#i enjoy plot twists for why characters are fucked up

[the-faultofdaedalus]

love creating characters that should rightfully be traumatized or at least a little bit fucked up by their parent's parenting style except instead they're just, like, fine

[candyskiez]

so, you've heard shows be recommended because they had gay characters. you don't really know what they're actually about though, and don't know if they'd be something you'd be into and are worried about spoilers. here's spoiler free plot summaries of em!

The Owl House

The Owl House starts out as a typical teenage girl goes into a fantasy realm story, but with a twist. Actions have consequences. The protagonist is a girl named Luz Noceda, who was being sent to a camp to make her behave normally by her mother after causing too much trouble at school. She ends up finding a place she's always dreamed of: a fantasy world. A world where everyone's so much weirder than she is. And she thinks, maybe if I don't belong out there, maybe people will like me here. Maybe I can be special here.

It's a story about found family, propaganda, erased history, living with disability, religious trauma, and neurodivergence. It's fundamentally a show about people who's brains work differently finding each other and making a family that treats them right. Definitely my favorite of the ones on this list. It's about people who've been oppressed being pissed about it and about finding yourself again after giving up on everyone around you for so long. It's basically a show about being a minority and trying to be understood and to understand yourself in the process. It's about growing up neurodivergent and how isolating it feels and figuring yourself out. It's about repairing broken relationships and parents who fuck up. And it's just. Such a love letter to anyone who was the weird kid in school. It's sad and heartbreaking and also so hopeful, and it's wonderful.

Content warnings: Abuse, Death, Grief, Animal Death, Suicidal thoughts, Vague suicide attempts, Depression, blink and you'll miss it s/h, body horror, religious trauma

She Ra and the Princesses Of Power

Adora was raised in the Horde since she was a baby, being fed propaganda about how cruel the princesses were. After learning how the horde actually was, though, she defects. But there's one problem. Her best friend, Catra, stays behind. Adora finds a sword that can transform her into She Ra, and might be the key to figuring out who she really is, while Catra takes her place as force captain.

It's a story about abuse, at the end of the day. Adora and Catra were stuck in a golden child and scapegoat dynamic, despite how much they care about each other. This leads to them knowing everything about each other but not understanding it. There's a fundamental disconnect between them, because both of their traumas are completely different. They have complete misconceptions about each other. Even in their initial split, they both have completely different perceptions of what's going on and why the other is upset. It's not a story about magic princesses, it's about the cycle of abuse and what makes it so complicated. Does it have flaws? Yeah. But ultimately I really really enjoy it, and when it does something right it does something RIGHT. Get through season one, it starts kids show-y but it gets very good during later s1.

Content warnings: Abuse (obviously), body horror, gaslighting (and I mean actual gaslighting, not what the Internet thinks gaslighting is), suicide, depression, flashing lights and eyestrain during the finale

Steven Universe

Steven Universe is a sins of the father story. Steven is the son of the leader of the rebel group The Crystal Gems, who's name was Rose Quartz. He navigates the confusion of being half gem and half human, as well as trying to figure out the mess of the rebellion and what his mother left behind. He's constantly in her shadow, for better or for worse.

It's a story about grief. How it impacts relationships, how it taints history, how it impacts family. It has some definite flaws, but ultimately it's about very flawed people who have lost so many people in their life trying to cope with it. Trying to handle what they lost and trying to adjust to life without them. It's about how expectations fuck a kid up and about agency and just a show about complicated relationships in general, at the end of the day. Also, it has some FANTASTIC music.

Content warnings: Grief, Abuse, body horror, very creepy people I don't know how to tag, heavy allegories for homophobia

Nimona

Nimona is a story about a guy who gets framed for murder. His name is Ballister Boldheart, a commoner who hoped to become a knight. It seemed everyone was waiting to watch him fail, so it was no surprise when he was the immediate target. Heavily injured and away from the man he loves, he's left alone trying to figure out a way to prove his innocence- until a strange kid comes into his life. This kids name is Nimona, and while he is intent on proving his innocence, she gave up on being anything but a villain a long time ago.

It's about deconstructing the model minority myth, trans rage, propaganda, and with a healthy dose of "FUCK the police".

Content warnings: Heavy injury, on screen suicide attempt, flashing lights

feel free to add more shows! just remember to keep the summaries as spoiler free as you can and add content warnings!

[arlerts-angel]

❝HOW CAN YOU KNOW HOW TO LOVE IF YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND AGAIN?❞

this one's for those with fuckboy tendencies! you're their favorite game to play.

a/n: some of these may be out of character, don't worry — it's just for the fic! i really like how this came out regardless 😌 18+ MDNI

cw: various characters x afab!reader, mean!dom characters, porn with no plot, overstim (f), dacryphilia, penetrative sex (piv)

he knows you're sitting by your phone waiting for him to text.

he gets off on making you wait... it keeps you on your toes. it's a sick mindgame and he's the only one having fun.

he strings you along, leaving you on read for hours until his cock starts to ache. his hand won't satisfy him, though. he needs his oblivious little cocksleeve.

even he doesn't know why you let him fuck with your head like you do. maybe you're just as twisted as him for enjoying the way he toys with your mind (and body).

it's just that when he's good, he's just so good. he eats your pussy like it's his last meal. the way he swirls his tongue on your clit and fucks his fingers into you is criminal. the way he fucks you like you're nothing, too. there's not a drop of care for you when his cock bullies against your cervix, nor your overstimulated clit from your fourth orgasm.

the only thing he loves more than your cum on his sheets are your tears. he loves making you cry. "fuckin' crybaby. you can take it. 'm almost there." he groans. "too much–! 's too much... please–!" you cry. he grins devilishly at your whines before his face contorts. "fuck–!" he hisses and pulls out to cum on your ass.

he's terrible at aftercare, but he's kind enough to let you stay the night. "you know where the towels are if you wanna shower. try not to wake me up." he grumbles and gets into bed.

the next morning when you get home, he's already texting you.

"you left and didn't say bye?"

aw. maybe he does care.

tetta kisaki, light yagami, eren jaeger, hanma shuji, nishio nishiki, ayato kirishima, zeke jaeger, bertholdt hoover, connie springer, jean kirstein, suguru geto, toji fushiguro

[solarissun]

We are never, ever getting back together.

afab!reader x aged up Clapton Davis

Summary: You moved houses and jobs just to get away from Mike after he abandoned you and your 6-year relationship. But, one day he shows up in the vacant apartment next to yours. You quickly make it your mission to make every night a living hell for him with the (unknowing) help of your old high school fling.

WC: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, enemies to lover, afab reader, p in v, fingering, hair pulling, porn with plot, no use of y/n, hard dom, unprotected (wrap it please), angst, exes, daydreamed violence, aged up character

A/N: I’ve never posted my writing before due to being insecure, but now that I discovered this fandom on Tumblr, I decided to suck it up and see where it goes! I’m sorry if this is bad, I wrote it at 3 am two nights in a row. I just had to write something before I forgot all my ideas. Enjoy!

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You hated him. You hated him so fucking much. All you wanted to do was watch him wear your hands around his neck like a necklace. And there he was, standing outside the vacant apartment beside yours, cardboard boxes surrounding him.

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You're running late to work, having slept through your alarm. You quickly hop out of bed, jump into the shower, and throw on whatever clean enough clothes are on your laundry pile.

As you run out your door, you pause, noticing the piles of boxes lining up the wall of the apartment next to yours. You smile, waiting for whoever it is to walk out. You honestly didn’t mind your previous neighbors. By all means, they weren’t the friendliest of people. They’d bang on your walls if you even played your music one digit too loud.

So, honestly, you couldn’t help but admit you were pretty happy when they moved out. As you eye the boxes that take up half the hall, you feel yourself getting excited.

After a few moments, you see him.

Your heart drops, and you feel your whole life falling apart in just one second. He turns to look at you, your eyes locked on each other. Both of you pause, not a word leaving your mouths.

Almost exactly 2 and a half years ago, the love of your life, the man you pictured spending the rest of your days with, left. He didn’t warn you, he didn’t even call. You came home, and all of his and his sister's belongings were completely cleared out of your apartment, gone without a trace. All he left you was a text. A single text.

“I found someone new, I’m sorry. I truly wish you the best. I hope someday you’ll forgive me.”

After a few months of rotting in your bed with mascara-stained pillows and tear-soaked bed sheets, you got tired of wasting away. You moved away to a new, cheaper apartment, not warning anyone of your departure. You wanted a fresh start. A new job, a new home. A new you. All you craved was a way to forget the past, and you were so close.

Except after 2 years, the past was standing in front of you, only a few feet away. Anger bubbles within you, the deep cuts he left when he abandoned you all of those years ago tearing open and filling with nothing but pure, burning hatred.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You say, his face twisting.. into god knows what. You want to ask him so many questions. You want to get on your knees and beg him to tell you why he did what he did. At the same time, you want to sock him in his mouth. Instead of doing either, you turn on your heel, walking away as fast as you possibly can.

He doesn’t call after you, he doesn’t chase you. Instead, you hear the faint click of a door shutting behind you. Your anger turns to anguish as you hurry down the hallway, trying desperately to put as much distance between him and you before breaking down. You find a maintenance closet, slam it behind you, and sink to the floor. You sob until your throat is destroyed and your eyes are dry.

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All you can think about while you work is him. Are you grading your students' homework? Mike. You’re yelling at your class for being too Rowdy? Mike. He lives in your head the entire day, and no matter how hard you try, all you can think of is the look on his face when he saw you just a few hours ago.

The school day is finally over, but you dread going home. You wish you could curl up under your desk and live there for the next few decades. But you can’t, so you suck it up and drive back to your apartment.

You get to your door, fumbling with your keys as you quickly try and escape the hallway. You hear the door next to yours click open. You rest your head against your door in defeat. He walks by you quickly, not even glancing towards you. You clench your fists, swinging your door open as soon as you unlock it, slamming it so hard behind you the frame shakes.

You want to cry, just like you did before. But no tears spill. Your eyes don’t even water. All you feel is rage.

You decide right then and there, you're going to make him suffer for what he did to you. Besides, maybe if you truly make him miserable he’ll move back to wherever the hell he came from.

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Later that night, you start plotting different ways you can get him to pack up his shit and run away with his tail between his legs. You think of hundreds of possibilities ranging from glitter bombs in his mail to… Clapton. You shake the thought out of your head immediately. You can’t do that to him. He’d probably be down for anything, to be honest.

Despite that, you tuck the idea into the back of your head, writing it off as a last resort. You want to start with more petty things before immediately jumping to the most extreme idea your mind can muster.

You quickly form a short list in your head, smiling as you daydream the look on Mike's face as you go through each scenario. Around midnight, after you finish coming up with every possible insane revenge plot you can think of, you crawl into bed.

After tucking yourself in, you Bluetooth your phone to a speaker, turning it up. You play the most infuriating, mind-numbing song you can think of. It starts blasting out, the speaker shaking on your bedside table. You sigh, sinking into your pillow as you hear Mike’s old bed springs creak through the wall.

You sit there for what feels like hours, the same song looping repeatedly. He doesn't knock on the door. You don't even hear him speak, let alone breathe through the wall. You groan, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you realize it might be pointless.

Despite your failure on the first night, you continue to blast the same song night after night, all with the same result. After almost 3 nights of getting only a few hours of sleep, you give up. You have to step up your game if you want to get results.

A few weeks pass without you tormenting him. You want to make him feel safe. You want to make him feel like you realized it was all a waste of time. Well, you also waited a few weeks since that's how long it took for the prank package you ordered to come. Sure, the package was a bit pricey, but you decided it was worth it either way. As soon as the post office stops by your apartment, you snatch up the box, almost ripping it out of the poor mailman's hands.

You quickly customize it so Mike believes not only is it his mail, but that some random man from Florida sent it. At first, you had thought to sneak into his apartment and throw glitter over everything, just like you'd do back in high school. But, you need to be careful about how you go about this. Unless you want a lawsuit to land in your lap, you need at least some amount of deniability

After deciding it's perfect, you leave it directly in front of his door. He might think the placement of the box is a tad suspicious, but you rationalize it by telling yourself he’ll feel so special he’ll open it on the spot.

After a few hours, Mike comes home from what you assume is work. A part of you wonders why in the world he works on the weekends as well. You forget about the thought quickly as you flip open your phone, watching through the camera that comes with the box. You watch in anticipation as you hear the sound of tape tearing off of the cardboard. Your smile widens as you see Mike's face appear in the frame, peeking into the box.

After a few heartbeats green, blue, and pink glitter explodes directly into his face. He yelps, dropping the box immediately. As soon as the box thunks against the door, more glitter explodes out, covering his entire living room. You hear him groan through the wall, grumbling about how petty and childish you are.

You’re laughing way too hard to even care he knew it was you. Tears start streaming down your face, and you clutch your stomach as you try to breathe. You finally got him. You feel on top of the world as you look at the camera through blurry eyes. All you see is a beet-red Mike decked out in sparkles. You start laughing even harder as he flips off the camera before stomping on it, destroying the feed.

⚫︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡⚫︎

Despite how his misery made you feel at first, you start to get a little less happy as the days pass by. He hasn’t talked to you about it and he hasn’t told anyone what went down, not even the landlord. A fraction of you begins to feel a little worried he might be planning. As you ponder the thought, you hear a knock on your door.

You creep over to the peephole, seeing no one standing at your door. You crack it open, worried Mike might be standing outside, waiting to ambush you. Instead of Mike standing around the corner with an airsoft gun, there's an Amazon package.

You smile, realizing exactly what it is. You ordered soundproof headphones so you could sleep while also torturing Mike. You quickly take it to your kitchen, tearing it open without a second thought.

What. The. Fuck.

Glitter sprays everywhere. Directly into your eyes, all over your dining table, all over the countertops. It even reaches the sink. You scream as you try and claw the glitter away from your face. As you stumble towards the sink, glitter continues to coat your entire kitchen.

This means war.

You immediately flip open your phone, not even bothering to clean the mass of glitter that’s coating your kitchen. You text the one person you know would do anything for you.

“I need you, Clapton.”

He found someone new? Well, so did you. And you’re going to do everything in your power to make sure he fucking knows.

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During your high school years, you and Mike became inseparable. It was the two of you against the world... Until Clapton Davis came along. The three of you became the best of friends. You always knew Mike was jealous of Clapton and how much he captured your attention. Despite how you felt towards him while you were younger, you chose Mike. And he threw it all away for some random bitch.

So, now you’re choosing Clapton.

A month ago, you two decided to reconnect and reminisce about old times. You had him over a few times just to watch a few movies, but the most you’ve done is kiss. Every time he’d come over, you knew he wanted more. And he was getting exactly that.

You lay in bed, waiting for just the right time. Around 2 am, you smile to yourself as you faintly hear Mike shuffle into bed and sigh as he sinks into it. Thank god for the paper-thin walls. You reach over to your bedside table, squinting into the light. You flip to Clapton's contact and text, “Do you think you could come over right now?” You had originally told him to come over the next night, but it had to be at an ungodly hour, or it wouldn't be as satisfying. Almost immediately He texts you back, “Are you okay?”

“I just need to see you sooner.” He immediately texts back a thumbs up, and after a little over 10 minutes you hear a knock at your door. You unzip your hoodie, quickly making your way to the front of your apartment. You open the door and there he is. He clearly had just woken up, wearing a tank top and grey checkered pajama pants. A fraction of you feel bad for calling him over like this, but you push it aside and remember who’s sleeping just on the other side of your bedroom wall.

He raises his eyebrow, unsure of how to ask why you ‘needed him.’ You don’t give any explanation before you throw yourself at him. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him. He sucks in a breath, clearly confused. That confusion vanishes when you press yourself against him, pulling his waist against yours.

He wraps his arms around your waist, walking you into your apartment. He walks you backward, your back hitting the kitchen counter. You whimper as you feel him hoist your thigh up, holding it as his hip. Suddenly, he pulls away. Your eyes flutter open and you look up at him, your eyebrow furrowed. You sigh as you see him looking at your kitchen in utter confusion. “What in God's name happened?”

The kitchen is still completely decked out in glitter. The moonlight slithers its way through the window, illuminating the sparkles, making it look like a thousand stars splattered against the walls. You laugh a little, brushing it off. “Nothing Important.” He seems like he wants to say more, but as you grind your hips against his, he immediately forgets it. He groans, bending down to press his lips against your neck.

You tangle your hands through his hair as you feel his lips brush your neck. He starts sucking the skin below your pulse, making you whine into his ear. You gasp as you feel his teeth meet the plush skin, nipping at the sore spot. You slowly start grinding against him harder as his tongue swipes across the already numb skin. He groans against your neck, his breath hot against it.

His fingers slowly brush down your body, leaving goosebumps erupting on every inch he touches. His hand reaches your waistband, fiddling with the elastic. You whine against his shoulder as his fingers dip lower, rubbing your clit through the thin fabric. You slowly grind your hips against his finger, desperate for more friction. He picks you up by your thighs, his fingers digging into the skin. You wrap your legs tight around his waist, holding onto his neck. He quickly carries you to your bedroom, throwing you down as he reaches your bed. He lays you down, sliding next to you.

He presses his lips against yours again, this time wasting no time to dip his fingers into your panties, not even bothering to remove them. He drags his digits through your folds, circling your clit. “Shit, you’re already so wet.” He gasps out. His middle finger teases your entrance before slowly sliding in. He slowly pumps in and out of you, curling his fingers on the spongy parts inside of you, hitting all the right spots.

“You like that?” He asks, and you nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. You feel him add another finger and your walls clench around him. “Fuck!” You cry out, frantically grinding against the palm of his hand begging for more.

He adds a third finger, and you see stars. He pumps faster and faster, bringing you dangerously close to the edge. You just barely overplay your volume, remembering Mike. As soon as your legs begin to shake, he removes his fingers, ruining your orgasm and leaving you feeling empty. Your eyes flutter open and you stare at him, whimpering.

He slowly puts the fingers that were just inside you in his mouth, cleaning them off. You bite your lip as he blinks at you through his long eyelashes, savoring the taste. He smiles down at you once he’s done, sliding your zip-up off your shoulders. He slowly undresses you, a pile of clothes beginning to form on the floor. He leaves you in nothing but your panties. His breath hitches in his throat as he studies every curve of your body.

You do the same to him, helping him pull his shirt off his head. Your hands quickly fly down to his jeans, unbuttoning them and sliding them down to his ankles. His tight grey boxers leave little to the imagination as you see the outline of his hard-on, begging to be free. You do exactly that, pulling them off of him. His dick springs free, hitting his stomach.

Your eyes trail along every vein and detail, taking him in. He’s average, but somewhat girthy. The tip is hard and red, already leaking with pre-cum, slowly dripping down his shaft. You reach out, your thumb collecting it. You stare into his eyes as you suck it off of the pad, a bittersweet taste spreading across your tongue. As soon as your thumb pops out of your mouth, he grips onto your hips, pulling him on top of you. He slides your panties to the side and you moan feeling the cold air hit you. He slides his tip through your folds, collecting the wetness.

You slowly sink down onto him, gasping as his tip enters you. He grips your waist harder, holding you down. “You can take it.” He moans out. He slowly pushes himself in a little more, and you swear you hear him whimper. You cry out, laying down on his chest. “Shit!” He goes inch by inch, and you groan louder and louder as he fills you out.

He pushes in, faster this time, and you finally feel his hips meet yours. “You’re such- Shit! You’re such a good girl.” Suddenly, he grabs you harder by the waist, flipping you over. You gasp as your bare stomach meets the rough sheets of the bed. He grabs your hair, pulling you against his chest, somehow hitting so deep you see white.

You moan out his name louder and louder as each thrust inside of you quickens. He shoves you back down against the bed, thrusting so hard the headboard begins to slam against the wall. You smile into the sheets realizing the torture Mike must be going through right now. “You’re taking me so well…” He grumbles out, pushing deeper into you.

The smile is immediately wiped off your face as he moves one hand away from your hair and slithers it down to your clit. He rubs circles on it with 2 fingers. You grip your fingers into the bed sheets, screaming into the mattress. Your vision starts getting blurry as the knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter. Pure euphoria tears through you as his fingers quicken as well as his hips.

“I’m close-“ He groans out as your walls clench around him. He rubs faster and faster circles on your clit and your legs start to shake uncontrollably. You scream louder and louder, and your walls start to spasm. Quickly you hurdle over the finish line, coming all over his dick. You feel tears running down your cheeks as you feel him release inside of you, his hips stuttering.

You call out his name one last time before he pulls out of you, lying down next to you. He looks over at you, tears spilling down your face and your fingers still bunched up in the bedsheets. He laughs as you give him a shaky smile.

“I’ve imagined that since grade 12..” He whispers out. He reaches towards you, brushing your hair that’s plastered to your face with sweat. “Me too..” You smile, moving forward to press your lips against his. He kisses you back, pulling you on top of him. He smiles up at you, his face flushed.

“Round two?”

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Your eyes flutter open, the warm sun creeping through the blinds, bathing your room in a warm orange glow. You slowly reach next to you, feeling the muscles on Clapton's back. He stirs, turning onto his back. His eyes slowly open, and he slowly looks over at you. He stretches up, propping himself up on his elbows.

“I better go…” You get up as well, turning and placing your feet on the cold wood floors. You gather up his and your clothes from last night, handing them to him. After you're both dressed, you lead him to your front door. He opens it and steps out into the hallway, starting towards the elevator.

As soon as you hear Mike's door click open, you quickly grab Clapton's wrist, pulling him back towards you. You get on your toes, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. He grabs your waist, pulling you against him. He slips his tongue in your mouth, his hand untangling your hair. After a few seconds, you pull away, resting your forehead on his.

“I’ll see you around?” He says, smiling. “Of course.” You grin, pecking his cheek. He unwraps himself from you, turns around, and walks away. He doesn’t even seem to notice his old best friend who is standing just a few feet away, watching.

Once Clapton’s out of sight, you turn to look at Mike. Oh, he looks absolutely wrecked. His curls are a tangled mess and the bags under his eyes are even deeper than you’ve ever seen them. He has the same look on his face you’ve seen him have when men would flirt with you on your dates. But, he also just looks.. sad. You expect him to turn back into his apartment and walk away but he speaks instead.

“The glitter wasn’t enough for you, huh?” You scoff, anger filling inside you at his audacity. “A girl can’t have fun?” He raises an eyebrow at you and a small smirk creeps onto his face. “You think I don’t know how purposeful that was? Do you have any respect for others?” You laugh, right in his face. His mouth twists into a nasty scowl, his stupid smirk wiping immediately off his face.

“Mike, I lost every bit of decency I had towards you when you abandoned me for some..” You don’t finish the sentence, instead letting his mind fill in the blank. He doesn’t look angry, he just looks disappointed. He looked at you like that when you were still together.

You’ve always hated that look.

He opens his mouth and closes it, clearly wanting to say something important but deciding against it. He shakes his head and turns back into his apartment, closing the door behind him softly.

You do the same, opening your door and sliding down with your back against it. You pull your knees up to your chest, rubbing the bruises on your sides that Clapton left. You rest your head on your knees and sigh.

“God, what am I doing?”

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[via-l0ve]

ok so hear me out, ( Supernatural), french mistake where they find out that the actor/actress who plays their s/o is dating a different castmate and having to watch them kiss and be all lovey dovey with eachother.

Alternative Universe (SPN pref!) 🩷

a/n: i fucking LOVE this episode. i also love this prompt. thank you so much anon, i hope you enjoy <3

warnings: swearing

Dean:

he’s looking for you - you’re his top priority

being called ‘Jensen’ left and right all he wants is to see his wonderful s/o and have something normal

he turns the corner and sees you

“oh my god. yes. y/n!”

and then he walks closer

you’re kissing fucking castiel

“what the fuck??”

“hey!! y/n!!”

you pull away all confused.

“hey.. dean?”

“since when are you dating cas?”

side eye

“Jensen… you okay? Misha and I have been dating for like… ever.”

he’s gobsmacked

“what the hell.”

he walks away

he’s so angry

you guys are holding hands and smiling and he’s STARING YOU DOWN

“hey y/n. when do we kiss on screen?”

“um… i think today? why?”

he’s making sure you guys get to that kiss scene

“that do anything for you?”

“Jensen!”

definitely holds a grudge when he goes back and he sees castiel

—

Sam:

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again. if there was a word for sam it would be Flabbergasted

he’s searching around frantically for you bc where tf is he and wtf is going on. why are people calling him Jared??

anyways

he sees you and he’s so happy

“hey y/n!”

you smile over at him and wave.

“hey!! whatcha doin?”

“just looking for you. aren’t you freaked out?”

“um… should i be freaked out?”

he’s confused now.

He’s even MORE confused when GODDAMN Dean Winchester comes up to you and kisses you on the cheek

him^

“dean??!” he’s shocked.

“oh. are we supposed to be in character right now?” -jensen

“what the hell?” sam is CONFUSED

“Jared.. you good? you okay?”

he walks away

“i have to get out of whatever hell this is..”

when he gets back he can’t look at Dean the same lmfao

—

Castiel:

Cas is trying to keep his cool but who tf is misha

he finds you and he’s so happy

finally someone he knows that he knows

PLOT TWIST

you turn around and MOTHERFUCKING CROWLEY IS KISSING YOU

cas rn^

he’s SO SAD

“y/n.”

“oh! hey Misha!”

“not you too!!”

awww poor baby

apologize RIGHT NOW.

he gets back and is so happy to see you

he’s hugging you and won’t let you near crowley

—

Crowley:

he sees you kissing sam mf winchester and is SO DISTRAUGHT

“y/n!!”

“oh hey!”

“what the hell is this?”

“… what’s what?”

*frantically motions between the two of you*

“…we’ve been dating for four years?”

he’s mad mad

he’s also just confused

“how could they pick HIM over ME??”

he gets back home and def gives you the silent treatment for like a day

i’m sorry

[little-miss-life]

4 minutes timeline guide (for the confused and the new watchers, keep in mind there are spoilers.)

The 4 minutes they have is them making up for mistakes they made and re-writing their story as a way of creating peace for their dying brains or selves. Great going back 4 minutes is equivalent of that thing most people do when they're going through maladaptive daydreaming where you adjust the trajectory of the story to give yourself a better outcome of continuation of your storyline. Tyme on the other hand kind of jut straight up re-wrote the whole story with little to no elements of reality. Great kept some parts of reality and edited the video in his mind.

Ep 1 - 5 - Great's 4 minutes, but you need to understand that the main timeline is still being shown, the story from the start. Any scenes that didn't have Great for example the Korn and Tonkla scenes, actually happened. Dome seeing Title with his girlfriend fighting. But remember in ep 1 we see Tyme get shot which is something we circle back to in ep 7.

Ep 6 - 7 is the real timeline. Here you see the truth and everything that led up to Great's 4 minutes that we have been watching since ep 1. This is where you'd understand why Great's 4 minutes looks the way it does. But also why Tyme feels guilty when he see a hospitalized Great after getting shot.

Ep 8 - We have Tyme's 4 minutes but here we have seen him get hot and then we see his 4 minutes and see him come out of it. From the moment Tyme is at the door calling for Great while getting wet is Tyme coming back to life but also in a twisted way is Great coming back to (when he closes his eyes with blood splattered on his face). Unlike Great's 4 minutes, we do not see the the real timeline in the middle of Tyme's 4 minutes.

Ep 8 final episode - Happy ending for some and sad ending for others but it is kind of poetic regardless. Keep in mind no character is all good or all bad. They all fucked up and made mistakes as any human would or can. Some more than others and the reality of it is effect or reaction of whatever actions each person took may not satisfy you, but realistically that's how it goes. This is an intriguing and beautiful piece of media and is open to interpretation from multiple points of view just remember that the only reason a discourse on the storyline or plot can be had is because the plot, the writing, the writers, the crew, the actors, the characters did all they were to do to trigger conversations that are otherwise sensitive or ignored. They did their job well and all deserve their flowers for it. You don't have to agree with everyone's point of view but remember to be respectful with one another.

I hope you this guide helps and enjoy your first time watch or re-watch.

[deedeeznoots]

She Won’t Know… Right?

➺ Characters: Shiu Kong, Fem!Reader

➺ Word Count: 4.9k

➺ Genre: Smut

➺ Content: MDNI, Married!Shiu, Handler!Shiu, Assassin!Reader, Mentions of murder, Cheating, Oral (M!Receiving), Manhandling, Praise, Face sitting, Oral (Fem!Receiving), Degradation, Backshots, Spanking, Getting caught, Nonconsensual Cuckqueaning, Missionary, Hatefucking, Choking, Face Slapping, Squirting, Creampie, (optional) Plot twist ending

➺ A/N: The behavior in this story is completely despicable in real life. If anything in this story brings up bad memories from your personal life do NOT continue reading. I have various different smut scenarios that are much sweeter like this one and this one. That being said… if you don’t mind feeling a little dirty, I hope you enjoy this story ❤️

➺ Synopsis: You know it’s wrong to want to fuck your handler, let alone your married handler…but why does it feel so good? 

The details on how it happened in the first place are mostly blurry. 

Being an assassin wasn’t the best job in the world, but you made do with it. You told yourself that as long as you got your money, you could deal with lesser details like the trauma it brought on later. Still…seeing the light leave people’s eyes as you took their lives wasn’t the best thing to end the work day with, so it was a good thing you had the sexiest handler to drive you home every day to soothe your eyes after a long day. 

You had just finished a job to kill some random high end guy at a local nightclub. You don't know the details, but it was probably just another rich asshole who bit way more into the world of illegal businesses than he should’ve. You killed him in private, but it would only be a matter of time before someone found his body, and you would’ve rather not dealt with running away from the cops. 

“Where the hell is this guy” you said to yourself, Shiu (your handler) wasn’t typically one to make you wait. You hear the sirens approaching and some people murmuring about a murder. “Fuck” you whispered, it’s not like you would’ve gotten caught, but you didn’t want to waste time lying to the police and answering questions. “Come on, Shiu…” 

Almost on command, the man’s black car pulled up in front of you. Finally, you were able to go home, take off the uncomfortable dress you had on, and run a hot bath for yourself.

You open the door and close it as you enter, the smell of cigarette smoke polluting your nostrils as you get inside “Smoking in your car? Fucking gross” you faced the person responsible for the smoke, a cigarette still in his mouth. “That’s no way to greet the guy driving you home like you’re some kind of school girl” Shiu responded, moving the gear shift from ‘park’ to ‘drive’ as he prepared to drive you home. 

“I can say whatever I want if you’re late, asshole” you leaned into the window on the car door. Even if it seemed like you hated him, you enjoyed being around Shiu. He was fun to be with and showed that he cared in little ways, like getting you food after particularly hard missions. Not only that, but he was hot too. If he wasn’t technically your co-worker, you’d probably pursue him. 

The stop light causes your eyes to wander, leading them to the ring delicately placed on his finger. 

…Right. 

If he wasn’t your co-worker and married, you’d probably pursue him. 

Shiu feels your eyes staring at him and looks at you as his foot presses on the gas, “What’s up?” he asks. You shook your head to break yourself out of your daydream, you didn’t realize that you’d been staring at him for an awkward amount of time, so you simply went “Nothing, just take me home” while you turned to look out the car window. 

While you were looking away from him, you still felt Shiu’s eyes on you, or more specifically…your body. When you kill rich assholes for a living, you come to learn that the easiest way to get them alone is to make them think they have a chance with you. Plus, looking hot while you killed someone made you feel a little better about the whole ordeal. Due to this though, every so often when you get Shiu to drive you home you feel his eyes on you, seemingly more focused on mentally undressing you than keeping his eyes on the road. 

Still… the silence was giving room to tension, so you decided to break it with the easiest conversation starter possible when it came to any married man. “How’s the Missus?” you shift your body to once again face him, something he didn’t expect as you noticed his body awkwardly flinch as he almost got caught staring. He clears his throat and starts to talk, “She still thinks I’m working as a Detective, so it’s probably going well”. 

Shiu didn’t like dragging his wife onto his dirty work, so you didn’t know much about her, all the information about her coming from Shiu’s words and the occasional photo you were able to glimpse from his phone. Shit, you didn’t even know her name. From what you did know… she seemed to be a nice enough lady, but someone Shiu didn’t seem too compatible with. Though it probably didn’t help that Shiu was chronically lying to her about something as big as what he did for a living. 

Feeling brave and a little bit tipsy from the drinks you got at the club, you said “I don’t get why you don’t divorce her already” stretching your arms as if you didn’t just say something definitely classified as a fucked up thing to say.

You see Shiu’s eyes widen ever so slightly, but he tries to play it cool, “Now why would I do that?” he asks, still trying to focus on the road. This pisses you off slightly, you don’t know why, but it does. His marriage wasn’t your business, you shouldn’t answer him, but the floodgates that were your words had already opened. 

“Well you’re eyefucking me in this dress, so your marriage must not be going as well as you think”.

Fuck.

Why did you say that?

Shiu stays silent, only blowing another puff of smoke that pollutes the already stuffy air in the car. As the smoke clears, your eyes once again find their way back to Shiu’s wedding band. Why were you saying any of this? It was so wrong, you know it’s wrong, but still…

“I just don’t get what the point of lying so much to keep someone is when your needs aren’t even being fulfill–”

“Shut the fuck up”, Shiu cut you off, his knuckles turning white as his hands tightened around the wheel. “My needs are plenty fulfilled”, Shiu had never looked this angry before. Maybe it was a bad idea to call him out on something that wasn’t technically your business. You were known for doubling down though, so you added on “Yeah sure, keep telling yourself that… maybe it will come true and your wife could finally give you an orgasm”. Maybe it was overkill to say such a thing, you didn’t even have anything personal with this lady, but something was pushing you to keep talking.

Shiu suddenly stopped the car after hearing your words, pausing to face you. You aren’t able to clearly read his facial expression. Was he… shocked? Angry? You couldn’t fully tell. Shiu exhaled, his fingers loosening his grip from the wheel “Damn it” he murmurs as he changes course and drives away from the main road, going into one of the more empty ones. It was definitely not the way to your home. “What the hell?” you try to say before Shiu cuts you off and goes “Shut the fuck up”, your heart skips a beat at his sudden harsh tone. Fuck… you really fucked up this time. Was he going to kill you for what you said? With where you two were…it looked like it. 

After a little while of driving away, he makes his way to a road with little people and likely no cars for miles. Parking in a random spot covered in grass, Shiu keeps his hands on the wheel. “Fuck…” he whispers to himself, looking as if he was contemplating something as he threw his used cigarette out the car window. 

You start to feel guilty about what you said, and you also begin to fear the very real possibility of getting murdered over your nonsensical comments, so you try to apologize when Shiu speaks once again, now facing you. 

“Get over here” he leans over to you and smashes your lips together in a hungry kiss. Your eyes widen in shock at first, but against any better judgment you lean into the kiss anyway. Your tongues intertwined together as Shiu brought his hands all over your body. “Mmph–” you moan into his lips as your hands wrap around his neck to bring him even closer to you. As wrong as it was, this was something you wanted to do with Shiu for a long while, and you’d be damned if you were going to waste this opportunity now. 

“You’re so hot” Shiu whispers to you as he breaks your kiss, his wet tips connected to your own through a string of saliva “...but you’re such a bitch” he growls as he kisses you once again, bringing his hand to your hips to keep you in place. 

He stops the kiss and leans back into his chair, unbuckling his belt. In the few seconds he spent away from you, it finally dawned on you that this was really happening, “Wait Shiu… we shouldn’t do this, your wi–” 

“I’m lying to my wife enough already, this is nothing” Shiu says as he pulls his pants down to reveal his length. 

“Get over here” he orders as his hand reaches for the back of your head, pulling your hair toward his throbbing hard cock. You stumble your way over to his lap, your ass now facing the car window. Seeing Shiu’s cock in your face helped you realize something. He was big, way bigger than you unashamedly imagined, and he was girthy too. You didn’t know how’d he’d fit inside you at all, let alone in your mouth. 

You look up at Shiu, who now has a new cigarette in his mouth. He nods at you, silently telling you to go on and suck him off. You shouldn’t do this, you know you shouldn’t. Fucking a married man is one of the stupidest things someone could do. Still… that doesn’t stop you from swirling your warm tongue around his tip anyways. 

“Fuck…yeah just like that” you hear Shiu above you as you taste his salty precum on your tongue. Slowly, you fit as much of him as possible down your mouth, moving your tongue from the tip of his dick all along his long shaft. “Mmph…haven’t had a blowjob this good in so long…” Shiu says in between moans, and you feel oddly proud of yourself at the sentiment, even though you know how much you shouldn’t be. You’re able to reach about halfway through his dick and don’t force yourself to go further, something Shiu was not going to let happen. 

“Come on, I know you can do better than this…” Shiu then forcefully begins to grab at your hair and starts forcing you to take his entire cock down your throat. “Mmmmph!” you choke out on his dick as you grab onto his lap for some semblance of balance. He continues forcing his cock up and down your throat, causing you to continuously gag all around him. “Yeah… there you go” he chuckles as he fucks your throat open. 

You feel your dress hiking up your body, exposing your ass even further than it already was. Shiu doesn’t seem too bothered though, only focusing on your lips around his length. “Your mouth is so good, you’re so good” he praises your dirty work. You feel your saliva all over your face and your makeup begins to smear from all of his force. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, however, as you are only focused on sucking him dry. 

“Fuck…I’m gonna cum” Shiu announces, finally loosening his grip onto your hair, pulling your mouth off his dick but keeping your head nearby. “I wanna do it on your face, baby” he says, enjoying that he was able to see you all messy for him. Too fucked out and out of breath to really know what you’re doing, your hands automatically reach their way to his cock, jerking him off. He becomes a moaning mess before he finally comes undone onto your face and your fingers, with some droplets of cum finding their way down to his own lap. It felt so dirty, so disgusting, but you still wanted more.

You sat up, your now ruined face covered in his cum and he gave you another kiss, cleaning some of the cum off your lips. You think it’s over, but unbeknownst to you, this was only the beginning. 

“My wife will be home in an hour, I’ll make sure to fuck you properly before that”.

Which is how you find yourself in Shiu’s home, sitting on his face getting the life eaten out of your pussy. Shiu’s tongue swirls all along your clit, causing you to spasm out from the sensations you felt all throughout your body. “Mmmm… Fuck, Shiu” you moaned out, not having a care in the world about how loud you were. 

The two of you were in such a hurry to fuck each other that neither of you even bothered to fully take off your clothes, with Shiu simply opting to pull your dress up and rip your panties away. You didn’t mind it, only focused on how amazing you felt with Shiu’s tongue under you. 

This was…wrong, right? You were in his marriage bed, his wife’s belongings were surrounding the both of you as he tonguefucked you stupid. Fuck, you could even smell the perfume she probably wore before she went out, oblivious to the fact that her husband was currently using his mouth to please another woman on her bed. There was no question about it, this was wrong. Still… it felt so amazing that you were willing to ignore all of that and grind your needy pussy against Shiu’s tongue anyways. 

You feel a knot in your stomach warning you of an upcoming orgasm. You were close, so close. You grind your pussy on Shiu’s tongue at an even faster pace, grabbing onto the sheets as you feel yourself nearly uncoil…

When suddenly Shiu taps your thigh, silently telling you to get off of him, which you begrudgingly oblige. “Didn’t I tell you I was going to fuck you properly?” he wipes off your juices from his face as he unzips the fly of his pants, taking out his erect member for the second time.

He bends you over, forcing you on all fours as he aligns himself along your wet folds. “Yeah that’s right” he whispers as he pushes his dick into you. As you feel his dick fill you up inch by inch, you can’t help but feel like he was almost made for you, with every additional inch of his thickness leaving you even more fulfilled. 

He finally bottoms out, feeling his pelvis hitting your ass as he starts thrusting into you. He wastes no time, going in and out of you with animalistic vigor, leaving you a moaning mess under him, feeling your arms nearly give out as you attempt to keep up with his speed. 

You hear nothing but grunts and moans from him until you hear him say “You like this, don’t you? Fucking a married man?”. You don’t answer him, too focused on your pleasure to understand his words, let alone talk back. Plus, with the way he was fucking you, you could probably forget the entire English language. Shiu wasn’t happy with this, and he roughly slaps your ass to get your attention “I asked you a fucking question”. 

You moan out, squirming at the wave of shock his hand sent throughout your body. Without thinking, you yell out “Yes! Yes, I fucking love it, Shiu”. You were willing to say anything if it meant he kept fucking you, you didn’t care what it was as long as he kept his dick in your pussy. “Yeah you do” he laughs as his thrusts get even harder. 

You begin to feel your orgasm approach again, you couldn’t wait to be carried in through your bliss. You were close, so close you could taste it. You feel that familiar coil fill up once again in your lower stomach, this time threatening to be even more intense than what you would’ve felt on Shiu’s tongue. Shiu seems to be getting close too, his moans getting more desperate and his cock twitching inside of you as his thrusts get faster and sloppier. 

You both are so close, being pushed so close to the edge, with you almost seeing white.In fact, you are both so lost in pleasure that neither of you even realize that an hour had already passed.

“Honey I’m ho–” the door suddenly swings open and a woman walks in. She looks a little different from the photos that you’ve seen of her, but her shocked expression gives you enough of an idea to understand that she was in fact, the last person who should’ve seen you two in this position. 

The two of you stop in your tracks, with Shiu still inside of you as she walks into the room. Perhaps you both should’ve covered up more, but it’s not like that would’ve helped in any way. In a split second, the woman’s once happy face contorted into one of sadness and disgust. 

First she looks at Shiu, not wanting to believe that the man she was looking at was truly her husband, her eyes begin to fill with tears when it dawns on her what was going on. Her teary eyes then make direct eye contact with you, trying to sense any type of remorse you could possibly feel for fucking her husband. You wish you could feel sorry, you really do, but you feel nothing but disappointment at the fact that your orgasm was once again interrupted. 

You hear a quiet whimper coming from the woman in front of you and a soft “...why?”, though you simply look down at the bedsheets, refusing to look her in the eyes. Shiu is still inside of you as he tries to speak, trying to come up with any possible explanation for his actions, when he feels your wet pussy clench around him, begging him not to let go.  

Without even thinking, he began to do something disgusting. 

“Baby I– Fuck…” Shiu cuts himself off to look down at your pussy, all glistening and wet all around his cock. As if he were a man possessed, Shiu began to start moving in and out of you in rhythmic movement. 

His wife didn’t even realize what he was doing at first, too focused on the tears of betrayal in her eyes. That was until she heard an audible “Nghh~” coming out of your mouth from Shiu’s sudden movement inside of you. 

“Oh my– I can’t believe this” you hear the woman’s disbelief at your actions. As fucked up as it was, you felt turned on at the prospect of her watching as Shiu fucked you while she begged for him to speak to her. You loved hearing the both of them argue about the future of their marriage while Shiu gave you the most amazing backshots known to man. 

You hear them both argue over your moans of pleasure, their words getting drowned out in your ears, not understanding a single word either of them are saying. You did understand one thing, though. You understood that even with his disgusting actions, even with the disgusting action he chose to inflict upon her at this moment, she was still begging him for something, begging him for some semblance of care for what she was witnessing. However, all that simply served to do was turn you on even more than you already were. 

Your pussy tightens at this revelation, causing Shiu to pay attention to you once more. “Fuck– I’m sorry baby…We’ll talk later, yeah?” his thrusts get deeper inside of you, hitting the perfect spot inside of you, leading you to let out an even louder moan. “You’re fucking her right now! I– I can’t even look at you… I’m leaving” you hear her cries get further away from the two of you as she leaves the room, leaving the bedroom door open. “Fuck…baby wait–” Shiu tries to call out to her while he’s still fucking you stupid. All you wanted at this point was to cum, you had been edged to oblivion twice already, and you were willing to do anything for Shiu to not go after her and to let you cum on his dick.

You sense your fears coming true when you feel Shiu stop and pull out of you. Too fucked out to feel any shame, you stupidly asked “Why’d you stop?” as you turned around to face him.

Shiu loved his wife, or at least he thought he did. Don’t get it mixed up, he was a terrible husband, that was a fact. However, he at the very least loved what his marriage represented. His job wasn’t the easiest either, being the middle man between literal murderers and people fucked up enough to pay people to murder wasn’t the most fun thing in the world either. So to come home and be able to play happy family for a little bit at the end of the day was something he enjoyed, and something he did not enjoy being in shambles. 

All of this showed in Shiu’s face as he faced your own. His expression showed a mix of guilt from what he just did, fear of the consequences, and most of all anger.

Anger towards you, for making him this way.

You feel his hand snake around your neck, choking you. “Why’d I stop? Are you fucking kidding me?” he says as you gasp for air around his hand, your fucked up pussy twitching in excitement at the loss of oxygen. He puts his dick inside you again, and his thrusts get even rougher than they were before. He was going to take out all of his anger onto you as he fucked you if it was the last thing he did. If his marriage was over, he was going to make damn well that your pussy was worth it. 

“You fuckin’ whore, I might be getting divorced because of you” he spits out as his grip on your neck tightens. He puts your legs around his waist as he begins to start fucking you vigorously. “You got tight when I said that, you got tight when my wife went in the room too. Do you enjoy being a homewrecking slut?”. 

His verbal abuse was overwhelming, and the lack of air wasn’t doing you any favors either. Still, you’re able to choke out a soft “No” as you moan from his dick inside of you. “You say that but your pussy says otherwise, fucking whore” Shiu grunts as he continuously hits the perfect spots inside of you, allowing you to ignore his harsh words and the air he was constricting from you.

The truth was you did enjoy fucking him in front of his wife, you did enjoy the fact that he’s still here with you after his wife left the room, even if it’s just to take out his frustrations onto you. His hand loosens around your neck and he eventually removes it completely, causing you to let out a sigh of relief now that you are finally able to breathe. The relief was short lived, however, as you felt a sharp sting of pain on your cheek as he slapped you across the face. 

You whimper at the pain, something Shiu doesn’t seem to care much about as he orders for you to “Apologize”. You don’t even think before you blubber out a plethora of “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” as if it were a chant.

You feel Shiu’s lips on yours once again, a stark contrast to the harsh slap he gave you just seconds ago. You feel your orgasm building up once again and try to grab Shiu’s shoulders in order to brace yourself but he pulls your arms away from him. “Don’t fucking touch me” he breaks your passionate kiss as he warns you. 

You follow his words, willing to follow anything he says as long as he makes you cum in the end, opting to grab onto the sheets instead as you feel his tongue reach deep in your throat.

You feel your orgasm coming ever closer and Shiu breaks your kiss once again in order to announce his own orgasm. “Fuck… I’m going to cum. You better be on birth control, I don’t need your kid” you hear him say through his teeth. 

Rather than focusing on his words, you focus as your pussy spasms around his cock as you finally reach your orgasm. Your eyes widen in shock as you feel a surge of clear liquid flood out of your pussy. You feel Shiu grunt at the new sensation as his own orgasm approaches, his cum filling you up as your pussy milks him dry for all that he’s worth. After being brought to the edge for so long, finally being able to feel yourself let go was something you cherished, and it quickly became the best orgasm of your life.

However, when you come down from your high, you begin to fully sit with the realization of what you had just done. You had just fucked your married handler, parts of it in front of his crying wife. Hit with a sudden pang of guilt, you look to Shiu for guidance. To your surprise, he had already gotten out of bed, zipping up his pants and fixing up his suit to look as presentable as he could after what you two did.

He doesn’t even take another second to look at you as he walks toward the door, “Clean yourself up then leave as soon as possible” he lights yet another cigarette on his way out, “I’m going to talk to my wife”. 

You hear the door slam shut, and you are left to deal with the mess you made alone, with Shiu’s cum inside you being the only trace left of him around. 

🝮 Alternate Ending 🝮

You sit in bed, still feeling gross from the events just moments ago. You feel Shiu’s cum begin to run down your leg as you attempt to get up. Unfortunately, your legs don’t seem to want to work and you slump back down onto the bed. It had been about thirty minutes since Shiu left, and despite his words, you weren’t sure what to do with your legs unable to work.

Suddenly, the door to the bedroom opens once again, revealing Shiu in his messy suit with his hair ruffled. You scramble to your feet as you both silently stare at each other for a few seconds…and you’re the first one to speak. 

“Shiu! Where were you for so long?!”. 

Shiu laughs and places what looks like a to-go bag of food by your bedside table. “Sorry baby, I went to pick up some food for you. I got your favorite” he gives you a chaste kiss on your lips, and opens the bedside drawer, grabbing a towel to clean you off. 

You allow his gentle touches, very different from the kind he gave you just moments before, and you say “Good…I’m good. I guess I was just so immersed in our play that I’m just a little emotional”. You weren’t wrong, you did feel fine and you enjoyed your session with Shiu, but you couldn’t help but feel a little emotional. 

Shiu simply gave you a kiss on the forehead and a warm hug that you gladly leaned into. “It’s alright…I know I was pretty rough today. You did so good…I hope I did good as well?” he smiles softly as he looks down at your form. 

“The best” you giggle into his chest as you lean into him.

“I still can’t believe you paid some lady to pretend to be your wife catching you cheating. She was so convincing too! Such good acting, better than the people in this movie even” you say as you stuff your mouth with food. You and Shiu had decided on eating dinner while watching TV on the couch for the day, something typically reserved for special occasions. 

“She cost a real pretty penny too” Shiu groaned as you both cuddled on the couch “It was so worth it though, it really brought you over the edge” he laughed as you rolled your eyes, he wasn’t wrong, though.

You looked up to look at his face, to really look at his face. The reality hit you as you looked at him, he wasn’t some co-worker you had sexual tension with, he wasn’t some quick fuck, he was the love of your life. “Hey…” you said to him.

“Hm?” he asked, looking away from the movie to look back at you. “Thank you for doing this with me… I know it isn’t the most common kink” you laugh as you lean into his chest. 

“Well you being an assassin and me being an ex-detective who hates his wife is oddly specific… it was also pretty fun to do”. 

“Oh shut up” you hit his chest lightly, causing him to let out soft ow’s in response. After that though, you simply leaned back into his warm body, simply letting your mind wander. 

Rubbing your arm, he goes “Thank you, too…I really enjoyed doing this with you” he kisses your head. You laugh and go “Ehh don’t enjoy it too much, if you actually cheat on me I will kill you”. 

“Yeah yeah we get it assassin” he laughs, “I love you” he says as he kisses you.

Pulling away, with all the feeling in your heart, you say “I love you too”. 

A/N: This was originally supposed to be pure filth but I can’t help myself, I had to make it fluff in the end or else my heart would’ve died 😭 You don’t have to consider the alternate ending the “real” one if you don’t want to! This story can be enjoyed both ways. 

Enjoy your stories being a little rough? This story featuring Sukuna might also be to your liking!

[cringefail-clown]

at last, where doing it man where MAKING THIS HAPPEN

cringes jakehal fic rec list

just so were clear: some of the fics are unfinished, and havent been updated in a while. leaving a comment to let the author know that youre reading and youre enjoying it is fine, but dont be a bag of dicks and harass them over when the new chapter will be up. have some decency or else ill be inside your walls.

Heart by fawn_writes || rated T || 1/1 || 663 words - man its so good. short and sweet. jake comes by to witness the construction of hals new body while also reminiscing about the times he fought brobot and his untimely demise. a good sparkling of body worship. "Everything will be normal. They’ll manage to keep it normal. After all, Jake has enough of his own heart to share." - fuck, that lines so effervescent.

What he needs by fawn_writes || rated M || 1/1 || 1259 words - another banger from the same author. they be doing the horizontal tango, but nothings too graphic. healthy serving of body worship from jakes perspective, as well as his internal struggle with his apparent robotic attraction.

Dead Weight by squirtgunplay || rated M || 5/9 || 27337 words - oh that fic. oh my god. love me some zombie apocalypse au with existential horror sprinkled on top. hal and dirk are twins but with a twist in this one. theres mystery. theres injuries that make you incapable of moving around. theres ship of theseus discussion. its nourishing. its beautiful. jake and hals banter in this one is fucking amazing, and the author captures their characters so well. the relationship between hal and dirk is also very fucking good and heartwrenching and just ugh. stellar writing, the forth wall break made me laugh out loud, hal gets called a security camera (derogatory). theres graphic depictions of violence, so beware of the tags.

Tennessee Whiskey & You by MistLaFey || rated T || 5/? || 12217 words - major character death and graphic depictions of violence tagged, so beware and read the tags. no-sburb au. dirk fucking dies (its in the fic description so i dont feel like its a spoiler). beautiful exploration of grief, unhealthy coping mechanisms and trying to get back into the normal life when theres a big part of it suddenly missing. hal and dirk are twins. jake is not doing well. hal is also not doing well, but pretending he is. its heartbreaking and some scenes made my chest hurt. very good fic and i dont understand why it doesnt get more love. it deserves it. go read it, even just for the funeral scene, i got teary-eyed over it.

seconds by squirtgunplay || rated E || 2/2 || 18698 words - graphic depictions of violence and its no joke, presidential alert the girls are fightinnn!! but its also so funny and the authors so funny and its also really hot! no sburb au, hals a human and dirks twin. he gets kidnapped by a craigslist hitman jake who mistakes him for dirk. the banter is top game in this one. hal cant keep his mouth shut even in life or death situation. jakes a dork, but hes a deadly dork, and also cant keep his mouth shut about his personal problems. theres fistfighting and knifethrowing and hal gets a weapon put to his head at least twice and he thinks its pretty damn hot. theres banging in second chapter. what more can i say to sell you on this one. the characters are on point, the action is tense but its also written in a cheeky, fun way, smut is good, a npc gets unsubscribed from life. amazing fic, 10/10, will read it again.

I Think Therefore I AR by Taxi_Boy || rated T || 25/? || 30417 words - im saving the best for last. major character death. hal has to start the game and get his friends into the medium while dirk is missing, while also pretending to be dirk as to not raise their suspicions. im not going to say anymore about the plot, you just have to go and read the fic. genuinely my favourite jakehal - and homestuck in general - fic of all time. i love caliborn in this one. i cant wait to see what the author has cooked up for us in the future. its plainly genious.

these are only ao3 fics as i have no clue how tf you search other fanfic sites for a specific ship, but if you have any other recommendations feel free to add them onto this post! we all need some good jakehal fic recs in these trying times!

[asterias-record-shop]

Hello! For the bingo thing could you please do maid!reader with Andrew Garfield/Peter Parker with prompt # 5 or 9 where reader makes a mistake and she gets punished! Please and thank you !! I also love your writing!

—𓆩[you missed a spot]𓆪—

thank you so much anon!!

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Billionaire! TASM! Peter Parker x Fem! Maid! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, angst, smut

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 4.0K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - As soon as Peter graduated college with his degree, he was gone. No one appreciated him enough, so he was going to show them — all of them. After making billions with everything he made and keeping his alter ego a secret, the only thing he’s missing is someone to share his life with, but you quickly fill that whenever you come in applying for his maid job.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - cursing & foul language || no romantic relationships with Gwen but she still died || Peter has an alcohol problem || my poor baby is lonely :( || but you fix that!! || lots of timeskips || kind of fast acting relationship? || kinda mixed universes in a way? Gwen died but Peter is still friends with Harry, idk he needs friends don’t question it || you do like to cook and clean sorry comes with the job || peter’s spidey-senses pick up on your ovulating || Peter gets drunk and does stupid shit || I got carried away I’m so sorry- || smut, unprotected sex, multiple rounds, cumming, this was definitely more plot based ||

Peter didn’t understand why he needed a maid per Harry’s request until he came home after a two week business trip in Milan. It made sense when he saw all the dust buildup on things he barely touched, the fact that his house wasn’t actually a home made it different.

His house hadn’t been a home since he moved in, but he might as well take care of the multimillion dollar home.

From there, he started interviews. At first, it was just him and dozens of women who were either too fan-crazy for the billionaire or too bland.

That was when Harry stepped in, joining in on the interviews as Peter tried to sleep. He was really fucking tired after a night full of hero things, Harrison being his little voice in the suit making sure he didn’t fall asleep on the Statue of Liberty.

It wasn’t until he heard your voice that he was wide awake, watching as you sat down in the chair in front of his mahogany desk of his study.

His study made him feel extremely rich.

“It’s Y/N, right?” Harrison asked, his cheeks already tinted pink as you nodded.

“Yes! Yes, it is. Uhm, it’s nice to meet you-”

“Harrison,” he offered his hand, your smile slightly faltering before you took it. “Harrison Osborne. Friends call me Harry.”

“Well uhm… isn’t this for a position for mister uhm…” you look down at your resume where you had the name at the top. “Mr. Peter Parker.”

You were the first one to actually notice that, or at least voice it out.

“That’s right,” Peter spoke up, leaning forward to look at you. “That’s me, you can just call me Peter.”

“Oh, it’s nice to meet you!” Your smile was back immediately, a giggle falling from your lips as you took your hand from Harry’s and pushed it forward to offer it to him. “My name is Y/N L/N, I’m here to apply for your cooking and cleaning job.”

“His maid job,” Harrison corrected you as Peter firmly shook your hand, your face twisting. “I mean, you would be his maid. It’s a live-in position, but you would cook, clean, wash his clothes, what else do maids do?”

“I-I’m aware I would also be doing those things,” you say quickly, swallowing. “I’m not sure if that was clear.”

“It was,” Peter smiled at you. “Why do you want this job?”

“Well, I was a personal chef for two years, and then I filled in maid positions for people who were elderly that couldn’t do it themselves. I enjoyed it because I like to clean and cook for people.” You say, smiling at Peter who quickly found himself smiling back at you.

There was something about you he just liked.

“When can you start?”

You pause, gaping. “I-I… are you sure you don’t want to see my résumé? O-Or-”

“Were you lying about something?”

Your face scrunches, but you shake your head. “No, of course not! I just-”

“Well, if you want the job, it’s yours,” Peter interrupted, smiling. “So, you can have your stuff moved in tomorrow and can start the day after. Sounds good?”

He watched as you paused, picking at the edge of the manilla folder before nodding. “Sounds great, Mr. Parker.”

You have gotten perfectly settled over the past few months. You memorized every inch of Peter’s house, making sure everything was clean when he was gone and even cleaner when he was here.

Peter didn’t really eat at home much though, but you weren’t going to let your culinary degree go to waste.

So, for breakfast, you decided on making him some classic chicken and waffles with a cup of coffee and some fruit. You knew he was used to eating out for quite literally every meal, but you thought it would be better for him to eat from home more often, even if his body showed no proof of his bad eating habits.

“Y/N? What are you doing?” Peter had just gotten done with his morning workout, the savory smell of fried chicken and the sweet pancakes making him smile. “Wow. It smells so good.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you think so!” His words make you giggle, but you tried to hide your blush as he walked toward you, his body shining with sweat and the small curls of hair leading down the v of his abdomen catching your eye before you look away. “I just thought you could eat something from home because you always get something delivered. You need to give my cooking skills a chance, Mr. Parker.”

“I’ve told you before to call me Peter,” he was close, taking another whiff until he noticed that the pancakes wasn’t the only thing that smelled sweet. “Y/N, you smell very nice. Really nice.”

You paused, gulping. You hadn’t put any heavy perfume on, just a light body mist and some deodorant. “Th-Thank you, Peter.”

He smiled when you said his name, humming softly as he came closer behind you, watching as you slowly moved around the chicken in the oil. “Please be careful. Don’t burn yourself, I’m going to jump in the shower real quick and I’ll be back. Will you eat breakfast with me?”

His words make you freeze, swallowing. “Y-You want me to eat with you?”

He tucked his face into your neck, taking another slight sniff to smell the sweet scent absolutely flooding off of your form, a soft gasp coming from your mouth making him pull away. “I’m so sorry Y/N, you just… you smell really nice, but it’s not like perfume. I-I’ll be right back.”

Peter quickly left you in the kitchen, your mind slightly hazy until you could smell the slight toastiness of the chicken, quickly taking it out and letting it settle on some paper towels as you finished cutting the fruit and cooking the waffles. You finished cleaning up and setting everything to the side, preparing both of your plates and setting it on the table as you waited for Peter.

Peter on the other hand was slamming his head on the wall of his shower. Did he really fucking sniff you?!

You probably thought he was so fucking weird, sniffing you and saying you smelled sweet. Oh but just that thought made a spark run down his back, his cock hardening. Maybe it was his spidey-senses kicking in where he smelled what was coming from you, but it was naturally sweet and making his mind hazy.

He couldn’t jack off, not when you were supposed to clean his room, restroom, and study today. So with a quick push of the touchscreen in the shower turning it to cold, his cock was quick to soften as he forced himself to think about something other than you.

It wasn’t long until he finished his shower, inhaling as he got dressed and went back downstairs, watching as you bent over the table and set down the plates. For fucks sake, he had just gotten his cock soft and there you were making him hard again.

“Oh, hey Peter,” you quickly saw him, smiling. “Breakfast’s ready, are you hungry?”

“Yeah, I am,” Peter smiled as he walked over, fixing his shirt. “You need help?”

“No, but if you want to grab your coffee from the counter, I made it just how you like it.” You smiled widely at him as you put down some silverware, Peter nodding as he grabbed his mug and your reusable cup that was filled with an iced coffee.

He sets it down where you were going to sit, pressing a soft touch to the small of your back as he smiled over your shoulder. “It looks so good, Y/N, thank you.”

You shrug, smiling back. “Just doing my job, Peter. Can I get you anything else?”

He shook his head, pulling out the chair for you. “Sit down for me, Y/N.”

You do, sitting down as he pushes in your chair with a giggle. “Oh, you’re so sweet, Peter, thank you.”

“No, thank you, Y/N.” He smiled as he started to eat, both of you munching on the food you cooked in silence before you cleared your throat.

“I was going to clean your room, restroom, study, and do laundry. Is there anything else you want me to do?”

Peter paused, looking down at his watch to see the date. “Uhm… do you mind doing the study another day, please? I’ll probably be in there the rest of the day.”

You nodded, sending him a slight smile. “Whatever you say, Peter.”

You both finished up eating fairly quickly, Peter thanking you for the food and walking to his study after putting his dishes in the sink and giving them a quick rinse. It makes you smile, thankful he didn’t leave all the sticky syrup on it as you washed the dishes, quickly going through everything you had to do throughout the day.

After making yourself lunch around 12:30, you made Peter a plate and went up to his study, knocking softly though you spoke loudly to ensure he heard you. “Peter? Peter, I made us some lunch, are you hungry?”

You could hear his voice, but it was weird, too soft and maybe even slightly slurred. 

“I’m coming in!” You set the plate down on the floor along with the drink you gave him, walking in and gasping at the sight in front of you.

Peter looked a mess, the suit that he must’ve changed into absolutely horribly messy, his tie loose around his neck as he ran his fingers through his messy hair. “Oh… Y/N, you’re here,” his voice slurred as he smiled at you, four empty crystal bottles of liquor on his desk as he laughed. “You want some-” he hiccuped. “-you want a drink?”

“Peter, it’s barely noon.”

“I’m embracing-” he hiccuped again, laughing. “-my Britishness.”

“You’re not British, Peter,” you walked over, going around his desk to start collecting the bottles of liquor, wondering why he hadn’t passed out yet. “Come on, you need to get in the shower and-”

His arms wrapping around your waist makes you gasp, his face pressing into your side as he takes a deep inhale. “Fuck, Y/N, you smell so good. Don’t know what it is about you, you smell so good and look so pretty all the time, can never stop thinking about you.” He burped softly, chuckling. “Excuse me.”

You inhale deeply, trying to make sure you didn’t do anything rash as his fingers play with the hem of your shirt. “Peter, please let go of me.”

He inhaled, closing his eyes as he softly kissed against your back. “So, so fucking pretty. Can’t stop thinking about how you’d look-”

You were quick to try and push off his hands, his arms tightening as he let out a noise that basically sounded like a whine. “Peter, let go!”

“No, don’t leave,” Peter whispered, voice breaking as his fingers softly trail along the skin he exposed. “Please don’t leave.”

“Peter, let me go, now.” You whisper, straightening when you hear Harry’s voice.

“Y/N? Y/N, where are you? Peter? Peter!”

“Harrison!” You yelled out, pushing on Peter’s hands as you inhaled sharply. “Harrison, in the study!”

“Y/N?!” Harry’s voice was filled with concern as he rushed up the stairs, Peter’s hands freezing as he glared at the open door.

“Why is that fucking bastard here?” He basically growled, pulling you closer as he shot a web to close the door just as Harry got to it. “Not gonna let him take you from me like his dad took Gwen, I’m not gonna lose you.”

“Harry, get the door open!” You yelled, quickly pushing Peter’s hands off now that he was distracted, the only thing you could think about was getting away from Peter, especially his hands.

You didn’t blame him, not whenever he was drunk off his ass, but whatever he was doing must’ve been what he had been wanting to do, and that wasn’t right. It wasn’t going to happen when he was drunk and you were sober and he didn’t know the meaning of no.

“Wait, Y/N!” Peter’s voice was hoarse now that he was yelling, another web attaching you to the wall right next to the door. “You can’t leave, you can’t. You can’t leave me, can’t you see that I need you?”

You couldn’t focus on Peter and his watering eyes, his hands finding your hips as he pressed his face into your neck, taking another deep inhale – not when Harrison was yelling to get a ‘damn jackhammer or some shit!’ as you softly pressed your hands against Peter’s chest. “Peter please… please, stop.”

“I-I’m just… I’m just trying to keep you safe, can’t you see that?” He whispered, slowly taking the webbing off of your wrists. “I can’t keep you safe if you go running toward the danger.”

“Peter, Harry isn’t the danger-”

“I’m not going to let him take you from me like his father killed Gwen.” Peter’s voice was stern as he leaned forward, stroking your hair softly. “I’m not letting anything take you from me.”

You gasped when the door opened abruptly, Harry jumping onto Peter’s back and yelling at you. “Y/N, get out!”

You certainly didn’t have to be told twice, running out as Harry pushed a syringe into Peter’s neck, his fighting instinct being laggy because of the alcohol as it hadn’t worn off yet. You didn’t miss his scream as you ran into your room, closing and locking the door as you opened your closet, quickly grabbing your bag.

You had enough saved up to book a hotel room for almost three months – not a janky motel room, but a good, expensive one – besides, you would definitely need it after this. Shoving your clothes inside the bag and some necessities, you jumped when someone knocked on the door.

“Y/N! Y/N, it’s me!” Harry announced, sighing softly. “Peter’s… Peter is sobering up. Can I come in?”

“No! I don’t want to see you!” You yelled, shaking your head. “Go away!”

“Y/N, let me in, please.” Harry sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll answer any question you want, I swear… where are you going to go? You signed a three-year contract, Y/N, you can’t back out on it.”

“I’ll pay the got damn-”

“Five million?”

You pause, sighing. Curse rich people.

Slowly, you moved to the door and opened it. “Who’s Gwen?”

Harry walked in, sitting on your bed, explaining everything to you. “Gwen was a friend of Peters. She was in love with him, but he didn’t reciprocate the feelings, though he still stuck close by her because she knew his identity and wanted to keep her safe. My dad… my dad killed her. He was a villain, and he almost killed Peter.”

“So why is he still friends with you?” You whispered, confused.

“I still ask myself that question,” Harry shrugged, looking over at you. “Y/N, you don’t understand how in love he is with you.”

“I don’t care,” It was a lie and you knew it, but you wouldn’t be with someone who drowned his sorrows in alcohol. “I want to leave. Harrison, please… please, help me. Help me, I-I’ll pay you back, I swear.”

“I can’t do that Y/N,” Harrison whispers, shaking his head as you reach for his hand. “Y/N, please-”

“Will he remember what he did?”

Harrison nods.

“I’ll stay only if he gets help. No other way.”

Peter did get help, lots of it. Therapy, both mental and for his slight dependence on alcohol.

You had been with him a little over a year, still unable to do anything even slightly romantic with him, including eating breakfast. You would go to the in home gym that he had every night like clock work, interrupting his nightly work out after dinner to see what he wanted for breakfast in the morning, but tonight it was different.

You walked into the gym, confused when you didn’t see him before you saw the lights on outside in the pool. The sight of him lounging in the hot tub smoking a cigar made your chest tighten as you walked out, notepad and pen in hand as you tilted your head.

“Peter, what are you doing?”

“Smoking, Y/N, I’m smoking.” His voice was strained, frustrated as his mouth twitched before he took another long drag. “I’m not drinking.”

“You’ve been sober for months, Peter.”

He scoffed, shaking his head as he took another deep inhale. “Being sober and not having the urge to smoke are two different things, Y/N.”

You shake your head, sighing. “Oh Peter-”

“I’ll let you out of the contract,” Peter finally said, leaning his head back as you straightened and he let out a large plume of smoke. “There’s no point in you being here. Not anymore.”

“You’re sober now,” your voice comes out soft and hushed, Peter staring as you shake your head. “You wouldn’t do that again.”

Peter laughed cruelly, shaking his head. “You’re so fucking dense.”

Your face pinched as you glared at him. “Don’t call me that.”

“I don’t want you as my maid, Y/N,” Peter said, exhaling the smoke before inhaling it through his nose and letting it back out again. “I want you in a way that no boss should want their employee.”

For fucks sake, could he be any hotter?

“Put it out.”

“Or what?”

“Put it out,” you repeat, setting down your pen and notebook and slipping your phone from your back pocket, already unbuttoning your shirt. “And I’ll get in with you.”

Peter pauses, shaking his head. “No… no, you can’t, not if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” you respond, already unbuttoning your shirt. “Put it out.”

His eyes darkened as they scanned your form, watching as you finished unbuttoning your shirt and slipped it off as he pressed the end of the cigar into the concrete, staring at your body that started to show more and more skin. You were more beautiful than he could ever imagine, your panties a see through with chiffon and soft pieces of fabric in shapes of butterflies and flowers, a soft coral color that didn’t match your black lace push up bra.

He swallowed as you slowly stepped into the hot tub, the jets getting water higher on your body as you slowly walked in front of him, the bottom of the pool slightly rough until his hands slipped into the water. “Can I… can I touch you?”

“Mhm,” you whispered, tilting your head back as his hands held your waist, pulling you between his legs. You gasped when you felt the prominent bulge between his legs, tilting your head back as he ducked his face into your neck. His breath was hot, hands palming at your hips as you exhaled heavily, holding his face and pulling him closer. “I never said you could kiss me, Peter.”

He cursed softly as you pulled away, looking down at the water and swallowing when you saw no fabric covering his thighs, his whole body completely nude as his hands trail over your waist. “I have a new role for you, darling. If you’re up to it.”

Your new role came with a new outfit and a new contract, extra pay of course. In a way, your relationship with Peter was official, and the money you made was just something you could have for yourself. Peter would have gladly given you more if you wanted it.

Besides, being a topless maid for your boyfriend wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

“You missed a spot, baby,” Peter whispered, coming behind you and rubbing your hips firmly as he pressed soft kisses to your neck. “A big one.”

“I-I was getting to it, Peter,” he whispered, cursing as his hands pushed between your thighs and teasing your wet cunt with his fingers. “P-Peter, I’m not done-”

“You can finish it later, darling,” his fingers easily slid into you from last night's endeavors, his tongue sliding down the side of your neck as he pushed you forward to press your chest against the marble countertop. “I’ll fuck you so good, baby, so good. After this, I’ll hire another maid to takeover your position and you’ll be coming with me on every fucking business trip and I’ll fuck you every damn day.”

“F-Fuck, Peter!” You gasped as he slid inside of you easily, holding your hips as he groaned loudly. This wasn’t the first time you both had fucked today, but out in the open, the cold bite of the kitchen air making you groan loudly. “F-Fuck, fuck fuck fuck!”

Maybe this was where his spider senses came in. He knew whatever you were feeling, your stomach twisting as you neared probably your fourth orgasm of the day, all of them thankfully spread out and not causing overstimulation to settle into your body. You could feel the tightness, though, the tightness in your stomach and your nails scratching against the counter.

You were thankful you had just cleaned them, thankful for the fact that the odd feeling didn’t spark coming up your fingers. Even then though, your body was weak, immediately giving out under the force of his thrusts as you groaned against the counter, the smell of lemons making your mouth water. It made you thankful that you used all natural cleaners and no chemicals.

His hand pushed between your cunt and the edge of the counter, his fingers rubbing firmly against your clit as you rutted your hips into his touch. You gasped against the cold marble as his strong fingers rolled your hips into his touch, eyes rolling back.

You could barely think, mind hazy as he roughly thrusted against your ass, his mouth hot as he kissed against your back, the coldness of the marble firmly pressed against your nipples making them harden as he pushed another hand into your dress. “Come on baby, come on. You’re going to cum already? You’re drooling all over the fucking counter, fucking hell darling… getting my counter all dirty.”

“I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You gasped, screaming out as his fingers squeeze your clit, tipping you over the edge perfectly as you came.

You gasped as he twisted you around, the pool of your drool got into your hair, his hands quickly ripping open your uniform as you panted. “You think I’m done? I want to keep going baby, please, please.”

You nodded, panting. “Y-You can… you can, please.”

Peter smiled. “I’m not going to let you regret that, baby. Ever.”

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© asterias-record-shop

[oneofthosebells]

SCREAMING.

Okay, initial thoughts: absolutely loved it.

Was it perfect? No. I've got a couple of niggles and nitpicks, and some things I wished they'd gone deeper on, but I was never expecting perfection so that doesn't bother me.

Did it give me all the feelings and address pretty much all the things I wanted addressed and give me several moments of full on squeaking at the TV? Yep. I'm happy.

Some more spoilery initial thoughts under the cut:

Felice as a chef?? YES. I've been trying and rejecting various future career headcanons for Felice for ages now and this one suits her perfectly.

(Could have done with more Felice in general, I do feel like she was done a bit dirty again, but I really loved the bits of her we did get.)

Absolutely LOVED the portrayal of Wilmon's relationship this season. They were just so teenager, it was glorious - swinging from big emotion to big emotion, from all-consuming love to hate and anger and shame. It's all so intense at that age and I do think the show does a great job of showing that.

Navigating that change from 'we want to be together' to 'okay, now we are together, how does that actually work in reality' was the main thing I wanted to see this season so I'm really happy we got that.

Simon's jacket on top of his checked trousers is the greatest thing I've ever seen btw. Still giggling about it.

Wanted more of an arc for Sara if I'm honest, but like Felice I really enjoyed some of the stuff we did get - the conversation where Sara was worried she'd end up like Micke was brilliant.

August...eh. I don't hate a redemption arc for August tbh as I personally believe no one is beyond forgiveness and redemption. I get why some people might hate it though.

Overall, this season felt much more low-key than the previous two? Which isn't a criticism - it took me a couple of episodes to get into it, but I started to really enjoy it once I did. Less of the soapy angst and plot twists of previous seasons and more focused on the characters.

Oh and as certain as I've ever been of Wilmon endgame. I'm absolutely sure Hillerska will close in the final episode, so it might be a bit of a bittersweet, trying long-distance kind of thing, but not a break up.

My personal theory/hope right now: Wille tells the Royal Court to fuck their prince school and he and Simon go with the girls to New York for the summer.

[charms-cat]

Nitpicking Kaos

Aka "Is it so hard to have 10 seconds of Googling?"

Dislaimer: I'm not a follower of the Greek pantheon nor am I the most avid "fan" of Greek myth (putting that in quotes bcs there are still worshippers today), but oh my God. Is it so difficult to keep the most basic of information correct? I'm not gonna nitpick on how they twist certain myths (e.g. how Orpheus gets to and gets Eurydice out of the underworld) bcs it's fine, it serves the plot they're telling so it's not like they're doing it for no reason. But the names of gods? Their titles? The fact that Hera is probably the only goddess who has remained faithful to her spouse? Is it too much to ask?

EDIT: just realised just how negative this all sounds, but I did genuinely enjoy the show and its plot. It was interesting enough to captivate me for 8 whole eps, the character dynamics were intriguing, and the portrayal of the gods was cruel and I loved it since it hammers in the disconnect/lack of empathy that they feel for mortals

Anyway, here's a list of nitpicks [SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT] feel free to correct me if I'm wrong

Heracles, not Hercules

Why do people keep getting this wrong? The name of a literal Greek Goddess (Hera) is part of his name. How are you gonna make Zeus praise him, but still get his name wrong

Hestia

Why is Hestia reduced to being a fucking dog????????? Not just any dog either, she's Zeus's dog that already died, absolutely no chance of an appearance of his fifth sibling unless you wanna make it that Zeus was such a dick that he named his dog after his sister. It's not like she has a "useless" domain. She's one of the three most well-known virgin goddesses. She's the goddess of the home and hearth and of the sacrificial fire. She's the one who receives the first offering at a (domestic) sacrifice so why is she just a dog??

Hera

If I had a nickel for every time I read a retelling where she cheats on Zeus with his brother, I'd have two nickels (the first was Lore Olympus, if you're curious). Hera is supposed to represent the ideal wife, the literal goddess of lawful marriage so how the fuck can you make her be unfaithful?????????

Poseidon

Not so much a nitpick than a question, said question being "why are we acting like Poseidon doesn't have a wife, the nereid Amphitrite, queen of the seas" did they get divorced? Is that why he's lusting after Hera

Hades

He's the god of THE DEAD. Thanatos is the god of death ffs; he's the literal personification of death. Thanatos takes mortal souls, and Hades presides over said dead souls. It would've taken only a few seconds to change Hades's title card and for Persephone to call him "god of the dead" instead of the "god of death". Nothing about Hades's position even hints to him presiding over death itself. We only ever see him running the underworld (Y'know, where all the dead are?). They literally had to change nothing but his title card and what Persephone calls him

Persephone

This isn't really a nitpick on her character, but.... if she's in the underworld, shouldn't it be winter? It doesn't matter that she truly loves Hades or that she went willingly, Part of what fueled Demeter's winter is her grief over losing/being away from her daughter so why is it so damn sunny when we cut to the mortal world

Orpheus

Again, not a nitpick but a definite downplay of his musical abilities considering the fact that the song he sung to convince Hades and Persephone had literally stopped the underworld in its tracks

Prometheus

Not an egregious change, but I'll say it anyway: Wasn't he freed by Heracles during his 12 labours? It's not like he needs to be chained up, pretty sure the resentment that comes from centuries or millenia of having your liver pecked out and eaten would sustain his hatred for an equal amount of time

Minos

Their decision to make him a president instead of a king is not only unnecessary, but it makes him look like the Greek ver of Putin. I mean, they really didn't need to add in the part where Ariadne(?) says something along the lines of "you should let the people vote, they'd choose you anyway". Just... the implication that he simply declared himself president is dumb as hell. Despite Athens being the birthplace of democracy, I don't think they even had presidents in Ancient Greece. You could literally just call Minos a king and virtually nothing about the plot would even change so why bother. Is this really just their attempt at "modernising" their world/setting? It's not like we don't have kings in this day and age

Minotaur

It's true that Glaucus is a sibling of Ariadne, but the Minotaur is a whole separate sibling. The Minotaur even has his own name: Asterion/Asterius. Just another case of "why did they have to change this?" Literally just swap out the name "Glaucus" for "Asterion" and not only will (yet again) virtually nothing about the plot change, but it would be more mythologically accurate and less confusing for people who do know the myths. In fact, it could've been a fun hint for people who know the myths to clock what really happened to "Glaucus" early on, but still have them questioning "how did he become the Minotaur in this version?"

Pasiphae/Pas

Ngl I'm kinda sad that Pas seems to be just a normal mortal woman bcs, in Greek myth, she was a sorceress-goddess, the daughter of Helios. Plus, although I think it's kinda fucked up that she was forced to fuck/be fucked by the Cretan bull (bcs being "made to fall in love" is not the same as "falling in love"), I think it would've been interesting to explore not only her grief over losing a child, but the grief that comes from realising that he never was and never could be accepted by either Gods or mortals. Also, it would've made her obsession over him look slightly less selfish (and lowkey creepy) if we found out that part of the reason was that she knew her son could never live among humans as half-man, half-bull so she resorted to making wax figures that would've at least let her imagine what it would've been like if he wasn't the result of divine punishment

Theseus

Was literally just an Easter egg. Downgraded from a prince of Athens to a Cretan bodyguard. Didn't even do his most notable act (killing the Minotaur) or even get sent to the Labyrinth in the first place. Makes him feel very much like a character that the writers added just to say, "Look! Look, we know Greek myth!" Especially since Theseus disappeared into thin air after the Trojan 7 were arrested. I don't think they even showed him in the crowd with Andromache, mourning Astyanax

Non-character Nitpicks (yeah, I got more)

Bees

Not really bothered by this, but I'm pretty sure that bees aren't even one of Hera's sacred animals. They could've made it peacocks, make the birds wander the grounds and when the reveal drops, the symbol of opulence turns into an unabashed display of cruelty

Ichor

Admittedly, the colour of ichor in Ancient Greek texts has always been ambiguous. But I feel like it would've been an interesting visual for their blood to be a non-red colour; maybe the popular gold, for example. Bcs it would've A) drawn a clear line between Gods and mortals and further "validated" the Gods' hubris by serving as visual proof that there's an undeniable difference between them and the mortals; and B) would've really caused Zeus to panic when he saw that his blood was red instead of gold, make him think that he's becoming mortal, vulnerable, weak

Styx

Minor nitpick, but isn't the sentence for not being able to pay the toll only 100 years, not 200? Why the extra 100 years? Why even change this? If they really wanted to make it feel like a long sentence, then they should've gone for 500 or 1000 years. Living even just 100 years of doing the same thing with no variation or even the choice to opt out, or even being able to taste anything, would start feeling hellish sooner than you might think

Couples

This might just be the aromantic in me, but why is there so much romance???? And it's between couples that never existed in the OG myths

1. Hera/Poseidon - why??? I've already talked about how it goes against Hera's character, but if they really wanted them to have a "deep" relationship, they're literally siblings?? They could just bond over having to be the ones that keep Zeus in line or being the only ones responsible for actually ruling their realms (bcs Amphitrite is nowhere to be found). They didn't need to insult Hera's character like that

2. Theseus/Astyanax - I'd have less problem with this if it didn't seem like Theseus wanted Ari to only save Nax instead of all 7 Trojans. It makes it feel like they're fueling the idea that a person would only be desperate to save the person they love romantically. E.g., a husband saving his wife, but not someone saving their best friend

3. Prometheus/Charon - same problem as the Theseus/Nax ship, especially with the added line that Prometheus needs to rely on "someone who will do anything for you" (or sumn like that). Like,,,, you can do that for your friend too, y'know. It's not out of the realm of possibility to miss your friend or love them so deeply that you'd do anything for them. It's literally a well-known joke(?) that there are friends who'd help you hide the body. It'd just be a more intense ver of that between Charon and Prometheus. They didn't need to be romantic to showcase Charon's trust in and dedication to helping Prometheus

4. Caeneus/Eurydice - I'm so tired of people falling in love in less than a week (I don't think this relationship even reached a full three days). Iirc y'all had a grand total of 6 conversations - first at the Frame, second meeting when Riddy introduces herself as a diver, third at the party, fourth when they're sitting on the bench, fifth when they have their short escapade to the Nothing, sixth in Caeneus's bedroom.

I mean,,,,, I get that they shared meaningful conversations, but I swear none of said conversations even lasted more than 5 minutes so where on Earth is this "love" coming from?? Y'all have barely scratched the surface of what you know of each other but you think you're connected??? Get real

Ending on a positive note

I actually love the Furies and the Fates. The Furies more for their looks and their vibe and especially the Fates for their (literal) know-it-all nonchalant attitude. I hope they come back next season.

The set design and colouring is also top tier, from the underworld filtered in black and white and looking industrial and office-like to the vibrant colours and festivity of Earth to the opulence of Olympus

Some actual trans and disability rep! I've been burned before with the trans rep since the Netflix adaptation of "Alice in Borderlands" has a cis woman playing a transfem, but Misia Butler is an actual transmasc! [Nobody argue that AIB couldn't have an actual transfem bcs of Japan's transphobia bcs I can tell you what's not helping trans rights: having cis women play transfem roles, thinking it makes no difference anyway. Good rep can pave the way for acceptance]

The disability rep in actors is so fucking bad that I genuinely thought most people with disabilities just didn't become actors. I only knew that the daughter in "A Quiet Place" was actually deaf bcs I went to look it up. Anyway, hope Mat Fraser (Daedalus aka only decent father figure) comes back bcs no way he actually got eaten, right? Right????

[yujeong]

Okk. I don't want to compare or anything but I don't get the people who's getting mad on Korn Tonkla scenes saying they had more screen time? Or shit. I mean tbh, I am understanding the plot of the series better because of the two of them because they are somehow related to all of the events. And Tonkla's situation is...... he somehow senses the other timeline which I think is an important role. And also, Korn! Like what you've said he knows Dome is dead, and at the same time he's with his brother who ’saved’ Dome. Both of the characters are pivotal in the series.

Also, I think that they are more talked about because a Bas and Fuaiz couple was not expected in the series, and at the same time their plot line is really good as well as the build up of their characters. And I've seen more & more people are falling in love with Fuaiz & Bas (as an actor) in this series.

But somehow, I get them because the main couple is GreatTyme but why does it feel like they are becoming more of a side couple. Also saw people saying that their ’plot line’ or how they were introduced to eo /wasn't it./

Thank you for giving me the incentive to speak about this issue, anon. I'm going to do it now because the new episode will come out in a few hours and hopefully I won't have to do this ever again - which I honestly doubt but anyway. Since I haven't seen this type of discourse pop up on Tumblr (thank GOD), I'd like to inform everyone that over on Twitter, there have been massive complaints about Tonkla, aka Fuaiz, getting more screentime than the main characters, aka JesBible, to the point of people tagging BOC in posts and demanding they give them more scenes with TymeGreat - as if BOC can just pull footage they haven't filmed out of their ass or something. It got so bad that Sammon herself saw them and AGREED with these people, further explaining how it was important for some plot elements to be explored now, in order for the rest of the series to make sense. Now, with all due respect to her position as a screenwriter: she's factually wrong here. Someone on Twitter actually sat down and counted the minutes each character is on screen and came out with these results:

It's not in English, but I believe the results are clear: Tonkla doesn't even come close to Great's screentime. He's a little closer to Tyme's, but the main character is Great, so he's the one we should be looking at. Also, in case it hasn't been fucking obvious, Tonkla is an essential character in 4 Minutes, which is why we're getting many scenes with him. The reason I mentioned the actors is pretty self-explanatory - people are mad their favourite actors are shown a specific amount of time, giving space to other plot lines and characters, instead of being there for the whole episode, as if the point of 4 Minutes is the romance between Tyme and Great and nothing else. Meanwhile, Bible himself was laughing and clapping and enjoying the flashback scene between Korn and Tonkla when they had their first time, because Bible wanted to be part of a good production, which he is and he recognizes it. But no, God forbid we get more context over KornTonkla, which is one of the most important relationships in the show, which guides Tonkla's actions, which moves the fucking PLOT of the SHOW. I could give the benefit of the doubt to people being upset Tonkla was shown for not even half of episode 4, but I won't, and the reason for that is because I'm sick and fucking tired of people getting their panties in a twist because a character who loves getting fucked is actually getting fucked in almost every episode. Good for him honestly, even if it's making him worse. (I've already ranted about this whole thing here, I'm not going to repeat myself) I don't know how your social media feeds are like anon, but mine are flooded with BibleJes + GreatTyme content and I rarely see anything about KornTonkla or Bas and Fuaiz or anything of the sort, so I can't agree with you that they're more talked about than the main actors/characters. (That's not the case on Tumblr though: I have a very varied feed + my lovely anon asks which give me the chance to talk about my boys and I'm thankful for that.) And I'm sorry, anon, but I'm going to have to disagree with you in the end: Great and Tyme do NOT feel like the side couple at all. They are and they feel very much like the main couple and they've had multiple scenes together in every single episode so far (at the hospital, in Great's garage, at the park, at the university, at the arcade, inside Great's car, at the rooftop of the hospital, at the warehouse, inside the tent etc). We've gotten plenty of fucking content for them AND also BOC has made sure to give Bible and Jes the chance to do a million interviews together + magazine photoshoots, with only half of the show being done, so fans have zero fucking reason to complain about anything. That's all. Rant over.

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  dartlekey! @dartlekey has 11 fics in the Stranger Things Fandom and 9 of them are in the Steddie tag!.

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @dartlekey:

If you were church (I'd get on my knees)

RUSH! (T4T REMIX)

At a medium pace

With great power

"I read the "with great power" series not long after I got into the Steddie fandom and was instantly like "I need to raid this author's other fics" and subscribed to them. No regrets for that choice!!" -- Anonymous

Below the cut, @dartlekey answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

For me, Steddie hits that sweet spot of strong characterization but woefully underexplored details, both for the individual characters but also their dynamic with each other in canon. That makes their relationship the ideal writer's sandbox - since they're both so fluid, you can explore the characters through each other, showcasing many different and even conflicting facets of each other while still retaining their original characters and behaviors. Either of them can be rich or poor, famous or an everyguy, Gay or Bisexual, Dom or Sub, Top or Bottom, Trans in any direction - the details are up to you! 

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I love a good slowburn friends-to-lovers fic. It needs to be a specific kind for me though - I'm not much one for prolonged pining, but I love it when the friendship is explored in such depth that the next step feels like an inevitability. Watching that deep platonic affection turn not-so-platonic, that's the good shit. 

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

My specialty as a writer, I think, is crack treated seriously, or crack with a twist. Usually the first question that sparks one of my fics is “If X happened, would that be hilarious or what?” and then the second is “But if it was because of Y, would that be fucked up or what?” I think you can see it best in If you were church I'd get on my knees (what if Steve was a stripper at Eddie's stag party BUT it was actually a social commentary on queerness and sexuality in the face of religious oppression), but it's in At a medium pace too (what if Eddie couldn't move his arms because of injury so Steve “has” to jerk him off, but it's actually about how growing up queer can warp your perspective on healthy sexuality) , or even in Don't look back (What if Eddie had to dom Steve for plot reasons, but it's all body horror and trauma and spiraling codependency). 

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I don’t think I could name one all-time favorite, because what I enjoy most about fanfic is that different writers bring different character interpretations, storytelling styles and plot ideas to the table, which I find incomparable. I have enjoyed many of the well-known classics, of course (pukner I owe you my life--), but let me use this chance to give a shout-out to some less well-known masterpieces! My top three underrated fics are Three Days on the Red Planet by CaptainHoney/@grandmastattoo on tumblr (retro scifi, gritty but humorous hopepunk, every single fic of theirs is a certified banger but I love this one the most for some reason!!), Love dirty men alike by wrenowich (chef au, an ode to kitchen culture in all its griminess, I love a detailed backstory plus Steddie being wonderfully weird about each other), and That’s just wasteland, baby! by fastcardotmp3 (post-s4 apocalypse survival, sweet and aching and tired and yet hopeful, made me cry in the best way). 

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

One that's pretty unique to the steddie fandom, or perhaps general stranger things fandom, is “if canon event x had happened differently/hadn't happened at all/had happened to a different person, how would the rest of canon change?” I still need to work out a lot of details in my head, so that's all I'll say for now, but it's something I'm very interested in exploring.

What is your writing process like?

Much to the horror of fic writers everywhere, I don't do first drafts, I just write out everything in detail, scene by scene in chronological order. I edit as I go, and consider the many-numbered, often unplanned writing breaks an important part of my process - when I let the written portion sit for a while and the unwritten ideas percolate in my brain for a bit, I often end up with new plot points or solutions for problems I've been having! And when that inspiration strikes, I can write anywhere - on the train, during lunch break at work, in the vegetable aisle of the grocery store… I have gdocs on my phone and I use it liberally; I'd say I write at least 80% of any given fic on my phone. 

Do you have any writing quirks?

Apart from the hot mess I just described, I'd say it's that I never use Beta readers. I'll occasionally ask friends to help with specific details if I need an expert on certain subject matter, but I've found I get very grumpy and fussy if someone pokes at my plot (even if or rather especially if they’re right lol), and I don't want to subject anyone to that. 

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

For oneshots or series comprised of single-chapter fics I like posting as soon as I'm done, but for multi-chapter works I've recently found that starting to post only after I've finished most (if not all) chapters beforehand improves the quality of the story! Since I tend to integrate new ideas or shift around plot points a lot while writing, I often end up in completely different places than my original concept, so if an early chapter isn't posted yet I can retroactively edit it to add foreshadowing or tone-match the end of the work, remove loose threads and suchlike. Don't look back is a good example of how this has worked out for me; comparatively It don't bite (Yes it do) - which I wrote and posted chapter by chapter - is tonally all over the place. 

Which fic are you most proud of?

Naturally I love all my babies, but I consider Don't look back my magnum opus - both because it is the longest fic I've ever written (13 chapters and 90.000 words in total, that's practically a novel!) and because it's the most plot-rich, labor-intensive, and overall serious in tone. I even worked in subplots about the rest of the cast, so it almost reads like its own season. I wrote it for last year's Steddie Bigbang, which means there's also a gorgeous accompanying artwork by @the-chilly-kat. 

How did you get the idea for With great power?

At the time I'd seen a few marvel AUs floating past me on the tumblr timeline, usually with Steve as Spiderman and Eddie as the human component of Venom, and having just recently seen the Venom movie depicting the rich relationship between Eddie Brock and the symbiote, it surprised me that most left the symbiote as its own character, and not substituted one of the ST main cast. The symbiotic relationship of Stobin immediately came to mind, though I also still loved the idea of Steve as Spidey - then I remembered that in the Toby McGuire movies, the two are not mutually exclusive, and it all spiraled from there. Eddie as Deadpool just made sense - immortal wild-card with a dubious moral code but a heart of gold? Obviously! Plus Spideypool is, of course, a classic ship. 

When writing With great power, what was something you didn’t expect?

I actually got several curious comments about the sex toy Steve uses in Because the night - a grindable or grinder, which is a flat-ish silicone structure, usually ribbed in an interesting way, that one can grind against to get off (as the name suggests). I thought it was pretty common, but apparently it's not very well known!

What inspired  RUSH! (T4T REMIX)?

Oh, it's my time to gush! Because the idea for the first work actually came about from a late night conversation I had with the beautiful, amazing, wonderful @maikaartwork, back when we were, how should I say, in the courting stage? Seeing as we met through the Steddie fandom, I decided to write Baby Said basically to seduce them - and I am happy to say it worked, as we've been dating for over eight months now and are planning to move in together next year! Both works from RUSH! - T4T REMIX (and the secret new WIP, shh) are thus somewhat inspired by our conversations and our t4t relationship, but also by the many interesting and different trans people I've met over the years, and trans solidarity and relationships in general.

What was your favorite part to write from At a medium pace?

The small-talk in between position changes - no, really! I love a mindless marathon-fuck story as much as the next person, but there's something very sweet and intimate about those little breaks in sex, the pass the lube, move your leg a bit, what's for dinner later of it all. That's where you see that emotional connection - there's no admission of crushes or big love confessions in this fic because it's right there in the details.

How do/did you feel writing RUSH! (T4T REMIX)?

Honestly, it's just really really fun and self-indulgent. The Steddie dynamic in it is so bitchy, all the bickering makes me laugh even as I'm writing it. It's also just really fun to write about the trans experience in a way that is curious and loving, and reflects all the very different and yet similar ways people experience living in a body that defies expectation. I've loved all my fellow trans people sounding off in the comments about their own transition experiences, it's wonderful to have such a fantastic community!

What was the most difficult part of writing If you were church (I'd get on my knees)?

Curiously enough, not the many religious trauma bits! Much like Eddie in the fic, I'm only church-freak adjacent - I grew up in a non-religious household but with extended family that were extremely catholic, so the odd juxtaposition of being occasionally close to but definitely not involved in what is pretty much cult behavior inspired much of this fic. The most functionally difficult part to write was actually the wedding - as an aro-spec & trans relationship anarchist, church weddings have never been relevant to me, so I had very little idea what actually goes into one! Very little of the research I conducted on the topic actually made it into the fic, but hey, the more you know. 

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

People keep asking me that, and I never know what to answer! If I had to pick one, though, maybe the last few paragraphs of Don't look back - where you can see the tragedy coming, but there's no way of stopping it, because it was always going to end this way. And then Eddie's last words before the end of the fic call back to the title as well as the general theme of the fic - it just all comes together for such a crescendo of an ending. 

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Yes, actually! Coming soon in the SteddieBang'24, me and my lovely artist @hawkinsleather have been working hard on a 20k post-s4 fic called A glimpse of your canvas, which is about closeted transfemme!Eddie, women's solidarity, and Steve's very confusing no-good trip to the gay bar. Both With great power and RUSH! (T4T REMIX) have another WIP pending which I'll eventually finish (I promise, I'm just easily distracted!!), and for those who are still mad about Don't look back’s open ending, I'm almost done with the sequel, which features a lot of bad decisions by all characters involved, the healing power of community, and a bit of accidental child acquisition. 

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Given the chance of this platform, I would like to notify my readers that I'm a terrible procrastinator when it comes to replying to comments, but I read and cherish every one of them - and repeat commenters, I see you, I love you, I am chewing on your arm like a dog with a bone!! I would also like to thank the steddie fandom in general for giving me the hottest partner known to man or God, and for the many friendships I've been so fortunate to build here. Talk about transformative works, am I right? <3 

Thank you to our author, @dartlekey, and our anonymous nominator! See more of dartlekey's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[weltraum-vaquero]

you could have it all (my empire of dirt)

4. hold me (like a knife)

[Chapter 1] ↠ [Chapter 2] ↠ [Chapter 3] ↠ [Chapter 4] ↠ [Chapter 5] (coming soon)

[AO3 link]

Western AU

18+

Jayce Talis x GN AFAB Reader

Word count: 9.5k+

Synopsis: Now that things between you and Jayce have ended, he doesn't know what to do with himself. Until everything takes a turn for the worse.

Tags/warnings: Jayce being the world’s saddest sack of shit. Graphic violence towards the middle and end of this chapter. Character death (but it’s nobody important). Caitlyn being the only person with a brain.

Notes: I can’t quite believe that this chapter is finally done. I’ve had the plot of this specific part of the story in mind for almost two years now, and to say that executing it was daunting is an understatement. I hope I didn’t disappoint, and, just as a heads up, this is about the middle point of the fic. There is still a long way to go, and far from the end for Jayce and reader! As per usual: a big, huge thank you to my wonderful friends, who were so helpful with their valuable feedback, and helped this chapter become what it is now. Enjoy!

“Jayce?” 

The door creaks open slowly, letting in the barest, flickering sliver of light. 

It stings somewhere at the back of his already pounding head to look — he has to squint to even bear glimpsing, but he still does, delusionally hopeful in a way that’s masochistic.

The smudge of a shadow he sees through his lashes takes on the form he aches to see the most — shoulders just the right size to hang onto, neck just the right slope to nestle into, arms just the right size to wrap around him tight and hold him so he’ll stop falling apart — you. 

But it’s not you. Why would it be you? 

Cold hands, colder gaze, you hadn’t deemed him worthy of another word as he’d set to leave. He’d stopped, back turned, shaking with the tears he’d been swallowing, listened to the prairie crickets and waited. Counted all the way up to ten in his head, hoping you’d have the guts to find some inexistent panacea to the wound you’d torn into his heart. 

But you hadn’t said a thing. Why would you?

Jayce had given Topacio the spurs, riding fast enough to dry his tears before they reached his chin, and hard enough to drown his sobs out with the pounds of galloping hooves on the way back.

Why would it be you now, here, in the Kiramman estate, crawling back to him and begging for forgiveness?

“Hi, Cait,” he croaks.

And he wouldn’t fucking give it to you either way. Not after what you did to him.

“Hey.” It’s hysterical just how she draws out the e, hushed little sound, like she’s trying to soothe a spooked horse. 

Empathy’s never been her strong suit. 

But he’s sure he’s a sorry enough sight to be worthy of such a reply. He’d pulled the curtains to his room shut tight to stifle all sunlight, and sat in a sad corner of his room — hadn’t even granted himself the comfort of sitting on his bed — before he’d sobbed the night and day away. And though he’d torn his heart open and wrung it out into every tear, it had not ached any less, it hadn’t grown any lighter. 

How could it, now that he knows the most meaningful relationship of his life matters so little to the one person he would have given everything up for?

“I was sure you were still out and about but… well, Fenton said he’d seen you ride in last night, and I thought… you might be here.” She clears her throat, sliding into his room uninvited. She maneuvers it suspiciously clumsily — it takes Jayce a second to pick up on the fact that it’s because she holds a candle in one hand and a plate of sad-looking, long-cold dinner leftovers in the other. But she shuts the door with her foot, not at all silent, before she sits down across from him on the floor. 

Jayce draws his feet a little closer, hugs his knees a little tighter. Company is the last thing he needs when he wants to wallow in his own misery, when he wants to twist the knife you’ve stuck into his heart and let himself bleed.

But how could he lay in his own metaphorical puddle of blood and physical puddle of snot and tears when Cait is here to watch?

She’s trying very hard to make no big deal of it — of how much Jayce is looking like the world’s saddest sack of shit — as she sets the plate down first, then untucks whatever’s under her other arm so she can put the candle down, a safe distance from the carpet.

“I’m, really— I’m not much company right now,” Jayce tells her. His voice is so hoarse from sobbing it’s just a whistly, airy, pathetic whisper. He’d almost forgotten how much he hated feeling meek. 

You’d nurtured that part of him, had lulled him into believing it was alright for him — protector, hunter, a man of the law — to be everything he wasn’t supposed to be. And he’d let it happen.

Why does he have to be like this? Every part of him seems sculpted for power — his size, his strength, his skills — and still he yearns for weakness. To be cradled and kissed and touched like he’s none of those things.

No other lover had gotten through to him, and he doesn’t blame any single one of them — who would look at him as anything beyond a guard dog with a pretty face, when that’s all he’s supposed to be? Who would want to reach deeper and touch the parts of him that don’t fit the man he’s clearly meant to be? 

But you’d had. You’d called him princess and baby and you’d caged him in protective embraces and had let him grow soft. You’d given him everything he’d never had, and you’d done it all just to fucking hurt him. To wield his own weakness like a knife. You’d shaped it into something sharp and waited for the right time, right place, to tear him open with it.

And yet, he’d let you do it all over again — just to have a taste of the months he’d felt truly understood. He’d lay his head in your hands all the same, willing lamb under the butchering knife. If he’d be back in that saloon, he’d melt in your hands, let you lick into his mouth and sink your teeth into his neck. You wouldn’t need to even ask. He’d just tilt his head back and wait.

Because he loves you.

Choking back a sob, Jayce shivers with how much that realization shakes him — he still loves you, beaten dog licking an abusing hand, runt of the litter crawling back to warmth it will be inevitably chased out of.

You’re gone. And you’ll never care enough to come back.

“Here.” Caitlyn nudges the plate towards him in an attempt to snap him out of the incoming breakdown. “Eat up,” she encourages. “You must be hungry.”

He shakes his head.

Jayce wonders if he ever will feel anything again, except for a dreadful pit of numb pain smack in the middle of his chest. No noxious acid burning in his stomach if he avoids eating, no itch in his lungs when he holds his breath too long, nothing but the sore gaping fucking hole he can’t see but damn well feels so thoroughly he wonders if he could stick his entire hand in his chest.

“Alright.”

With that, she takes the book she’d brought with her and cracks it open. Like they’ve just finished having their late morning gossip session or like they’ve just slurped their teacups dry, like he isn’t curled up on the carpet and shaking with the effort of trying not to sob, Cait starts reading away in deafening silence.

“What… are you doing?” 

She says it like it’s easy. He knows it isn’t — not usually, and especially not now. “Keeping you company.” 

“You don’t have to,” he croaks.

Her smile is so laden with pity it makes him sick. He crawls into the comfort of it nonetheless.

“I want to.”

Jayce doesn’t know what exactly it is about that which does him in so effortlessly, so thoroughly. 

Had you ever wanted to do anything for him? Without an ulterior motive? 

That thought makes him curl in on himself like a hurt animal. A whimper scratches at his throat, and his dignity washes down the drain with a fresh set of tears.

“Shit. I’m sorry.” And he should be, he thinks; maybe it’s his fault, maybe what he had with you could have lasted just a bit longer, if he hadn’t been this… soppy. This sentimental, this needy, this much. “I’m so sorry.”

Wordlessly, Cait shuts her book, and shuffles across the carpet to plop down next to him. Her gentle hand grabs his shoulder, squeezing like she wishes she could absorb some of the pain.

“C’mere.” And he knows how much that means. Caitlyn, raised on proper etiquette and not one for more than the average friendly shoulder touch, offering to hold him though his face is slick with snot and his back’s gone sweaty and he can’t even breathe right.

But she holds him anyway. She holds him like maybe he still matters.

Jayce loathes the way his next sob wrecks him, how he quakes with his whole being. He’d give anything to have you holding him like this, and he hates himself for it.

“I really am,” he whispers. He’s sorry he wishes this weren’t her arm around his shoulders. He’s sorry he doesn’t even know what to do with all the crushing weight of his love, sorry he ever thought you’d want it — want him. He’s sorry it’s so heavy now that he thinks all his bones might crack, he’s sorry Cait has to hold him even though he’s nothing but bits and pieces of himself. “S-so, so sorry.”

She lets him sob through it, rubs at his back. Jayce settles for curling in on himself, as if making himself small would make the pain drip out of his soul any faster, or make his heart mend any quicker.

It doesn’t.

Cait brushes the hair stuck to his sweaty forehead with a careful hand.

“The only one who should be sorry is them.” Her voice is bitter — a smidge too bitter. Jayce doesn’t know why he’s offended for you.

“How do you know?” He wipes at the snot under his nose, and tries not to think about how disgusting he is. 

“I know,” Cait pauses briefly, pondering her words, “that the only mistake you could have made was loving too genuinely.”

The only thing he can think of, the only thing that comes to mind, is to say sorry again. Sorry for being so much — too much. 

And who would want to love so much of what makes him everything he shouldn’t be? 

Who would want to love so much? 

And why had he been naive enough to think you, criminal, cheater, liar, would be up for such a horrific task?

“I’m so… s-stupid,” he mutters. Stupid for believing there was something even remotely worth loving about the amalgamation of too much that he is, stupid for believing you, of all people, would be the one to take on the challenge. Caitlyn shushes him, pulling him harder into the hug. But she doesn’t deny it, which is enough of an answer to Jayce. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. 

Jayce wants to parrot it back at her, but the words seem far too small for the overwhelming amount of regret sitting heavy in his chest. So he says nothing, because he knows he’ll break if he even tries.

And they stay like that. Jayce chokes on another snotty sob when she rests her cheek against his head, a reminder of the closeness he’s lost with you scratching at the fresh wound you’d left on his heart. 

She squeezes him close when he weeps so thorough it wrecks him, she pets his disgusting sweaty back when even crying becomes too much and his body turns to breathless, embarrassing blubbering, she tells him to breathe — shows him how, in and out, slow and steady — when his breath gets stuck between more tears and hiccups, and his brain goes woozy with a lack of air and he feels like he wants to throw up the empty space inside his stomach, inside his chest, throw up the pain, purge all remnants of the ache you’ve left in him.

But that’s all he is — feels like all he’ll ever be. Purging you, purging the pain you’ve left behind… he’s not sure what else would remain of him without the ache for you. He can’t remember what he was before it. He’s terrified of what he’ll be after it.

“Believe it or not — you’ve gotten a bit better at keeping silent while you cry,” she says once he settles into just sniffles. 

“The h-hell’s that supposed to mean?”

He hates how his voice cracks on his words.

“I remember when we’d brought you here the night after we’d thrown you that big party for saving me and mother. I was two rooms away and I could hear you sobbing your heart out through the night.”

He had.

His hands hadn’t stopped shaking since he’d first raised that rifle to protect Caitlyn and her mother, not for days. He remembers the champagne rippling in the flute he’d been clutching his fist around at that party (mrs Kiramman had to teach him how to even hold the damn thing properly), the rare steak wobbling on the silver fork. He remembers hearing his own heartbeat bouncing back at him in the egregiously fluffy pillow the first night he’d spent at the estate, the way he’d soaked it with tears and snot. He remembers wondering if he’ll ever sleep again.

“That feels like a lifetime ago.”

Cait nods. “It was. I remember thinking you were much too soft for the job mother was going to grant you, that it’d been just a stroke of luck that you’d rescued us when you did.”

“You have no idea how scared I was.” Jayce swallows thickly at the bitter memory. “Promoted from a simple cow wrangler to personal bodyguard to the mayoress and her family — god, I didn’t think I could make it either.”

“But you did.”

Jayce nods.

Caitlyn presses her cheek to him a little harder, squeezes him a little closer. “And you will.”

—

He won’t.

It’s enough to have your face flashing before his eyes, to sniff a distant replica of your leather-gunpowder-campfire scent, or to believe the sheets, damp and warm and rolled tight around his waist from all his restlessness from the previous night are your greedy, loving arms, to have his throat drawing tight and eyes brimming with tears.

And when he does close his eyes to indulge, for the briefest moment, in what he has left of you, in the cruel tricks his mind plays on him, longing shifts to rage.

Why wasn’t he enough to love? What could he have done to make you love him? Why couldn’t he be what you needed?

What was it about him that made you want to run from him, from the generous offer of a peaceful, simple life, and straight back into an existence reliant on scraps and crime? What made that life so much better than him and everything he had — everything he was more than willing to give you? 

What else could he have given you, to make you stay? What was there left to give?

That’s about the only thing that gets him out of his bedroom. Saddling up to ride out into fuck knows where and to just scream.

That’s all he’s good for, really. Weeks pass him by in the blink of an eye, spent in the darkest corner of his bed, so much so even leaving his room becomes a terrifying, daunting task.

He hates the pity the people at the estate treat him with, the way the Kirammans are so understanding. They don’t demand he joins them for dinner, not once. Food finds its way into his room at one point or another, they don’t insist he do anything, they just… let him rot away, in the most literal sense of the word.

Caitlyn spends time with him when she can find it, but as he becomes increasingly inconsolable, her visits lessen. 

Jayce can’t blame her for getting impatient with him. He is, too.

He hates that he can’t blame her, either, when he finds bullets from his drawers missing, his knife dulled, and his weapons suddenly cleaned the way they’d only require after serious use.

Of course his inaction couldn’t go on forever.

The sharp, mean daggers Cassandra’s been glaring his way whenever he did scurry out of his room and met eyes with her, Caitlyn’s growing absence around the house — they suddenly fit together like puzzle pieces: Caitlyn has begun picking up his slack.

And he wishes, god, he wishes he could be proud, because Caitlyn deserves it, she’s wanted to fill in his footsteps since the first time he’d taken her with him on a hunt all those years back — but he’s angry. 

He knows that above all else, this means he has become the last thing he’s ever wanted to be: a pathetic charity case. A failure at his one duty. 

She should not be out there by herself. He should be there. Teaching, watching, helping, but he’s not, he’s stuck, he’s drained, and he’s so bone-achingly tired, even though all he does is sleep and cry.

So when Cassandra slips into his room one evening (trying not to wrinkle her nose at the sight of his unkempt beard or food stained union suit) and hands him a bounty poster of some crooked looking outlaw, it gives him the push he needs.

She tries to put it gently — suggesting it might do him some good to get out there again — but he knows what she means. She doesn’t pay him to sit around and sob, and this bounty… he can see why she would not want her daughter anywhere near such vermin. Even with all his equipment, which by now Caitlyn undoubtedly knows how to use. That’s really all the motivation he needs, aside from some much-needed stress relief.

The fact that Caitlyn catches his wrist on his way out the front door and tells him he doesn’t have to  do this — at least not alone — does very little to deter him.

—

Match strikes matchbox. Dry wood crackles under the birth of new, tiny flames. The night grows a tiny bit less dark, but the prairie’s unbothered and taciturn.

He hasn’t smelled a campfire since… well. Since the last night he’d spent with you. But decidedly, the time you’d smelled most markedly of flames and ash was the night he’d let you kiss him after everything.

God, your eyes, glittering and gluttonous that night you’d spent with him after he’d tracked you down. And your hair, the near-animalic scent of your skin tempered by the freshness of cold air, the smell of leather clinging to you where he kissed and licked, the salt of your sweat, the musk—

God, he aches.

“Jayce, don’t shoot.”

His hand already hovers over his holster out of instinct alone, but he drops it the moment he recognizes that guilty tone.

It’s no wonder that Caitlyn’s decided to follow him.

With a sniffle, and a squeeze of his eyes, Jayce rolls his shoulders when he hears the sound of gravel under her new boots.

She’s already been holding his hand — figuratively and literally — an embarrassing amount these past months. 

Now that he’s finally trying to drag himself out of his slump (and slump is a very light word for sleeping and willing himself out of existence), she’s following him around like she knows he’ll stumble. He can practically hear the tension in her joints, ready to catch him not if but when he falls.

“I said I’d do this on my own,” he says.

Caitlin hums affirmatively. “I never said I wouldn’t let you.”

The audacity of her, to just say that like she hasn’t been doing the exact opposite for some time now.

“You’re a shit liar.”

Caitlyn sighs. “Mother told you.”

“I don’t need to be told. Do you think I wouldn’t notice? Jesus, Cait, your mother looks at me like—” Jayce catches himself before his tone grows cutting — he has no right to be mad at her for doing the job he clearly was not able to do. The very least she deserves, if not a grandiose thank you for doing my one and only job for me, is some kindness. He sighs shamefully, burying his face in his hands before he finds his words again, a smidge gentler. “You shouldn’t have to do this. Not by yourself. I should be teaching you, not letting you put yourself in danger because I’m too—“

“You’ve taught me more than enough,” she assures. Jayce wishes he could know how much of that lie is meant to comfort him, or her. 

Jayce wishes he could tell her that there’s more to it than the punches he’s taught her to throw and the target practice they’ve done. Jayce wishes he could tell her there will be bounties that break her (and that is unfortunately not limited to bounties like you).

But there’s a vigor, a hunger in her for this that he has rarely felt, if ever. His form was made for brutality, but his mind never was — and Caitlyn has the advantage of not sharing that predicament. She’s not soft in the ways Jayce is; she’s just inexperienced. And that is much more easily remedied.

“I hope so,” he decides to say. 

“We can start going on hunts together again,” she suggests. “You could teach me more — and you  wouldn’t have to do this alone.”

And that’s not a horrible thought at all. Except…

“Your mother would kill me if she knew I’d let this continue. I think she already has a quill and paper ready for my will considering what you’ve been doing because of me.”

Caitlyn laughs a little. “Let her. Would free up a position as Piltover’s best bounty hunter for me.”

“Hey.” Jayce tries his best to strike an intimidating tone, but it only makes her laughter swell. Something in his chest feels the slightest bit less empty.

Uninvited (though she knows by now that she is invited, always), Caitlyn approaches him slowly, sitting down beside him. They sit in silence for a moment while she picks at her fingernails, apparently nervous, before she puts herself back together, no less anxious, but fighting it. She lets her shoulders settle back, straightens her back, and glances Jayce’s way.

And though the air had been light and clear with shared humor mere seconds ago, the way she looks at him now is far heavier and more sombre.

“I didn’t track you down because I thought you couldn’t handle this bounty on your own.” For the first time since she’d approached him, her voice falters with uncertainty. 

And that’s a rare sight in Caitlyn. 

“Jayce, I… have to tell you something.”

In some fucked, pavlovian response, a part of Jayce rears its head and perks its ears like a starved dog at the sound of raw meat hitting the floor. 

This can only be about something she knows will hurt him. It can only be—

“It’s about them,” she says.

Every part of him hurls, every part of him hurts, every part of him hungers.

His ears ring. 

It’s about you.

Have you come back? Have you sent him a letter?

“What is it?” His voice has gone tight, throaty, and Caitlyn is overcome with immediate regret — she looks like she wishes she could swallow every word she’s just said back up.

His head reels with a thousand questions and a thousand answers. You’ve come for him. You still love him. You want the life he’s offered, finally, you want it, you want him. Maybe he’s not everything he thought he was. Maybe—

Maybe those hopes are too high, too bright, for the way in which Caitlyn stares him down like death looms behind her.

Maybe… maybe you’re gone.

But you can’t be, not, not you, slippery even in his grasp, you, with your mind just as much of a weapon as your arsenal. You, born wielding a gun, you, born holding a knife — death can’t have earned you this easily, this fast. 

Jayce repeats his question, a little more careful this time. It doesn’t seem to ease her doubts, but she gives in. And really, that’s all that Jayce is after right now.

“They’ve been caught,” she says.

That’s the only thing that could make your death sound plausible.

You… would be sooner dead than caught. He knows as much.

Caitlyn reads his disbelief with a frustrated sigh. 

“They made the front page on the Piltover gazette for it. Frankly, I… considered not even telling you.” She searches his eyes, but if she draws any conclusion, Jayce can’t read it. “You don’t deserve to be reminded of them. They’ve had it coming regardless—”

“Had what coming?”

“Jayce…” She goes silent for a beat, swallowing nervously, as if she dreads the words she’s about to speak. “They’re going to be hanged.”

Every fiber in his being protests at the mere word, but his entire body revolts once it really, truly sinks in — the mental image of your face, plum-purple, rope burns at your wrists, your own skin under your fingernails, hands bound behind your back, the body he’d kissed and loved and worshiped every inch of — lifeless.

On trembling legs, Jayce rises from beside the campfire.

You’re going to die.

The very thing he’d wished upon you, your punishment, is now imminent. And it’s only now that it hits him that he wishes his rage would have been gentler. That he realizes that even though you’d torn his heart to shreds and hurt him in ways that made him want to shove his hunting knife into the side of his neck, he doesn’t want you to die. 

He can’t let you die.

“Where?”

“Jayce—“

He takes a step closer, mustering up some of the intimidation that works so well on his targets — but it does little to Caitlyn.

Her breath leaves her lungs in a frustrated, terrified shiver. Not terrified of him — terrified for him.

And what terrifies him is how little he cares about the prospect of his own death, shall it find him when he finds you, helps you.

“Where?”

He hadn’t realized until then, how small Caitlyn’s hands were, until she took one his in both of hers. They’re not dainty — they haven’t been, since the day he’d taught her how to pick up a rifle, and they’ve grown rougher still since the day he’d taken her on a hunt with him. But they’re still smaller than his, and it hits him where it hurts.

It hits him where she wants it to, it hits him in that one spot that, in spite of being crushed under the weight of his responsibility as a protector, wants her safe. Wants her happy.

She’s like — she is family. 

“Jayce, I can’t lose you.” Her voice, though trembling with fear, does not falter. “If you go, there’s a real chance you could die saving them. I can’t let that happen.” Caitlyn swallows her tears, and something in her gaze darkens. When she speaks now, her voice is as steady as her aim. “And you will not die, not for them.“

He wants to make that promise. He wants to, but— 

“Where?”

He can’t.

She squeezes his hand tighter. And though there’s rage brewing in her eyes, Jayce knows that look — above all else, she’s terrified. 

He is, too.

“I knew I shouldn’t have told you.” She grabs both his shoulders, rough now in how she nearly shakes him with how hard she turns him to face her. “Jayce.” Cait swallows her tears. “They deserve this.”

And as much as those three words sink in his gut like he’d swallowed solid lead, he knows she’s right. He can’t leave her. 

“It isn’t even about what they’ve done to you,” she continues. Her voice fades behind the ringing in his head, grows quieter still. “Think of everything else they did. All they stole, all they lied.” She goes on, somehow, but Jayce doesn’t care for any of it. Not until— “All they killed.”

That last word hits him like a jaw-dislodging punch.

“They would never— Not unless it was in self defense, I know—“

“You don’t know that.”

And she’s right. 

He hates that she’s right. 

He’d dug his head into the dirt, blissful ignorance and willful naivete, had consoled himself that surely a killer’s hands could never do what yours do. How could your hands wring throats and stab chests when they could make his body sing? 

How could he be so fucking stupid?

You will receive your punishment. Not because you deserve it after what you’ve done to him — but because of all else you’ve done.

He has to let it happen. He has stepped on his morality enough simply by being with you, by loving you. The guilt will — has to — ease once he stops doing that.

Letting you face the consequences of what you’ve done is the first thing he can do for himself.

And possibly the best. It has to be.

“Talk to me,” Caitlyn encourages just as much as she downright demands. Her hand on his shoulder grows laxer, she squeezes his deltoid gently. But behind it all, Jayce can sense the fear, the way her fingers cramp up and her nails almost cut into the leather of his jacket.

He can’t leave her. He mustn’t.

“I’m not going,” he says. “They deserve it.”

It hurts more than saying he loves you. It hurts more than anything he’s ever said — and he’s scared shitless of how little he means it, now that he’s saying it out loud.

Maybe you deserve it. And maybe he’s not going. But no form of lying to himself can change the fact that he will never want you to die, in spite of everything. And there will always be a part of him that would leave everything behind to spend the rest of his days with you, though the opportunity for that is long gone.

But Caitlyn smiles, and she pulls him into a genuine, bone-crushing hug. Jayce tries his damndest not to cry. 

You’re going to die.

“You’re doing the right thing,” she says.

God, he hopes so.

—

God, he isn’t.

It becomes evidently clear, even as he clings to the false hope that he is. He hopes this hunt will be an easy, clean affair — simply holding his bounty at gunpoint, tying her hands behind her back, then taking her to the nearest sheriff’s office. But it isn’t.

When he finds his bounty sitting by her campfire, Jayce cocks his rifle, and says the right thing.

“We can do this the easy way,” he warns. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

When she turns to lunge at him in spite of it all, he doesn’t shoot.

He meets the impact halfway as the both of them tumble into the mud. He lets her get in a punch that he somehow feels he deserves for everything, after everything, before he lets it wake his will to fight. With some difficulty, he wrestles her into the dirt, until her ribs creak under the weight of his knee on her chest.

“Don’t make me kill you.” 

But she does.

With every fiber of her being, she begs for it. Stubborn, she wriggles below his weight until her bones crack, wincing as she draws a knife from her boot. 

But Jayce is nothing, if not trained in the art of catching dirty tricks. Especially after you. His hand finds her wrist, and bends her arm until the blade stabs the mud below her.

“Don’t make me kill you,” he repeats, but it sounds less like a threat this time around. Dauntingly much more like a plea.

She senses it. They always do, the likes of her — the likes of you — feed on weakness, which is why his never goes unnoticed. Her forehead whacks Jayce’s nose so hard he swears he can see every constellation in the night sky shining twice as hard, and maybe they do, because next thing he knows he’s looking at the stars, and she’s above him, her shadow doubling, regaining its contour, then doubling again, and his head spins.

Some twisted part of his mind conjures up the vision of you, framed by a backdrop of the bright night sky, smiling down at him, hands on his chest, roaming his skin in the pursuit of pleasure.

And he considers letting it happen. Whatever cruelty she has in mind for him — be it death or pain — for one brainless, blissful moment, he wants to be swidden with it. Maybe if there was something that actually hurt, other than that part of his upper stomach where it’s gaping and empty and aching, he could be cleansed of the pain, cleansed of you. 

Something in Jayce wakes when he hears the sound of iron bouncing off stone and stabbing mud, barely missing the side of his neck. That something is trained, automatic, raw, fast, unyielding. That something is the part of him that — in spite of everything — is so scared that it has sunk its teeth into staying alive and would rather lose its molars than unclench its jaw.

One of his hands finds her throat, the other crushes her nose into his second knuckle. She gasps for breath.

She loses enough of her balance to tip over, and Jayce lets his raw strength do the rest. His right hand joins the left on their throat, knuckles bloody. 

And it feels fucking good to squeeze.

It feels good, to have her at his mercy, until her chest draws up to receive air that does not come, until her throat trembles and cracks below his palms, until her hands start clawing at his wrists.

She makes a ghastly, haunting sound, guttural with broken cartilage and wet with blood.

Her windpipe cracks under his palms. It’s fucking satisfying. Like breaking a wet branch or unrooting a weed or hitting the bullseye.

Serves her right, he thinks. Serves her fucking right. She deserves this.

But the words scratch bitter at his brain, at the fresh wound of deserving — and suddenly his hands are not his, but a noose, and the flesh below his hands is not vermin, but breathing, living, eyes glittering with their final seconds of desperate fear, searching, begging, please please please I don’t want to die.

It could have been your neck between his hands all those months ago, outside that very saloon you’d first touched him. It could have been you, in that very bed, before you’d tied him to the bedpost. It could have been you, right beside that creek he’d twisted his ankle in. It could have been you, surrounded by bluebells, it could have been you, in his tent, it could—

It will be you.

It will be you, larynx crushed not by his hands, but by unyielding rope. 

And you will squirm like her. And your eyes will roll into the back of your head just like they had when he’d lick into your cunt just right and you’d squeeze his head between quaking thighs and grab his hair. And you will go slack at the very end, you will exhale what little is left in your lungs like you’re on the verge of falling asleep. 

And then you’ll die.

Her slack hands slide down his clawed up, raw forearms so gently they remind him of what it means to be touched tenderly. 

Touched by a lover.

Cicada squawks scratching at the sweet quiet of the night, arms winded around his shoulders loose, fingers brushing through his hair, reeking of campfire smoke and licking the same smell up from your skin. Kisses at his hairline, fitting together like two cats lounging in the sun, back when everything was alright with the world and he knew what love felt like. 

Before he knew what it meant to lose it.

Before he knew it wasn’t love. 

Before he knew you were going to die.

“Pl—sse…” a voice hisses, pawing at the claw marks on his wrists with a desperate gentleness, the way you would paw at his hips when he told you he had to go now, really, he said he would be back in Piltover by noon—

The neck under his palms swells, her throat gurgles with blood and spit. And he can’t help but let it happen. Jayce lets his palms go slack not because he wants to, a hunter shouldn’t spare, a guardian shouldn’t hesitate, a man shouldn’t back down.

But he’s none of those things. He was never fucking meant to be any of those things and he did them anyway because he had to and you took them from him. You took his perfected charade from him and now he has nothing. 

Not a hunter, not a guardian, not even a fucking man. 

And he can’t remember what he was before he was supposed to be anything– 

And he can’t think of a single thing he could be, when he fails, he fails, he fails. 

He fails at being a son, he fails at being a brother, he fails at being a protector, and he can’t remember the last time he wanted to be anything.

God, he wanted to be loved.

She gasps the way you did when he’d wake you as the moon slid down the sky and he wanted to steal one last kiss, she heaves ugly and pained and human, and she breathes.

It’s a disgusting, moist sound, whistling in and out as she gulps down air, and when his chest quakes and his lungs start struggling as though they’re a newborn calf tangled in barbed wire, Jayce realizes half those wretched sounds are his.

His head spins like he’s been punched again, chest tight, tight, tight, throat strung like he’s the one with a noose – your noose, you’re going to die. 

Fuck, you’re going to die. 

And he’s going to die, the empty space between his lungs constricts as though giving birth to something more rotten than all the months he’s spent hurting for you.

Jayce braces himself against the ground beside her neck with both hands, squeezing at the mud like it’s his convulsing heart. Jayce crawls away from her heaving body but doesn’t make it far.

His windpipe hurts, breathing hurts, he can’t even breathe right, what the hell is he even good for? Can’t breathe, can’t kill, can’t hunt, can’t sleep, can’t stop hurting, can’t, can’t, can’t. Fish on land, he huffs as though he was never meant to draw breath in the first place, never meant to be born at all. He’s going to die and so are you, and someone must be wringing his throat, but when he paws at it there is nothing but his own skin, and she’s heaving and coughing a few feet away, can’t be her. So who’s killing him? 

The answer is obvious. 

His arms cave below his weight, elbows crashing into the mud below him a last resort to keep his face from meeting the ground in an impact that will knock him out if the way his head is pounding doesn’t. 

His stomach clenches as if to purge itself, but there is nothing to purge — except for you, but you’re lodged deep in every fiber of his being. Jayce doubts there will ever be a version of him that isn’t tainted with you.

A gun cocks, the woman’s trembling figure stands behind it. Jayce knows she’ll do what the likes of you and her do. 

He takes his last sob and lets his body shake with the realization and disgusting but oh-so-sweet relief — finally. 

His end.

Out in the wild, bullet put through the head like a lame horse that’s served its purpose, spared from its pain. Spared from a pathetic excuse of an existence. 

The thought of a noose around your neck brings comfort. You’ll join him. It’s all he’d ever wanted.

Instead of pulling the fucking trigger already, she rests her hand on her pink-purple neck as if to appreciate it hasn’t snapped in half just yet. The hatred on her face fizzles out into disgusted pity.

“Please…” He’s not sure what he’s begging for.

Her hand lowers with a tremor, and she inhales a disgusting, cartilaginous-crackling breath that sounds as though it was never meant to enter her lungs. She spits her blood on the ground.

And she leaves. As the likes of you do.

—

Caitlyn,

All the weapons I’ve left behind are yours. 

Jayce considers leaving it at that — but she deserves more than just eight measly, splotchy, shakily penned words. 

He touches the tip of his fountain pen on the rim of the inkwell, and braces himself. Tries not to smear any of the blood dripping down his scratched up forearms on the immaculate paper as he writes, much neater, much prettier.

We both know there is no one standing in your way now that I’m gone. Piltover will be far better off with you protecting it. You have your head on straight — much straighter than I ever will. 

The best thing I ever did was raise my rifle to protect you. Now it’s your turn. May your bullets strike true.

There’s blood on the page. He considers starting anew. 

He won’t.

I love you.

As he folds up the piece of paper and slips it under her door, Jayce wonders if he loves you.

If he ever will again, after everything you’ve done. After everything he’s about to do.

—

To exchange a quarter for such vital information makes Jayce’s hands tremble with the absurdity of it. He presses the coins into the newspaper boy’s hand like it’s something solemn. 

Twenty-five cents to be let in on when and where your death awaits you.

The sound of the cicadas, awake before the first crack of dawn, scratches at the back of Jayce’s brain while the kid fumbles for the paper. He hands it to him with a sleepy smile and thanks him.

He has no idea what he’s just been the catalyst for.

Your infamy spares Jayce the need to manically tear through the whole thing; Caitlyn hadn't lied. You had made the front page, name spelled out in bold letters, the day and place of your hanging jotted down somewhere between a formal invitation and a taunting, final threat.

There will be little sleep to be had to reach you in time. 

—

By the time he makes it past Serpentine River, there’s talk of it already. He doesn’t even need to seek it out; stopping by a general store in one of the bigger but still humble towns down south is where he strikes gold. 

Or his possible death sentence, would be Caitlyn’s opinion. But she’s thankfully not here to talk sense into him — so he pushes the thought to the very back of his mind as he puts on a stunned face and questions the clerk like he’s asking for gossip.

The man is more than eager to indulge. 

“You’d think it’d take some ace-high hunter to bring the likes of them down, but…” he leans over the counter towards Jayce conspiratorially. “I tell you what, when I saw some twig of a kid ride into town with a dopey grin on his dumb face and them tied to the back of his mangled-lookin’ horse, I thought I was havin’ me one of them hallucinations.”

Jayce’s stopped listening to the clerk rambling on about the kid who’d apparently brought you in, and the continental suit he’d bought himself with the reward. He couldn’t care less about who’s caught you or what they look like. He needs to know where you are, and who’s going to stand in his way.

But the clerk has the mark of a good salesman, and he knows when he’s lost his customer’s interest. He’s quick to change the subject: “Can I interest you in some jerky? Now I know the look of hunger on a man’s face, and you, son—“

“And they’re in the sheriff’s office in town? Here?”

That was not the right question to ask. And especially not the right way to go about it. With a slightly wary tilt of his head, the man looks Jayce up and down, then nods.

“Heard so. Not for long, though — our boys — well, I mean, I have nothin’ but respect for our good ol’ sheriff Mallory and that nephew of his — but I sure as shit don’t sleep well knowin’ they’ve got such wretched scum to take care of.”

Jayce nods back, mustering up some solemnity with a dash of malice. “Glad to hear it. I hope they don’t cause any trouble — you’ve got a fine little town here.”

That’s convincing enough. 

The clerk laughs. “Don’t you worry your head, kid, from what I hear, they’ll be taken to the Great City next week and hanged there — for everyone to see. Now that’s a nasty death if I’ve ever heard o’ one; except for bein’ burned alive that is. I’d have me a public hangin’ over that any day, but — speaking of burnt, this bread right here may look it, but trust me—“

“No.” Jayce waves him off. “Thank you.”

—

A sheriff’s office that takes itself seriously would know to double their guards at night. 

This one is either understaffed or ruefully ignorant to the amount of horrifying friends in low places a real criminal could have.

The men who take care of the night watch at the prison in Piltover are some of the meanest-looking Markus has, and they’re never less than three. But you’ve been caught and brought into a scrappy prison in north Demacia, and they’ve bit off more than they can chew before the Great City lawmen show up to whisk you away in their proper prison. 

You always did end up getting too lucky for your own good.

Jayce walks in like he owns the place. His fingers are cold and trembling in his leather gloves.

Two lawmen, one younger and asleep in the corner of the room, the other sitting at a desk, poring over some paperwork with a cigarette hanging loosely from between his fingers. It smells less like tobacco and more like burnt herbs.

“What can we do for you?” He rasps, undoubtedly annoyed at being bothered with the interruption of his midnight cigarette. 

He flicks the ash onto the mucky floor, and clears his throat. Judging by the sound of a chair scratching the floor behind him, the other lawman — presumably his deputy — jolts awake.

The one at the desk not particularly big, and the golden star on his chest is dull with age and lack of care. The gray hairs in his mustache make him look tired not just momentarily, but permanently. Like he’s been plagued with nothing but apathy for well over a decade, like he loathes the day that awaits him tomorrow just like he dreads this very second. 

Jayce can relate.

“I’m here to find myself a bounty,” Jayce says, and consoles himself with the fact that it’s technically not a lie.

“I’d say you have better chances of doing that in the Great City than in this shithole, kid. Better money for it, too. We’re all outta cash ‘til the big boys from down south come to pick up the newest bounty we just had brought in.”

“I’m stuck here for a while,” Jayce insists. “Family matters. And I’d rather bring in a small bounty than nothing at all, sir.”

The man looks him up and down, then, with a lethargic sigh, gets up on his feet. 

“Follow me.”

That’s the first and last time he does as told. 

Jayce’s first step matches the man’s sluggish pace. The second is a stride; wide, quick, intentional. 

The momentum of his weight should have knocked the sheriff off his feet — he’s taken down bigger folks with just an aggressive shove of his shoulder — but all he does is stumble from the impact. So Jayce does the next best thing he can do: act fast. He wraps his arm around the man’s collarbone, kicks his knee in, and unholsters his gun. Presses it to his temple.

“Drop your weapons,” Jayce growls to the deputy. “Or I kill him.”

“Marshall.” The sheriff grits through his teeth, clawing at Jayce’s arm, “Marshall you fuckin’ listen to me, go get—“

A hefty thwack to the back of his head with the butt of his pistol shuts the sheriff up good.

The other lawman looks at him with eyes wide enough to see himself reflected in. Jayce doesn’t care to look too close. He might just throw up.

He steels himself with a breath. Makes sure his voice is as unyielding as his shooting arm.

“You heard me.”

And so he does. The lawman lets his pistol clatter to the ground, reluctantly takes his rifle off his back, and drops it next to his pistol with shaky hands.

“Good.” The sheriff wriggles. Jayce tightens his grip around him. “Kick them away.”

“Don’t do it!”

He does.

The sheriff’s feet take hold against the floor, he wriggles hard enough to make Jayce’s arm muscles strain. He has to end it now, before things get out of control. He has to, he has to— 

The butt of his pistol must have made a dent in his skull. The sound it makes — crackling, visceral — as it hits the back of his head sure as shit sounds like it. 

The sheriff drops back to his knees, then, without fanfare, onto his face. Unmoving.

That’s dealt with.

Jayce looks back to the other lawman, standing trembling and unmoving, one foot placed to make a run for where he’d kicked his guns away, but not daring. Wise move.

“You can get out of this alive.” Jayce points the gun at him. Thumbs the hammer back. A warning. “All you have to do is cooperate.”

The man — Marshall — raises his hands in submission.

“Get the cell keys.”

Cautiously, he approaches the unmoving body of his colleague, kneels beside it. Marshall’s shoulders sag with relief, however briefly, when he hears the sheriff breathing, before he retrieves the keys from his belt.

“Get up. Take me to the prisoners.”

“Mister, there’s law comin’ in from the Great City in two days.” The man’s voice trembles as he stumbles to his feet, Jayce follows him to the door at the back of the office, gun pointed at his head. He drops the keys as he tries to slot them into the keyhole, grabs them in sweaty hands once more, and tries again, the locked door pops open. Before he pushes forward, he turns to Jayce, and looks at him with something putrid. “They’re gonna— you won’t get away with this.”

His patience is running fucking thin. 

“I don’t remember asking you.” Jayce taps the muzzle of his gun to the back of the man’s neck. “Now come on.”

And it’s only now, that he follows him into the moldy, dark room, that his hands truly start to sweat and his heart leaps into his throat and his head goes icy, woozy, at the thought of you, here.

You’re here.

Clutching the bars of the cell so tight your knuckles are white; you must have gotten up because of the commotion. 

You look at him like he’s an angel. You look at him like he can’t be real. 

You’ve never looked at him like that.

“This— this cell.” Jayce croaks. He can’t bear looking at your face. You’re alive. You’re alright. He’s going to cry. He’s going to throw up. “Open it.”

The lawman looks at him over his shoulder, swallowing whatever dumb thing he has to say, before he turns to the lock on your cell.

“I knew it,” he grumbles, “we never should’ve accepted them. God.” The keys slip from his fingers again. Jayce figures a reminder would help, and presses his gun against his nape. 

“Move it. I’m losing my goddamn patience.”

He lets out a shaky, terrified breath, turns the key so hard his fingertips bend. It snaps open with rusty resistance, and slowly, the door to your cell creaks open.

Below the filth and bruises you’re covered in, you’re shining. Brimming with a kind of relieved, dreamy delight that would have made Jayce’s stomach do flips and knees go soft before everything. Some part of him wants to fall into your arms and lick at your lips until they’re raw. Another part of him has his trigger finger itching. He hopes neither part wins.

You open your mouth to say something. Jayce can’t bear the thought of hearing it, hearing you, not now, not yet—

“Wait by the door,” he interrupts. “And get your things.”

Well, what’s left of them. 

You comply without another word, hurrying to a cabinet beside the door, where you start digging through the drawers frantically.

He turns to the deputy.

“Into the cell,” Jayce commands, and makes sure to walk him to the very back of it, just in case. “On your knees.”

“Please don’t kill me—“

“Hands behind your back.”

Shakily, the man complies. Jayce bends down to hold his wrists together, and starts winding some of the rope hanging off his belt around them, nice and sturdy.

A door behind him creaks open.

“Jayce—!”

Your voice shakes him like nails on a chalkboard. Scratches at something angry and brutal in the very center of his brain, at something that doesn’t think. Something that acts.

Jayce shoots.

He hadn’t stopped to notice who it was, arm wrapped around your throat from behind and holding you close enough to be a human shield.

He hadn’t stopped to think how easily he could put a bullet through your head instead of whatever target he’d locked onto. He’d just pressed the trigger.

His bullet strikes true.

Head flying back with the impact of the lead cutting through his brain, the sheriff drops like a stringless puppet behind you. His brains splatter the wall just beside the door.

You cower, clutching your head as though you died with your attacker. You look at Jayce, meek and trembling and utterly terrified, like you fully expect him to put lead through your skull next.

He opens his mouth to say something. 

A weight collides with him before he does, knocks him onto the concrete floor with a nasty impact.

“You piece of fucking shit!” The deputy’s fist crushes his nose so hard his ears ring. The back of his head slams against the floor. 

The edge of his vision pulses, the high shrill in his ears nearly drowns out the noise of the lawman’s growl. 

“M’gonna kill you.” He mutters. “Gonna fuckin’ kill you, bastard!”

The man’s hands are at his belt, groping for a weapon, wrapping around the handle at Jayce’s left hip.

His knife. 

Jayce attempts a tried and true kick to get the man off of him, but his weight won’t budge. He should have budged, he would have, before everything. Before Jayce had spent his days wishing he was dead and eating only when the bottom of his throat burned with acid and moved only when his muscles ached from laying down. 

Before you’d made him as weak physically as he’d always been within.

But he can’t, he can’t, and this is how Jayce is going to die.

He tries a desperate right hook and hopes it will hit something.

And it does.

His arm stops mid-swing, but not because his fist has met a target.

Something in his forearm pulls, pulls at skin, pulls at muscle, pulls at nerves. He opens his eyes, tries to see, tries to see — sees red. Pain, shooting all the way up to his shoulder and down to his pinky, everything in his precious shooting arm screams.

The knife. Lodged inside his forearm.

Your voice.

“I’m gonna paint the fuckin’ floor with your goddamn brains.”  

The next thing he knows, the lawman’s weight is hauled off of him. Something rings as loud as a church bell on Sunday noon. Once. The lawman tries to scream, but only manages a moist, bloody, nasal snarl. Then that grueling sound rings out once more, a metallic resonance. Again. And again.

Blang. Blang. Blang.

Two blurred moving shadows finally fall into one coherent image as Jayce’s eyes refocus — and he’d give anything to hit his head again hard enough to make sure they don’t. 

You’ve grabbed the lawman like a mangy mutt, fingers digging into the back of his scalp. And you’re slamming his face into the prison cell bars with the relentlessness of someone who does this often. Does this easily.

“Fuckin’ filth is all you was.” You grit out. Blang. “All you’ll ever be.”

You ram his skull into the bars until the last bit of his resistance seeps from his body. With a heaving chest, you retreat to let his corpse slide down bloodied steel onto the floor. You brace yourself against the bars, then bring your foot into one last, thorough kick against the back of his head. There is no doubt about it being a killing blow.

“(L/n).”

Jayce flinches at the sound of your name, not coming from himself. A man in another cell, a fellow prisoner he hadn’t even noticed, holds his hand out between the bars of his own cell.

“Gimme the keys. Get me outta here, please.”

You bend down for the lawman’s gun. Put a bullet in the chamber, then turn to the prisoner.

“No,” the prisoner cries, “I won’t tell a soul, I swear! Not a goddamned soul, please don’t do this, please, please, please—!”

“Sorry.” You thumb down the hammer. “I can’t take that chance.”

[elrielffs]

I need people in the fandom to realize that just because they don't like a pairing doesn't mean the pairing doesn't have chemistry or they need to break up.

And for all the Tamlin suck fest that goes on people sure like to use that as a brush to paint an MC they don't like as Not Good.

Rhysand=As bad as Tamlin to Feyre

Cassian=Nesta's Tamlin

Azriel=Elain's Tamlin

Like get a grip, Tamlin was written to be abusive and we are supposed to take it that way. Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel are not written that way intentionally not matter what YOU think. I don't see why mate bonds are even considered the end all be all by antis since according to them EVERYONE is gonna have a rejection plotline BUT Elucien.

In what world are we considering Eris and Tamlin himself better love interest than the protagonist?

You don't like the characters? You don't like the couples? You don't like the plot? Then for fucks sake go to a fandom or read a book YOU do like instead of spoiling it for people who DO genuinely enjoy ACOTAR just as it is and intended instead of trying to rewrite the series into a narrative you enjoy.

Idk, I wouldn't care so much if people just stated they didn't like something cause they don't like it. Don't like the IC? Don't like Feysand, Nessian, Elriel? Fine but don't get on a soap box and start talking about how actually, they are Bad (TM) cause you've twisted the narrative to back up your dislike to feel morally superior and back up your crack theories rather than just admit this series is not for you.

[jazzycurls]

You belong to me - part 3.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: It's a surprise 😉🤫

Warnings/Tags: 18+ minors dni! Cheating, angst, hurt & comfort, smut, masturbation (let me know if I missed something)

An: Hi, you guys! I guess I'm not new to writing anymore, but I'm still a newbie. All feedback is welcome. Be gentle please haha. Please do not steal or copy my work. Don’t repost without credit. This is my written work, everything besides the characters and plot points by the original writers, belongs to me. Love you guys, and thank you so much for the support, hope you enjoy ❤

Word Count: 6,445

You slam your front door and storm up the steps to your room. Your mom is at work, so you don't have to worry about being quiet coming into the house. Your mom is pretty laid back, pretty much giving you free rein to do whatever you want as long as it's within reason.

Yanking off your clothes, you stomp over to your bathroom and cut on the shower. You step into the stream of hot water, letting it flow over you. Sighing in relief as the water massages you, temporarily distracting you from your thoughts of Eddie.

You stay in there longer than you normally would, feeling slightly calmer than when you first got in. You put on a pair of pajamas, the ones your mom and dad bought you for Christmas when they were still together. It was the last Christmas you had as a family, and they had quickly become a favorite of yours even though they were getting to be too small for you.

You sat down on your bed preparing for sleep when you heard a knock at your door. Glancing at the clock on your bedside table, it read 12:45 a.m. 'Who's knocking at my door at this time of night,' you wondered.

You knew it wasn't Clara. She and Steve were likely having some aggressive cuddling right about now. Something that you were kinda jealous of right now if you had to be honest. Walking down the stairs, you grabbed a baseball bat out of the closet your mom kept for emergencies.

You stood on your tip toes, peeking out of the peephole. Your stomach fluttered in surprise at the sight of the back of Eddie's curly mane. Feeling a little petty, you called out "Who is it" through the door with a smirk on your face.

He turned around facing the door "It's Eddie," he answered.

You paused before replying, "I'm sorry, don't know an Eddie. You must have the wrong house," your tone was snippy with a hint of humor.

Eddie's face turned to confusion as he looked around. Could he have gotten the address wrong? "I'm sorry, does Y/n L/n live here," he questioned anxiously. It was late, and the thought of being in the suburbs made him uneasy. He didn't want someone to call the cops on him for a simple misunderstanding. Eddie wasn't stupid, he knew that the parents of Hawkins didn't like him and wouldn't hesitate to call the cops on him.

A moment of silence passed as he waited for the person on the other side to answer. Just as he was about to turn and walk away, he heard "Wait," and the clicking of the locks and deadbolt. The door slid open, and there you were.

He was stunned into silence when he saw you. You always looked beautiful to him but the sight of you in your girly pajamas, simply put, was the cutest fucking thing he ever saw. His cock began to stir in his jeans and he willed it to go down, this was not the time to sport a raging boner.

"How do you know where I live," you ask, leaning against the door frame.

Eddie looks at you for a moment before looking away bashfully "I may have followed you home once or twice before. But it was only to make sure you got home safe y'know? Just on the days when you had to walk home," he added quickly. 

"Okay, that's totally not creepy. You know what, I don't care honestly. Why are you even here Eddie," you question, you can feel that your patience is starting to wear thin.

"I um—," he starts nervously before clearing his throat. "I wanted to apologize." He twists the rings on his fingers as he tries to keep eyes on your face.

"You could've just called then," you responded shifting your weight to one foot and resting your hand on your hip. Eddie's gaze follows your movements before snapping back up and meeting your eyes. He blushes at the smirk on your face knowing you just caught him checking you out.

"I thought it would be more sincere if I did it in person," he said sheepishly shrugging his shoulders, mentally kicking himself for not thinking this through.

You stand there silently in contemplation. "C'mon you say, turning around and walking back into the house with Eddie following close behind. It's chilly outside and you'd rather do this in the house than stand outside in the cold. You walk over and stand near the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Eddie as he closes the door, and walks over to you. You cross your arms as you raise your eyebrow expectantly.

"Right," he says scratching the back of his head. "I'm sorry Y/n, I was an asshole—,"

"An inconsiderate asshole," you interrupt with a smirk.

"An inconsiderate asshole and I wasn't thinking clearly. I just got so jealous when I saw you with that asshat Billy that I just reacted without thinking. So I'm sorry Y/n, please forgive me," he finishes in one breath, dropping to his knees and clasping his hands underneath his chin.

You roll your eyes at his dramatics, stepping closer to him causing him to look up at you. His eyes like usual are big and wide, immediately catching your attention. Although his gesture is playful his eyes are filled with sincerity. Realizing that you've been standing there staring into his eyes for a while, you cough as you look away, embarrassed.

"I forgive you," you whisper, still looking away. Eddie grabs you by the waist and pulls you in for a hug. Your heart lurches, and you look down at him in shock. A smile slowly spreads across your face, and you bring your hands to rest upon his hair. He presses his face into the softness of your belly, and you hum happily, temporarily forgetting that you two weren't on good terms.

With a deep inhale, Eddie takes all of you in, feeling drunk off of the smell of you. You remind him of the floral baskets that his mom used to buy before she got sick. There's also a hint of your natural scent that teases his senses, making him wish he could bottle up your fragrance and keep it with him at all times.

You look back down at Eddie as he glances back up at you. Something about the way you have him on his knees for you has you clenching your thighs together. A motion that doesn't go undetected by Eddie. One moment you're staring at each other and the next your lips are crashing together in a heated kiss full of tongue and teeth.

Eddie's hands slide up and down your waist finally settling to cup your ass, kneading and massing it playfully. The loose cotton of your clothing allows him to push your cheeks up and apart. The movement causes your panties to slide up as your lips spread apart sucking the fabric in greedily. He does this a few times making you wet in the process.

Your grip on his hair tightens and a low moan tumbles from his lips, eliciting a wave of arousal to flow from you, drenching your panties. Eddie stands up taking you with him as you continue the kiss. Your legs wrap around his waist as he walks you both towards the stairs.

It's a miracle you both make it up there in one piece. Pressing you up against the wall, the kiss becomes more heated and you pull away, feeling lightheaded as you take in a shaky breath. Eddie doesn't stop there, now seeing an opportunity to lay claim to your neck that's now exposed to him. He licks a stripe from the bottom of your neck to your hairline before placing a sweet kiss behind your ear.

You moan in response and he attacks your soft skin sucking it between his lips sensually. His fingers are gripping your hips tight as he presses you further into the wall. Your mind is no longer your own as you grind your hips against his suggestively.

"Shit Y/n, you're going to be the death of me, baby. You know that?" he mumbles against your skin.

"My room— it's over there," you motion with your head, ignoring his question. You know that if you don't go to your room right now, the possibility of Eddie taking you, up against this wall is very likely.

Eddie moves you both again, headed in the direction you pointed him in. In no time, he's standing beside your bed and dropping you down onto the soft mattress. You squeak in surprise and before you can protest, he drops down on top of you, crushing his mouth against yours once more.

Eddie feels as if he's going insane. His mind is consumed with only you as he attempts to devour you. One second he's licking into and around your mouth, the next he's sucking and nipping at your exposed chest, leaving bruising marks along the way.

You're just as desperate, as your hands feel and grope him wherever they can reach. Committed to hearing those sweet moans tear out of his throat whenever your hand grazes a sensitive area. "Eddie," you whine as your hips rut against his. "I need you."

Eddie looks up at you with a devious grin "Where are your manners baby? That's no way to ask for something," he chides, thrusting his hips up into yours, earning a gasp from you.

"Please Eddie, I need you," you whimper, tears collecting at the corners of your eyes. The lack of orgasms you've been experiencing for the past couple of weeks makes you feel desperate and needy.

"Awe my poor baby needs it. Well, what baby wants baby gets," Eddie replies as he leans up and shrugs out of his jacket. You whine at the loss of contact. Eddie shushes you and you sit up on your elbows watching him undress. He's down to his birthday suit in a matter of seconds and you stare at him unabashedly.

"Like what you see," he grins, shaking his erect cock at you.

You look away embarrassed, a heated flush creeping along your neck, settling onto your chest. Eddie descends upon you again taking your chin between his fingers "Eyes on me sweetheart," he mumbles giving you a chaste kiss.

You look back at him, watching as he presses kisses down your throat, stopping when your shirt gets in the way. Dragging his hands up your sides he removes your shirt and you lean up a little as he pulls it up and over your head.

He continues slowly, taking his time as he presses soft kisses and licks into your skin. You shift your pelvis against him impatiently, earning a stern look from him. "Behave," he demands, stopping his movements altogether.

Your heart hammers in your throat and you nod warily at him. You're not sure why but whenever you're with him, your instincts are always geared toward listening to and pleasing him. A reaction you've never had with anyone else.

Satisfied with your response, he moves down to your shorts, pressing his nose directly into your center. "Fuck, how do you smell so good," he groans, grinding himself into your mattress.

You shrug your shoulders, even though he can't see you, and grind your hips into his face. His nose bumps against your clit deliciously. Pleasure shoots through you and your hips began to move erratically, desperate for more.

Eddie leans away again and he makes a tsk tsk sound with his tongue. "Such a needy little slut aren't you?" He snatches down your shorts and panties, throwing them over his shoulder. "Here I was, about to give you some pleasure with my tongue and you're being ungrateful."

He climbs back up the bed up to your face. You shake your head at him "No Eddie, I didnt mean—,"

Eddie silences you with a kiss that takes your breath away "Shhh baby, it's okay. I know what you need and I'm going to give it to you right now," he says rubbing his member along your wet folds before pushing deep inside of you. Your hands fly onto his shoulders gripping him tight as your face scrunches up in pain. He gets halfway in before he's stopped unable to go any further.

"You're a virgin," he asks surprised, you had never mentioned it before, so he had assumed that you weren't.

You shake your head no "Once before but he wasn't as big as you," you manage between labored breaths.

Eddie groans, fingers holding your hips tight as he restrains from driving his cock deeper into you "Shit, Y/n. You should've told me, this changes everything," he mumbles in a strained voice against your lips.

You clutch him tighter against you, afraid that he's going to leave. One of his hands leaves your hips, slipping between you both as he rubs slow circles into your clit. Your reaction is instant as whines and moans fly from your mouth in a voice that surprises you. Eddie pulls out and pushes back in slowly when he feels you beginning to loosen up. Arousal seeps out of you, coating his and your thighs generously.

Switching his ministrations, he starts to rub faster into your clit in a side-to-side motion. Your orgasm creeps up on you with no warning and Eddie drives his cock into you up to the hilt. The pain blending with pleasure only heightens the intensity of your orgasm as you come with a breathless cry.

The feel of you has Eddie's hips faltering. He swears that this is what heaven must feel like as your gummy walls squeeze him over and over again. He keeps up his pace as he fucks you through your orgasm, his fingers relentless on your clit.

Leaning down his lips captures yours in a heart-stopping kiss. It's sloppy and erratic but so full of passion that it steals your breath away. You've never felt like this before, the intensity of this mutual desire between you scares and excites you all at once.

He wants you to come again, he needs you to. He wants you to feel as good as he does right now. "Fuck Y/n, tell me your close baby," Eddie begs, his voice hoarse and deep. He can feel his orgasm creeping up and it's taking everything in him to hold it off.

"Yeah, I— I'm close Eddie," you stammer, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him deeper inside of you.

Eddie grinds into you, his pubic bone rubbing against your clit repeatedly. Your legs begin to shake as you reach your peak, wave after wave of arousal crashing over you. Pornographic moans flow from you as you ride out your high.

Your cunt tightens, clenching Eddie's cock in a death grip, quickly sending him over the edge. His hand grips yours tightly and the other is resting on your throat squeezing lightly. He comes with a pretty moan, grunting as he twitches and jerks inside of you.

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I meant to pull out," Eddie says as he starts to panic.

You shush him, pressing your finger against his soft lips "It's okay.  We'll just get a plan b in the morning okay?"

Eddie nods, visibly relaxing once more. His breath is shaky as he rests his weight gently on top of you, pressing kisses all over your face. Your hands caress his back gently, enjoying the feel of him inside you and the sticky mess you both created. Slowly he pulls out of you, collapsing onto his side. With one arm propped behind his head, he pulls you closer to him, cuddling you close.

Your eyes are hooded and relaxed as you incline into his touch. 'You look so beautiful,' he thinks, rubbing his hand up and down your side. His heart feels full and his stomach feels as if it's twisted in knots. He's nervous, not sure of what to say next. He wants to tell you that he's leaving Chrissy and that he wants to be with you instead. But the peaceful look on your face stops him, his words wither and die on his tongue. He doesn't want to ruin the moment, so he tucks you to his side, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You let out a sigh of content as you relax in his arms. You fall asleep quickly. You dream of Eddie kissing you as he tells you he loves you. With no hesitation, you tell him that you love him too.

Eddies heart soars when you tell him you love him too. Feeling brave enough to confess while you were asleep, he didn't think you could hear him let alone respond. He kisses your lips once again before falling fast asleep.

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You sat at the lunch table and pushed around the food on your plate with a small smile. After what happened after the party this weekend, you were in better spirits than you had been in a long time. You held back a laugh as you thought of the morning after with Eddie.

Your friend had come over to your house the next day to check up on you and your mom had gotten off early, so they had both arrived at the same time. Thankfully, Eddie hadn't parked directly in front of the house, choosing to park across the street to avoid suspicion if your mom were to arrive.

He scrambled to put on his clothes, giving you a lingering kiss before hauling ass out of the window when the coast was clear. You had just dived back under the covers to hide your nakedness when your best friend waltzed in. With a raised brow she had asked why you were nude. You responded that it was too hot to be bothered with clothes, even though fall was quickly approaching.

She stifled a giggle as she told you that she just wanted to come to check on you after what happened at the party. Word had gotten around pretty quickly about the altercation between Eddie and Billy, with you somehow in the middle of it all. You had given her as much information as you could without letting on exactly what your relationship with Eddie was. The disbelief in her eyes told you that she knew that there was much more than you were letting on. She didn’t pressure you for the truth, only telling you that she was here if you needed her, to which you had given her a hug and a smile.

So here you were, lost in your thoughts, oblivious to your surroundings. Suddenly, it seemed that all sound had ceased within the cafeteria, causing the room to go eerily silent. You raised your head in confusion, only to find Chrissy standing beside you at your table with an unreadable expression on her face. All of the students at the other tables had stopped talking to watch the interaction. It was as if everyone

could sense something was about to happen and were tuned in.

“Um, Hi Chrissy. Did you need something?” you asked politely, confused as to why she was just standing at your table, not saying anything. Anxiety began to fester within you, causing your palms to sweat as your nerves started to get the best of you.

“I don’t think you can Y/n. You see I have this problem, it seems that my boyfriend is fucking someone else! Is that something you think you can help me with?” Chrissy asks you in a condescending tone.

Your throat runs dry at her words as you glance around the room nervously. Your eyes glance over to the Hellfire table only to find Eddie's seat empty. You notice his friend Gareth is staring at you with a concerned look on his face before getting up and running out of the cafeteria.

You look back over to Chrissy, her expression is one of pure hatred as she looks down at you. “Chrissy, can we go talk about this somewhere else,” you plead, conscious of the many eyes now directed at you. Your stomach begins to turn, sick with embarrassment from the scene unfolding before you.

“What’s the matter, you don’t want everyone to know what a slut you are?!” Chrissy yells causing you to jump in your seat.

“Chrissy, please don’t do this,” you choke out, as a sob escapes from you.

“No, fuck you and stay the fuck away from my boyfriend!” she shouts as she slaps you across the face. Your head swivels to the right from the impact and you hold your stinging cheek in shock.

Your friend Clara jumps up from her seat beside you and shoves Chrissy backward. “Back up bitch… I mean it! You made your point, now leave!” she threatens, her eyes raging with fury.

Chrissy looks between you both before turning and walking away with her head held high. Her friend throws a glare at you before turning and following after Chrissy. A symphony of hushed whispers begins to circulate around you. Your entire body is hot with humiliation and guilt. You can feel the blood rushing to your ears, making it hard for you to understand what your friend is saying.

She sees that you're unresponsive and your eyes are unfocused. Her hand grabs yours and pulls you up, throwing an arm around your shoulders in comfort. You both walk out of the cafeteria, heading towards the school's entrance when you see Eddie running down the hallway shoving people out of the way.

He skids to a stop in front of you, resting his hands on his knees from the exertion of running full speed across the school in seconds. "Y/n, what happened? Are you okay? Talk to me please!" he yells out breathlessly.

"Eddie, go talk to your girlfriend and leave Y/n alone. She'll call you when she's ready. If you care about her, then give her that at least." Clara's tone is harsh and leaves no room for any argument. Her only concern is getting you out of this God-forsaken school and to your house in one piece.

Eddie's face is full of emotions, he opens his mouth to protest but one look at your face has him closing it in an instant. Your eyes are watery with unshed tears. The look on your face is unreadable but shakes him to the core enough to agree that you need to get out of here as soon as possible.

He turns to your friend and nods his head, silently agreeing with her. He gives you one last look in hopes that you'll acknowledge his presence. Your face is stoic, still holding the same blank stare as before. He grabs your hand and gives it a quick kiss before Clara has the chance to protest.

"Call me, please Y/n," he whispers into your ear before letting go. Clara takes hold of your hand again, pulling you gently towards the double doors as Eddie watches you walk away.

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You stare blankly at your tv as you lay in your bed. Your mom was currently at work on the graveyard shift, usually something that you hated, but you were eternally grateful for it at the moment. You weren't in the right headspace to deal with questions about why you left school early.

Clara had brought you home a few hours ago and had stayed with you awhile before leaving to go home. You were quiet as she comforted you, promising that everything would be okay. You had managed to hold back your tears, letting them break free once she was gone.

You had cried for hours, wallowing in pity at the situation you had allowed yourself to get involved with. You also cried at the fact that even though you had just gotten into an altercation with Chrissy, Eddie was still at the forefront of your mind.

A soft thump from your window startles you, pulling you from your thoughts. Your mouth opens in a silent scream and your body tenses as you prepare to run like hell. You relax when you see that it's Eddie at your window sill, hanging precariously by the lattice secured against the siding of your house. Within that same breath, you're back on edge again as you make your way over to the window.

"Can I come in Y/n," Eddie pleads. His brown eyes are big and wet as he peers at you from behind the glass.

You sigh in disbelief and let up your window.

"Why are you here, shouldn't you be with Chrissy?" Your tone is cold and bitter as you sit back on your bed hugging your knees to your chest.

He walks over to you slowly lowering down to his knees onto the soft carpet. He cranes his neck in an attempt to meet your lowered gaze. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you Y/n. What Chrissy did today— you didn't deserve that. It should've been me, I'm the one to blame," his words come out choked as he attempts to hold back a sob.

"I tried to stay away. I tried so fucking hard to but I can't! You've got this hold on me and even now after everything that's happened, I don't regret it, not for one second. I'm just sorry for all the hurt I've caused everyone." His head lowers onto the bed beside your feet as sobs began to wrack his frame.

Your forehead is pressed tightly against your knees as tears roll silently down your face onto your thighs. Minutes pass before you finally respond, allowing your hand to blindly seek out his. Your hand finds his soft curls and you stroke them gently. Comforting him and yourself at the same time.

He leans into your touch, turning his face onto the palm of your hand. His lips are soft against your skin as he presses a delicate kiss to your palm.

Your breath hitches "Eddie I— We can't. We've done enough damage already," you whisper.

"I know Y/n, I'm sorry. Can I at least hold you? No funny business I promise." He looks up at you with puppy dog eyes and his lips formed into a small pout.

Your heart twists, wrenching out all of your bad emotions and leaving a warm feeling in its wake. You nod your head and scoot over, making room for him on your bed. You lay down as he quickly shucks off his shoes and jacket, sidling behind you at a respectable distance. He slips an arm around your middle "Is this okay," he whispers.

"Yeah," you respond wearily, the impact of the day finally catching up to you. The sounds from the tv drones on, providing the right amount of noise to distract you from your thoughts. You feel yourself begin to nod in and out as you fight to stay awake.

Eddie lays his hand on yours, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles soothingly as he thought of what happened today. He hated that Chrissy attacked you for something he had initiated. He had tried to break things off with her over the weekend but she wouldn't accept any of his calls. He was foolish enough to believe that he could do it at school but that proved to be harder than he thought. Chrissy had avoided him like the plague that entire day. When lunch came he was behind the school making a sale when Gareth came to tell him what happened. He would never forgive himself for not being there to protect you.

He feels your body relax as you drift off to sleep. His senses are heightened at being so close to you and naturally, his body begins to react but he ignores it completely. Now is not the time and frankly, it may never be again. He just wants to enjoy this moment with you for what it is, happy that he's finally giving you some semblance of peace instead of taking it away. After a while, he too falls asleep with his hand linked tightly to yours.

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You wake up to the sounds of Eddie's light snores. His breath fans across the back of your neck with each exhale leaving goosebumps in its wake. Sometime during sleep, the gap between you had closed and his body was now flush against yours as he cuddled you close to him.

You take a deep breath, allowing yourself to enjoy the feel of his arms wrapped around you. The events of yesterday still linger within you but the sting of hurt and sorrow is less than before. A sense of peace washes over you as you lean back into his touch. The sun is just starting to rise and you guess that you have a few hours before school starts.

"Hmmm," Eddie's deep voice reverberates through you. He pulls you in even closer, kissing the top of your head. "Good morning, sweetheart," he murmurs sleepily, still not fully awake.

"Morning," you reply softly, pressing your face into your pillow. The knowledge of going to school today weighs heavy on your shoulders.

Your sudden movement jostles him awake, and he scoots back from you, putting space between you both once more. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get so close. Sometimes I tend to cuddle in my sleep."

"I kinda figured that out the last time you were here," you smirk. You pause for a moment before continuing "how did you know that? Shit— I'm sorry, you don't have to answer that, it's none of my business."

Eddie clears his throat fully awake now. "Um‐ I might've cuddled Gareth and Jeff by mistake before at a sleepover but let's not talk about that," he says changing the subject hastily.

You let out a laugh that sounds more like a creaky bedspring. Eddie turns your body over to face him, a big smile sits on his face. "There she is," he whispers excitedly taking your hand into his, and giving it a soft squeeze. You squeeze back, giving him a soft smile.

"Are you going to school," he asks tentatively. He hates to ruin the moment but the thought was nagging him incessantly.

Your smile drops from your face immediately turning into a frown. "Yeah, I have a big test today and I can't afford to miss it," you reply.

"Whatever happens today, just know that I'll be there for you. I swear it." Eddie looks at you, his brown eyes are filled with warmth.

You hold his gaze and you can tell that he is being genuine. Nodding your head you exhale shakily, mentally prepping yourself for what's to come. Eddie lifts your hand to his face and stops, hovering near his lips, silently asking you for permission. You nod your head and he kisses each knuckle, lingering on the last. "I love you," he says pressing another kiss into your skin.

Your heart skips a beat and soars at his words before quickly plummeting back down. You can't accept his confession, not like this. Not at someone else's expense. "Eddie I—," you began slowly.

"Shhh, I know baby. You don't have to say it. I'm going to make things right like I should've done a long time ago." He lets out a deep breath before letting go of you to sit up. You instantly miss his warmth and it takes all of your strength not to pull him back down beside you.

"I gotta go and get ready for school. I'll see you there okay?" Eddie says as he kneels to tug on his shoes.

You nod your head once again, too afraid of the emotions threatening to escape if you open your mouth. The look on your face makes his heart twist and he finds himself in front of you, pulling you up into his arms. "I'm sorry if this is too much but you looked like you could really use a hug." Selfishly he holds you close, relishing the feel of your body pressed to his.

Your arms hang limply at your sides and just as he's about to let go and apologize, you wrap your arms around him, squeezing him back just as hard. He sighs, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. You hold each other for a moment before letting go. He presses a kiss to your forehead and walks over to your window. "See ya soon," he promises as he lets up the window and climbs down the lattice.

You quickly walk over to your window, watching him as he crosses your lawn to his van. Before getting in, he looks up at your room, giving you a wave when he sees you standing at the window. With a smile, you give him a small wave as he climbs into his van and drives away.

The smile on your face fades once Eddie's gone from your sight. You turn around with a sigh as you start getting ready, the thought of going to school after what happened feels you with a sense of dread. The only thing preventing you from ditching is wanting to maintain your grades and knowing that your best friend and Eddie would be there for support if you needed it. You repeat that fact as it gets closer and closer to the time for you to leave.

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Eddie skids into the school parking lot, parking crookedly into a spot just as the first bell rings. Cursing under his breath, he quickly jumps out and runs through the double doors toward his locker. After making the fastest pit stop in history, he makes his way to your locker, bumping and pushing stragglers out of the way. He looks around when he doesn't see you. He had wanted to make sure you were okay first thing this morning, knowing that he wouldn't see you again until lunch.

Letting out a frustrated grunt he kicks one of the lockers, startling a few people standing nearby. "Freak," they mutter and whisper to each other as they walk by hurriedly. He rolls his eyes as he makes his way to class, he's debating on whether he should stop by and peek into your class or not when he bumps into someone causing them to stumble.

"Whoa, sorry about that," he says, the apology dying on his lips as he realizes the person in front of him was none other than Chrissy. "Hey— we need to talk." His tone is dull but sure as he keeps his gaze level with hers.

"Yeah, we should. Look, Eddie— whatever thing you had going on with Y/n, I'm willing to overlook it okay?" She holds her books close to her chest, nervously fiddling with her car keys clutched in her hands.

"I'm sorry Chrissy, I just can't— I can't do this anymore and it has nothing to do with Y/n. Things have been the same with us for a long time and you know it." Eddie replies firmly.

"Eddie, I need you," she yells out tearfully. Her shrill voice echoes down the now empty hallway, the tardy bell rings announcing that they are now late for class.

"I'm sorry Chrissy but it's—" Eddie begins but Chrissy cuts him off before he can finish.

"My dreams, they're back and it's getting worse. I think he's back Eddie and he's going to finally win this time," Chrissy whispers, keeping her eyes trained on the floor.

A bolt of fear shoots through Eddie piercing him through the heart. It couldn't be. No way. They had defeated Vecna and he was gone for good. But what if he wasn't? Then that would mean Chrissy was right and she did need his help. How could he abandon her when he was the only one close to her that understood what she was going through? His thoughts turned to Y/n, you were so close to finally being his and now once again it seemed as if something was keeping you apart.

Fat drops of tears sit at the corners of her eyes threatening to fall. Eddie remains silent, his thoughts running rampant, jumping from one thing to the next. A noise from the other end of the hall catches Chrissy's attention.

She flies into his arms, knocking him backward in surprise. Her arms wrap around him and she clings to him possessively. Too stunned to react, he stands there as she holds him, resting her head on top of his shoulder.

Unbeknownst to him you just walked through the school entrance. You were making your way to your locker, when you stopped in your tracks, shocked by the sight in front of you. You could feel your heart breaking in two as you watched Eddie and Chrissy embrace each other. Your feet began to move you closer as your mind screamed for you to leave and go back home to the comfort of your bed. As you get closer, you notice that Chrissy is staring directly at you with an eerie wicked grin on her face.

The look is ominous, making you gasp in shock at the sight. You'd never known she could look so evil, aside from yesterday she always had a smile on her face.

The sound you make catches Eddie's attention and his head turns your way, eyes locking with yours. His face is pale with what looks like fear and his eyes are dull. For a moment you want nothing more than to comfort him and tell him that everything will be okay but in a flash, it's gone. All you can feel is hurt and betrayal at his broken promise.

You keep your head high and walk past them toward your class. You don't dare turn back, not even when you hear Eddie's pained voice calling out for you. Not even when the tears start falling once again.

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