly do things the way that Theo liked (ranging from the way he liked his food cooked to how sex in the bedroom went), this awkwardness dissipated quickly.

When it came to adapting to his new relationship, the only thing that kept Theo up at night was the knowledge that Peter had ultimately sacrificed his body to fix things in their relationship. It occasionally kept him up at night, wondering if Peter was still there in his former body deep down getting to see and realize just how happy he was. He certainly hoped that it was possible, as the concept of his former boyfriend being completely unaware of how things are going and forever thinking that Theo hated him was something that would forever haunt him. Fadelellah promised that Peter was down there deep down and able to see and feel all of the things he did, but Theo often wondered if that was just something that his new boyfriend told him to provide some sense of comfort.

Regardless of his concerns about Peter, Theo was relieved to find how great life was like now that Fadelellah was around. It was quite humorous at first helping teach the man how technology and society as a whole had progressed since his initial death in the ‘90s. Cell phones often transfixed the man, causing him to spend hours in awe learning about how he was able to watch movies, play games, and listen to music all from a small device in his hands.

Initially, a big question mark emerged for both men in terms of how they would be able to explain how a normal nerdy engineer was magically replaced by a Middle-Eastern hunk. However, the universe seemed to help remedy that problem for them as over the course of a week, reality slowly altered to where Peter was fully erased from reality and Fadelellah was put in his place.

Given the fact that the man was still struggling to adapt to his life in the modern era, his position as an engineer was certainly not befitting the new many anymore. As a result, the memories of all of Peter’s friends, family, and co-workers all altered to where Fadelellah was adopted by Peter’s parents and he went to college in hopes of getting a business degree. It was at college where Fadelellah and Theo first met – although the couple’s original meeting of tutoring sessions was now changed to both of them pledging for the school’s fraternity and bonding over the intense hazing process.

After graduating college, Fadelellah’s new career ultimately revealed itself to be as a personal trainer for a nearby gym. In time, the man had aspirations of opening his own gym, but until he had accumulated enough money to afford that along with finally adapting to life in 2025, he was happy to just stay where he currently was.

This career also turned out to become beneficial to Theo as well – as he was able to get a discounted membership due to his boyfriend’s employment. In addition, the couple would often spend hours in the gym working out together after Fadelellah finished his sessions for the day. It was something that Theo hadn’t initially expected to desire as much as he did. He remembered always inviting Peter to come to the gym with him, but he didn’t think it was a big deal when his boyfriend at the time rejected the offer to instead work on homework or any of the projects at his job. Yet now that he had Fadelellah with him to do these workouts with, he realized just how much he loved it (not only the workouts themselves but the flirtatious things Fadelellah did throughout like flaunting his abs or slapping Theo’s ass between sets). Consequently, that often led to the couple having some intense fun in the locker room after hours.

Given their kinky and happy lives together, it wasn’t a surprise for either man to admit just how much they appreciated Peter’s sacrifice. It was truly a selfless thing for him to do, and for that both men would be forever grateful. Yet despite feeling forever indebted to the man for what he did, neither Theo or Fadelellah opted to think much about the other man. Instead, they were too focused on living their lives to the fullest and enjoying each other’s company… especially in the bedroom!

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[azsazz]

Over Ice

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: I think we could really have fun with the different courts and Illyrian values on a thematic basis but ALSO if the reader is in something very artsy and hasn’t really been into sports and then she’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!! She decides to wear Cass’ jersey to make him mad and when he finally gets a hold of her after the game: *cue innocent shrug* he asked me to!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3032

Notes: While I work on a plot for an azzy hockey x figure skater au, please enjoy a rhys hockey au 🤪

This was originally an Az idea but I thought it fit better for Rhys bby so here we are. I feel like I've forgotten how to write and this is shit (dont judge me im going thru smthin rn)

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A giant FU stares up at you.

Well, actually, it’s only an F, but it may as well be the former with the way it’s circled in thick, red ink.

Three. Fucking. Times.

Tears sting the back of your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. It never feels good, failing, and even if you’d gotten a C+ like you hoped, you would’ve still beaten yourself up over the grade because plain and simple: that’s who you are.

Two months ago, at the beginning of the semester, psychology had seemed like a breeze. The lectures were easy to listen to and intriguing, and you had no trouble following along with the professors’ slideshows as you took detailed notes of everything on the screen. Your assigned readings were completed in a similar state, though they weren’t graded but included important information you’d find on the tests.

Somewhere along the line, your grade slipped, and you don’t remember if it had been between studying for Biology or reveling in your newfound freedom away from your parents, partying and enjoying a true college experience with your roommates.

Whatever happened, the repercussions are hitting you right in the face, the taunting letter you have never seen before on any of your assignments throughout all your years of learning.

If your parents saw this, they would bring the entire house down with their scolding.

It’s not like you didn’t try. You studied, even if the word is a loose term for what material you used. Things started piling up this month, with it being a new semester and all. You didn’t schedule out the time to focus on psychology when the classes you were really interested in—Introduction to Nutrition and Kinesiology—took first and second place for your attention. Plus, with the number of social events your best friends—who are also conveniently your roommates—invited you too, it was almost impossible to say no. Friends are a vital part of the college experience and you were in desperate need of some fun after having spent the summer lounging at home with your parents.

You found a psych support group that met at the library once a week to study together. It wasn’t anything like you thought it would be, a bunch of clueless students with grades similar to yours. All they seemed to want to do with your precious time was bitch and moan about the professor instead of actually trying to conquer the areas of study for the upcoming test.

And now the consequences of your actions have made themselves known.

Grumbling, you shove the test into your binder before shutting it with a snap that does nothing to ease your frustration. A few students still trail from the room, though most bolted right after being released. Some linger at the bottom of the lecture hall where the professor sits, answering their questions.

You have about a million-and-one of your own but you’re too worked up about your grade to go down there and hash it out with Mr. Hybern. His peppery colored hair is perfectly coiffed on this terrible day, his beard trimmed close to his jowls. His gleaming, golden skin makes you think that maybe he’d spent his weekend grading tests out in the sun, and you have half a mind to stomp your way down the stairs and demand a second review of your test.

It wouldn’t solve your irritation, and it would certainly be embarrassing if in fact your F is correct.

Placing your binder, notebook, and pens back into your bag, you zip it, sling it over your shoulder, and make your way to the exit, holding your chin high because if there’s one thing you’re not going to do, is cry over your terrible, awful grade in public.

The waterworks will just have to wait until you’re locked in your private bedroom in your shared dorm.

There is good news. It’s Friday, which means you can snag the pint of your favorite ice cream that your roommates won’t dare touch because ‘no ice cream that’s worth it should have fruit in it, that’s like asking for a steak on your spaghetti.’ You have no idea what Mor—one of your roommates—was on about when she brought up the awful comparison, and in reply all you’d done is scooped out a chunk of cherries embedded into the creamy, pink goodness and stuffed it into your mouth.

With it being the weekend, you can also wallow well into the night without having to worry about hiding your puffy eyes in the morning. You’ll have all day tomorrow to figure out a plan of action, once you allow yourself the time to properly grieve and process…and maybe have a drink or two.

You shoulder through the heavy lecture hall door with your head down, hiding the red stain to your cheeks. So, maybe you’re not going to hold you head high as you trail back to your dorm, but you will not cry.

The door swings open and you barely catch the noise of surprise before you’re barreling into something that’s akin to a brick wall. Your breath leaves your body in a whoosh and your balance slips out from under you, arms flailing as you fall.

You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for impact, but it never comes.

Slowly, mortified because you know exactly what’s cushioned your fall, you peek your eyes open, carefully meeting a sapphire gaze that surely would take your breath away should you have any left.

This close, you can see the perfection of his angular features: a long, straight nose, high cheekbones under the dusting of pink that caresses his own face. His lashes are dark as charcoal, the same color of his hair that looks as soft as silk.

Whatever it is that has you entranced by his beauty, the sentiment seems to be mutual. Those bright eyes trace across your features, carefully drinking you in. You don’t know if you’re thankful that your face is already as red as the marker on your test or if you want him to see the way your cheeks go molten.

There’s a warmth against your hips that you don’t notice until he speaks, his hands that have a solid grip around you, keeping you steady to his chest. His whispered breath brushes across your lips. “By all means,” he teases softly, “Take your time.”

“Oh, my Gods, I am so sorry,” you squeak, rolling off his chest. You can hear his chuckling as you scramble to climb to your feet, but your knees are so weak at the sight—and touch—of the most handsome man you’ve ever seen lifting gracefully to his feet, holding a hand down to help you up.

You try not to notice just how big his hand is in yours, and for the second time today, you fail.

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” he says, displaying an easy grin that makes your heart stutter in your chest. The door opens with a loud click and the both of you startle. His hand comes down warmly on your spine, ushering you out of the way of the student that’s beaming grin falters into apology at the idea of almost running you down, already on the phone with someone and gushing over their test result.

It’s hard to reign in your glare.

The student’s conversation seems to jolt the man out of his stupor. He blinks, shaking his head as if to rid him of a spell you might have cast on him, or maybe he’s testing to see if he has a concussion from the fall.

When he returns his attention to you, it takes everything in your power not to melt into a puddle beneath that gaze.

“Is Mr. H still passing out tests?” he asks, and you swallow the sourness that accompanies the name of your professor. You and he are not on good terms right now, not that this boy knows that.

“Yeah,” you answer, remembering you saw him sitting on his throne (desk chair) with his loyal citizens (students) kissing his feet (talking through their tests). “I think so.” Then, because you’re pretty sure you would remember a face like his if he were in your lecture, you ask, “Are you in this class?”

“No,” he answers with a scoff that tells you he breezed by this class. “I took Psych 101 freshman year, but I have Professor Hybern again for Cognitive Psychology and I need to turn in my paper early.”

Turning in a paper early? What is he, some kind of genius?

“Oh,” you answer lamely, “Cool.”

His answering grin cracks open the casing of the butterflies you didn’t know were living in your stomach, taking off in a flurry of emotion.

He shrugs like he couldn’t really care less about any of it, but to you, the fact that he’s managed to pass Psych 101 at all is an impressive feat, though you don’t know why he’d sign up for even more torture. “Sure. Look, I’ve got to run, but are you sure you’re okay?”

It’s nice of him to ask if you’re okay when he’s the one who had his back painted to the floor only moments ago. “Yeah, I’m fine, but I should be the one asking you that. Are you okay?”

His laughter is rich and warm, and you want to melt into it. Before you have the chance to make even more a fool of yourself in front of this handsome stranger, he answers. “I’ve been checked harder, darling. You have a nice day now.”

“Thanks, you too,” your words trail off as he catches the door on its next outswing, ducking inside without waiting for your response.

Jeeze, he must really be in a rush, then.

It’s when you exit the doors to the psychology building that you curse yourself. You should’ve gotten his number, his name at least. You could’ve invited him over for something more distracting and yummier than the ice cream you’d planned on demolishing.

At least you have something better to think about tonight than your test.

With a heavy sigh, you allow your backpack to fall off your shoulder. Now that you’ve arrived back to your dorm, you’re suddenly feeling more exhausted than ever.

The walk home from class had been nice, your time spent thinking about the boy you’d run into. The broadness of his shoulders you didn’t seem to notice until he turned away, stretching wide beneath his tight t-shirt. The bulge of his biceps beneath said t-shirt, flexing as he pulled the door open for himself. The shape of his ass in those snug jeans.

The sight of that is what had your eyes nearly popping from your head. What’s he doing that gives him such a bubblicious ass? Squats? Lunges? You can do those. You choose not to, but if there’s a guarantee that you’d have an ass like that, you’d start right this second.

Tucking your lip into your mouth in concentration, you plant your hands on your hips, making your way to the refrigerator that your ice cream is housed in, lunging your way there.

It’s not that far, the communal space in your shared dorm is small, but your heartrate is elevated by the time you’re two lunges away from your prize: your ice cream.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Mother!” You shout as the voice of your roommate breaks your concentration. Your knees wobble and your thighs shake, unable to hold you up from the burst of exertion you used. You clearly need to get into the gym more, another thing to add to your already busy schedule. “You scared me!”

Mor rolls her chocolate-brown eyes, sliding into one of the stools at your counter. It’s not built for it, the laminate countertop doesn’t hang over the island far enough for your legs to fit, but you and your roommates thought they were cute, nonetheless. You can suffer having to hunch over your knees to reach your cereal bowls in the mornings in favor of having more space for company to sit.

When you haul yourself off the ground, you take in your roommate. She’s wearing some kind of jersey, one you’ve never even seen in her wardrobe before, and you probably spend more time in there than her because she has every item of clothing you could ever imagine. The top she’s wearing now totally clashes with everything that screams Mor: silk scarves, tight bodice tops, leather pants, and what she has on now isn’t even red, a color that’s a staple in her closet.

“Well, if you were paying attention,” she scolds playfully, flipping open the compact in her hand, checking her makeup in the tiny mirror. She makes a few faces that would make you chuckle if you didn’t notice how she looks like she’s ready to go out, and that means she’s going to try to drag you with. “You would’ve heard me walk into the room. I am wearing heels, you know.”

Of course you know. Mor doesn’t do sneakers, only when it’s five in the morning and the sun is still sleeping, the perfect time for working out where nobody will catch her. Maybe I should join her, you think, mind wandering back to that boy’s butt.

“Why are your cheeks all red?” She asks, planting her palms on the counter and leaning towards you, eyes narrowed in inquisition.

“Nothing,” you wave her off, reaching for the door to the freezer. It’s the last thing between you and the cherry chunk ice cream calling your name.

Before you can open it more than an inch, it slams closed, Mor’s sharp, bright red fingernails splayed out to stop you.

Damnit, how does she move so silently?

“What do you think you’re doing?” You question each other at the same time, biting back your smiles at the mistake.

She answers first. “Why do you look like you’re about to get the ice cream, put your pajamas on, and wallow in bed all night?”

“Because that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” you cross your arms over your chest defiantly. “So, if you’ll excuse me…” You trail off, hoping she’ll step away and leave you to your peace.

She doesn’t. That’s not Mor.

“I had a rough day!”

“You say that every day,” she whines, stomping her heel-clad foot. “Don’t you even want to know what I’m inviting you to tonight?”

“From the look of your clothes, no, I don’t want to know what you’re doing tonight, Mor, and no, I don’t want to join you, either.”

Your roommate scrunches her nose, tipping it towards the ceiling. “I’ll have you know that this outfit is cute.”

“Yeah, if the definition of cute changed to ‘not pleasing or appealing to look at.’”

“You take that back,” Mor shouts, full naming you.

As your lips part in apology, because that was rude of you, your other roommate pads out of her room. Her reading glasses are perched up on her nose, blue eyes round and wide, and it always looks like she’s looking around the room in wonder. She has a blanket thrown over her shoulders and looks every bit of cozy you wish you were.

“Gwyn,” you sigh in relief at the sight of her. “Please, help.”

“I already said no,” she offers you a sympathetic wince. “I don’t think there’s any getting you out of the hockey game, sorry babe.”

Now it’s your jaw that falls to the floor. No, it falls through the floor and about five more floors down, hitting the lobby with a crack that echoes through the building.

You whirl on Mor. “Hockey game? Since when have you been interested in hockey?”

“Since my cousin got named team captain this year,” she says smugly, and you don’t know why she’s acting vain, it just means that he’s captain of the douchebags now, even you know that. Mor turns, showing off the back of her jersey. The number one stands out like a beacon, and you brush her blonde hair over her shoulder to read the smaller patches spelling out what is in fact, her family name.

Cunningham.

“Think of all the parties we’ll get into,” she says over her shoulder, and she does have a point there. The athletes at your college are a group of students that you don’t ever interact with, nor do you care. Mor is all about connections though, and if she wants to go to the hockey game, then it looks like you’re going with her.

You wonder what excuse Gwyn used to get out of it. She looks mighty comfy right now, slinking over the plop down on the couch and turn on a movie.

“Why do we have to go to the game? Can’t we just go to the parties?” You ask, grasping for anything to get out of this. You don’t want to go sit in the cold arena and watch a bunch of guys wearing full-body padding slide up and down the ice. Why couldn’t her cousin have been on the baseball team? They have nice, tight uniforms.

“Because,” Mor emphasizes with a glare, spinning to face you once more to give you the full effect of her irritation. “I’m a good cousin, and if we don’t attend the games, we’re going to be blacklisted from the parties,” she grumbles, the fight leaving her a little bit. “I’ve already argued about it with Rhys, I don’t want to have to argue with you too.”

It’s with your sigh that Mor brightens. “Fine. I’ll come with you, but I’m not going to be happy about it. And don’t expect me to cheer.”

Her squeal pierces the sound barrier. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

Mor grabs your hand, dragging you towards the empty single room that’s left in your dorm. She uses it as an extension of her closet until someone else gets placed with you. So far, you’ve been lucky, living here since freshman year, just the three of you. “Great! I got you a shirt!”

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

[hippiegoth97]

Thriller: Eddie Munson x Reader

Collage by me :)

Master List

Tag List: @keikoraven @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafescurtainbangz @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

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@bimbobaggins69 @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore

@mediocredreams @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @ali-r3n

Description: You and the entire gang are having a horror movie marathon on Halloween night at Steve's house. You cuddle up in a blanket with your close friend Eddie, and he holds you close whenever you get scared. There's tension building between the two of you, but you’ve always assumed that your feelings aren't reciprocated. But once everyone else has passed out, you two can't seem to get to sleep. You go outside to talk, which leads to an interesting interaction...

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: smut, female reader, swearing, smoking, crying, mentions of death/violence/blood/scars/coma, fluff, fingering, unprotected sex, shame/embarrassment, friends to lovers

Word Count: 8.1k

Divider by @strangergraphics

Thriller

It's Halloween night, and you've got plans to attend a scary movie marathon at your friend Steve Harrington's house. He still lives with his parents, despite the fact he graduated a couple years ago. You'd graduated yourself just a few months back along with Nancy, Robin, Jonathan, Argyle, and Eddie, who just barely squeaked by thanks to you tutoring him. You've all been very close for a while now, and tonight is sure to be a blast.

The younger kids of the group are also attending, they’re getting a little long in the tooth for trick-or-treating. Plus, they love hanging out with you and the others. You’re like one giant family, you all know basically everything there is to know about one another. You'd been through a lot these last few years in Hawkins. From Will going missing, to evil Russians, to Vecna trying to take over the world. It’s a miracle you've all managed to survive, but there were many close calls.

Luckily though, with everyone working together, you successfully destroyed Vecna before he could take that fourth and final life he needed to bring the upside down into the real world. Eddie was in a rough spot, accused of killing all those kids. You stayed with him in hiding, comforting him when he had nightmares about Chrissy dying before his eyes. You two in particular became extremely close, you did everything in your power to make him feel better. You played games with him, brought over a Walkman for him to listen to metal music to calm him down. And in return he would talk to you about anything and everything, and you were more than happy to listen.

You'd gone into the upside down with Eddie and Dustin during that final fight, and when you saw him play his guitar to distract the demobats, it was like a fire had been ignited inside of you. He looked so badass, and you realized all that time spent together was making you fall hard for him. You never said so, even when he almost bled to death after being swarmed by the bats. But you helped Dustin pull him out of the upside down, rushing him to a hospital. He was temporarily arrested, cuffed to his hospital bed as he lay unconscious. You found it a bit ridiculous to restrain a man in a coma like that, but you understood the cops had to complete their investigation.

You read The Hobbit to Eddie as he slept, waiting for the day he would finally wake up. You wore his bandana around your arm, wanting to hold a part of him close to you at all times. It had a few drops of blood on it, but you didn't care. The others had come to visit a few times, especially Dustin and Eddie’s uncle Wayne. They'd tried many times to get you to go home or to school, but you couldn't bring yourself to leave Eddie's bedside. Robin brought you your homework assignments, and your mom was gracious enough to bring you changes of clothes as you refused to leave the hospital. You could barely force yourself to go to the bathroom or get some food, you wanted to be there 24/7 on the off chance Eddie woke up. You didn't want him to be alone, you wanted him to know you were there for him no matter what.

During Eddie's slumber, Jason had been found raving mad about Lucas trying to sacrifice Max, screaming about cults and devils. The police had determined Jason had a psychotic break, spurred on by jealousy of catching Chrissy buying drugs from Eddie. They assumed this led to a full-on rampage, and he killed Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick, and attempted to kill Max. The lot of you corroborated the story, since Jason most definitely meant to kill Lucas, and you had to do what you could to save Eddie. There was no way the police would believe stories of alternate dimensions and telekinesis, so you fed them what they wanted to hear. 

One day, an officer came to take the cuffs off while you were at Eddie's bedside, and the strangest thing happened. As soon as his name was cleared, Eddie's eyes fluttered open. After a week of no words or movement, he finally opened his eyes and croaked out a single word. "Y/N?" He said as he looked at you. You'd been busy working on your homework for the evening, only acknowledging the cop coming to let him free for a moment. But the second you heard his voice say your name, your head shot up to look at him. "Where am I?" He asked, blinking hard at the harsh lights.

"Oh my god! Eddie, you're awake!" You rushed to his side, taking his hand. "I can't believe it, you're actually awake!" You started crying tears of joy, you'd been told by the doctors there was a chance he'd never come back to you. But he did, and you couldn't be happier.

"I was having the strangest dream-" He kept trying to talk, but it seemed to be hurting him. You put a finger over his lips to still them.

"Don't talk, Eds. Let me go make a call." You ran out of the room, getting the doctor and locating the phone. You dialed Wayne at his hotel, and he said he'd be right over. You went back to the room, picking up the walkie-talkie Dustin had left for you to use in this exact scenario. "Code red, guys. Eddie's awake, code red. Get over here now." You said over the walkie, hoping someone was in range of you.

"Holy shit, what?" It was Dustin, sounding utterly shocked.

"Eddie's awake! Get the others, bring them here!" You shouted, utterly ecstatic. You set it down on a chair, forgetting to switch it off. You heard multiple members of your group chattering to each other, audibly excited to rush over to the hospital. You sat back at his bedside, smiling at him. "Everyone's on their way, okay? Wayne, and all the kids. I'm so glad you're back with us, Eds." You couldn't stop the tears streaming down your cheeks, you really hoped you weren't dreaming. The doctor came into the room, adjusting Eddie's treatment now that he was conscious. He checked his vitals, asking some basic questions to check for brain damage. When Eddie was in the clear, the doctor told you he could go home the next day. They wanted to keep him another night just in case something else came up.

"How'd I end up here, Y/N?" Eddie asked once the doctor left. He seemed to remember everything up until you and Dustin dragged him through the gate. You explained what he'd missed, holding his pale hand in yours as you spoke. He listened intently, oddly taking the news of him being comatose for a week rather well. "They're not still looking for me, are they?" He looked so scared when he asked you that, eyes wide and voice trembling.

"No, Eds. You're clear now, they've taken Jason instead. They think he went crazy with jealousy after catching you with Chrissy." He cringed at hearing her name, and you quickly apologized. "Sorry, I'm just trying to let you know now before someone else bombards you later. He nodded in understanding, squeezing your hand.

"Did you stay here with me this whole time? I swear I could hear you reading to me. The Hobbit, right? Or did I dream that?" His line of questions was eerie to you. Sure, you'd heard somewhere that coma patients can feel and hear people in the room with them, but you always thought that was made up to comfort their loved ones. He noticed your face turning into one of shock, sitting up in bed to look at you sincerely. "Thank you, Y/N. You've been so kind to me through all this, I don't know how I'll ever repay you for that." He spoke quietly, keeping intense eye contact with you. He leaned forward, kissing your forehead.

"Don't sweat it, Eddie. It's what friends do." You replied awkwardly, in absolute amazement as his plush lips sent a wave of heat through your body. You figured he meant it platonically, but you wished it meant so much more. You wanted him to love you, to be with you. But you figured he didn't feel that way, and there was nothing you could do about it.

Little did you know, Eddie had developed some deep feelings of his own. From the moment you agreed to keep him company as he hid from the authorities, he knew you were something special. You made him smile, and comforted him when Chrissy's corpse came to haunt him in his dreams. You brought him his tapes, and played silly games. And above all else, you listened to him. Hardly anyone ever did that, even his closest friends didn't really listen. You'd never been super close before this crazy Vecna bullshit kicked off, but you didn't hesitate to volunteer your safety to look after him so he wouldn't be alone.

You also happily marched into danger with him and Dustin to help distract Vecna's mindless drones so the others could vanquish the veiny bastard. He picked up on how mesmerized you were as he played “Master of Puppets” with all his might, your eyes almost twinkled as you observed him. He could sense you wanted to confess your liking for him, even as he lay limp in yours and Dustin's arms after getting attacked by the bats. He wished you would've, but he supposed at that moment he was on death's door. So what would the point have been? But you, staying there at the hospital the entire time until he woke up, while reading one of his favorite books? Now that was a confession of love if he'd ever seen (or in this case heard) one.

He could hear your beautiful voice calling to him through the prose he knew so well, it was like you were providing a gateway for him to return to the land of the living. He could feel your delicate fingers holding his hand, or stroking his hair while you kept him company. Your efforts were so comforting to him, gradually lulling him out of the deep, dark pit of despair he was stuck in. And it meant everything to him that you were the first thing he saw when he woke up. He also noticed you wearing his bandana, which he ended up letting you keep as a token of his appreciation.

A while later, Wayne and the others piled into the room to see Eddie. He gave everyone hugs, wincing at the pain in his abdomen from all the bites. He didn't care though, he was just so glad to have everybody there. He got the chance to meet El, which was an interesting interaction to say the least. He also got reacquainted with Will, telling him he heard many good things from the others. Argyle made an appearance as well, offering Eddie some Purple Palm Tree Delight to manage the pain of his injuries. He happily accepted, letting you hold onto it for the time being.

Hopper, Joyce, and Murray let Wayne in on all your secrets, they figured hearing the truth from well-established adults would help the news go down easier. He wasn't too pleased with finding out Eddie stupidly tried to sacrifice himself. But after a while, he realized what the alternative would've been. The next day, Eddie went to stay at the hotel with his uncle, but you checked in on him twice a day until his wounds were mild enough to return to school. You'd brought him snacks and assisted him with his bandages during these visits. You'd tried your best to not stare at his bare chest as you cleaned him up, though it proved very difficult to resist.

Eddie never said anything to you about it, but he found it extremely attractive that you were so keen on nursing him back to health. He also highly appreciated you helping him with his late assignments, ensuring he could actually graduate like he was so desperate to do this year. After you'd leave, Wayne always asked Eddie if you were his girlfriend or something, but he repeatedly denied it. Wayne would reply with 'you sure about that, kiddo?', which made Eddie blush like a fool every time.

When Eddie was healed up enough to go back to school, you were overjoyed to see him in the halls again. His wounds were beginning to scar over, one of which was forming a large mark on the left side of his jaw. He was insecure about it, thinking he really was a freak now because of it. People teased him, but you reassured him that if anything, it made him look metal as fuck. That always cheered him up, and it also made him fall harder for you every time you said it. You continued to help him during the sliver of senior year you still had to suffer through, tutoring him to ensure he could walk that stage and flip off the principal just like he wanted. And all thanks to you, he actually did it.

And now here you are, ringing the doorbell to Steve's house to hang out with your awesome band of misfits for the millionth time. "Hey, look who it is!" Steve exclaims, taking you into a tight bear hug. Everyone else has already arrived, taking their places in the living room as they await your presence. Everyone cheers as you walk into the room, slipping off your shoes and jacket.

"I saved you a spot, Y/N. Come get cozy with me." Eddie says with a grin, patting a spot next to him on the loveseat. It’s the perfect size for you two to get real close, one or both of you always call dibs on it whenever the group hangs out at the Harrington household.

"Laying it on thick today, aren't we, Munson?" Robin pipes up, ushering in a roar of laughter from everyone except you and Eddie. Instead, you just look at each other as your cheeks burn red.

"Shut it, Buckley." Eddie grumbles, and you awkwardly plop down beside him.

"Oh, come on! You two are so ridiculously into each other, it's nauseating. It's a shame you refuse to do anything about it, though." Robin retorts, having no qualms about yanking your feelings out in the open.

You scoff, trying to play it cool. "We're just friends, Robin. Lay off, will ya." You curse yourself for the tremble in your voice, it does nothing to help your case.

"Yeah, we'll believe that when pigs fly." Erica chimes in, the others quickly murmuring in agreement.

"Whatever." You roll your eyes, crossing your arms in defiance.

"Alright, alright. Reel it in, everyone. Clearly the lovebirds don't wanna be the focus of the evening. We've got much more interesting entertainment planned anyway, right?" Steve interjects, nodding knowingly at you and Eddie. He tries to divert attention to the movies he'd brought from Family Video, holding up three VHS tapes. "So, what first? I got Halloween, The Exorcist, and Friday the 13th Part 3."

"Friday the 13th Part 3? Why not the first one?" Dustin asks, confused at that particular choice.

Steve huffs, rolling his eyes. "Cuz it's the best one, duh! And you know what? Just for that, we're watching it first."

"No complaints here, getting the boring one out of the way is fine by me." Dustin says, settling in with his bowl of popcorn.

"Zip it, Henderson." Steve says as he pops the tape into the VCR. He jogs over to flick off the lights, before joining Robin on the couch. The movie starts to play, and you feel Eddie nudge your shoulder.

"Popcorn, sweetheart?" He asks, giving you an inviting look while shaking a bowl of hot popcorn in your direction. You scoop out a small handful, popping the puffed pieces into your mouth. The two of you always share a big bowl together, and it makes your skin tingle when his fingers inevitably brush against yours. You laugh it off innocently whenever it happens, but you secretly long for it to lead to something more. Eddie pulls a large blanket over your laps, warming you up just the way you like. You lift your legs up onto your seat, turning slightly to sit a little closer to him.

Over the course of the evening, you sense unbelievable tension building between you and the handsome metalhead seated beside you. You're extremely amped from the scary movies, your heart pounding inside your chest as you anticipate the next scare. You love horror movies, but you've always gotten startled by them so easily. Even when it wasn't meant to be scary, random moments set you off, which earn you a laugh from everyone else. You always cling to Eddie when you get frightened, shoving yourself into his chest. He never hesitates to bring you in closer to comfort you, and tonight is no different. His arm is wrapped around you, his fingers lightly stroking your skin to let you know it's okay.

He can't get enough of your little screams and whimpers, appreciating every little move you make to get closer to him. He wishes you wanted to be close in other ways, and he's been dreaming of making you whimper and scream for entirely different reasons. Eddie's ashamed of it, but you plague his mind to a point where he can't go a single night without jerking off to the thought of you.

Before you know it, the final film's credits are rolling, and everyone around you is either asleep or failing to fight off a yawn. Steve gets up to flick off the tv, heading up to his bedroom after saying goodnight. You and Eddie are still awake, you really don't know how you're supposed to sleep after seeing all the killers on screen, or the sizzling touches Eddie has been giving you all night. "Goodnight, guys. Happy Halloween." Nancy whispers, nuzzling against Jonathan's shoulder as she drifts off to sleep.

"Goodnight, Eddie. Happy Halloween." You whisper to him, getting into position for sleep. You both lay your heads on opposite ends of the loveseat, cuddling would just be too tempting for either of you.

"Happy Halloween, Y/N." He whispers back, laying on the outside to keep you tucked safely against the back of the little couch. You close your eyes, trying to calm your frayed nerves. You can hear others around you snoring, Argyle is particularly loud in that regard. You're finding it difficult to fall asleep, and you try everything. Counting sheep, doing math problems in your head, anything boring you can think of to knock yourself out. But as long as Eddie is lying right next to you, you can't do it. You sigh, trying not to be too loud. "Can't sleep either, huh?" Eddie says quietly, almost startling you in the silence.

"Nope, wanna sneak out back for a smoke?" You ask, sitting upright again. He mirrors you, his dark brown eyes almost glowing as the moonlight hits them through the window just right.

"Fuck it, sure." He replies, and the two of you slink off the loveseat, doing everything you can to not wake anybody up. You gather your jackets and shoes as it's pretty chilly at night, before tiptoeing your way through the sliding door to the pool deck. The heated pool gives the backyard an eerie aqua tinge, but you're not put off by it. It's the perfect ambience for such a spooky night. The moon is full as can be, with no clouds to be found in the sky. You push two of the lounge chairs flush against one another, before laying down together.

The chairs squeak a little from the cold air tightening the metal hinges, but you can't be bothered to care. You pull your smokes out of your pocket, taking two from the pack. You light them both in your mouth, before handing one off to Eddie. "Here ya go, lovebird." You joke, quoting Steve from earlier.

"Thanks." He replies with a chuckle, hastily taking a long drag as soon as he has the cig in his possession. You don't say anything for a minute, letting the term float in the air. Lovebird. "What do you think about all that, anyway?" Eddie breaks the silence, blowing out a large cloud of smoke into the stillness of the night. He looks over at you, genuinely curious as to what you'll say.

"I dunno, it's a little annoying I guess." His face falls, but you continue. "You want honesty?" You ask, biting your lip.

"Always, princess." He says lowly, resting his head on his hand as he turns to face you fully. You've got his undivided attention now, and it scares the hell outta you way more than any stupid movie could.

"W-well...if I'm being honest..." Your eyes desperately want to break away from his, but something in his expression tells you to keep going. "I wouldn't say I'm totally opposed to the idea." You manage to choke the words out, practically holding your breath as you await his reaction.

"Hm." Is all he says, taking another drag. You inhale one of your own, dreading him potentially stomping on your heart. Eddie thinks on it for a moment, drawing it out just to tease you. His eyes flick to yours again, a mischievous glint flashing inside them. "You want honesty?" He asks with a sly smirk.

"Yes." That one word is all you can force from your lips. This is it, now or never. He'll either say he likes you back, or it'll all be over. He leans in real close, catching you off guard.

"I wouldn't say I'm totally opposed to the idea." He says, and for a second you think he's mocking you. That is, until he closes that unbearable gap between you and gently presses his lips onto yours. You hum into the kiss, bringing your free hand to tangle in his unruly curls. He bites your bottom lip, causing you to gasp and let his tongue in your mouth. Moans transfer from your throat to his as he battles you for dominance. You both toss your cigarettes away, and Eddie's hands roughly pull you over to straddle his lap. He breaks away for a moment, looking up at you to see if you want to keep going. "Is this okay, Y/N?" He asks, suddenly unsure of himself. He knows for sure now that you've developed feelings for him, as he has for you. But Eddie doesn't know how fast or slow you want to take things.

"More than okay. Can I be honest again?" You say in a coy tone, batting your eyes at him flirtatiously.

"Lay it on me, darling." You've noticed he's dropping pet names like nobody's business, some he's called you before in friendly passing, and others he's never dared utter before. His hands rest at your hips respectfully, waiting for you to confess to him again.

"I've been dreaming about this for a very long time, Eddie. I like you, a lot. I might even be in love with you. But if you don't feel the same, I'm gonna stop this right now. I don't want it to be a one-time thing. I want to have you, and keep you. I want to be yours." You speak seriously, resisting the urge to grind yourself on his lap as you talk. You want to make it clear what your intentions are, and if he doesn't agree, then you can cut it short before it goes any further.

"Okay, my turn." Eddie smiles at you again, very amused at how forthcoming you are with your emotions. "I can't get you outta my head, angel. I think about you every second of every day. You've been so good to me, from hiding from the cops with me, to reading to my comatose ass in the hospital, to helping me graduate. You've been the one thing in my life that makes sense, and I wouldn't do anything to ruin that. I want exactly what you want, this is far from a one-night stand, Y/N." He squeezes your waist to emphasize his point, and you instinctively roll your hips against him.

You both groan at the simple motion, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. "Fuck." You breathe out, looking down at the amazing man beneath you. His pupils are blown out with lust, you shiver at the sight. You can feel his cock hardening under your clothed heat, and you begin to grind against him at a steady pace. Arousal gathers in your panties, you're slowly heating up despite the bite of the air outside. Eddie's hands migrate to your ass, massaging the flesh roughly. "Eddie." You moan out, lowering yourself to kiss his lips again. They're so warm and soft, like fleshy pillows.

He feverishly leads your hips to roll harder against him, pecking and tonguing your mouth with reckless abandon. Your hands travel beneath his shirt, running up his bare chest. He shivers at the touch of your cold hands, suddenly remembering all the ugly scars he's got under there. He stops moving, about to remove your hands from his body. He fucking hates these scars, they make him feel like a monster. "Stop." He says quietly, pulling you out of his shirt.

You're surprised at this, unsure what you've done to upset him. "What's wrong, baby?" You ask, worried you've hurt him or something. His eyes glisten with tears, threatening to spill down his cheeks.

"I don't like them, Y/N. They're so ugly." Eddie's voice trembles as he tries to stop himself from crying. You realize what he's referring to, and it breaks your heart to see him so distressed about it.

"Eddie, it's okay. They're not ugly, I promise. They show that you're a survivor, that you beat all the bullshit you've had to face. Okay?" You hold both sides of his face, trying to get him to understand. You stroke the scar on his jaw, he winces and tries to wriggle away. "Just let me show you. Can I do that?" You speak gently, hoping he'll let you do what you're planning to. Eddie nods, sniffling as he wipes his eyes. He's shaking now, and it's definitely not from the cold. "You're beautiful." You say simply, lowering your head again to kiss the patch on his jaw.

Eddie melts into your touch, your act of love radiating over him. You lead him to sit up, and you slip off his jackets. You pull at his shirt, and he lifts his arms for you to remove it. Once it's tossed away, you gently press his chest to push him back down. You kiss the scar on his neck, drawing a moan from him. "Y/N."

"You're handsome." You pay him another compliment, scooting yourself down a bit to kiss the next scar. "You're sexy." You go to another on the side of his ribs. "You're amazing." You kiss another on his upper chest. "You're brave." You kiss a final one on his stomach, though there are more, especially on his arms and legs. But you're hoping you've made your point by now. "You're a hero." You bring yourself level with him again, lowering one last time to kiss his lips. But before you do, you make sure to look into his eyes as you tell him the truest statement of them all. "You're my hero."

Eddie's hips buck into you, making you whine into his mouth. His arms wrap firmly around your back, holding you as close to him as he possibly can. He finds you absolutely unbelievable, you've made him feel like a whole new man with such a simple act. You accept him as he is, bat-bites and all. His tremors have disappeared, all that remains is a deep passion burning within his chest. You break away to breathe, panting heavily against each other's faces. "God, I want you so bad. I wanna make you moan, and scream, and call my name." Eddie speaks fervently, his thoughts moving too fast for his lips to keep up. His eyes stare deeply up at yours, desperation tinging their chocolate brown hue.

"I know, baby. I want that too. Just relax, we've got all night." You sit up, slipping off your jacket. You would shiver if you weren't set ablaze by this whole situation. You can't believe it, Eddie's finally reciprocating your feelings after all this time. You've waited months for this moment, unsure it would ever come at all. You tug your shirt over your head, tossing it onto the ground. Eddie's eyes stare at your tits inside your bra, his large hands snaking up from your ass to feel the swells of your chest. He presses them together, watching how pretty they look in the pale pool lighting. You reach behind your back to undo the clasp, letting your bra fall loosely from your shoulders. He gasps as your nipples harden in the cold air, taken aback by your beauty. He's always wanted to see you like this, though he wasn't sure you'd ever let him.

"You're beautiful, Y/N." He grasps your tits again, and your head falls backwards as you moan at his touch. He's so gentle with you, caressing you like he's a sculptor and you're his masterpiece. He sits upright, holding your bare back with one hand while massaging your breast with the other. His mouth trails fiery kisses from your neck, to the valley between your tits, before swirling his tongue around your nipple.

"Fuck, Eddie." You wrap your arms over his shoulders, holding him close as he works you over. You continue rocking your hips against him, getting just barely enough friction as his erection rubs your moistening folds through your tight jeans. He takes your sensitive bud into his mouth, carefully biting down to make you whine for him. Eddie switches sides, giving your other breast an equal amount of attention. He wants to take his time, worship you like the goddess he thinks you are. "C'mere baby." You pant, pulling his head up to kiss him again. You love kissing him, he's very good at it. And the taste of tobacco and popcorn on his tongue is highly addictive. While your mouths move languidly against one another, you start fiddling with his belt to undo it. He lets you struggle for a moment, before moving your hands to take over. He opens it with ease, allowing you access again. You reach for him, unzipping his jeans. You slip your hand inside to feel his stiff cock under his boxers, causing him to groan against your lips.

You pump his length in your palm gently, going real slow to draw more noises from Eddie's mouth. You break away from the kiss, resting your forehead against his. Eddie takes this as his cue to reach down to the button of your pants, unzipping them with ease. He reaches in, feeling your slick folds with his fingers. You moan at his touch, breath hitching at how cold his hand is. "You're so wet, sweetheart." He speaks softly, trying to be careful with you. He rubs his fingers around your clit, and your free hand clutches his shoulder to stay upright. The two of you sit here like this, tenderly preparing each other for the one thing you've both wanted for so long.

Usually you prefer sex to be rough and fast and dirty, but with Eddie you want it to be slow and sensual. You love him, and you want to show him just how much. He appears to be on the same page, gently pushing his digits into your soaked pussy. Every touch is amplified by the deep feelings you share, revving you up at a contented pace. "I want you to make love to me, Eddie. Please?" You look deep into his eyes as you speak, breath fanning over his face. You almost feel silly for how desperate you potentially sound, but he doesn't acknowledge it if you do.

"Of course, angel. Can you lay down for me?" He replies, eager to give you anything you want. You move off of his lap, back into your own chair. You kick off your shoes, pulling your pants off too. You're on full display for him, and it distracts him for a moment as he takes off the rest of his own clothes. "You're so beautiful, Y/N." You blush at his compliment, tempted to cover yourself up. But his eyes tell you everything is okay, that you're safe with him. He sheds his final layers, and you take your turn to admire his naked form. He's the most handsome man you've ever seen, scars and all. You can still see remnants of his tattoos, and you love how perfectly his curly hair lays at his shoulders. "What?" He asks, thinking something's wrong as you stare at him.

"You're gorgeous, Eddie." He smiles at your words, hiding behind his hair as he blushes like mad. He may not fully believe it himself, but hearing you say how attractive he is makes his heart flutter. Your eyes travel down, landing on his dick. You don't mean to gawk, but you've always wanted to see it, to touch it, feel it inside you. You break your trance when he chuckles at you, he's never seen a girl be so hypnotized by him before. You lie all the way down in the lounger, shivering at the cold plastic. He positions himself over you, gingerly spreading your legs and propping up your knees.

He admires your cunt, looking at the arousal glistening on it in the moonlight. He peers down at you, caressing your face with his large hand. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this, princess." His expression changes for a moment, like he's realized something important. "Shit, I don't have a condom, baby." He says, annoyed with himself for being so unprepared. He doubts you'll want to sleep with him now. But you just smile up at him, stroking his arm.

"It's okay, Eddie. I'm on the pill." You say simply, and his frown quickly turns into a grin. He lowers his head to kiss your lips, thanking you for saving the day, so to speak. He grips his cock in his hand, teasingly rubbing the head against your clit. You both moan at the sensation, more turned on than ever. You're simmering inside, feeling a familiar knot slowly tangling itself in your belly.

He breaks away, looking down at you to ask one more question. "Are you ready, baby?" He stutters through his words, savoring the sensation of your warm juices lubing him up.

You place your arms on his shoulders, preparing yourself for him to enter you. "Yes, I'm ready." You nod at him, and you both look between your bodies to observe as he slowly pushes himself into you. "Oh, god." You moan as he fills you up, he's the perfect size for you. He hisses at how tightly your walls are hugging him, taking his time before bottoming out. He kisses you again, keeping himself occupied until you're ready for him to start thrusting. Once you're fully relaxed, you wrap your legs around his torso to signal him to move.

He slowly pulls out, before slipping back in. "You're so perfect, darling." He groans, repeating his actions. He loves the little noises he's drawing from you, watching your mouth fall open helplessly.

"Go faster, baby. I need you." You whine, digging your nails into his back. He does as you ask, increasing the pace to hit your g spot just right with every stroke. "Fuck, you feel so good." You confess to him, pleasure thrumming through you as he moves. His hands grip your hips firmly, trying his best not to bruise you.

"So do you, sweetheart." He replies, maintaining his current speed as he wants to enjoy every last second of this with you. He begins kissing your neck, worrying the flesh between his teeth to give you a hickey. He wants everyone to know you've chosen him, just as he's picked you. The combined sensation of him pumping inside you and his amazing mouth makes your head spin, pushing you closer and closer to release. His own orgasm is building up rather quickly as well, the pleasant sting of your nails scratching his skin is driving him mad. It's taking everything in him to not hammer into you mercilessly, though he'd happily do it if you asked him to. It's the ultimate exercise in self-control, holding back for the purpose of showing you just how much he loves you.

The knot winds tighter with every stroke of his cock against your sweet spot, an endless stream of whimpers and moans leaving your lips. "I'm getting close, Eds. Please, go faster, harder. Make me scream your name." You beg him, wanting to lose control underneath him so badly.

"Anything for you, sweetheart." He says darkly, biting your earlobe between his teeth. He grabs your legs, bending them over your torso. He lets them hook at the knees over his shoulders, looking in your eyes with a different energy now. It's carnal, animalistic. "Is this alright?" He asks, waiting for you to give the go ahead.

"Yes, please just fuck me. I know you want to." You plead with him, wanting him to unleash himself onto you. Pure lust flashes across your face, signaling to him just how much you want this. Without another moment's hesitation, he pulls out almost all the way before ramming into you. "Fuck!" You cry out, moaning even louder as he hammers himself into your pussy. He grasps your thighs roughly, not holding back anymore so he can make you cum.

The sound of skin slapping and your vulgar noises fill the autumn air, hopefully not loud enough for someone to hear you from inside the house. Your hands grip the sides of the lounge chair to the point where your knuckles have turned white, the knot is threatening to snap any second now. Your walls flutter around Eddie's dick, he can feel you nearing the end. He's not far behind you, you've been so perfectly snug around him. "I'm right there with you, baby. Come on, scream for me. Let everyone know how much you love me." His words push you closer, and he seals your fate when he starts rubbing your clit with the perfect amount of pressure.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, God! EDDIE!" You scream so loud, you're sure someone will call the cops or something. Your legs shake violently, the knot bursting into splintering threads that shoot through your insides. Your cunt clamps down onto Eddie's dick, pulsating as the waves of pleasure wash over you.

"Fuck, Y/N." He moans, though much quieter than you. You feel his load empty into you, so warm and sticky. His hips buck uncontrollably a few times, stringing your orgasm along a little longer. Eddie's eyes screw shut as his bliss rides through him, waiting for it to subside before stilling inside you. He collapses onto you, his skin sticking to yours as sweat blooms over your bodies. You're both breathing heavily, hearts pounding in the aftershocks.

You're getting a little uncomfortable with your legs still bent over yourself, you tap Eddie on the shoulder. "Hey, Eds? Can you maybe pull out and put my legs back?" You ask, not wanting to rush him.

"Oh, shit. Yeah, sorry." He chuckles, slowly slipping himself out of you. He helps you put your legs back down, noticing you wincing as your joints are a bit sore. He gathers your clothes, putting them next to you on your chair before dressing himself. You stand up, legs feeling like jelly. You walk over to the pool, dipping a hand into the heated water. "Whatcha doin' over there? It's a bit cold for a swim." You're not very steady on your feet, and he hopes you don't fall in.

"I'm just trying to wipe our cum off of me. It's not exactly comfortable to sleep in, ya know." You reply with a giggle, and he nods in understanding. He watches as you awkwardly position yourself to crouch at the end of the pool, carefully cleaning up the mess between your legs. He chuckles at the sight, you look like a crab in your position. You turn your head to scowl at him, though you know you probably look ridiculous.

"Sorry, love. You just look really cute like that." He says as he meets your gaze, zipping up his jeans. You finish cleaning yourself, going back over to your chair to cover up. It's fucking freezing now, especially with your sweat turning cold. Eddie sees you shiver, pulling his shirt over his head. He walks over to help you out, dressing you quickly so you can both go inside and warm up. You don't bother to put your jackets back on, holding them in your arms along with your shoes so you can sneak back into the house.

"Shit it's cold out there, I hope we don't get sick." You whisper to him, maneuvering carefully around everyone's sleeping bodies.

"I'm sure we'll live, we've been through much worse." He replies, squeezing your hand. You return your things to the area by the front door, tiptoeing over to the loveseat. You're still feeling very cold, but Eddie's quick to lie down and take you into his arms to cuddle. His flesh feels like ice, but you two quickly generate heat once you're flush against each other and he pulls the blanket over you.

You're nice and warm again in no time, and you feel safe in Eddie's embrace. You sigh blissfully, pushing yourself backwards into him to get even closer. You can't believe how amazing this night has been, you stretch your head down to kiss his hand. "I love you, Eddie. I'm so happy that I finally get to be yours." You speak softly, wanting him to hear you without waking anyone up.

"I love you too, Y/N. Tonight was perfect. I can't wait to show you how much you mean to me, every single day." He plants a gentle kiss on the back of your neck, keeping you firmly in his grasp. You close your eyes, shuffling one last time to get as comfortable as possible. And before you can say another word, you're lost in a deep, dreamless slumber.

The next morning, you're abruptly woken up by someone yanking the blanket off of you. You think at first it may be Eddie messing with you, but he's still pressed against the back of the couch, arms wrapped around you just like last night. You groan, refusing to open your eyes. Instead, you roll over to lay your leg on top of Eddie's, snuggling your head against his chest. He senses your movements, adjusting to hold you better in this position. He kisses your forehead out of instinct, still half-asleep. "I knew it!" You hear Robin shout, and the others let out various sounds of feigned shock.

You grumble again, dreading the oncoming interrogation. Eddie chuckles lowly, nudging you with his head. "I think we've been found out, angel." He says, opening his eyes to look at you. You sense his gaze, doing the same. He smiles kindly, stroking your face. "Hey there, beautiful. Let's get this over with, hm? They're just our dumbass friends." His words comfort you, the annoyance melting away. You nod, and the two of you sit up together to face the onslaught.

"So, what did you crazy kids get up to last night?" Nancy asks, curious as ever. She's visibly happy for you two, she'd talked to you multiple times about how you should've been making moves on Eddie.

"I know exactly what they were doing." Steve calls, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he walks down the stairs. "I could hear the whole thing, my bedroom window has quite the view of the pool deck. That, and the glass is ridiculously thin. I won't give away all the details. I'd much rather bleach my eyeballs than relive that. But I will say, Y/N  is quite a screamer." He joins the group as he finishes talking, your late-night activities had disturbed his sleep. It’s only fair he calls you out on it.

"Oh my god, Steve!" You screech at him, covering your reddening face in embarrassment. Everyone except the man sitting at your side laughs at you, furthering your humiliation. Eddie rubs your shoulder with his hand, whispering in your ear that it's okay and they're just giving you shit.

"You're cleaning those lounge chairs, by the way." Steve continues, scrunching his nose at the thought of what you two used them for.

"Oh, please. You don't even clean those, Harrington. And we all know damn well that you have used them way more than anyone else." Jonathan retorts, feeling a little bad that everyone has ganged up on you and Eddie.

"I fail to see what the problem is here, my dudes. All I see is two radical people in love, and that's beautiful, man!" Argyle chimes in, trying to go to bat for your honor. Him and Eddie have bonded over their shared love for weed, and they've also shown each other the ways of their particular musical tastes.

"Thank you, Gyle." Eddie says, using the sweet nickname he came up with for his favorite stoner.

"No worries, my man." Argyle replies with a laugh, coming over to give him a high five. "And I gotta say, you couldn't have picked a more bodacious babe to love, buddy. You talked her up at every occasion possible, I figured it was only a matter of time." He laughs again, walking out back to enjoy his daily wake 'n bake.

"Okay, okay. In all seriousness, though? We're all so fucking happy for you guys! We've been waiting for you to finally admit your feelings, it was getting a little painful to watch. But, congratulations to you on your relationship. We love you guys, much as we like to fuck around." Robin says, her little speech brightening the overall mood of the room. Everyone murmurs and nods in agreement, smiling bigger than you've ever seen. Your heart swells, it's just insane to have this much love and adoration pouring out at once. You look to Eddie again, his face dangerously close to yours. "Well, go on and kiss already!" Robin shouts, managing to get everyone to chant.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" They say in unison, eager to see you seal the deal on your new love.

"Well, let's give 'em what they want, Eds." You say, leaning in to press your lips onto his. Everyone cheers, whooping and hollering at an obscene volume. You break apart a moment later, taking hold of each other's hands as the noise dies down. Thankfully, everyone moves on to other various activities, leaving you and Eddie alone in the living room as most of the others have gone to rustle up some food in the kitchen.

"Good morning, darling. I didn't have a chance to say that earlier." He smirks, kissing your cheek.

"Good morning. That was certainly a unique way to wake up, but I guess we've got it over with now. I was a little worried that last night was just a dream, to be honest." You giggle, reciprocating his affection by kissing his nose. You exchange a couple more kisses, quickly heating up inside again. Without realizing it, you're straddling Eddie's lap just like last night. You're not sure how you got here, but you can't stop kissing him. His tongue battles with yours, quickly winning dominance. You lightly grind against him, not wanting to go too far right now as there's so many others in the house. "I think Halloween has become my favorite holiday." You say, panting as your lips migrate to his neck to give him a hickey of his own.

"Me too, love. Me too." He replies, hands squeezing your ass as you bite his neck.

"Jesus christ! My eyes! I really do not need a repeat performance of last night, guys!" Steve yells, startling you out of your lustful lapse in judgment.

"Sorry, Harrington." You and Eddie say at the same time, bursting into uncontrollable laughter.

The end.

[somedaylazysomeday]

An Emissary of the (Goblin) King

Your quiet life as a teacher falls apart when a student wishes you away. Eventually, Jareth has to decide what to do with you.

Jareth x fem!reader (no use of 'y/n')

*This was written for a request in which the reader was supposed to be plus-sized. As such, there are a few scattered references to weight and body shape.

**Not related to my other Labyrinth works.

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 6,800

Warnings: themes of being forgotten, slight loss of identity, bar flirting, slight harassment, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, creampie.

Masterlist

---

When you had gotten wished away in your thirties, you were… perturbed. 

After all, you had been long past the days of fairy tales and make-believe. Magic was a lovely story element for children, a way to encourage their imaginations and allow them to dream of the impossible. But it wasn’t real. 

At least, that had been your theory between the ages of ten and thirty-something. Then, one of your second-grade students in the after-school tutoring session had gotten upset with you. You had told him that he couldn’t have a second helping of snacks unless he agreed to work on his math problems with you. He had been struggling with subtraction in particular, but was so energetic that it was difficult for him to focus. 

You hadn’t really been able to blame him - it was after school hours and the sun was beginning to set, throwing beams of blazing orange light from beneath a carpet of dark purple clouds. It was the perfect counterpoint to the playfully spooky Halloween decorations you had put up around the room. 

Anyway, when you had insisted that your student sit down and focus on his math sheet before you let him have another handful of gummy worms, he had pouted his tiny face. With an impressive amount of venom for a six-year-old, he said, “Well, I wish the goblins would take you away right now.”

You were still wearing an indulgent smile when you appeared in the straw-strewn throne room with an anticlimactic pop!

The Goblin King was lounging on his uncomfortable-looking throne, watching you with his own indulgent smile. “Wished away by a child, were you? Pity. He likely meant nothing by it, but… well, what’s said is said. I doubt he will opt to run the labyrinth, but let us see if he calls.”

Operating under the idea that you had fallen and given yourself a rather nasty concussion, you simply nodded and took a seat on the cleanest section of the stone floor you could find. It was quiet in the throne room, though you could hear the unmistakable sounds of distant chaos.

It had started small - brushing a piece of straw from the stone slab next to you. It fell into the pit and that made you feel a little better. Then you pushed the straw from the next stone, and the next until the section around you was clear. Then you started using your feet to push the straw down the stairs until it was gathered in a neat pile at the bottom. 

“Would you like a broom?” the man with the wild hair asked. You were cautious when you faced him, but he simply looked amused. 

“And a dustpan, if you don’t mind.”

He shook his head. “Unnecessary.”

You hadn’t bothered asking what that meant. Instead, you applied yourself to neatening the throne room, working from the edges and sweeping all the debris toward the pit in the center of the room. Even the brown dots - ones you hoped were mud but suspected were some kind of dried fecal matter - lifted easily enough under the stiff bristles of the broom. 

At last, the room was clean and you swiped your forearm across your perspiring face. You didn’t know how the pit was going to get clean, but you were going to be miffed if the answer was ‘you’. 

When you caught movement from the corner of your eye, you jumped. You hadn’t forgotten the room’s other occupant - how could you? - but he moved with such impossible silence that you couldn’t track him with hearing alone. 

The man came to stand beside you and you took the chance to study him subtly. He looked… strange.

You shook yourself, reflexively berating yourself for the unkind thought, but you hadn’t been wrong. His face was narrow, flaring out at the cheekbones. His eyes were mismatched, but not in a heterochromatic way. No, one of his eyes was bluish-green while the other was simply black, as if it were entirely pupil. 

His hair was long and straight, though cut at various lengths that left it tapering from his  head down. Like a shag haircut on steroids. You were a little jealous and had vaguely started wondering whether you would be able to pull off the style when he turned. You realized just how tall he was. 

His mismatched stare was heavy and intense, and you redirected your attention as soon as possible. You opted to look at the pit instead, to take in the pile of straw and droppings, but it was gone. 

“What happened to the straw?” you asked, bewildered by the empty pit in front of you.

He smirked, lips twisting with an amusement that didn’t reach his eyes. “I discarded it, of course.”

“No, you didn’t,” you contradicted. “I’ve been standing there the whole time.”

“I used magic,” he clarified.

“Magic isn’t real.” 

The man’s eyes widened, then narrowed at you. “Have you not yet realized that you’re in a different place than you were when you were wished away?” 

“You said that earlier,” you remembered. “‘Wished away’. What do you mean?”

“At last, the typical questions,” he sighed. “Admittedly, far later than they are usually asked. Allow me to explain.”

The explanation that followed had been interesting, if mildly ludicrous: the man was actually a fae named Jareth. He collected lost and wished away items, though the only ones of them people cared enough to chase down were living things. He guarded the Labyrinth, collected the living things that appeared in the Underground - mostly children and pets, as he had explained - and allowed the wishers to run the Labyrinth if they wanted their disappeared item back. 

It could have been a far shorter explanation if you hadn’t been far more convinced by your concussion theory. 

In the end, Jareth had gotten tired of listening to your counterarguments and had sent you to ask Hoggle the rest of your questions. Hoggle had answered your questions… eventually. With a lot of complaining and work between giving those answers. You didn’t mind - work was something to keep you from running in circles in your own thoughts, and you learned a lot about the Labyrinth and the Underground simply by following Hoggle around. 

Jareth didn’t call you back to the throne room for nearly a week. 

“It seems as though your wisher is not going to run for you,” he said, taking on an expression he may have thought looked pitying. “He is at home with his mother, playing and eating and sleeping quite well without another thought of you. Quite the heroic youth."

“He’s six!” you reminded, mildly outraged at Jareth’s censure. “Even if he had offered, I wouldn’t want him running your labyrinth. It’s a death trap.”

Jareth’s expression had flattened at your insult, his mismatched eyes glittering with irritation. “Whether he would have run or not is irrelevant in the end. The real question is: what is to be done with you?”

“I…” You disliked asking questions you already knew the answers to, but there was nothing to be gained by playing things cool. “Could I go back home?”

“No.”

The blunt answer, though exactly what you had expected, still made you wilt. 

Jareth, for all that he made you nervous, didn’t look cruel about it. In a voice that was kinder than you had hoped, he said, “Even if I would agree to send you home, it would be impossible. You have been here too long. You have eaten and drank from the Underground. A single bite, a single sip… those could be reasoned with. Enough to influence a dream, forge a connection. But anything more? You are of this place now, more one of us than one of them.”

You wanted to argue, but something in your chest agreed, some nameless tangle of a thing recognizing that everyone and everything you had known were ‘them’. And you were not. 

Not anymore.

You had expected to be eaten by the Firies or thrown into the Bog or at least turned into a goblin, but Jareth had given you a different job: you were to be his hands and eyes in the human world.

“After all, no one will wish their belongings to me if they are ignorant of my existence,” he had told you. “You will spread information. Books and legends, stories told by firelight and in dark rooms as their occupants drift to sleep.”

And that was your task, had been for an eternity before you thought to check what year it was at all. People didn’t recognize you when you went to the human world, not even if you happened upon someone you had once known. That was fortunately rare, and became more so as the years faded. You didn’t seem to age, not the way you had. Perhaps there was an extra strand of silver in your hair or an aching joint where there never had been before, but it was uncommon. 

Oh, you looked the same as you always had. You could verify that any time you were on the surface. Just then, for instance, you were standing outside of a bar and could see yourself in the shine of the old-fashioned, gilt-edged windows. You were generously curved as you had been before, your face the same shape. 

If you stared too long, though, you could catch something strange in your face, in the way you walked. Nothing overt, of course, but something that made you look… sharp. Wild. It drew some attention when someone watched you for too long. The mask of your humanity - what remained of it, anyway - fell away with exposure. From there, it could go either way. Sometimes, humans fled like prey before a predator. Other times, they hit on you. 

Had humanity always been like this? So willing to run into danger? You didn’t think so, but it was getting difficult to remember. 

Either way, you had barely sat down at the bar and ordered a glass of wine before someone slid onto the barstool beside you. To be fair, you couldn’t be too upset about it. You had been searching for company.

“I’ll pay for that,” the man announced to the bartender. The bartender didn’t look like she could have cared less, but she managed a nod. “So, what’s your name?”

“I’m much more interested in learning yours,” you deflected. 

The stranger beamed at that and you smiled back. If you had your way, he wouldn’t learn your name. Even if he did, he would forget it before the day ended and you would never see him again. You would feel guilty about that, but you needed him for temporary relief from your body’s needs, nothing more. 

He could never be anything more. 

You pushed all of that from your mind and focused on your partner for the evening. He was handsome, the type of person you dated before you were wished away. It was getting harder to remember those days. 

The man’s personality was a little intense, but that tended to ease back a bit after someone realized that you weren’t going to disappear from them… yet.

Two drinks in, you had offered a smile that was almost genuine and were getting ready to suggest a change in location when your chest vibrated.

That wasn’t quite the right way to phrase it, but it was a difficult sensation to describe. It felt as though your ribcage and all of the organs it protected shook in tandem. The closest you had ever come to pinpointing the sensation was to compare it to the ringing of a gong, though thankfully, without the noise of the actual strike. 

The sensation was a warning that the Goblin King wanted you back in the Underground. It would happen more often the longer you ignored the summons, and would eventually grow painful. 

You rarely let it continue that long.

“I have to go,” you told your potential partner, standing abruptly from the stool and handing your credit card to the bartender. “Drinks are on me.”

At least, you assumed it was a credit card. It had no numbers or identification on it and you certainly didn’t have any money, but you had never had trouble paying for anything with it. Jareth had given it to you with minimal explanation. 

“Hang on-” the man protested, catching at your arm. You looked at his hand, then at him. Some of your strangeness must have shown through, since he slowly withdrew. He wasn’t wary enough, since he continued to speak. “What happened? I thought this was going somewhere.”

“It was,” you agreed simply, accepting your card from the bartender and scrawling a series of loops on the receipt she slid toward you. “Now it’s not.”

Fortunately for your almost-partner for the evening, he thought better of trying to physically stop you again and you left the bar unaccosted. 

Transportation to the Underground was rarely as dramatic as it had been that first time. Instead of a sudden, jarring switch in location, it happened as a slow fade. In this instance, you were walking and your surroundings seemed to blur slightly. When you could see clearly once more, you were in the Goblin King's throne room. 

Your forward motion hadn’t stopped, but it was far more risky to keep walking with the goblins thronging around your feet. You looked down at the group currently blocking your way and said, “Excuse me.”

The goblins - who had apparently been occupied in some kind of chicken-based game, shrieked and tumbled to either side. You continued toward the throne. 

For his part, Jareth was pretending he hadn’t noticed you yet. Instead, he was sprawled across his throne and studying the riding crop he had resting across his knees. Most observers would believe he was pensive, utterly lost in thought, but you knew better. Jareth loved to be watched, and if he could convince you that you had chosen to look without any prompting from him, so much the better. 

“You summoned me, sir?” you asked, reaching the base of the throne and offering a small incline of your head. 

Jareth glanced over, managing to look surprised, curious, and haughty. “Yes, I want a report on your progress.”

“Do you mind if I dismiss your subjects?” 

“As if you do not number among them?” Jareth tested, a corner of his mouth quirking upward knowingly. When you simply maintained eye contact, he gave a slight nod. “Very well, if it would please you.”

With effort, you managed not to shake your head at him. You were well able to focus even with the din of goblins around you, but Jareth took any respite he could get from them. 

“Can you all go downstairs for a while?” you asked, directing the question to the room at large. “I need to speak with the king.”

“You’s is speaking to him now,” one squeaky goblin pointed out, sounding sullen. 

Before the others could agree, you quickly cut in and diverted them. “You’re right, I am. But we need to talk about some very boring stuff and we need the room to be quiet. If you want to stay, you can’t make any noise. In fact, you could even help clean the throne room…”

You didn’t have a chance to say anything else, the goblins rushed out of the room in a panicked tide. You smirked at the receding wave of excitable, temperamental creatures. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since you had taught six and seven year-olds, but the goblins weren’t so different from human children. 

When you turned around, Jareth was sitting on the throne like it was a chair rather than a fainting couch. One of his eyebrows was raised and he looked impressed despite himself. “Someday, you must help me gain such mastery over my subjects.”

“Impossible,” you told him flatly. “They’re too focused on impressing you.”

“That has always been my burden to bear,” the Goblin King drawled, preening slightly as you tried not to roll your eyes. 

Jareth was the king. If you were to be technical about it, he was your king. He had left you alive when he didn’t need to. Even more than that, the nature of the job he had given you meant you had certain powers. The Goblin King did not bestow those lightly. You felt like you owed him at least basic respect, if not anything more subservient.

Besides, Jareth had enough people - well, goblins - trying to respond to his every need. You liked to think that he enjoyed the bits of personality you were willing to share with him. 

Rather than voice any of that aloud, you gave a shallow nod. "But you summoned me for a purpose. What do you need?" 

With the amusement still dancing across his fine features, Jareth tilted his head at you. "The work I gave you has never taken so long. I wanted an update on your progress." 

"My…" For the first time since you had found yourself in this strange land, you were thrown off by Jareth. He had never given any deadlines for your work, never ordered you to be done by a specific time. In fact, the opposite had been true. On the rare occasions that you worried about how long something took, Jareth was the first to remind you that he - and, by extension, you - had all the time that would ever exist. 

You managed to scrape together a semblance of competence. "An update. Yes. I can- That is, the work you gave me is complete. I distributed the books, set up special showings of the film, and orchestrated the release of some photographs." 

"All of that has been done?" Jareth checked. When you nodded, he gave you a stern look. "Then why did you not return to me immediately?"

As if on cue, something low in your stomach gave a heaving, disgruntled throb. You had never been overly desire-driven when you were fully human, and you blamed that for your current awkwardness - sex had never been common enough for you to grow blunt about your need for it. But you still had that need, and your body’s complaints were almost enough to drown out the weight of Jareth’s stare. Almost.

“I was in the middle of a different task,” you replied, trying to make it sound as bland as possible. Jareth’s attention span was stronger than that of his subjects, but he still made a concerted effort to avoid boring subjects. “Nothing of importance.”

Jareth studied his hands. “No, I imagine there is not much of importance in a dirty tavern.”

You froze. Not that you had been moving very much before, but every muscle locked down in response to the pointed revelation that Jareth could and did know where you went when you were Aboveground. “I-”

“You?” Jareth repeated mockingly. “Yes, you. You allowed a human to ply you with alcohol, then to paw at you. Though I suspect, given the tone of your conversation, that is far more innocent than what you would have done if I had not summoned you back here.”

“But how-”

Your question cut off abruptly when Jareth made a noise of impatience, tapping his cheekbone twice, just below his human eye.

“You watch me?” you demanded, surprise turning swiftly to anger and embarrassment. “Why?”

Jareth treated the question as literal rather than rhetorical, musing for a moment before he answered. “At first, to see if you intended to flee. It would not have worked, but it is always amusing to see humans try. Then, to be certain that you were performing your tasks to my standards. And finally…” The smile on Jareth’s face was indolent, with more than a hint of mischief. “Simply because I can.”

Glaring at an omnipotent fae king was probably not the wisest thing you could do, but your fury made you bold. “And have you watched me during my personal time before?”

Jareth let his head loll toward you for the best view of his self-satisfaction. “Yes.”

With a barely stifled noise of outrage, you spun with every intention of storming out of the room. Unfortunately for you, the powers Jareth had allotted you were nothing compared to his own. Without a sound or a motion from him, Jareth ordered the heavy doors to swing closed and there was nothing you could do to force them open once more. 

“I do not see why you are so offended,” Jareth told you, conversational tone coming from nearer than his throne. “I am well aware that humans have needs.”

“Then why interrupt me…” Your hissed demand had caught in your throat when you turned to find Jareth much closer than anticipated. The Goblin King twisted his head slightly to one side, matching the smirk that twisted his lips. You cleared your throat. “Why interrupt me when you know I’m occupied? Like you said, I have needs. It doesn’t help anyone if I’m too busy to meet them.”

“You are missing the most obvious solution,” Jareth informed you, spreading his hands to either side. “I can help meet those needs.”

“You?” you repeated skeptically. 

Jareth’s arms dropped and he looked almost offended. “And why not me?”

It may have been a rhetorical question, but you gave it as much thought as he had to your earlier question about his reasoning. “Well, you don’t seem like you would be interested. You don’t usually do things unless you have something to gain.”

“Have I not struck you as altruistic?” he asked. You shook your head, opting for honesty above tact. “Good. You are right, I don’t perform favors out of something as naïve as kindness. I have much to gain from this offer.”

“Like what?” you asked. The suspicion in your voice was so thick as to be almost comical, but Jareth didn’t seem offended.

“Pleasure,” he answered simply. “Do you want to meet your needs now? Or will you wait until the next time you have a spare moment to be disappointed by some human in a bar?”

You thought about waiting, you really did. Jareth was cocky enough without giving him access to something as personal as your pleasure. But you were growing close to desperation. That could make you more likely to be careless in Aboveground, something you weren’t willing to risk.

“You’re right,” you said. “It is the most obvious solution.”

The only thing that saved you from the self-congratulatory smile that slid across Jareth’s face was the fact that you erased it with your lips a moment later.

The Goblin King’s teeth were sharp. It had been one of the first things you noticed when you met him so long ago, but you were still a little shocked to be confronted by that sharpness when you slipped your tongue between his lips. 

Jareth’s surprise rivaled your own, though for different reasons. For half a moment, he seemed taken aback by your ardor, but he recovered and took control of the kiss before you could get used to the taste of him. He was like the sweetest wine, and you were instantly addicted.

A hand latched around your jaw kept your head positioned just where Jareth wanted it, and he swept through you like a hurricane. It was all you could do to keep up with him, but you were the first one to succumb to wandering hands. 

His clothes were always so decadent, and you had been waiting a long time to see if they felt as lovely as they looked. You were delighted to say that they did - textures sliding and dancing beneath your fingertips - but you were more focused on what you felt under those clothes.

The heat of Jareth’s skin was immense even through his clothing, enough to pull an answering sensation of heat from you. Every item of clothing you removed from him ratcheted the temperature further up until you felt like there was fire under your skin. 

Halfway through removing Jareth’s ostentatious cape, you pulled away to deposit it safely on his throne. It wouldn’t do to have it trampled by goblins or, worse, land in chicken excrement. 

Jareth muttered complaints for every moment you were away from him, pulling you impatiently closer the moment you were in arm’s reach. “I don’t know why you did that. I intend for that throne to be our next destination.”

You cast an assessing glance toward the door. It looked heavily barred, and you hadn’t been able to budge it, but there was a distinct possibility… “Fine with me, as long as you’re sure we won’t be interrupted. I don’t want to toss any of your subjects from the window of your throne room.”

“The door is locked,” he assured you, ducking his head to press wet kisses down your neck before blowing gently across his handiwork. 

With a shiver at the abrupt shift in temperature, you nodded. “And no goblin has ever managed to circumvent a locked door before.”

Jareth paused, clearly intent on undoing your shirt, but gave a marvelously exasperated groan. “Fine.”

Your triumph was cut off by an abrupt shriek as Jareth pulled you into his arms so strongly that your feet left the floor. “Jareth! What are you doing?”

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this, pet,” he replied, pouting. “I’m not wasting any more time.”

And then he was striding toward a section of the throne room that looked distinctly… soft around the edges, and you recognized it as a portal. All of that was secondary, of course, to the ever-present awareness of being held in Jareth’s arms. 

As someone with a proud set of curves, you could count on one hand the number of times you’d been lifted by a lover. That was a shame, since being carried was something of a weakness for you, especially when you weren’t worried about being dropped. And nothing in Jareth’s expression or posture warned that he was about to run out of strength. 

You were still basking in the sensation as Jareth stepped through the portal and into a room that was nearly as large as the throne room. The major differences were that there was no pit and that the place of the throne was occupied by the largest bed you had ever seen. 

A smile stretched across your face as Jareth set you down on that large bed, and he frowned at you. “What is amusing you?”

“This bed is enormous,” you explained. “Yet I’ve never seen you with anyone.”

“I’ve had a partner here on numerous occasions,” he told you haughtily. “Perhaps you have not seen them because you are so busy finding partners among the humans.”

“Perhaps,” you agreed readily enough. “Or perhaps it has been such a long time that your last partner and I missed each other.”

“That…” Jareth’s lips pursed, “...is possible.”

You didn’t necessarily remember closing your eyes while you laughed at that, but you must have. When you opened them once more, Jareth was looming over you. “Pleased as I am to provide amusement, there are other noises I would rather pull from you.”

Your breath caught at the rough admission. Jareth’s face descended before you could scrape up a response, and then you were too concerned with meeting the intoxicating rhythm of his mouth against yours. 

The next thing you knew, you were resting more securely on the bed with Jareth holding himself above you. Both of you were fully naked and you had no idea how you had gotten that way. Most likely, he had used his magic to remove your clothing, but it was possible that you had been too thoroughly distracted by his kisses to worry about something as minor as what his hands were doing. 

In any case, you were reveling in the way your hands could roam over him without encountering any barriers. Jareth’s body was pale, muscles dancing subtly under his skin. That paleness was marked with occasional scars - silvery marks that spoke of injuries from long ago. You couldn’t see much of him below the mid-torso since he was pressed so tightly to you, but you could feel the delicious length of him, hot and hard against your thigh. 

When Jareth finally pulled away, he only went far enough to make eye contact without either of you crossing your eyes. “I want to taste you. Is that acceptable to you?”

“You’re the king,” you reminded him with a sardonic smile. 

Jareth’s jaw flexed and his mismatched eyes narrowed. “Precisely. Which is why I expect an honest answer when I ask a question. Do you want this?”

“Yes.” The confirmation was a little breathless, but Jareth’s reply had been unexpected for someone who placed such an emphasis on retaining control. “Yes, I do.”

“Good,” he told you with a nod. 

His patronizing tone might have set your teeth on edge, but Jareth accompanied it with a praising stroke down the length of your body. His fingertips trailed fire from your collarbone, over one breast, across the swell of your stomach, and down to the part of you that was aching for him. At the same time, he slid down until his face was even with your hips and you could hardly keep still with the anticipation filling you. 

With your knees already parted around him, Jareth had only to wedge his shoulders between your thighs to gain full access to your core. The sudden exposure to the air of the room sent a chill through the parts of you that were burning the hottest, but the coolness only heightened the sensations. 

Jareth didn’t give you any warning, any time to brace. Instead, he ducked his head suddenly, swiping the flat of his tongue from the bottom of your slit to the very top. He paused for a moment while you made a sound of startled pleasure, his lips quirking. 

“Delicious,” he told you. “I wonder if you’re even sweeter inside?”

Before you could offer any reply, Jareth apparently decided to see for himself. One of your legs was tossed over his shoulder while he pinned the other to the bed. That was the only thing that kept you from trying to strangle him with your thighs when he began to torment you in earnest. 

Those plush lips and wicked tongue explored every part of you, wringing pleasure from you like it was something precious he could save for later. 

An elegant finger pushed into your core, pressing into the heat and slickness of you without a bit of difficulty. Your muscles spasmed so dramatically that it forced you to sit up - or, more accurate, to try. Jareth’s arm across your hips kept you pinned to the bed, leaving you to writhe, squeeze your legs around him, and cry out your pleasure loud enough for the entire castle to hear. The hand pressing you into the softness of the mattress strummed fingers across your hip.

With an expression that felt wild with pleasure, you stared down between your own thighs and clenched even harder around that finger. Your eyes had met Jareth’s mismatched gaze where it peeked over the roundness of your tummy. Mischief glimmered on what you could see of his face, and there was a clear sense of enjoyment in his bearing. 

That eye contact sent an electric thrill through you, and you were gone. Your head kicked back against the pillow and you seemed to leave your body for an eternity, shattering into infinite pieces under the onslaught of pleasure Jareth was using to assault you.You may have made a noise - probably had, if you were judging from your experience so far - but you couldn’t hear it over the way your ears rang with the sound of your mind shattering. 

When you finally settled back into your body again, it felt too small to possibly contain everything you had felt. Jareth was applying long, luxurious licks to your core, sweeping over the entirety of your slit and it was all you could do to push him away. 

Jareth gave you a moment to collect your breath, but soon enough, he was peering down at you with no small amount of pride on his strange face. “Will you recover?”

You were a bit embarrassed by the strength of your reaction to him, but you managed a smile and a nod. “Guess I needed that more than I thought. It’s been a while.”

The fae tilted his head to the side, a hint of a smile showing the white points of his teeth. “My dear, do you honestly believe I have lived so long without learning to draw pleasure from someone? Your state of arousal has little to do with it.”

The post-orgasmic glow kept you from mustering the scoff that deserved. After delivering a sad little huff, you told him, “Humble as ever, Goblin King.”

“I would so hate to leave you with an inaccurate idea of my skill,” Jareth drawled. “I would be happy to provide further proof at your earliest convenience.”

Your breath caught in your throat, leading to an embarrassing cough. On the positive side, that cough gave you a moment to internally puzzle through that. Was Jareth volunteering to do this again sometime? He was technically your boss and your king, and thus a romantic connection you had never experienced before, but you couldn’t honestly say you wouldn’t be with him again. Even ignoring the pleasure - difficult as that was - you… really wouldn’t mind repeating this experience. 

“Uh, okay,” you said elegantly. 

Jareth simply smiled at you, but something about his intent gaze warned that he understood your thoughts as clearly as he did his own. Still, all he said aloud was, “Did that satisfy you, pet? Or would you perhaps like to continue?” 

Before you could fight it, your gaze dropped to the apex of his thighs. He was visibly hard and ready for you, his body betraying an eagerness that was totally hidden in his expression. Despite his state of arousal, Jareth was still giving you the option to be done with him. As he was known for his lack of tact, you recognized and appreciated the effort Jareth was putting into making you comfortable. 

And what better way was there to show your appreciation than to offer some relief?

“I think I might need a little more,” you told him, playing coy. You even added a demure drop of your gaze, though you could see him through your lashes. 

That was how you watched when Jareth’s expression sharpened, though his voice stayed careless. “I don’t believe in offering partial respite. I shall see this task through until it is complete.”

The smile that fought to spread across your face was only stifled by the way Jareth caught at your ankle and pulled you further down the bed. He surged upward at the same time until you were firmly beneath him. The fae dotted your face, jaw, and neck with kisses as he settled heavily on top of you. Your legs parted automatically to wrap around his waist and draw him closer, but you were taken aback when the length of him pressed against your still-sensitive core.

You were still surfing the wave of heightened sensation when you felt the tip of Jareth’s length notch into your opening. 

Jareth’s fingers trailed from your forehead down to your jaw, turning your head until he could peer into your face. “Are you ready for me, pet?”

“Yes,” you agreed eagerly. “Please…”

“Don’t beg, sweet thing,” he instructed. “You never need to beg for me.”

And then he was driving into you - robbing you of any ability to process that.

Jareth had seemed to have an average build below the waist, as you had expected from his elegant physique and slender limbs. Still, he felt earth-shattering as he eased inside of you, enough to take your breath away even considering how wet you were with the remains of your earlier orgasm. 

You were utterly still as he pressed in, locked in place by the amount of concentration you had fixed on the feeling of him. But the first time he withdrew from the depths of you, every part of you writhed beneath him. Your hands grasped, your toes curled, your head tilted in an attempt to ease the groan that fought for release from your throat. 

Jareth swallowed that groan, dipping down easily to sweep through your mouth just as thoroughly as he had the first time. He plundered you greedily, feeding on the sounds you made for him as his hips danced closer and away, closer and away. 

Infuriatingly, he kept you - and himself - poised on the edge of orgasm for an eternity, slowing whenever either of you came too close to the precipice. Jareth chased pleasure eagerly, though, tormenting you with fingers and lips to push you higher without allowing you the relief of release.

“Jareth, please,” you begged as his hips slowed once more.

He arched a brow at you. “Yes, pet? What do you need?”

“I-” You gave a hoarse gasp as a deliberate twist of his hips left the length of him brushing against your g-spot. It was followed by a noise of frustration when his pace slowed to a fraction of what it had been. “Please, I need to come.”

His smile was so sudden that it looked almost fierce. “My dear, why did you not tell me earlier?”

A retort sprang to your lips, but it died there as he shifted infinitesimally inside of you. That minor change had devastating effects on the angle of his thrusts inside of you, which picked up speed until it was all you could do not to drown in him. 

Your body tightened around his as it had done so many times before, but he didn’t slow this time. Instead, his lips caught yours as his thumb strummed your clit.

That kiss was only broken when your orgasm hit you like a train, kicking your head back and dropping your mouth open so you could cry out from the incredible intensity of the pleasure that filled you. Your limbs curled around Jareth, constricting to keep him pressed against you as tightly as possible.

On his side of things, Jareth didn’t seem inclined to fight his imprisonment. His hips pistoned between your trembling thighs, burying himself in you over and over until - finally - his rhythm faltered. 

Those sharp teeth were bared in a snarl as he pushed himself as deeply as he could get. The warmth of his release flooded you. 

When the frantic pulses of his hips slowed, Jareth let himself drop on top of you. His weight was on you for a fraction of a second before he twisted to pull you on top of him instead. Since he was still buried in your core, the motion left you in the grip of an aftershock, but you recovered enough to move off of him. 

Jareth’s eyes were closed, but his hands lashed out to keep you from moving as soon as you started to. “I don’t know where you think you’re going, pet, but you are mistaken.”

“I’m just rolling off of you, Jareth,” you told him, exasperated. “If I crush you, it’ll be regicide and I can’t imagine a goblin trial is pleasant.”

“It isn’t,” he agreed, eyes still closed. “But mostly because they show an inability to focus on a single issue for more than seconds at a time. And as for being crushed by you… Not only is it an impossibility, but it sounds rather pleasant.”

“Jareth…” you sighed. 

That made him open his mismatched eyes and you were startled to see the changes in them. The blue-green of his human eye was expanding both toward the pupil and over the white sclera. The pupil-less darkness of his fae eye was doing the same, slowly working out until the entire orb of his eye was dark. 

When Jareth finally spoke, it was with a smile that showed his sharp teeth. “Did you know there is a difference in the way you say my name now?”

You paused, scanning over his face for a moment before you asked, “And what does that mean?”

Jareth didn’t immediately answer you, but his smile didn’t fade during the stretch of quiet. At long last, he said, “It means that things have changed between us. It means that I encourage you to seek to satisfy your needs in my bed. And it means that I chose the perfect person to serve as my emissary in the human world.”

That was significantly less worrisome than what you thought he would say. In fact, it was even… sweet. “I certainly never thought I would end up here, but I can’t say that I regret it.”

“Faint praise,” Jareth said dryly. “But praise nonetheless. We shall see whether we can further improve your outlook on your place in my kingdom.”

“I look forward to that,” you admitted, relaxing slightly into him. 

Jareth’s arms tightened around you, drawing you even closer. “As do I.”

---

Author's Note - Thanks for reading! I'm not officially accepting requests, but someone sent this one in and it caught my interest enough to help me break through some writer's block.

Happy Halloween!

I don't offer a taglist for spicy fics, but you can find other works on my masterlist.

[jadeshifting]

— HOGWARTS CLASS FAVORITES & NON-FAVORITES

( AKA 25 DAYS OF SHIFTMAS … DAY 10 )

Icicles — What is your occupation in your DR? Your coworkers? (Or if student, your classmates?) What is your favorite and least favorite aspect of your occupation?

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

a STUDENT at HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT & WIZARDRY

every part of my Hogwarts life is either a polished gem or a glaring nuisance—there’s no in-between, and i wouldn’t have it any other way. my academic experience is a mix of glamorous highlights and deeply petty frustrations, all colored by my passion for my studies (and unmistakable flair for dramatics)

CLASS FAVORITES

— POTION BREWING . i adore the simmer of bubbling elixirs and the snap of sharp, exotic scents—it’s chemistry meets witchy mischief

— LATE-NIGHT LIBRARY CRAWLS . there’s nothing quite like the whisper of pages in the Restricted Section at midnight and the thrill of finding spells that aren’t technically allowed

— WRITING ESSAYS WITH A MAGICAL FOUNTAIN PEN . ink that sparkles with a faint shimmer? my parchments are practically pieces of art

— CHARMS CLASS PRACTICAL EXAMS . a chance to show off my wand work with elegant, graceful flourishes that make my magic look like a ballet dance

— PERSONALIZING TEXTBOOKS . annotating margins with sharp quips and cheeky insights, plus enchanting my covers to look more luxurious—every book screams i was here

— WINNING MAGICAL THEORY DEBATES . watching someone crumble under my razor-sharp logic is intoxicating—intellectual combat at its finest

— LEARNING RARE SPELLS . anything obscure and tricky makes me feel like a prodigy (bonus points if it’s not exactly legal)

— QUILL SHOPPING . picking out sleek raven-feather quills that glide like liquid moonlight over parchment

— WINNING HOUSE POINTS . watching those emerald gems spill into Slytherin’s hourglass because of my brilliance? mwah

— TRANSFIGURATION CHALLENGES . the art of turning a teacup into a kitten feels like alchemy for the soul (and i love showing up classmates with my technique)

— PERFECTLY ORGANIZED NOTES . i charm my parchment into a flawless layout, complete with color-coded highlights that rival the most meticulous Ravenclaws

— IMPRESSING PROFESSORS . watching their eyebrows lift as i deliver a particularly brilliant answer feels like snagging a trophy

— SILENT HEXING PRACTICE . perfecting subtle wand flicks to cast spells with zero sound—it’s deadly elegance

— POTION BOTTLING . i spends extra time arranging my concoctions in sleek, jewel-toned vials—presentation matters

— TUTORING FRIENDS . while i try to be chill, so i’d never admit it, helping a mate ace a spell gives me a quiet, smug glow

— WRITING IN FANCY COLORS . deep emerald green and shimmering gold inks make my notes feel like royal decrees

— SNEAKING SNACKS INTO STUDY HALL . charm-conjured warming spells keep my contraband pastries just right (it’s fuel for genius)

— HOLIDAY-THEMED CLASSES . a transfiguration lesson where we turn goblets into snow globes? Hogwarts at its festive finest

— QUILLS THAT RUN OUT MID-ESSAY . very few things ruin a writing flow like needing to whisper-shout Replenish at an inkpot mid-thought

— CUSTOMIZED CALDRON GEAR . my engraved silver stirring rod and emerald-green scales are the high fashion of potion-making

— MAGICAL THEORY DEBATES . turning academic discussions into verbal duels—extra points if the professor lets it go on long enough for me to leave my opponent speechless

— FLAWLESS SPELL PRONUNCIATION . watching others trip over incantations while mine roll off her tongue like silk? that’s just witchy excellence

— ACE MARKS IN TRANSFIGURATION . when McGonagall gives a rare nod of approval, it’s like being handed the academic version of a crown

CLASS NON-FAVORITES (anti-favorites? hm)

— GROUP PROJECTS . the bane of my academic existence—carrying lazy tagalongs while maintaining my high standards is not the move

— HISTORY OF MAGIC LECTURES . Binns’ droning voice could put a banshee to sleep—i spends the hour doodling and muttering hexes under my breath

— UNNECESSARY OWL STRESS . i’m already going to ace everything; the professors need to stop pretending this is a life-or-death situation

— POORLY WRITTEN TEXTBOOKS . when a spell description is so convoluted it literally makes me twitch—who approved this drivel for the curriculum?

— MANDATORY STUDY HALLS . i don’t need structured time; i’ve already done the work—let me live

— CLEANING UP AFTER POTIONS . the bubbling, sticky mess after an advanced potion experiment makes my arms sore to think about

— THE ASTRONOMY TOWER STAIRS . dragging myself up those endless spiral stairs for star charts feels like cruel and unusual punishment

— GRYFFINDOR BOYS’ BRAGGING . listening to overzealous lions gloat about Quidditch victories in class when they clearly didn’t study for the upcoming test

— RAVENCLAW PERFECTIONISM . nowhere near as bad as the Gryffindors, but watching eagles over-analyze a single question until they spiral into a panic is both grating and exhausting to witness

— UNRULY POTION INGREDIENTS . slippery, wiggly, or overly smelly components? A hard no

— UNFORGIVABLY UGLY WIZARDING FASHION . the student who wore a clashing house scarf and mismatched robes still haunts my nightmares

— CARELESS WAND FLICKS . students waving their wands around like toys? a disaster waiting to happen

— CARE OF MAGICAL CREATURES’ SMELLS . as much as i adore all of the creatures, the scent of burnt Blast-Ended Skrewt tail is a hard pass, personally

— LATE OWL DELIVERIES . nothing like a screech owl dropping an overdue textbook in my lap mid-breakfast

— END-OF-TERM ESSAYS . five feet of parchment on Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration? i’m convinced this absolutely qualifies as academic hazing

— HISTORY OF MAGIC NAP PATROL . Binns droning on and on about stuff i already know is a snooze-fest, but the fact that i know he’ll notice if i fall asleep—tragic

— SLOPPY SPELLWORK . watching someone fumble a first-year level basic spell makes me want to hex them into next week—standards, people

— PROFESSOR SPROUT’S DIRT OBSESSION . planting is fun, but endlessly digging in soil for Herbology feels more like a detention than a lesson

— UNFINISHED ASSIGNMENTS ON SHARED TABLES . if someone’s half-baked essay ends up under my notes when i’m trying to work, it’s going straight to the fire

— OVERACHIEVING GRYFFINDORS . watching them grandstand in Defense Against the Dark Arts just makes me roll my eyes—calm down, hero

— QUILL THIEVES . borrowing my enchanted, gold-tipped quill without asking will literally get someone on my watch list

— MUD EVERYWHERE AFTER QUIDDITCH PRACTICE . tramping through puddles to get to flying class while the quidditch team cheers? absolutely not

— ACCIDENTAL SPELL MISHAPS . being in the blast radius when someone botches a fire-starting spell isn’t the kind of hands-on learning i signed up for

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

[thezombieprostitute]

Dream Come True - Part 2

Summary: The “Garbage Men” are the guys in the mob who get the dirt on others and clean up after the higher ups. They have many different ways of gathering intel by running legitimate businesses. One such business is Jefferson/Jensen’s cyber cafe where you regularly go to work. You’ve actually become good friends with Jefferson’s daughter and Jensen’s niece. You even volunteered as their after-school tutor. One day, there’s a robbery attempt where you get hurt protecting the girls. This is how you are introduced to Curtis Everett, the guy in charge of the “Garbage Men”.

A/N: Reader is plus sized, femme. No other descriptors used.

Warnings: Shooting mentioned, not written. American healthcare system. Insecure reader. Bullying with an emphasis on fat shaming. Please let me know if I miss any!

Part 1 -- Part 3

Series Masterlist

It's only been a few days but you find yourself unable to follow the advice of the medical staff and get some rest. Your brain won't let you. You've got budgets to consider, a resume to update, and follow up appointments to schedule. Thankfully when Jake and Jefferson had brought the girls for a visit they made sure to bring your laptop.

Because you hated not knowing, you opted to spend your time researching to see about how much you might be getting from that back-pay promised by Curtis. Jefferson had assured you that Curtis did, in fact, have that kind of pull but "please don't dig too much into it." You got the impression not everything was on the up-and-up but you have bills to pay so you agreed.

On day four you got a notice of deposit from your bank. You took a look and your jaw dropped. That couldn't be right! You'd done the research. There's no way even an experienced, highly qualified tutor would ever be earning that much! There must've been a mistake! You immediately make a note to tell someone who knows Curtis.

Curtis and Mace were going through their weekly itineraries. Between the two of them nothing got lost. Mace would, occasionally, grumble about needing a vacation but the two of them were the only people who keep all the moving pieces in mind.

"At least we can check a few things off the list this week," Curtis grunted. "Hal's got the bugs planted in the Smith law building. Jake's confirmed they're working."

"Fowler confirmed McMann won't be a problem," Mace reported. "Apparently the guy's busy trying to hunt down the guy that ran away with his wife."

Curtis chuckled at that. "That was Nat, right?"

Mace smiled, "yeah. Nat called "dibs" and we didn't have a counterargument."

"McMann's gonna spend a long time searching," Curtis shakes his head. "Nat's the best at not being found when she doesn't want to be."

"And the Missus is definitely better off," Mace agreed. "Nat's setting her up for life."

"That reminds me," Curtis interjected. "How's the back-pay for Hero doing?"

Mace double checked a few things on his phone before replying, "it's been deposited into her account."

"Good. One more thing we can cross off the list."

"Not yet, actually," Mace hesitated. Curtis gave him a curious look. "Turns out, she's trying to get ahold of you to talk about the amount. Beck says she's adamant that it's too much."

"Huh," Curtis's eyebrows raised. "There's something you don't hear every day. I'll talk to Barber and got some legal-ese that'll explain without explaining."

Mace nods and the two continue their meeting, switching to ongoing tasks.

"Excuse me?" It's been a few days since the money hit your account and you've finally gotten a visit from Curtis.

They kept you at the hospital longer because your stress levels made it "irresponsible" for Dr. Beck to discharge you, lest you have a heart attack as soon as you get outside. At this point you're certain Dr. Beck wants to get as much money from your stay as he can. Everyone who visits, however, says otherwise.

"Hazard pay," Curtis patiently repeated. "That's why there's so much more money than you expected."

"You can't expect me to believe that!" You are indignant. "That's not how hazard pay works. I've done my research Mr. um, Mr." you pause because you realize you don't know his last name. You feel the pang of embarrassment because you've been saying you've done your research but you don't know something as simple as a last name! You push past it and continue, "I've done my research, sir!"

You open up your laptop and bring up all of your documents of notes, focusing in on the bibliography. "I've got data from reputed tutoring websites, the Department of Labor, Glassdoor, even the Bureau of Labor Statistics, and none of them support the amount I was given."

Curtis finds himself smiling. He's been talked back to plenty of times, but never like this. "You're cute," he blurts out.

Thinking he's making fun of you, you look away from him and try not to show too much hurt. Curtis assures, "I'm not saying that to belittle you. You really have put a lot of work into this."

You shake your head, "it's besides the point, sir. You've grossly overpaid me. I know you've overpaid me. Yet you are refusing to acknowledge this."

"That's partly because I'm not sure why it's such a big deal to you," he calmly states.

"Because I don't want to cheat you!"

"Are you saying there's a price limit for saving my nieces?"

"I mean, technically there is. Could probably use some actuarial tables used in life insurance policies to find it out." Curtis gives you a hard glare but you persist, "I'm not saying that your nieces aren't priceless. I'm saying that I don't want to take what isn't mine. This is a lot of money and I don't want you going hungry or something because you feel you owe me when you don't. I only did what any decent person would do!"

"It's been my experience that decent people are rarities," Curtis stated. "As such they, and by extension you, should be treated well and given plenty."

"That's another part of the problem," you sighed. "I have not been told anything specific but I've seen and heard enough to suspect that this money might not be... legitimate."

Curtis's jaw tensed up. He'd have to have a word with the J's about being more careful. "I assure you," he nearly growled, "that the money you received was honestly earned by us and then you. All tax forms have been taken care of. All employment paperwork is settled."

You meet his gaze, undeterred by the intensity in his eyes. You see no signs of trickery. Nothing in those icy blue eyes indicating he was hiding the truth from you. You nod your acceptance and he relaxes a bit.

"Now," he says in a much lighter tone, "was there anything else?"

"Um, just one," you replied. "You said that I'm officially employed? That you might have more work for me? Who am I employed by and what other work should I be ready for?"

"The official name of my company is Everett Enterprises," he explained. "That's the company title on your W-2. As for the "other work" that was implied, it's simply a notice that I may have other employees in need of a tutor. I know Hal has been looking at getting his GED."

"So all you would need from me is more tutoring?"

Curtis can hear the tremor in your voice. You're a good person who doesn't want to get mixed up in anything illegal and he's happy to accommodate that. "Yes," he asserts. "Though that may involve helping some of my people learn how to cite their sources like you did."

That gets a half smile from you and Curtis considers the conversation done. "Now please follow the doctor's orders and rest up," he pleads. As he turns to leave he says, "make sure to get your beauty sleep."

Because he's facing away he doesn't see your face fall at the comment.

Part 1 -- Part 3

Tagging @alicedopey because I promised I would.

@dontbescaredtosingalong

@icefrozendeadlyqueen

@texmexdarling

@veltana

@winter-soldier-101

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

[sug01s3al]

I'm curious, you did say that you created puppet designs for the rest of the Spiritfarer cast correct? If so, 1) can we see them, and 2) will you ever revisit those designs one day to make them reality? Love the Gwen puppet by the way.

My sketchbook ended up being a total of 195 pages so I think I would explode my tumblr if I uploaded everything for every character plus the npc's 😅 But I can share a few of my favourites- granted the art is a year old at this point so don't judge too harshly I promise I can draw much better now ^u^

My design process basically went: pick a character -> make a moodboard -> sketch ideas & explanation -> puppet and puppeteer designs -> puppet schematics (this was only for a few of them that I had time to get to, I did get told off by my tutors for doing to much planning because I couldn't settle on who I wanted to actually build). Given the time and resources I'd love to revisit building one of them using what I learned but at the moment I am seeking theatre jobs (not too fabulous in my area sadly) so I only have my spare materials to work with at the moment and many sets of dice to make :'''). I still don't really know who I'd want to make though, even now they all seem so fun to make because not all of the puppets were in the style of Gwen's so each one poses a different challenge to tackle.

It goes without saying but spoilers for Spirit Farer below, ye have been warned~

I should also mention that with curriculum stuff I wasn't allowed to simply replicate the designs so you'll see quite a bit where I talk about changing and adapting the design for stage so if you wonder why its changed thats why :') (I'm aware Gwen doesn't really deviate much from her design but she was supposed to come with a fully sewn costume too which I sadly didn't have the time to make)

I was quite a big fan of the npc designs

Our boy Alex as imagined as a segmented puppet in the style of those wooden hand crank puppets. I think he'd be really easy to make in EVA I want to see if I can replicate the mechanism.

Hades was a particularly fun design to do too

I 100% am gonna reuse my design for Hades for an oc later down the line, that being said they already look a bit like a love child between my oc's Lazarus and Aster :''). I designed Hades to be a giant team puppet with the main actor (above design) pupeteering the head and voicing the character whilst the rest of the body was made up of actors who blended into the puppet whilst still having their own unique costumes. Hades is by far my biggest design, in scale and also with the amount of actors playing him because I really wanted to get that omnipotent, ethereal, imposing vibe down.

As for individual puppeteer designs :3 ->

I won't bore you with the character analysis pages for Jackie but he had a similar puppet design to Gwen.

(That is gold ink on the final page I promise you 😅)

Controversial opinion but I actually love Bruce and Mickey, I know they're the heels (well Bruce at least) but they're such a brilliantly layered character which is probably why his design got a lot more analysis then some. My thoughts are mostly there on my notes but I'll write it out so you don't have to squint at my awful handwriting. Bruce and Mickey are another really interesting character in that Mickey isn't really there at all (spoilers) as Mickey passed away in an accident before Bruce did so as Bruce takes focus in the game (speaking for both and doing the character interactions) I wanted him to be centre stage as the only puppeteer. Mickey's death was in a car accident that left him in a coma, if i remember correctly, Bruce blames himself for so I had this idea for the puppeteer (just like Bruce in game) to literally carry the Mickey puppet around the stage like a physical burden, a physical manifestation that the pain of carrying his brother's death weighs on him. And this idea of a struggle of grief, paired with Mickey being represented by a bull gave way to the idea for their puppeteers costume design being inspired by a bull fighter, a hybrid behind this teddy-boy greaser and bull fighter - of course the colours being big and bright and bold as their personalities.

Cw: Cancer. For Summer I wanted to use a lot of organic colours, shapes and textures within the puppet and costume design because of her love of nature and gardening (I still tear up everytime I play for my crops and she isn't there playing along). Summer, as mentioned in the game, was the girlfriend of Stella's Aunt Rose and inspired Stella's nursing career after witnessing her battle with cancer; in her minigame event you face off against a giant serpent that is 'infected' in a way, it has veins of ores running through it symbolic of the cancer running through her body. Which is why for her puppet design (a long with being able to conveniently hide how she moves) I wanted her puppet to be literally intertwined with her costume. The Klimpt inspiration for her scales I can't really tell you why I picked that other than Klimpt is one of my favourite artists and I thought the organic shapes and motifs in his work would suit her :').

Plans for Buck, my best friend.

Stanley I would say was the closest competition to Gwen and probably the one I would want to make the most if I was able to pick this back up. He was designed to be a smaller marionette style puppet so you could get those large, exaggerated, energetic movements from him that you do in game (for reference he does a lot of bouncing and jumping along with launching himself at Stella when he hugs her which is absolutely adorable). Like Buck, Stanley was planned to be a mixed material puppet, mostly cuddle fleece for body with different textures for the embellishments, like mushroom gills and his spot patterns. It was important to me to try and have an element of sympathetic movement in each design so the puppet was constantly moving in someway. Bonus picture of the costume design ideas for his puppeteer- if it wasn't feasible to have him as a separate puppet I liked the idea of Jacob (his pet beetle) being included in the design somehow which ended up being either as a hair pin or brooch :3.

I'll finish off with Stanley, I have designs for Daria, Astrid, Giovani, Alice and Atul but I'm not as happy with the old art so I'm not going to post it. The Beverly update hadn't been released at the time of this project so she never got a design :')

As for who I wouldn't make it would have to be Atul- for as much as I adore his character and love the design I drew for him having to have a giant Atul hanging around my house would make me sad, he makes me feel like this

That being said I do have the plush of him sat on my bed rn :')

I could keep yapping but this post is long enough lol

Also merry christmas everyone!!

[zoi3e]

"call me later?"

- how you meet.

Requested by: no one

Warnings: mentions of suicide(Dazai), implied Mori's weird ass shit (Dazai), light mentioning of drugs (Dazai), mentions of kidnapping (Tetchou)

Charecters: Atsushi, Osamu, Chuuya, Ryuunoske, Ranpo, Kunikida, Poe, Fukuzawa, Sigma, Nikolai, Fyodor, Tetchou, Jouno,

Nakajima Atsushi

• you both met when Kyouka ran off one time while they were buying crepes.

• Kyouka kinda scared you as she stared at you bluntly while you just nervously smiled back before Atsushi found her and apologized profusely for her in-politeness.

"I'm so sorry! She uh... isn't very good with manners.."

"Oh, it's alright...'"

"YES! Uhm, I'm Atsushi Nakajima and this is Kyouka."

• He insisted on buying you some crepes in apology. You said no, but he really insisted.

• I geuss Kyouka was a wing woman.

Dazai Osamu

• Unfortunately, you two met through Mori.

• Mori at the time had found you before he got Dazai after his suicide attempt. He took you in at a time of weakness and you just wanted someone to give you attention. You'd later regret it.

• You worked alongside Mori when Dazai was given to him after his suicide attempt.

• You basically watched over him while Mori was in meetings, making sure he ate, and took his pills.? You were dead silent most of the time until after a few weeks and you warmed up to him.

"Uhm..."

"..."

"What was your name again?"

"... (name)..."

"Cool name! I'm sure you already know mine. Thanks for taking care of me I geuss. Mori Sensei's pretty weird...."

"...Agreed."

• From then you two beame friends and you usually patched him up after missions and Mori's weird shit.

Nakahara Chuuya

• You also trained under Kouyou when he came to the Port Mafia so you two met from her.

• He believed you to be a polite and calm person compared to other people he's met. COUGH COUGH DAZAI COUGH! Pardon me!

• You were actually squealing in your mind of how pretty you thought he was compared to your calm demeanor of what he saw. (ITS TRUE)

• You two and Kouyou would have tea often.

• Somehow you and Dazai were really close which blew his mind from the polar opposite personalities between you two.

• You 3 would often get put on missions together.

Akutugawa Ryuunoske

• You two met through Chuuya.

• Chuuya thought Akutugawa needed someone to be around and one of his subordinates (you) was perfect!

• And plus, you were good friends with Gin!

• Akutugawa was sort of angry at first but after a bit, he calmed down and you two just got fig tea together at a local tea house in Yokohoma.

• He sort of ghosted you after but you both worked on missions together from time to time.

• He'd get closer to you through Gin and your's friendship. Other than that, originally, he wanted nothing to do with you.

Edogawa Ranpo

• You were from the guild. (RAHHHHHH 🦅🇺🇸🍻🇺🇸🦅 MY PRONOUS ARE USA 🇺🇸🇺🇸🦅🦅🍻 WHAT THE FUCK IS A KILOMETER?!?!?!??🇺🇸🦅🦅🦅🦅)

• Poe would talk about you like a all mighty being and he'd talk about Ranpo the same way to you. So you both were really interested in eachother.

• One day, Ranpo came into Poe's house unexpectedly while you were there.

• You both looked at eachother up and down, tilting your head to the side at one another before introducing yourself to one another. It was sort of like the interaction between Nezuko and Muchiro before Hantegu showed up.

"So.... You are (Name), right?"

"Yes, I am. And you must be Ranpo Edogawa, correct?"

"Of course I am! I'm the best detective in the world, you must know me!"

"Poe said you enjoy sweets. I brought some chocolate-chip muffins over if you'd like some."

"That would be great!"

• Poe and Karl kinda just watched in silence before Karl followed you and Ranpo into the kitchen to try and get some crumbs that Ranpo would drop while eating.

Doppo Kunikida

• You two met in high-school, actually.

• He was a literal delinquent at the time and you were the student council president and you had to tutor him in math, algebra. (Lmao it's what he taught before the ADA if you didn't know.)

• You hated him a bit in the beginning.

• You both bonded over your abilities you two had that no one else.

• You two got out of high-school and didn't stay in touch.

• You ended up at the ADA and than boom! He was there after a few years too!

• Which rekindled a few things both of you thought you buried deeper than Oda.

(I have a headcannon that Kunikdia used to be a delinquent in highschool but got some big reality check that made him how he is now.)

Edgar Allen Poe

• KARL THE WINGMAN ! !

• Karl saw you in the book store while with Poe and for some reason really liked your scent. So while Poe was distracted, he ran after you which lead to paniked Poe and a racoon running after you because you had a danish in your pocket.

• Karl ran after you into 2 different stores until you sat down at a cafe and he jumped into your lap, breathing in your scent like it was cr@ck.

• Anyways, Poe put a tracker on Karl because of how much he runs off (lmao) so he found him at the cafe you were at.

• You were frozen because a racoon was just chilling in your lap.

"Karl! Kar- Oh, there you are Karl!"

"What?"

"I-I'm so sorry Mx, t-this is Karl and he must have chased after you, ple-please forgive me for h-his behavior..."

• He was litterially a blushing mess talking to you because he thought you were really pretty/handsome.

Fukuzawa Yukichi

• Yall met durring his training when you were younger.

• You, him, and that fossil man (Fukichi) became a friend group and you'd sneak out of your fancy private school that was across the street from their training building to go out on the Town.

• Later on, the school found out, and they told your parents so you were sent back to Tokyo away from them.

• So no more Yukichi.

• Until one day, you were working at your little bakery and then a man and a younger looking boy came in.

• The younger one ordered like half of your store but the older man caught your eye. It was like you've seen him before.

• And then you overheard the younger boy talking to the older man and said the name "Fukuzawa!"

• I looked over in curiosity and while the two paid I asked:

"I-is that really you Yuki?" (Nickname lmao)

"(N/N)? Is that you?"

"Ew get a room you two...."

• Anyways you two exchanged numbers and decided to talk more later

• It made him really happy lol

Sigma bbg

• You are Nikolai's bestie ofc.

• However, he liked you because you'd annoy everyone except him. Wonderful!

• Anyways you two met when Nikolai and him first met so (just a hc) they met at a meeting for the Decay of Angels

• You were honestly playful with him while he was a literal school basketball; sweaty.

• You realized that you should be a little more calm while Nikolai didn't give one shit. That motherfucker was all up in his face and crap like a Spirt Halloween animatronic..

• Anyways you two became friends because you liked card games!

Nikolai Gogol

• So you work at the Sky Casino and for some silly little reason Sigma left for "business" and left the manager position to you! (You don't know about the DOA yet lol)

• One of the workers while you were on break came and said that someone was cutting through the roof from the top of the building

• So you were like "mkay fuck you I'm on break give me a second." And by the time you got there he was already goofing around and there was a square cut out to the outside on the roof where he cam in.

"Uhm, sir, you could have used the door."

"Oh, but it's more fun."

"Sigh, fine. Just don't do it again, and your gonna have to pay for the roof fixing by the way."

"Just put it on Fedya's bill!"

"Who?-"

• You then learned when Sigma came back that he was banned the first time he came here a few years ago and does this about every week. The roof gets broken every time.

• So now he breaks in and tries to get to you while Sigma cries in a corner bc he got pranked by Nikoali.

Fyodor Dostevesky rat man

• jsjsjsjs okay so to sum it up you and rat man met bc you and Nikolai were siblings and Nikolai wanted to go back to Ukraine for you

• Nikolai one day sort of just disappeared from backstage at the curcis you both worked at together. You were like wtf where'd did his goofy ass go??

•You two were like Lyney and Lynette from Genshin Impact btw lol

• While you were backstage alone you were pulled into a more secluded area of the circus where you saw a man and your brother together

"Koyla?! W-where have you been?"

"Ehe, sister, meet Fyodor. He's going to help us be free!"

"What? But...."

"No! No! We're going with him."

"O-okay...?"

• Anyways Fyodor was interested by you and that's why he let Nikolai come back for you instead of just letting you die or something.

• From then, Fyodor burnt the circus down and brought you two back somewhere. Imma geuss Russia.

Tetchou Suehiro

• You were a hostage.

• Yes. Superman babygworl.

• Basically your like rich person's child (NOT FITZGERALD) And some rival people took you and your parents called Fukichi (the fossil) for help.

• He's sent Tetchou and Juono to go and bring you back safely

• By the time he and Juono came to the building you were being held hostage at you were stumbling out before fainting with a giggle.

"I geuss aunties lessons helped...." *BANG*

"Did you see that Juono?"

"I'm blind you dumbass."

• Anyways Tetchou carried you while Juono complained of how loud your heartbeat was.

• You woke up, looking around confusingly.

"U-uhm..."

• You three stopped at a coffee shop and you saw his strange soy-sauce-coffee.... yeah.... 💀

Juono Saigiku

• Juono felt like a full on third-wheeler, making snarky comments here and there about you and him.

• Fukichi invited you over for one of their fancy military annual parties and introduced you to Juono

• Though he couldn't see your face, he liked how calm your presence was and thought that your breathing and heartbeat wasn't as annoying as others.

• Until someone infiltrated the party.

• You were bait by the fossil. That's the whole reason.

• Anyways the group threatened everyone until sort of holding you with a knife to your neck.

• Still, Juono sensed how you were still calm which for some reason made him... worry...?

• Anyways you beat the shit out of the guy which was cool ig

• He liked your methods so he stayed in touch just in case you wanted to help him in torture time for criminals. :)

[hoonzluv]

HEART’S ECHOES - NISHIMURA RIKI

 chapter 6: building twizzlers

days went by, and yn and ni-ki started to get into a routine with their tutoring sessions. the first few were rough, but slowly, they began to understand each other better. they weren’t friends yet, but there was a kind of unspoken truce between them. yn was sitting in the study room, looking over her notes while waiting for ni-ki. the door opened and he walked in with his usual apathetic expression.

“hey,” yn said, glancing up as he sat down. “ready for another session?”

“whatever,” ni-ki replied, pulling out his books. “what do you have for today?”

“i’ve prepared some notes on algebra, i think we can start there,” she suggested, handing him a couple of pages. ni-ki took the notes and glanced through them briefly. “thanks,” he muttered, looking at the equations with a bit of resignation.

they started working in silence, with yn patiently explaining and ni-ki following her instructions. there were moments of frustration, but both tried to keep their cool. “how can you be so organized?” ni-ki asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

yn shrugged. “i guess it’s just how i’ve learned to manage everything. school, expectations…” he nodded slowly. “must be exhausting.”

she looked at him, surprised by the comment. “sometimes it is,” she admitted, not wanting to go too deep.

“you must be a goody-two-shoes, always so perfect,” ni-ki joked half-heartedly.

yn gave him a sarcastic smile. “yeah, well, someone has to balance out your presence in the universe.”

the boy frowned, feeling a bit offended for a moment, but then relaxed and laughed. “touché.”

there was an awkward silence before yn decided to change the subject. “so, what do you want to study today?” she asked, trying to steer back to academics.

“i don’t know, whatever you think is most important,” ni-ki replied, but his mind was elsewhere. he couldn’t help but notice how pretty yn looked today. there was something about the way she focused that caught his attention.

“hey, yn,” ni-ki said, breaking the silence. “how do you stay so focused? i get distracted by anything.”

she laughed softly. “i think it’s just practice. plus, having a routine helps. though i get distracted sometimes too.”

he nodded, seeming to understand. “i’ve never been good with routines. i guess i’ve always been more disorganized.”

“that’s not so bad,” yn replied. “sometimes being flexible can be an advantage.”

ni-ki looked at her, surprised by her response. “i didn’t think you’d say that. you always seem so… structured.”

“i am,” yn admitted. “but i’ve also learned that not everything can be planned. sometimes, things just happen.”

“like these tutoring sessions,” ni-ki said with a smile.

the girl nodded, smiling back. “yeah, something like that.”

they continued working together, and even though there were moments of silence, both felt they were starting to build something, slowly but surely.

prev - m.list - next

note short one but hey they dont hate each other anymore!!!

© hoonzluv all rights reserved. 2024.

[ptolomeia]

Who wants to hear my thoughts on how my disability, fatness and grief all intersect?

If the answer is not you, please press j to continue to the next post!

So, we're coming up on a year now since our disability meant we had to come to terms with the fact that we would never be able to work and had to drop out of school for our dream job and become a housebound/bedbound lump person. Now my dream job was in construction, it was unionized and extremely well paid and I was three months short of graduating when reality became undeniable. I was never going to be able to do this.

I may have been the only person in my class who had to double check the weight capacity of my harness and shock absorber, but I was fucking good at the work. One of my teachers had me tutoring classmates before the brain fog made that impossible. And while it was hard to find clothes that fit me, mens clothes typically came in larger sizes, which worked for me.

And then came MECFS, slowly robbing my life of, well, most things really. Including, but very much not limited to, my sense of identity and my dream job.

Being a poor student, I didn't really have many clothes that didn't fit with that life. And being very fat, i couldnt exactly go to a mall and buy fast fashion that suited me better for cheap. So, I find myself almost a year down the line with still not many clothes that make me feel good or happy or non additional grief.

Which brings me to my next set of issues. Due to sensory and temperature regulation issues, I can only wear natural breathable fibers (another thing that cuts me off from fast fashion). Between the exhaustion from my ME/CFS and my sensory issues, shopping is hard on me.

But HAHA! I think. I've been sewing on and off for near two decades now (ow my brain). I can just sew myself a new wardrobe! Besides, the non construction worker styles I like (vintage 40s-50s) is even harder to find plus sized, well fitting anyway. If I can't do my dream job, at least I can enjoy some expertly sewn (eh, close enough), perfectly (that could probably use some quotes) fitting clothes in a style I've long loved but thought impractical!

Except, here's the thing. Sewing requires energy. Laying out and cutting out fabric requires energy. It requires precision and focus and when I only have a few good hours a day and have to take care of myself and my home on top of my sewing ambitions...

Last summer I made a pair of shorts (two front pieces, two back pieces, a fly, a waist band, belt loops, 4 pockets and facings) in three days at the start of my decline, and that was on top of doing some basic renovations at my parents house. Last month, an extremely simple t-shirt (front, back, two sleeves and a neckband) took me... a week? More? And there's so much more I want to make working through my stash. Pj's that aren't falling apart. A new raincoat and a new fall coat. A simple 1950s style dress in a wonderfully loud plaid that would just be so much fun.

But this morning I was trying to get my jersey to lie flat and nearly ended up crying (knits are the devil fabric. Curse them and their comfort and stretch). There are days where it feels like there is nothing this disease won't take from me.

But at the same time... even if a year ago I could have trimmed assembled and cut out a pattern in one day, at least today I got to trim the papers? And even if cutting out that jersey took more fabric that it strictly needed to, at least I'm one step closer to having some new, hole free pjs.

So, even as i grieve the many many things I lost, I try to hold to what I still can do. And also rail against the world for making things harder for fat people than they need to be. Because seriously, I'm having to learn to make my own patterns (and yes, they will fit better but that is not the point) because most patterns (and definitely none of the big commercial ones) come in anything close to my measurements. This makes me extremely annoyed.

But yeah, to sum up, disability, fatness, grief, and hope all make a very complex ball. And I wish it could be easier

[zaycheese]

Gonna rant about this to the void because all my friends have had shit days and I've already complained enough today and I feel bad

I've kinda been spiraling again the past few days and I'm not totally sure why, but my rooms getting like really badly messy, and I feel like I have all these projects piling up for school, I have like 4 different end of semester projects to start and finish by next week, this weekend ive a guitar show all day Sunday, my rooms a massive mess which is gonna take me at least a day to fix, never mind the fact that I have to do laundry again anyway or my mom will be pissed. I've got a massive project for history I've hardly started and it's been taking all my effort just to keep on track with math homework which is kinda fucking embarrassing considering the amount of work i'll actually get in like college or even if I was a regular highschool student

Plus I have to find time between all this, my twice a week math tutoring, twice of week guitar practice, and twice of week drivers Ed to try and get a make up drivers Ed session in, which will only happen if some other kid misses because you cannot miss a single session or you're out of like your 800$ and also your driver certificate and half a year of your time

It's all just to much and I don't have the energy to even start working on things and I feel like shit but f it we ball

[tokidokitokyo]

2023年11月30日

The end of the year is approaching quickly, and the JLPT is just a few days away! Good luck to those taking the exam: you will do great!

I'm still trying to balance my chaotic life with my Japanese study, but I have really slowed down on the Japanese study this month. And that's ok! I am not taking the JLPT but I am still immersing in Japanese in everyday life, so I am happy with that. For some reason, the end of the year always seems to hold a lot of difficult things for me and my family, so I will keep pushing through and hope for a better start next year!

もうすぐ年末年始ですね。後数日間に日本語能力試験もありますね。試験を受ける皆さんを応援しています！

めちゃくちゃな生活と日本語の勉強のバランスをまだまだ探しているんだから、今月の勉強はなかなか進んでいないな。でも、大丈夫ですね。今年は日本語能力試験を受けられないのに、日常生活に日本語をずっと使っているので充分ですね。なぜか毎年の年末はうちの家族にあんまりいいことがないんだけど、まだ頑張って、来年をポジティブに向かって、続きます。

Study Methods I Used in September & October

This month I again used conversation and Japanese media as my primary sources for Speaking and Listening practice. I didn't have as much time to listen to podcasts, but I did watch more dramas than usual. I used renshuu.org for Kanji flashcard practice, and specifically for joyo kanji (kanji separated by grade levels). I also collected a lot of Vocabulary from daily encounters in the wild.

My 2023 Goals Progress

I laid out some broad goals for my Japanese study back in January of 2023 in my 2023 Japanese Language Goals post, so here is an update with my progress towards these goals.

1. Read one page a day of 日本の歴史366 (にほんのれきし366) everyday in 2023.

How is it going? Terrible! I really thought November would be my month to read a page almost every day, but I haven't been able to fit in the time. I suppose I could push back my bed time, but in the winter months I feel extra tired and prefer to catch up on my sleep. That's ok, though, I will try again next year.

2. Finish 日本語総まとめ N3 (にほんごそうまとめ N3) workbooks.

How is it going? Pretty good! I had hoped to finish these workbooks in November, but I am still working through the last week of exercises. I think I can still finish them by the end of the year, though!

3. Review and learn the first 6 levels of the 常用漢字 (じょうようかんじ), specifically the 教育漢字 (きょういくかんじ) up to grade 6.

How is it going? Not awful! I spent November reviewing Grade 4, so while I probably won't finish Grade 6 by the end of the year, I have made good progress. I usually do flashcards by grade level on renshuu.org, and I am satisfied with my scores for the first three grade levels. Hopefully I can get Grade 4 down by the end of December.

4. Read at least one book every two months.

How is it going? Terrible! Books are a big commitment that I really just don't have time for, between life and my son and everything else I have to do. Maybe next year I can aim for one book...

5. Improve my speaking and writing by finding a tutor.

How is it going? Terrible! I am satisfied with my ママ友 (mom friends) for now to help with my speaking and listening. Plus, there's the added bonus of my son getting lots of Japanese input. I hope that I will be able to someday get a tutor, but the time is not now.

6. Study Japanese for at least 10 minutes every day.

How is it going? Great! This is the one goal that I have always been able to keep up with because it is simple and can be done anywhere. No workbooks required! At least I will achieve 100% in one goal at the end of the year ^.^

Going Forward in December

It's almost the end of the year and my goals are far from being achieved. I've had to reshuffle my goals and to put most of them aside to keep up with everything else I've had going on. But! I have been mindful about the study time I do have, and I have made what I feel is significant progress in my Japanese language learning journey.

I am optimistic about next year and continuing to push myself forward and improve my Japanese skills. In December I will reevaluate the goals I had and what worked or didn't work, and come back with some new goals for 2024!

For December, my focus will be:

Focus on retaining kanji from Grade 4 of 教育漢字

Write in Japanese once a day

Read 日本の歴史366 as much as possible

Review N3 Grammar

Finish 総まとめ N3 workbooks

Christmas/New Year vacation!

For those of you taking the JLPT this weekend, GOOD LUCK!

日本語能力試験を受けるみんなを応援しています！

[riwaq]

Learning the Quran at Your Own Pace: How Online Classes Make It Easier

For many people around the world, learning the Quran is a deeply personal goal. But between busy schedules, family responsibilities, and lack of nearby teachers, it's not always easy to find time or resources. This is where Online Quran Classes from Home have become a practical solution for people of all ages and backgrounds.

One of the biggest advantages of taking Quran classes online is flexibility. You don’t have to commute or rearrange your entire day to attend a session. Whether you’re a student, working professional, or a parent with young kids, you can choose times that fit your daily life. Some students prefer early mornings before the day starts, while others find evening sessions more relaxing. The point is—you get to decide what works best.

These classes are also personal and interactive. Instead of sitting in a crowded room, you’re working one-on-one or in small groups with a tutor who listens to your recitation and corrects your mistakes in real time. This kind of focused attention helps you improve faster. You’re not just watching videos—you’re actively involved in the learning process.

For younger learners, online platforms often include fun activities and visuals to keep kids engaged. This makes it easier for parents to encourage a love for Quranic learning from an early age. Plus, most platforms allow parents to stay involved and track progress, so everyone stays on the same page.

Another helpful feature is recorded sessions. If you miss a class, or just want to review a lesson again, you can rewatch it at your convenience. This is especially helpful for those who like to take their time or need extra practice with Tajweed or pronunciation.

The teachers themselves often come from diverse backgrounds and understand the challenges that non-native Arabic speakers face. Many tutors speak multiple languages and are experienced in helping students gradually build their skills without feeling overwhelmed.

Online Quran Classes from Home make it easier for people to stay consistent in their learning. The convenience and support offered by these classes mean that even with a full schedule, you can still stay connected to the Quran. Over time, these regular sessions help develop not only better recitation but also a deeper appreciation for the words you’re reading.

In the end, learning the Quran should be something you can enjoy and stick with. Online classes provide that opportunity in a way that’s accessible, flexible, and personal. Whether you're just starting or returning after a break, there’s a path that fits your pace—and it’s only a few clicks away.

[tolbachik]

Hii! Yeah, I know how you feel. I always get so drowsy in the Winter months :/ Also, tysm for your kind words in regards to my SATs! I feel like I did well on the reading and writing sections, but I’m a bit iffy on the math section. Math has never been my strong suit lol

I’m glad to hear that you’re almost out of the thick of it in terms of holiday preparations. I’m in a similar place, where it’s mostly just gift wrapping left. Luckily I don’t have to worry about baking until it gets closer to the date.

Other than SATs and holiday preparations, I’ve mostly just been doing Latin tutoring at my school. We have a couple tests and competitions coming up in the next two months, but luckily after that it’ll mostly slow down :] How about you? What have you been up to as of late? :D

Choosing my favorite DEVO songs was difficult, but I think I’d have to go with Shrivel-Up, Cold War, and Gates of Steel! I’ll definitely check out Oh No! It's DEVO! next :D

My favorite Talking Heads songs would probably have to be Moon Rocks, Crossedeyed and Painless, New Feeling, and This Must Be the Place! My favorite 80’s King Crim songs are Frame by Frame, Neurotica, and Man With An Open Heart, but I love the entirety of Discipline.

I started listening to Neurovision while writing this, and so far I really love the songs A/B, Plus de distance, and Soul Waves! I’ll definitely check out Wonderful World and Birds and Bees next :] I never knew that the Mael brothers worked with Telex! I always love to hear about how bands connect with each other. A couple months ago I tried to make a chart showing the connections between different 70’s/80’s musicians, but I gave up because of just how many different connections there were lol

Also, outside of music, what else are you into? It could be anything: books, movies, hobbies, interests :D

I hope you have a great day, and good luck with the rest of your holiday preparations! :]

- 🎲

Hello again! I hope you had a good day today!

Yeah, it can be hard! I’m not sure where you live, but where I live the sun’s already low in the sky by like 1PM, setting like only a few hours later. I love the cold of winter, but the lack of sun definitely is rough!

I’m glad you feel you did well on those sections! I get that about math, though. The way it’s taught in schools is so hard to get through sometimes, they rush through concepts way too quickly! If you did poorly on that section, don’t beat yourself up too much; a lot of people struggle with it! Myself included lol

Oh wow, that’s so neat!! I hope that’s been going well for you, that sounds like a lot of fun! I used to take Latin classes too when I was younger, actually! I don’t remember much, sadly, but it was definitely a lot of fun. What level would you say you’re at? If you’re tutoring, sounds pretty high! It sounds like you’re pretty busy, so I hope you find some time to relax soon. You deserve it!

As for me, not much these past few days, honestly. I’ve been a bit under the weather, but I’ll get through it! I think the most exciting thing in the past few weeks that I’ve done was use my telescope for the first time in ages, which was pretty exciting! It’s not very big and I’m still getting used to it, but it was really nice being able to see some of the planets and a few deep space objects with my own eyes. It’s been a bit cloudy on top of me being sick, so I haven’t been able to go out for awhile, but I’m looking forward to the next time that I can! Apart from that, I also wrote a bit more in a novel I’m writing, but I’ll cover that later since this is getting a bit long 👍

Ooh, those are all great! I nearly forgot about Shrivel Up, that one is definitely one of their more Serious songs I think lol. It is hard picking though, isn’t it? I had to go through all the songs I had saved in order to remember which ones I liked the most lol

I’ll have to listen to those songs, then! I haven’t given much love to Talking Heads, unfortunately. I like David Byrne and the band, I just never really did a deep dive into their work 😭 For you, I’ll give it a go when I can then! I’d really like to, their style is very interesting! Same for King Crimson, honestly. I liked some of Giles, Giles, and Fripp’s stuff, but never went beyond them!

Aww, I’m so glad you like it! I’m not sure if it’s on YouTube anymore, but they had an extended release awhile ago with a bunch of b-sides and English versions of songs, including Plus de Distance. Those are great songs, I’m glad you enjoyed them! I hope you enjoy those albums as well, then! They’re definitely a bit different than Neurovision, but still pretty good. At first I only cared about Neurovision, but when I saw they did a remaster of all their work, I decided to give everything a listen again. I’m glad I did, I barely listen to Neurovision now compared to the other two!

Aw man, I’m glad I’m not alone! I remember when I was really into this one band called New Musik I started doing something like that too. Their front went on to become a producer, so it was neat to see who all he went on to work with! I wonder if anyone’s ever put together a web of that sort of stuff?

Aside from music, I like to write, research for said writing, cook, and if I get the energy, do art too! I don’t share my writing or art very often, though. I have an art blog, but I never really post on it since I just don’t have the time or energy, y’know? It’s at @tolbachik-art, if you’re interested! I’m still very much so am still a beginner, that’s for sure lol

You as well, I hope you have a great day tomorrow! Take care, and take it easy!

[flastar13]

-And please historically accurate costumes or at least something that looks Tudor. All of Straz's series plus "The Tudors" didn't even bother to try to imitate the period-appropriate clothing their plots are supposedly based on, they just took any costume that said medieval/renaissance and used it. It's a shame that a 60's Anne of a Thousand Days movie (even with some questionable fabric choices, French hoods that looked more like Russian tiaras and dresses that laced up behind the back) is so much prettier than modern productions; such as the movie The Other Boleyn Girl, while there are nice dresses like Anne's green dress, there are the "Cranach" costumes in England, Chinese robes in the courtyard, the circle-print dresses, Mary's really weird peasant dresses and Anne's very anachronistic and boring execution outfit. Even the most decent designs are made of satin and silk, forgetting that other fabrics like brocade, velvet and damask existed at the time.

-Please stop depicting Anne as a vile, greedy, home-wrecking bitch who mistreats her sister, not only by stealing from the king but also by forcing her to be her servant. While there are few details of her relationship with Mary, and it is very likely that they had very opposite personalities, it does not mean that she did not love her sister.

-Please stop portraying Mary as a stupid whore or an innocent victim of her family's intrigues, it is true that you cannot say no to a king, but there is evidence that Thomas Boleyn actually hated kings noticing his daughters, when rumors spread that Mary was the mistress of King Francis of France, his reaction was not to encourage his daughter to take advantage but to send her back to England and marry her almost immediately. She may not have been able to do much when King Henry VIII took an interest in Mary, but when the monarch's eyes fell on Anne, he sent her to Hever. That at least to me shows me that contrary to popular culture, Thomas Boleyn never pimped his daughters out, instead he did everything in his power to keep them away from powerful men whom they could not refuse.

-It shows Mary as someone with will and intelligence even if she shows it differently than her sister.

-It shows Anne as a bitch at her worst especially with Mary I Tudor, but also as the kind woman who gave the equivalent of political asylum to hundreds of persecuted Protestants. She used her influence with Henry VIII to stop executions for heresy. During her time as queen, there were no burnings of heretics. She did more charity work than Queen Catherine of Aragon did in her entire reign.

-Anne did not steal her sister's son, she actually took him as a pupil to help Mary, her husband William Carey, when he died, left numerous debts as an inheritance forcing his widow to pawn her jewels to pay them, in addition to the fact that the Careys refused to comply with the marriage agreements. Anne basically alleviated her sister's financial expenses by taking charge of her nephew's education by sending him to a prestigious Cistercian monastery, where he had as tutor Nicholas de Bourbon, a French poet whose life was saved from the Inquisition by Anne. Mary continued to have active contact with her children, because Anne only helped her sister.

-There is no evidence that George Boleyn was homosexual, in fact it is more likely (although this evidence is weak at best) that he was a womanizer.

-He was not an imbecile who only rose to greatness because of his sisters, George Boleyn was a skilled diplomat and poet, in fact many mourned his loss after his execution. She probably went to Oxford University and France. She was basically the male version of Anne.

-Please stop portraying Jane Parker as a gossipy shrew jealous of her husband's closeness to her sister, going so far as to give false testimony to get them executed. There is no evidence that the marriage between Jane and George was unhappy. It is very likely that her testimony was misinterpreted.

-As for the cast, Henry VIII, Catherine of Aragon and Mary I, were redheads, blue eyes and white skin, stop portraying them as dark-skinned, especially Catherine, not all Spaniards are dark-skinned with black eyes, this is told to you by a white-skinned Latina. Down with racial stereotypes.

-Stop forgetting Anne Boleyn's political and religious ideals, not everything was about annulling the marriage of English monarchs. She really believed in reform.

The White Falcon | a brand new series on Netflix | season 1

1507

Anne Boleyn is born at Hever Castle.

1513

Anne is sent to live at the court of Margaret of Austria.

1514

Anne leaves Margaret’s court and is sent to the household of Mary Tudor, the new Queen of France. She is joined by her sister, Mary.

1515

Mary Tudor is widowed, but Mary and Anne stay in France to serve the new Queen, Claude.

Thomas Boleyn’s grandfather, the Earl of Ormond dies, beginning his fight to inherit the Earldom.

1518

Anne is blossoming at the French court.

Mary Boleyn is having an affair with Francis I.

Mary’s affair is discovered and she’s summoned back to England to save her reputation.

1519

Mary becomes a maid of honor to Queen Catherine of Aragon and begins having an affair with King Henry.

1520

Mary’s affair with Henry has ended and she marries William Carey.

The whole Boleyn family meets again for the Field of Cloth of Gold.

1521

Anne Boleyn is summoned back to England.