#tales from the dying world | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kneelingshadowsalome · 4 months

Note

I know we're all focused on Satyr/Faun König but that bull comment... I'm quite partial to minotaur's and whats better than a darling who isn't from the area. Oh yes she's innocent of the crimes against König because she was not raised there.

Some foreign little creature just running blind in a maze trying to see where there might be a way out. It's been days after all and the screaming has gotten quieter and she wonders if she's the last one left alive. He takes his time eating his meals... this can be stretched out for such a long time as she hides herself in a dead end just a short rest... the darling is so tired unaware of the horrifyingly silent steps moving closer to her little haven. It's just her left now.

@kit-williams I've wanted to write for Minotaur!König for ages!

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader Word count: 5 k oneshot Tags/warnings: Sexual tension, threats of violence and rape, implied cannibalism, power imbalance, moral ambiguity. Predator/prey dynamic, Beauty and the Beast elements, Ancient Greek religion & lore. 18+ MDNI A/N: The Minotaur in this story is not an actual hybrid. Reader is Hecate’s initiate. Merry Christmas y'all! <3

The screams are the worst part.

They echo through the Labyrinth while you wait and wait and wait.

Even the very stones seem to cry and wail as you place your hope on Theseus who descended to this hell along with you and the human cattle. Seven young men and seven unwed women, meant to satisfy a beast...

And judging by the screams alone, it sounds like the monster is satisfied. It sounds like it's having a ball.

Fourteen lives have been lost, their blood swallowed by the earth as if Hades himself is drinking the crimson of Athenian youth in His feast. The flesh is the beast’s to devour: an underworld demon born of tainted lust.

Half bull, half man, you always thought the stories were only tales told by the fire to scare children. Turns out that the stories, for once, are true. There's something even worse in this maze, something cursed and foul... Hecate herself would shiver if She were here, in the womb of the earth, witnessing what you’re witnessing now.

You don’t actually see the Bull of Crete cut or hack or slash anyone, and you can only imagine what the monster does to the bloody, gutted corpses of the young. The only thing you see are the hollow, dark walls carved out of soil, sand, and clay, the intestine-like route dug deep into the earth. And you don't have to see the massacre: the screams tell you enough. The silence that follows betrays even more.

Your only light is flickering, waning: the candle will hardly last an hour. If the hero from Athens won’t arrive soon, you will have to leave this place.

And oh, how you want to leave… You were a fool to follow him here. Blinded by love and hope, you thought Theseus of Athens would be your way out of Crete, but it’s clear that the only thing the young hero is capable of loving is fame. The only time his eyes turned to yours was when you said you might be able to help him with a small bundle of yarn.

Red as the setting sun or spilling blood, the thin woollen string is your only way out now. It’s ironic how a heap of twine is the only thing that can help you out of this hellhole, but the Fates always did possess a cruel sense of humour. Your silly daydreams might’ve cost your life, and even if you’re sworn to the dark goddess, you would rather die anywhere but here. In the darkness, all alone, with nothing but eyeless worms to keep company to your decaying bones.

The sudden draft from the outside world is warm but threatens to blow out your candle. It’s a sign from Apollo: if you don’t leave now, you’re dead. Theseus has to manage without you because you’re not dying in this underworld prison because of some man’s stupid lust for fame.

There's only deafening silence in the maze as you scurry up, taking support from the wall as your sight darkens for a moment. You rose too soon: you can’t even remember the last time you ate. And it appears that even the sun god has abandoned you because there's a faint echo of steps in the tunnel, and they don’t belong to a man. They’re too thick, unduly heavy, and it’s not a pair of sandals that are thumping against the soil.

So, Theseus is dead...

So much for the legend, the myth, the demigod.

Heart thumping in your chest and in the hollow of your throat, it threatens to drown the sound of approaching footsteps. They’re all dead, the people who descended here with you. The only thing you are right now is prey. You're being hunted; whether the Minotaur knows you're here or not, you know you're being hunted. You can feel it in your gut.

You cover the candle with one hand, hoping that the flickering light doesn’t reach around the bend. The falling thump of the footsteps stops, and you still your breath, hoping that the beast would turn around and search the other way.

You hear it sniffing behind the wall. It's trying to catch your scent in the air, the smell of dread and terror, sweat so thick it must reach his nostrils and make them flare with lust. Your heart is thundering in your chest, and the tunnel is so quiet that that you’re certain the creature will hear that, too. (Your heart always betrays you.)

And your luck is cursed.

The beast shifts.

You can’t see him yet, but you can hear it: the scraping sound underneath his feet as he aligns himself anew, choosing the path that leads straight down to you.

“Hecate save me,” you whisper into the air that seems to grow denser as he approaches, loud thumps of feet now accompanied by metal grating against clay.

“Hear me, flame-bearing guide... Darkness, protect me…”

He’s dragging bronze against the wall, announcing that he’s carrying a weapon with him, the strength of a bull apparently not satisfying enough if he wants to break your bones with metal.

Don’t blow out the candle...

If you blow it out, you’ll die.

It’s a clear message, a knowing voice in your head that says it. It’s not young, it’s not old: just knowing. Alert. Wise beyond ages.

So you still your breath and wait.

Shadows fill the curve of the tunnel just before he emerges: thick like thunder, a darkness so deep that even the name of the twilight goddess escapes your tongue.

And he’s big. Bigger than the bulls you used to dance with, bigger than kings, or heroes, bigger than even Theseus, the man you thought was a myth walking. His head is enormous, bigger than the rest of him, awkward and rough like it’s not quite part of him even though he’s supposed to be half ox.

The gigantic, horned figure stops when it sees you. Vast shoulders tense; the fat, double-edged sword falls to his side when he settles to loom between you and your only way to escape this place. You’re oddly thankful that the horrible screeching stopped, but then you notice that his blade is drenched in blood: actually, his torso, thighs, even the buckskin loincloth – the only garment this monster has chosen to wear – is spattered with red dots.

The bronze tip drips with crimson, and the earth drinks it all. Hades is never satisfied: this beast is never full. Everyone who was sent down here is dead: everyone else has met their doom except you. You wonder if your mother would cry if she heard her only daughter died because she fell in love with a fool.

“I killed your hero,” the walls of hell boom.

His voice is thick like tar, dark and foul like it’s the God of Earth himself speaking.

The flame in your hand quivers from fear, and you slowly remove your palm, the tiny candle illuminating the beast with warm homely yellow, making the prominent muscles of his chest even bigger.

He’s carved like the statues in Athens, only, this giant is far hairier than the painted marble heroes of the city. The hair on his chest is thick and wild; it shoots down his abdomen and disappears underneath the loincloth, spreads over his inner thighs, even covers his shins in dark mats. He looks like a wild man, a beast indeed: sweaty, filthy and thick. But you never knew a beast like him could talk…

“A coward, that one,” he snarls, the voice reverberating oddly like it’s a human man speaking from under a wooden mask or inside a clay jug.

And you believe every word he says.

Theseus was strong and able-bodied, but he had built his strength just to show it off. This man’s body speaks of pure, ripe survival.

A hulking shadow with shoulders that barely fit the tunnels of the Labyrinth, with palms nearly twice the size of yours, he’s the myth walking instead of the hero whose blood now adorns that dull bronze blade. The Minotaur who survived his father’s wrath, his mother’s absence, these bleak surroundings, and all the heroes sent down to get his head… His weapon isn’t even sharp anymore, and still, he managed to cut through the sacrificial humans like butter. And what a horrific death it must’ve been to be hacked to pieces by a dull blade.

Is it evil of you to hope that the death of your “hero” wasn’t a quick one…?

Theseus was a fool and a coward, rotten to the core, but you saw all of that too late. He never cared about the human sacrifices or the king’s wrath; he never cared about digging into Pasiphae’s sorrow. He only cared about getting his face depicted on a pot or having his deeds played out in amphitheatres, his name uttered in song, accompanied by harp and flute.

“I know.”

Your voice gets sucked into the earth: it doesn’t echo from the walls like his. It’s thin, damp, and frail, just like everything else meant to walk under the sun instead of stand buried under the earth.

But the beast before you tilts its head a little. It’s curious.

Why would you say that?

Why don’t you cry from hearing the news...? Why don’t you howl out your hero’s name and beg the gods to heed your grief? Why don’t you run away from a monster?

The candlelight is puny and weak, but it’s bright enough to bring out the eyes of an animal. You draw breath in the dampness of the earth when you finally see it: the bull’s head is devoid of eyes, and yet, the beast still has them. Blue as the summer sky, stern as the death grip of winter just before spring.

There’s nothing but ripped shreds of skin where the eyes should be, and instead of looking at you from the sides, they’re greeting you from the front. The horns are sturdy, but otherwise, the colossal head is a bit skewed... Thick patches of fur sticking out as if it was years and years old, and then – you realize it’s not his head; it’s only an illusion.

There’s a man under there. A full, grown man who’s made himself a terrible helmet out of a bull’s carcass.

“You’re a man,” you say out loud, earning yourself another shift of the colossal head.

“...What?”

The muffled echo confirms it: he’s speaking from inside the bull, moving only slightly to get a better look at you.

“You’re not a monster. You’re just a man.”

His eyes are wild but intelligent; they pierce you from inside the inanimate shield. The large chest heaves, his ribs flare like sails as he draws air through what must be the foul stench of a long-dead animal.

He takes a step, and you shrink, almost dropping your candle and the roll of red yarn.

“You think talking will save you, female?”

He speaks like a man, walks like a man, but his moves are an animal’s. Shoulders slightly hunched like he’s a bull about to attack, you recognize the way his muscles quiver from the times when you used to do bull leaping. You don’t dance with Rhea’s oxen anymore: your tasks at Hecate’s temple are more suitable and less wild for a maiden your age. Back when you were younger and more agile, you used to jump from the back of one bull to the next, clouds of dust swirling around you as you showed your prowess to the priests.

But you can’t charm this ox by dancing. This one can’t be tricked or fooled: he will pierce you with those horns or his brazen sword if you take even a step.

“I can get you out of here,” you wet your lips, noticing that the blue eyes shoot straight to your mouth when you do that. “I know the way out.”

“What makes you think I want out,” he says, so tight and tense that you fear he’s either about to leap at your throat or plunge his sword into your chest.

And you should be concerned about your own safety, not about his sensibilities – if he even has such things – but hearing this beast man’s reply is like drinking bile.

Why would anyone want to stay here?

You don’t know if he eats human flesh; you don’t know if he had to in order to survive. Everyone knows why his father threw him down here, but no one knows he’s not half the things the people above say he is. And if half of it isn’t true, what other lies have been told about the Minotaur?

Even most prisoners see the sun, yet this man has been deprived of that, too. He’s been robbed of mother’s love, of father’s mercy, of friends and foes, of mentors and guides. He’s been robbed of life, of stars, of fires and summer skies, of women’s giggles, of fistfights with fellow men. Of songs and plays, of festivals and games, of bull dances, and maidens that leap…

“Have you ever been up there…? On the surface?”

You turn your voice into soft water on pebbles, a soothing pour of persuasion and goodwill. His pecs contract, strong abs under thin hair and body fat bunch like you’re about to hit him there. You take a step, and now it’s his turn to shun away. It’s only half an inch, but he actually moves away from you.

“I can take you there,” you offer gently. “Have you ever seen the sun…?”

It’s like talking to a starved predator, trying to entice them to follow you with a fresh steak in hand, hoping that the fanged mouth won’t take more than was promised if it decides to accept the offering.

And the beast accepts.

“As a boy,” he grunts, a tad more softly.

Those eyes are fixed on you, reminding you of horses when they’re slightly afraid. The glint of white and blue behind the carcass is fiercely alive, quite unlike the hollow, disinterested stare of the Athenian hero who was only interested in himself.

But this beast is interested. Oh, the Bull Man of Crete is wildly, fiercely curious about you.

“You’ll take me to the sun,” he repeats, an affirmation rather than a question.

“Yes. To the surface. I promise.”

He moves. Like an animal who learned long ago to drive others into the corner so that he wouldn’t get forced there himself, he’s primal, sensual in the way that oracles in a trance are sensual.

Approaching you in silence that’s almost eerie, the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end by the time he’s only an arm’s length away. Why announce his coming earlier if he can move so quietly?

“You’ll lead me to my father.”

His gaze bores into you, and not even the warm draft from the tunnels can prevent you from shivering. He’s distrustful, and it’s no wonder. It must be odd that some girl with a candle and a bundle of yarn is suddenly waiting for him around the bend, and doesn’t even flee. He’s a behemoth, but he’s not stupid. A stupid man would not have been able to survive, let alone thrive in this place.

And why should he trust you? Who is he supposed to trust in this maze when every person he has seen has either run away from him or tried to kill him? His father will slaughter him if he ever escapes the Labyrinth, so what else is a priestess in his kingdom but a squealing mouse, trying to feed him lies and then guide him to the surface and into a forest of spears?

“No,” you shake your head slowly. “No, I promise I know the way. There will be no soldiers–”

You shut your mouth just before a huge palm closes around your throat.

Gods, but he moves fast when he wants to…

The candle and the yarn drop the instant his hand seizes your neck, strong fingers nearly meeting at the back as he squeezes your windpipe ever so slowly.

And he’s so close now. The carcass reeks of death, but the man underneath stinks of plain human sweat. His musk is a peculiar mix of blood, earth and soil, something both stale and invigorating, the thin sheen of sweat and dirt covering his muscles making him look like a common builder. It’s strange that the bull’s head hasn’t yet decayed in this place, that the man doesn’t reek of bodies and bones that must be scattered around like debris further down the tunnels.

Another thing that’s strange is that he doesn’t seem to want to simply silence you.

He also wants to touch you.

A wide thumb strokes the underside of your jaw as he studies you. It slides down the column of your throat, the blue eyes gleaming with fascination when you swallow against him.

He drinks in the sight of you: the lips that part with fear, the frail collarbones that breathe against the side of his palm. The promising crevice between your breasts, the enticing softness of your teats.

You can hear his breath grow heavy under ox skin and bone, the rugged, vicious helmet he has chosen to wear. What lies under, you can only imagine, wherein he has little left to the imagination when taking in the curve of your breasts, your nipples rising to peaks under the thin white linen only temple virgins use.

Seeing your reaction to his touch makes him growl -- he actually growls like an animal, a deep, low rumble of approval rising up his throat when he sees how different your body is from his. How supple and cushy it is, soft and plump like a peach, covered only barely as if to tease a best like him. You wonder if he ever took pleasure in the maidens sent here by the king… If he ever thrust the sword between his legs into their weak bodies before giving them the mercy of his actual blade. Would he even know what to do with a woman, having lived here for so long?

“Please,” you whisper, bringing his eyes back to yours, the ice in them now liquid sapphire of pure want.

Gods… You need to bring his attention back to your offer of help before he sees it more compelling to just stay here and play with his new, plump little mouse. Virgin or not, you wouldn’t survive a mating with this man.

“I swear on Hecate’s torch that it’s not a trap. You have my word: I’m a priestess soon to be.”

He’s entranced. Hypnotized by your lips. You lick them to confirm your fears true: the man grunts with pleasure, out of instinct, absentmindedly like an animal who reacts to the sight of a fat, meaty bone.

Oh, he might not know what to do with a woman… But he would try his best to find out.

“Priestess…?” He rasps.

“It’s a holy woman,” you explain. “I serve the Goddess of the Crossroads.”

He snorts, either because he’s not impressed or because he’s downright amused by your vocation. The eyes, warmer, more demanding now, are far from the eyes of a bewildered beast.

“Little female of the crossroads... You will take me to the king. And then, I will kill him.”

He puts weight into his words, tries to make you understand.

He wants you to guide him to his father.

To the King who claims his son is half bull, to the husband who claims his wife was adulterous with an ox. To the King who demands tribute as virgins so that he can send them down to hell. The dark goddess screams justice, but you're at a horrible stalemate.

The gods will curse you for this… They will smite you with a bolt of lightning or drown you next time you cross the great sea if they see you’ve helped this half-beast escape. If you guide him to Minos, you’re a participant in kingslaying, and the gods never forget things like that.

“He’s your father and the king of Crete,” you whisper in fear. “The gods will strike you down–”

“Gods?” He spits. “I piss on the gods. I fuck their corpses and leave them to rot.”

You almost choke on the blasphemy levelled at you. The shadows creep closer, the stare behind the black fur is dark and amused, burning with the crooked wrath of a thousand years.

“Perhaps I’ll fuck you too.”

It’s unnerving that you don’t find the threat wholly unappealing.

If anything, your eyes drift down to the hairs of his chest, to the two big muscles that resemble the work of the best sculptors in Athens.

“Are you a virgin, female of the crossroads?”

His eyes search for your response: they want to see your fear and disgust. You swallow again, arduously against his hand, both caressing and testing you.

The beast leans forward, as if weighing if he could somehow insult the gods by pillaging you. The rough hair of his chest meets the white cloth, it brushes against your nipples as he bends down to have a good sniff of you.

“You smell like a virgin,” he growls.

The hand leaves your throat, only to travel down your sternum. He grabs your breast nonchalantly, a little too roughly, the hot palm closing around the teat and squeezing it like it’s a toy. When you don’t react, he squeezes it again, this time hard enough to coax a whimper out of you.

“Sound like a virgin…”

Without warning, the hand dives straight between your legs next, palm forcing its way through your thighs and curving to cup your sex, moulding around it with barbaric thirst.

“Feel like a virgin, too.”

It’s thick, hot, and heavy, how he simply tries you through your dress. Fingers testing your folds, he’s clearly enjoying the subtle wetness he finds down there. You can hear another hitched grunt pushing up his throat, rugged and whiny this time, a broken groan that dissipates because of how dry his throat is.

No man has ever dared to lay his hands on you... Many have wanted, but none have tried. Even drunkards and fools respect women who belong to the dark goddess.

But he doesn’t care about the wrath of Hecate. He doesn’t give a shit about the gods. He simply takes what he wants, what falls into his lap. The fifteenth offering, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in devouring your flesh.

How easily he could simply yank that loincloth aside and drag your dress up. Force his cock into your tight, wet heat without uttering a word. You doubt that he would even take the trouble of laying you down on the ground for taking... Beasts rut when they want to: this man could fuck you against this wall if his loins demanded so, guttural groans being the last thing you hear before the candle goes out.

You don’t know if you have to spread your legs for him before this is over, but you reckon you will do even that if it means you’ll see the sun again. You’ll endure every thick thrust, and gods be cursed, you wouldn’t even be solely disgusted if this half-animal chose to breed you... As shameful as it is, you would somewhat enjoy having him rut you like an animal in heat.

And you’ve gone mad, surely.

You want to touch him too, just to test another theory.

Deciding that it's a good idea to stick your hand into the maw of hell, your fingers lift. They meet his bicep, and the lewd panting stops.

He’s not even breathing… He’s just drowsy and drunk, looking at you with a mixture of soft sleepiness and awe in his stare. Like a dog who has never been petted, even his eyes drift half closed when he forgets to threaten you, now focusing solely on your hand.

And you start to caress him, slowly, so slowly… Tracing the muscle all the way up where it meets the shoulder, you stroke even the thick cord that leads to his neck. The rest of him disappears under the bull, but the man behind it already shivers under your touch. He even bends his head a little in hopes that you would go under the mask and touch him there, and the gesture reminds you of an animal exposing its vulnerable areas, baring its very throat in submission.

Braving a quick peek down, you notice that the buckskin cloth is stretched high and wide. His whole body is tense and immobile: you could cup him through the soft animal skin and he would probably shoot his seed from a single stroke of your palm.

If this is not a virgin, you don’t know what is...

In a way, it would perhaps be wise to shove your hand down and disarm this man. That way, you would be safe for a few more minutes. Instead, you lay your palm over his chest, right over where his heart should be.

“So do you, Bull of Crete...”

His gaze flickers.

The darkness hesitates, widens, nearly swallows the azure pools whole. But he doesn’t look irate or wild... Only shocked.

It’s an impasse. A thicket. His hand on you, your hand on him.

He surrenders first: the underworld budges before the utterly pure. You bless him with grace the instant he withdraws his hand from between your legs – slowly, reluctantly, like leaving a place that belongs to him. Or to which he belongs…

“I promise I’ll help you, Minos Tauros. But I need you to give me something in return.”

You remove your hand too. Softly, slowly, like a horse master who trains and tames wild things. All words seem to have escaped his tongue: he only grunts, unsure of what a beast like him could give you in return for your help.

“You must promise to be kind to me.”

“Kind...?”

“I need you to behave,” you explain. “No bad things on the way up... No fucking.”

Everything else, he seems to accept, but during the last sentence the Minotaur blinks at you, utterly confused.

“But... You smell like you want to fuck.”

Your jaw drops open a tiny bit. Then you remember that a priestess of Hecate doesn’t gawk.

“I don’t–How would you know that…?”

The beast only shrugs. Then he leans forward and takes another sniff as if to prove it’s true that you want his cock inside you.

“You smell good,” he grunts. “Different... Female, not afraid.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to…”

He even raises his hand to inspect the slight wetness there. Fascinated by the thin film on his fingers, he rubs his thumb in it, probably thinking about bringing it under his mask to get a good sniff of your juices too.

You grab his wrist without thinking, mortified to your core by the prospect of him getting high on your slick.

“Look. We need to leave before the candle burns out.”

The obsessive stare threatens to swallow you once more, so you let go of his wrist and steel your resolve. Scooting down to grab your things, you try to ignore the violent erection still pointing straight at you.

Hecate keep you from offering yourself to this man out of your own free will...

And you don’t have a torch, only a candle and a skein of blood-red yarn, but you know the way out, so there’s hope. There’s always hope.

“I need you to promise me,” you turn at the mouth of the tunnel, seeing that he’s still standing there, in the place where he almost took you like his first whore. As if waking up from a thrall, he straightens to his full height, picks up his sword and looks like a half-human, half-bull once more.

“I promise,” comes a booming voice from under the animal skull. “No fucking… I’ll behave.”

You nod. There's a sense of trust in the air. A promise of hope... It's mutual, invigorating -- life-giving, like the sun and blood in your hands.

You don't know if the son of Minos has ever smiled in here, but from the quick glint in his eyes, you suspect that he's smiling right now, the man under that animal mask. Somehow, it reminds you of the stars in the sky.

“Lead the way, maiden.”

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig x fem reader #konig x reader #könig #könig cod #konig x you #cod konig

3K notes · View notes

wonderlandwalker · 16 days

Text

First Impressions | Eddie Munson x Reader

Stranger Things Masterlist / Inbox

Summary: Eddie learns that Dustin has a recently reunited sister, and from the moment he meets you he's a goner.

Content Warnings / Tags: Pure fluff, henderson!reader, tiny mention of a fight but nothing descriptive, not edited, no use of y/n

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Eddie brain rot cause I couldn't keep it in. Don't know if this is my best work but I'm planning to write more chapters on this so it's just a start, hope you like it

“You need a ride home after this?” It was more of a formality than an actual question, he always drove Dustin home after a session.

“Oh that’s okay, my sister is picking me up.” Dustin didn’t even look up from packing his things away, but Eddie’s head shot up.

“Your- you have a sister, since when?” As far as he knew Dustin was an only child, but now he was wrecking his brain trying to think if he had ever mentioned you before.

“I know you’re bad at math Eddie, but I just told you she’s driving so try and put the pieces together.” Dustin was looking up at him now, challenging him.

“Alright smartass, it’s time for you to shut up.” He told him as he ruffled through his hair, leaving behind an agitated Dustin trying frantically to fix it.

The others had already gone home, but Dustin stayed behind late to help Eddie finish up, a habit that became more and more common as the two grew closer. When they finished packing up Eddie locked the door behind them, and while walking to the parking lot decided he wasn’t quite done interrogating Dustin.

“If you have an older sister, how come I've never seen her around before?”

“I mean she’s been around during holidays before, she lived with dad though but they had a big fight so she’s moved here.” It seemed like a sore topic, so Eddie dropped it for now.

As they got to the entrance of the school and felt the cool air on their skin Eddie indeed noticed another car in the usually empty lot, and you were sitting on the hood of it, a book in your hands as you patiently waited. The last rays of sunshine graced your figure as if the heavens themselves were blessing you, and Eddie had never been so sure he’d seena goddess in his life. It was just like the tales he knew so well, the ones he still devoted his life to, it was as if they were becoming true. You looked up when you heard them approach, smiling at the sight of them and giving Dustin a quick side hug as they reached you.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot of good things.” You held your hand out for Eddie to take, but all he could do was look at it, staring ahead as if hitting pause in a game, he stood still. He wanted to react, to not make the most horrible first impression possible, but the longer he looked at you the worse it got, getting lost in sight of your smile. “Alright, not a fan of handshakes, notes.” You chuckled as you withdrew your hand, and Eddie cursed himself for not having taken the opportunity to feel how soft your skin must’ve been. You looked at him again, your eyes piercing straight through his soul and he wondered if maybe he had found himself in one of his fantasy worlds, he must have. But the next second he shook himself out of it, because you were real, you were real and in front of him and expecting him to say something.

“I’m Eddie.” he said, nodding his head as if to confirm his own statement.

“So I’ve been told.” Another giggle slipped past your lips, and Eddie wasnt sure if it was from nerves or entertainment, but he was dying to hear more of it, even if he had to make a fool of himself to do so.

Dustins head kept going back and forth as if watching a tennis match of idiocracy. He had never seen Eddie so flustered, so used to the man flaunting with every opportunity that presented itself that this seemed quite out of character. In full disclosure, it was kind of freaking him out to see Eddie so beside himself, and it was freaking him out even further that he couldn’t figure out why. It was probably blatantly obvious to anyone else, but maybe it was for the best that Dustin couldn’t place where the tension originated from, either way, his patience had run out

“Can we go home now, I still have to call Mike to discuss our net strategies” You tore your eyes from Eddie, deciding that maybe it was for the best to head home.

“Yeah alright, maybe I’ll see you around Eddie.” You gave him one last smile as you got in the car with Dustin and drove off, but it took him another minute to pick his shambled ego up from the concrete ground as he berated himself for not being able to utter one coherent sentence. As he got in his van and drove home as well he decided he’d have to grill Dustin for more information on you the next time he’d see him. As he got to the trailer he grumbled a hello to Wayne before disappearing to his room, ignoring the backhanded comment he got about his grumpy disposition.

He wondered if he’d ever be able to convince you he was cool, whether he’d be able to get you to agree to see him again, but after what just transpired he figured the odds were slim. Not that he’d give up so easily, he didn’t have much of a reputation to lose and if he’d be able to get you to laugh again that would be more than enough. But he didn’t get to wonder for long as Wayne knocked on his door, he was ready to tell the man to leave him alone, but the next sentence was one that confused him immensely

“Someone on the phone for you.” Wayne held the phone out to him, expecting him to get up from the bed and take it, but Eddie didn’t move an inch.

“For me, you sure?” He was still not quite sure what to do. “Unless another Eddie is living here I’m pretty sure.” He moved his hand again to accentuate the phone that was still on hold, but once again Eddie just sat there.

“If you want I can tell her to call back-” That’s when he sprung into action, snatching the phoen out of Wayne’s hand

“No! No, I got it. Thank you.” The old man simply chuckled as he left again, closing the door behind him to give his nephew some privacy.

Eddie cleared his throat once before picking up the line put on hold.

“Hello?” he asked, still not quite sure what to do.

“Hi, Eddie it’s me, just wanted to see if you were doing alright.” your sweet voice blessed his ears once more. He doesn’t know what he did to get the universe on his side like this, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

“Yeah I’m good, listen-” Eddie figured this time he shouldn’t waste his chance, and he probably had some making up to do. “- I’m sorry if I freaked you out earlier, just never seen anyone that pretty before.” You were giggling again, and it brought the biggest grin onto his face. “You didn’t weird me out at all, it was kinda cute. I had to bribe Dustin to let me use the phone so I don’t have much time but I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go out this weekend?” Maybe he should’ve waited a beart before answering, but he was too eager to care.

“Go out, as in a date?” It got him blushing, the red creeping up on his cheeks as he wondered if that’s really what you were asking

“I mean, kinda, if you want to.” He could almost see you blushing on the other side of the line as well, and he decided it was now or never.

“I’d love to.”

“That’s great, I’m still kind of new around here, do you know any good places?” Your smile was present as you spoke, and he was already looking forward to seeing it again, now knowing he wouldn’t have to wait long.

“How about I come and pick you up, we can go to the mall.” His confidence was growing with the minute now, absolutely elated by the turn of events.

“Im looking forward to it” He wondered what you’d wear, knowing whatever it was it would look beautiful on you, and he knew he’d spend the entire date amazed at your presence.

“Me too” he said before the both of you hung up the phone, he had already started planning the most amazing evening out, and maybe, he thought, maybe this year really would take a turn for the better.

630 notes · View notes

rip-quizilla · 10 months

Text

Eat Me

Pairing: Older!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Popstar!Reader

Summary: (TLDR: you perform with Corroded Coffin, act like a brat the whole time, and Eddie makes you pay for it.) Two years after your hiatus from the music industry, you're back and all grown up now. After collaborating with early 2000's metal sensation Corroded Coffin for several songs off your new album, you debut the new tracks live in a surprise performance with the band during their tour- and the tension between you and frontman Eddie Munson is so thick, you're barely able to keep your pants on throughout the set. (Songs referenced are by Demi Lovato from her album HOLY FVCK, which inspired this fic. I highly suggest listening to the songs "Eat Me" and "Freak" while they're performed in the story for the complete experience!)

Word Count: 14K

Tags: 🔥SMUT, age gap (reader is 27, Eddie is 47), Reader is a brat (Eddie can handle it), fingering, squirting, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap up!!), light degradation, reader has blue hair, reader is a grown-up child star, for the purposes of this fic Corroded Coffin started in the 90s instead of 80s for timeline reasons

🖤🖤🖤

You had no fucking clue what you were doing.

It had been two years since you’d put out music. Two. Years. That’s enough time for a person’s relevance to crawl into a hole and die, which is something you had been strongly considering doing for the duration of those two years.

It was a tale as old as time- child star grows up. Child star is not a child anymore, but the world only wants the star to be a child, so if the star wants to keep being a star, they do not. grow. up.

But you grew up, and guess what happened?

The world hated you for it.

So you stopped trying to be a star. You’d dropped off the face of the earth and deleted every social media app from your phone. You’d bought a house in the mountains, and thanks to modern technologies like Amazon and DoorDash, you basically never had to leave. It was a little scary how easily you had become a hermit living in a cabin in the woods. Your life quickly became a never ending cycle of reading, binge-watching tv, and dying/cutting your hair whenever the mood struck (The latest spontaneous color change had left you with a surprisingly pretty shade of faded blue).

It was easy, running away… until it caught up with you.

After all, at your core you had always been a performer. From your first audition at five years old to your big break at twelve, to the first album you’d put out on your television network’s record label- you had always been a person who had something to say and craved an audience to hear it. When your audience had turned on you, it had jolted your rhythm enough that you forgot the words to a song you’d been singing as long as you could remember.

It had taken you a couple years, but eventually you figured out that when you play the same song on repeat for long enough, it gets old.

So you wrote a new song.

To be more precise, you wrote a whole album. Literally.

Some of the songs were composed, some still needed a tune, but the message of the album was clear: I’m not that little girl on your TV screen anymore. You don’t have to like it, but you sure as hell can’t change it.

The minute you’d figured that out, you’d called your team. Once they understood the direction your career was headed, they helped get everything in order for your re-entry into the fray that had driven you out in the first place.

There was only one part of the album that made you nervous.

I know two years doesn’t seem like that long, your agent had said, but the public eye doesn’t have a very impressive attention span. You only have half of the album composed, right? This is the perfect opportunity to make the other half of the songs collaborations with artists that are in the public eye!

The idea made sense. Their popularity helps you, and if the songs go over well, then it helps the other artists too. The only issue was that these songs were way more vulnerable than what you used to write… hell, half the songs you’d recorded before your hiatus were written by whatever run of the mill joe schmo had gotten the kid-friendly execs’ stamp of approval. Even when you’d split from the network after turning twenty-three, you’d kept your songs strictly PG-rated since you knew the majority of your audience were minors. These new songs, though…

You weren’t an idiot. The themes of these songs were not subtle. Anyone who listened to these new songs was going to see a side of you that wasn’t all that pretty. Were you ready for that? Were you ready to bare that darkness to not only the world, but to other artists who meant to help you make music out of it?

Your anxiety about the album had gotten even worse when your agent had given you the list of potential collaborators.

One song that you were particularly proud of called “Eat Me” had some very metal undertones to it, so you’d told your agent that you’d like to collaborate with a metal band or artist to compose the music that would match the lyrics. Almost immediately, your agent had suggested a collaboration with Corroded Coffin.

The band had been HUGE when you were a kid, topping charts throughout your childhood and making a name for themselves as one of the most culturally relevant turn-of-the-century metal bands. Even now, they were a household name. Your older brother had been a huge fan, so you’d actually listened to their music quite a lot growing up. They weren’t some random collaboration- if Corroded Coffin read your lyrics (which were basically your soul laid out on display) and thought they were shit? It might just send you spiraling right back to your cabin in the mountains.

You had been equal parts thrilled and terrified when your agent told you they’d agreed to collaborate on the song.

Currently, you were sitting in your home-away-from-home, a cozy apartment that you rented on a month-to-month basis whenever you needed to be in New York, which just so happened to be where Eddie Munson, lead singer/guitarist of Corroded Coffin had asked to meet with you. It was your album, so you had invited him to come to your place and discuss his ideas for the song. You shifted nervously on your couch and glanced at the time on your phone. He was ten minutes late- that shouldn’t bother you, a lot of musicians had a habit of running late. Just because you didn’t subscribe to that stereotype didn’t mean you had to judge him for doing the opposite.

When you finally heard the buzz of your doorbell, you practically hopped off the couch. You peeped through the little door viewer to catch a glimpse before you had to look one of your childhood heroes in the eye. You… you hadn’t been adequately prepared to see this.

Eddie Munson had been attractive in his hay day- you could admit that. You’d seen the pictures of him on their album covers, the press photos, the magazines… he had always been cute in a scruffy sort of way. You hadn’t bothered Googling what he looked like now, which you were currently regretting since you had not been adequately prepared for the father of all DILFs to be standing on your doorstep.

After doing some quick math, you came to the conclusion that Eddie Munson must be in his mid to late forties at this point. His hair was still long and curly and thick as hell, but you noticed other details that you distinctly remembered were not present on the album covers you remember from your brother’s CD collection- dark, whiskery shadow along his cheeks and jawline. Tattoos creeping up from the collar of the crew neck shirt he wore, as well as every inch of his arms. A nose ring. Smile lines. Soft creases forming between thick brown eyebrows.

Eyebrows drawing together in confusion because you weren’t opening the door.

Shit. You inhaled sharply and hastily made to open the door. Breathe, you instructed yourself, taking a moment to blow out a semi-relaxing breath before turning the doorknob and plastering on your best entertainment industry smile.

“Hi!” you said, a little too peppy- you knew you sounded too peppy because the rockstar in front of you actually flinched when your high-pitched sorority girl voice slapped him in the face. “Sorry, I think I’m a little caffeine-riddled, I just finished my third cup of coffee.” You said apologetically, swinging the door open wider for him to step through the threshold into your apartment.

“Too many frappuccinos there, huh popstar?” His voice… if it hadn’t been so condescending, you might have melted on the spot. Your pride, however, had to argue with your clenching thighs.

“Uhm, no-” you laughed, keeping your voice airy as you shut the door and leaned back on it to ensure it was closed. “-just cold brew, rockstar.” You couldn’t help but add that quip at the end, seeing how he had just called you popstar like it was the same as calling someone a pussy or a wimp. What was his deal?

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest, and then turned back as if you hadn’t said anything at all. He simply sauntered through the hallway to your living room, where you had laid all the necessary materials for your composing process across the coffee table- but he wasn’t looking at that. He seemed to be inspecting your walls, the decor, the old pictures that sat in frames on your floating shelves, the records you had displayed above your turntable. His eyes surveyed everything like he was a judge at a fucking science fair, and your heart was starting to race as you started to irrationally wonder if you fell short of his expectations or something.

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat to get his attention.

He turned to face you, irritation flashing across his expression like a cloud blowing past the sun. You took a breath. Calm down, you chided yourself mentally, he’s probably just a prick, don’t take it personally. Be professional.

“Can I get you something to drink?” You chirped politely, to which he smirked and shook his head.

“Don’t trouble yourself, sweetheart.”

You bristled; sweetheart? Who did he think he was, Don Draper? Was this the 1950’s? Were you his fucking secretary? Your blood pressure rose by the second.

“Hm.” you respond, chewing your lip to keep a snarky response to yourself. “Well, we can go ahead and get started if you want.” You gestured to the pages strewn across the coffee table. Notebook pages with your lyrics written out in black pen, empty pages of sheet music that you planned to fill out with a melody to coincide with your words as the morning went on. Your acoustic guitar sat securely in its stand beside the couch, eagerly awaiting your hands to make the message in your music come alive.

Munson sunk into the cushions of your leather couch, manspreading enough to make you feel like a guest in your own apartment. His forearms rested on the thighs of his ripped charcoal jeans as he surveyed the pages before him. He grabbed the notebook page full of lyrics first, chuckling when he saw the title.

“Eat Me, huh?” he raised an eyebrow at you, and the way he was holding the page between the two of you left only the top half of his face visible from where you sat. You noted that Eddie Munson had extremely expressive eyes. “That’s a pretty evocative title for such a squeaky-clean ‘lil diva.”

Your brow furrowed. “That’s kind of the point.” Using your pointer finger to pull the page down, the bottom half of the rockstar’s face coming into view and spiking your blood pressure again when you saw that fucking smirk still on his face.

That’s it. This guy is an ass.

“Maybe my agent didn’t accurately portray my vision for this album,” you said, struggling to grit out the words without coming across angry. “If that’s the case, I’m very sorry we got our wires crossed.”

Ready to listen, Munson leaned back into your couch and crossed one booted foot over his knee, an arm thrown across the top of your couch cushions. The picture of nonchalance.

Cocky bastard.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I haven’t put any music out in over two years.” you began. “This isn’t just a new album for me- it's more like a debut album for the new direction I want to take my career in. Up until now, I’ve been portraying a very different side of myself that…if I’m being honest, it wasn’t really me. It was childish and immature and I…”

You huffed out a heavy, frustrated sigh. “-I can’t do it anymore, I can’t keep being a kid, I’m twenty-fucking-seven years old, for god’s sake.” the rockstar’s eyebrows jumped up at hearing your expletive, obviously amused.

What the fuck? Here you were, being vulnerable with a complete stranger, and he thought it was amusing? You half expected him to laugh, but you brushed past it and decided to ignore this asshole being even more of an asshole.

“What I’m trying to say is this is a very personal album for me. It’s very different from what I’ve been putting out, and that is very much the point. Does that make sense?”

You watched as he slowly nodded his head, mulling over your words. “So…it’s like a coming of age thing?” he ventured, “Like, ‘little girl’s all grown up and sexy now’ all that?” his mouth turned up at one corner. “How very Miley Cyrus of you, sweetheart.”

You scoffed, physically recoiling a bit. “Are you being serious right now?” you balked.

He shrugged.

Oh, you fumed, that is it. Fuck this guy.

You stood from the couch, finally snapping after holding yourself back from giving this asshat a piece of your mind. “What is your problem?” Munson’s smirk faded a bit, but his smug air remained intact as he stared up at you.

“Look sweetheart-”

“No.” you cut him off, stopping him with a hand in the air. “Stop calling me sweetheart like you know me or like that isn’t a condescending fucking way to speak to someone. You have done nothing but talk down to me since you walked through that door, so no, you do not get to talk to me like that, I don’t care how famous you are.”

There wasn’t a trace of a smile on his face now, and you took pride in that. Maybe there was a conscience in there somewhere that was telling him I told you so right now.

You took the page from his hands and held it up for emphasis. “If you had just read my fucking song before making assumptions, then maybe you would have understood that this song is actually a social commentary on people like you who assume the direct trajectory of a child star’s career is to go from cute and childish to sexy ‘girls gone wild’ or whatever the fuck.” you spat, practically shaking the paper in your hand. “I’m allowed to grow into whoever I damn well please, and that’s exactly what this song is about. If I want to write a song about sex- and I’ve written a few, they’re on the fucking album- I’ll write them because that’s what I want to write! I’m not doing it for shock value or because I like attention; hell, I’ve been a literal hermit in the woods for two years, I don’t give a fuck about attention!”

You finally paused to breathe, and you knew your eyes must look absolutely insane because the man before you genuinely looked terrified.

Steeling yourself, you inhaled and exhaled slowly, attempting to push down some of that hysteria. “Sorry.” you bit, “Didn’t mean to unload all that on you. It’s just… this song is a part of me, and you just belittled it without even reading past the title.” You looked him directly in those big brown eyes and thought- hoped- for a second that you saw understanding in his gaze. “That was shitty. I’m not letting other people make me feel like shit anymore.”

When you were finished, silence took over. It settled over the room like a reprieve from a short but heavy rainfall before the sun showed itself again. Suddenly, Eddie Munson stood from your couch and marched to your door, letting himself out with a sharp click of your doorknob latching closed.

Okay. That went well. The lead singer of one of the most famous metal bands just came to your apartment, got yelled at, and ran away. You were just starting to ponder how you would explain this one to your publicist before you heard a knock at your door. Tentatively, you opened it- you didn’t need to look through the peephole to know who it was.

Eddie Munson stood at your door wearing an expression that you hadn’t seen yet today- he looked open, compassionate, and sorry. One hand in his pocket with the other outstretched, tattoos winding up the expanse of skin, rings glinting light from the sconces on either side of your door. He was offering his hand.

Smiling slightly, you accepted his gesture. You grasped his ink-scarred hand, feeling the cold metal of his rings press against your skin as you shook it. “It’s lovely to meet you-” he said your name softly, and you realized that when he had entered your apartment earlier, you hadn’t even exchanged pleasantries. Hadn’t introduced yourselves, almost as if fame got rid of the need for normal human introductions. Now, here he was, remedying that.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Munson,” you said, voice less chipper than it had been when the two of you originally stood in these same spots. “I’m a huge fan.”

He winced at ‘Mr.’, clapping his other hand over yours tightly. “Please, for the love of god, don’t call me Mr. Munson.” his big brown eyes pleaded with you. “Call me Eddie.”

Your smile widened as you nodded. “Eddie.” you repeated. “Is this you telling me we’re starting over?”

He let go of your hand, and you felt a sudden chill as the warmth of his skin left yours. “If that’s alright with you?” he replied softly, turning up the end of his sentence like a question.

Instead of saying yes, you simply stepped back to make room for him in your hallway. With a pleasant grin on your lips, you gestured for him to step inside. “Let’s get started, then.”

After sitting down on the couch once more, Eddie took the sheet of notebook paper on which you’d scrawled a part of your soul written in verse and began to read intently. Leaving him to digest the song completely (also because you felt awkward sitting there in silence as he read your work) you left to grab two water bottles from the kitchen. When you returned, he had already grabbed a fresh sheet of notebook paper and begun jotting down notes.

You placed the bottles on coasters, bracing yourself for the criticism that you knew was coming-

“You were right.”

Huh?

You craned your neck to see what he had written on the notebook paper. “About what?”

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Eddie yanked the paper out of your line of sight. “About this song, it’s completely different from what I’d assumed you would write. Actually,” he grinned. “-it’s kinda fucking metal.”

You smiled, once again reaching for the page. “Then let me see what you wrote-”

“I’m not finished yet, keep your panties on.”

The two of you worked for hours that afternoon, Eddie suggesting lines and chords as you wrote corresponding notes and chords on your sheet music. It didn’t take long for you to grab the acoustic guitar and begin strumming out portions of the song until it was finished.

Both of you agreed it was something to be proud of.

“Hey, uh,” Eddie stuttered before exiting your apartment that evening, when you were both happy with the work you’d done for the day. “I hope you know how sorry I am for being such an ass when I got here earlier-”

You shrugged, any traces of anger melted away at this point. “Eh.” you smirked. “You made up for it. That song might be my favorite on the album now, honestly, I meant it when I said I was a fan of yours- wouldn’t have trusted it with anyone else.”

He smiled at you warmly. “I’m honored to have such a talented fan.” The door was open, but he wasn’t leaving yet. Instead, Eddie stood with his tattooed arms crossed over his chest leaning his weight to one shoulder against the doorway. “I mean it though, you’re a talented songwriter. If you want to collaborate on any other songs, just say the word and I’m back here.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

He nodded, “Dead serious.”

Smiling excitedly, you ran to your notebook, flipping through the pages until you found what you were looking for. You looked up at Eddie, a knowing grin on your lips. “Remember those songs about sex I mentioned?”

***

The original plan for your album had been to collaborate with multiple artists for about fifty percent of your album, while the other fifty percent would only feature you. What ended up happening was slightly different.

The more songs Eddie saw, the more passionate he became about the message you were working to convey through your lyrics. He ended up reworking every single song with you in a completely collaborative process, where he never overstepped, never tried to take over- simply understood what you were trying to say and added the extra ‘oomph’ each song had been needing to truly become what you had envisioned.

“I feel like I really can’t just call this my album now, Eddie, you’ve contributed way more to this to just be credited as a featured artist-”

You’d first voiced concerns about how to credit Eddie in the album a few days into your songwriting spree. It became an easy routine, Eddie would come over first thing in the morning, and the two of you would sit in your living room working through your songs and ordering takeout until the sun set.

“Well it’s not a collaboration album with Corroded Coffin,” Eddie had replied, sticking a bite of noodles into his mouth. The two of you had been seated at your kitchen table, white boxes of Chinese food, napkins, and torn chopstick wrappers decorating the space between you. “Those fuckers haven’t even met you, they don’t get credit for anything they ain’t playing on.”

“But I’m talking about you.” you pushed, “If we keep going the way we’ve been, you’re going to be a vital part of the composition for every track on this album! I’m not going to let you avoid credit for that.” you gazed at him, unable to hide the admiration you’d begun to feel for the artist at your table. “Let me list you as a composer for every track you help me with. We already know you and your band will be featured on Eat Me and Freak, so obviously you’ll be credited for those…”

As you continued to ramble on about how Eddie would be credited for each and every song lyric he suggested, he got distracted looking at the way your hair glinted slightly different shades of blue in the sunlight that filtered in through your balcony window. His eyes followed the light along your skin, taking in the way it glistened off the dewey shine on your cheekbone, how it shone directly into the corner of your eye so that colors he had never noticed were brought to the surface of your irises…

This wasn’t the first time that Eddie had gotten distracted watching you rant about something you were passionate about. He knew he was supposed to be listening, that it was very important that he knew what your songs were about, that he understood the details of your plans for the album so that you wouldn’t have to repeat yourself later- but dammit, you were just so pretty. Really fucking pretty, it was hard for him not to get distracted. Initially, this whole collaboration had just been something that Eddie’s publicist had suggested for getting the newer generation listening to Corroded Coffin in time for their new album to drop at the end of the summerl, so when Eddie had first waltzed into your apartment he’d been expecting a kid; an innocent, teeny-bopper sort of persona. He hadn’t expected a loud, firecracker of a woman with hair the color of his old denim jacket.

Eddie wasn’t an idiot. He was well aware that he was old enough to be your father. You were what- twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? Definitely under thirty. And here he was, pushing forty-seven with a salt and pepper shadow on his jawline. The hair on his head hadn’t started graying yet (he dreaded the day that he would have to use *gulp* hair dye) but he knew it was only a matter of time. For him to be ogling you like this? It would probably make you uncomfortable if you knew how often his eyes forgot to look away when you left the room. What was that old saying? Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave-

“Eddie?”

Shit. He’d missed an entire conversation, hadn’t he?

He gave you his best apologetic smile, which didn’t work at all. You sighed, hanging your head low exasperatedly. “You didn’t hear a word of that did you?”

“Not a word, zoned out.”

You threw a fortune cookie at him.

***

You and Eddie didn’t see each other for a while after recording the album. Eddie was there with the rest of Corroded Coffin to record the two tracks that they were featured in for the album, but after that plus a few guitar parts Eddie had been kind enough to record for some other songs, the two of you hadn’t had a reason to see each other.

That was why you were so nervous for tonight.

After working all summer and the better part of the fall, the album was finally finished. Copies of CDs and special edition vinyl were already being shipped out to music stores across the country and set to hit shelves in a week, so tonight was the kickoff event for your publicity tour: you would be joining Corroded Coffin tonight onstage for a surprise performance of Eat Me and Freak. Tonight was October 31st, and premiering those songs on Halloween with the metal king that helped you make them the masterpieces they were? This was just one of those moments when the stars aligned poetically.

You looked yourself in the mirror, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves before heading to sound check. It had been a couple of months since you’d seen Eddie, but that wouldn’t matter, right? You’d spent a whole week workshopping incredibly personal- in some cases, intimately personal- songs with the guy, so singing onstage with him shouldn’t be a big deal. You were a professional, so it didn’t matter that you hadn’t performed in over two years, you could do this. Never mind the fact that this was the first performance of the rest of your career; never mind that sometimes the way Eddie looked at you make you feel like your knees were about to buckle; never mind that Eddie Munson, rock god and sex symbol of the metal world, was going to be within touching distance the moment you set foot on that stage…

A knock at the door of your tiny dressing room startled you, along with a voice letting you know that sound check was about to begin. Decisively, you grabbed your water bottle and headed to the stage before you could psych yourself out any more.

When you got to the stage, Eddie was the first person you laid eyes on. He smiled at you, dark curls flying around his face and forming a sinful-looking halo around his face as he gave you a friendly nod- god, he was gorgeous. Waving back at him, you returned the nod and grinned. You wouldn’t be going on until the end of their set, so you situated yourself on an empty stool backstage with a view of the band.

Their practice was fascinating to watch, how all four of the band members were so obviously masters of their craft, each ear trained to notice any imperfection in the way their instruments sounded through the stereos. Every once in a while, Eddie would look your way out the corner of his eye, just to check if you were still watching; you always were. Whenever he saw you looking directly at him, never glancing down at your phone or at the other band members (besides the odd look thrown in Gareth Emerson’s direction; the way his curls bounced was honestly hypnotic), he’d hold your eye contact, smirk into the microphone, and continue to belt out the lyrics to his songs with a smidge more cockiness than he had been prior.

When the time finally came for you to join them, you took a deep breath and strutted to where Eddie stood in the center of the stage. No one had handed you a mic, so you weren’t sure where you were supposed to stand until Eddie moved aside to make room for you at his mic stand.

You looked questioningly at Eddie. “You don’t need your mic?”

He chuckled, placing a hand on the small of your back as he put his lips to your ear. You figured he was just trying to avoid the mic picking up his voice, but the hand on your back… that was new. Was this a move? Was Eddie Munson making a move? On you?

Oh.

That’s a fun development.

“This one’s all you, darlin’.” Eddie said, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I’ll stay out of your way. Also-” He pulled away enough to look you in the eyes, and your lips must have been a little too close to the mic because it picked up your fucking gasp. You jerked your head away from the mic, cursing yourself for being so nervous.

Eddie definitely noticed, but all he did was chuckle, still staring at you with giant doe eyes framed by smile lines and bushy brown eyebrows. “-it’s good to see you, popstar.” There was no condescension in his tone this time; all you could find in his gaze was kind, genuine joy that you were here, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

Confidently, you gripped the mic with both hands, smirking at Eddie through your side eye. You didn’t bother leaning away from the mic when you replied, sprinkling sultry into your voice. If Eddie Munson was trying to drop a hint, you wanted him to know you were receiving it.

“It’s good to see you too, rockstar.”

***

Mic check went flawlessly, which meant it was time for you and the band to eat in the green room while fans began lining up outside the venue, waiting for the doors to open.

You had a couple drinks with the band while biding your time before you had to get dressed for the show. Much to your delight, Eddie never left your side the whole time. You had been close to him in your living room day after day when you’d worked on your songs, but this was different; you kept noticing little glances and touches that spoke louder than words- how his hands lingered longer than expected, never missing a chance to touch your arm or place a hand on your back to guide you as you walked. How his eyes were most focused whenever he was looking at you, and he never seemed to give you passing glances- every look he gave you was intense and purposeful, it made you shiver in a very good way. When he and the band left to get ready for showtime, he took a moment to check on how you were before leaving to go to his dressing room.

“You nervous?” he asked. There wasn’t any judgment there, just concern for you.

“Yes,” you admitted, “But I think I’ve got it.”

Eddie smiled widely, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and squeezing you tightly. “Oh I know you’ve got it, angel.”

You caught his wrist, holding it to your shoulder before he could retract it. Turning to him, you batted your eyes a bit before raising an eyebrow. “Angel, huh?”

Eddie inclined his head, eyes narrowing flirtatiously. “What, should I switch back to sweetheart?”

You smirked. “Only if you wanna make me mad.”

It took everything in you not to shrink back from him as he leaned forward, practically glowering over you. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but must have decided against it. You saw his tongue poke into the inside of his cheek as he nodded to himself, eyes narrowing further as if he were having a whole conversation within his head that you weren’t privy to. Finally, he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze and you let him go, staring at him with every ounce of confidence you could muster.

“...I’ll remember that, popstar.” he said, voice low and gravelly and sure to throw you into a coma if he said the right words with that voice at the right time. You didn’t let him see how much he was affecting you, though- save for a little grin that you couldn’t hide as he smirked at you and walked away.

When he exited the green room- and you were sure you were alone- you finally let out a breath that you’d been holding for what seemed like entire minutes. You grabbed your drink, chugging down the rest of your liquid courage in the hopes that it might also cool you down a bit.

***

The cheers from the crowd were deafening, and the gravity of what was about to happen was starting to get to you.

Corroded Coffin was about to start the song that would be your cue to join them. You stood in the wings like you had during sound check, this time fussing over your outfit to ensure every piece was in place. The fact that it was Halloween combined with the tone of your new album had influenced your wardrobe choice for the evening- ripped black jeans that were more rip than jean, a strappy black bustier top with a plethora of silver buckles that decorating the surface of your bodice where the sides attached at your sternum, fishnet fingerless gloves, and your favorite part of the outfit: the biggest platform boots you’d ever owned. You remembered seeing them and falling in love immediately with the straps that decorated the entirety of the shoe, as well as the silver buckles on each strap that matched your top like a dream. Paired with your blue hair, you looked strikingly goth and nearly unrecognizable from the girl your fans remembered.

When Eddie announced you onstage, you had to take a deep breath before joining him out there. Slow inhale, slow exhale… and then you were overtaken with hot stage lights.

Out on the stage, you could really take in the size of this crowd- it was far larger than what you were used to, and when they realized who you were, they went wild. You couldn’t help but be intimidated until you felt Eddie’s hand gently grounding you as it ghosted the skin on your back.

His lips tickled your ear as he leaned in and whispered in your ear out of range from the mic, “Knock ‘em dead, sweetheart.”

You felt a flare of indignation intertwined with delight, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little evilly into the mic at this little shit of a rockstar.

He did that on purpose.

You looked at him with the biggest smirk on your face, and it matched the smug, sultry grin on his. Silently, he nodded at the audience as if to say ‘Well? They’re waiting.’

You looked over your shoulder at Jeff on the bass, nodded, and right on cue as Jeff began the first note of the song, the entire stage was flooded with scarlet light.

***

Eddie could tell you were nervous. Flirting with you probably wasn’t helping, and for all he knew, he might even be making you uncomfortable.

However…

Over the years, Eddie’s gotten more perceptive when it came to the subtleties of body language. He didn’t miss the fact that you’d been leaning into every touch he ghosted over your skin, no matter how overt or fleeting those touches might have been. He’d seen the change in your eye contact when it lingered a little longer than necessary- that shift from attentive to intrigued, even a little wanting at times.

The only question was what you wanted, and Eddie was really hoping it was him.

As he watched you take his place at the mic, standing monochrome in scarlet light, he bit his lip as he tried to hold back the salacious grin that slid across his lips; he was unsuccessful.

Eddie hit his guitar part easily as you purred the lyrics that the two of you had slaved over into your microphone.

Be more predictable

Be less political

Not too original

Keep to tradition, but stay individual

Thrusting ever so slightly with his warlock, Eddie channeled the rage and rebellion of your lyrics into every word, smirking with the next few lines- they had been one of the first additions to the song that he’d made, and you more than did them justice.

Dirty but washable

Winning but stoppable

All that I’m hearing is

You wanna make the impossible possible

Even though you’d been nervous earlier, it looked like you’d been able to shake it all off. Confidence was rolling off you like waves, strength in your comfort onstage practically seeping out of your pores. Eddie felt proud, yes, but mostly? He was turned the fuck on by it. His eyes never left you as you carefully removed the mic from its stand and leisurely strode to the edge of the stage as you sang the next lines, punctuating the last with a little shake of your head and a comically disgusted wrinkle of your nose.

Is this what you’d all prefer?

Would you like me better if I was still her?

Did she make your mouths water?

Ugh.

Just like you’d practiced, flashing white lights littered the stage right on cue when the drums opened up the chorus, and you belted those lyrics with all the anger and exasperation that he knew you’d felt when you’d written them. You were a force to be reckoned with- this was that girl he’d met when he’d walked into your apartment acting like a jackass; this was the firecracker of a woman who wasn’t afraid to tell him exactly what she thought.

I know the part I’ve played before

I know the shit that I’ve ignored

I know the girl that you adored

She’s dead, it’s time to fucking mourn

I can’t spoon-feed you anymore

Dinner’s served, it’s on the floor

I can’t spoon-feed you anymore

You dropped to a crouch, for the end of the chorus, legs bent but spread slightly, and flashing lights glinted off the metal buckles of your platform boots. Your voice ripped from your chest as you belted into the mic.

You’ll have to eat me as I am

Eddie was incredibly grateful for the crouch you’d dropped into, because it gave him a view of your ass that was so perfect, he actually groaned. Swooned, practically. Thank god you had his mic and the music was loud enough that no one noticed. He hoped. However, anyone with eyes could probably see that he was basically undressing you with his gaze right now, so he really needed to get it together unless he wanted to be on a front page tomorrow for the wrong reasons. He cringed, imagining the headline Munson Ogles Popstar Half His Age. Mid-Life Crisis? Yeah. His publicist would love that one.

You stood back up, stalking the edge of the stage as you sang the second verse. When you were about halfway through, you turned to look over your shoulder at Eddie, and it just about knocked the breath from his lungs. Your eyes- lined in black and zeroing in on him like something out of his metalhead fantasies- smoldered like embers on the edge of a cigarette as you sang the second half of the verse to him.

Longer hair and tighter clothes

Would you like me better if I didn’t oppose?

Silver platters, pretty bows…

You were at his side now, turned sideways from the crowd so you were facing him as he turned to face you in tandem. About a foot away from each other, the only thing between you was his guitar, thankfully big enough to hide the way his hard-on was quickly growing harder with every moment you looked at him with those eyes.

Your expression shifted, eyes rolling as you threw your head back in mock boredom, amping the lines up to the extreme. As you lifted your head back up, you looked at him with the brattiest fucking face Eddie had ever seen as you delivered the final line of the verse into the mic.

…Fuck.

And then you smirked, tip of your tongue peeking out of your lips and you winked at him.

Fucking. Winked.

Ohhhhhh, you were doing this on purpose. You had to be.

And Eddie couldn’t do shit about it, because you were in the middle of a performance, on stage, jumping around in platform boots and screaming the chorus into your mic like fucking banshee. So he channeled every ounce of sexual frustration into shredding the fuck out of his guitar and staring you down, salivating at the way you blazed on that stage like a witch at the stake. Then, about halfway through that chorus, at the edge of the stage and working the crowd for all they could give you, Eddie just about had a heart attack.

Because you dropped to your fucking knees.

You let the music take control of you, screaming ‘I can’t spoon-feed you anymore’ into the mic, you dropped down to one knee followed by the other as you delivered the final lines before Eddie’s solo.

You’ll have to eat me as I am

You held your last note long and loud, widening your knees and leaning into a backbend that didn’t stop until your upper back touched the stage behind you. Eddie was amazed that he was even able to remember his part when you were in front of him doing that. Jesus Christ.

Eddie continued to play, and he saw you crane your neck just in time to make eye contact with him as you delivered the next line of the song. You brought the mic to your lips, your knees still spread open and your spine deliciously arched.

Choke on it!

God…you were gonna kill him.

You pushed yourself back into a kneeling position, facing the audience. As Eddie’s guitar solo became more complex, and his playing more impressive, your jaw dropped as you looked to the audience and fanned yourself, as if you were all sharing a joint reaction of ‘wow, are you guys hearing this too?!’. Eyes crinkling from your smile, you brought the mic to your mouth again.

Choke on it!

Once you were back on your feet, you stood at ease in the center of the stage as you waited out Eddie’s solo. When he finished, you stared down the crowd as you delivered the last chorus. At this point, Eddie could see some of the spectators mouthing the words along with you, and his chest swelled with pride at your ability to win over a crowd that hadn’t even been expecting you on stage. Hell, knowing his fans, most of them were probably older than you by several years, and yet here they were singing your song.

When you drew your first breath after the final note, the crowd went wild. He expected you to be staring at them, soaking up the energy of a satisfied throng of fans, but no- immediately, your eyes were on him, an ear-to-ear smile stretching across your face. You had just absolutely killed your first song performed in two years, and you wanted to share your joy with him before you shared it with anyone else.

Eddie couldn’t help but mirror your smile- it was the least he could do, after the way you just made his heart swell to triple its usual size. He took a few steps over to where Jeff stood with his bass, nodding to the mic in a silent question, to which Jeff gladly stepped aside.

“If this is what happens when you take a two-year hiatus,” Eddie said slyly into the mic, “then maybe you should do it more often, rockstar.”

The crowd cheered again, and you looked caught off guard by his calling you rockstar instead of popstar. To Eddie, it made perfect sense- tonight, there was nothing pop about you. You were rock & roll incarnate, his equal in every single way. You took a few steps back until you and he were the same distance from the edge of the stage, and as long as he was speaking, your eyes never left him.

“So I’ve been working with this absolute badass on an album- well no, I’m giving myself way too much credit, she wrote an album, I plucked a few guitar strings, yada yada yada-” You giggled as Eddie reminded the crowd of your name, loud and clear, so they knew who to look up on Spotify later. “-anyway, her album drops in a week, that last song you heard was called…”

Eddie looked at you with expectant eyes and a devilish smile. He wanted to hear you say it. Just for fun. He enjoyed being a little shit.

You smirked into your mic. “Eat Me.”

The crowd cheered again, all it took was hearing you say two little words. Eddie knew the feeling.

“We’ve got one more before our lovely guest has to leave the stage, and this one is my personal favorite off the album.” Eddie started warming up with a couple chords from the song before adding, “This is Freak.”

You had replaced the mic into its stand at center stage, which was where Eddie headed to meet you. During sound check, you had asked him if he would need his own mic for this one, but Eddie- selfishly- had said it was no problem, and he didn’t mind sharing. That was a drastic understatement though, since he would happily leap at any excuse to have his lips close to yours in any capacity at all.

You smiled at him, and you were doing that thing again- that thing where you looked at him like you were giving him a dare. That thing where you touched the tip of your tongue to your upper lip.

Eddie wanted to bite that lip.

Instead, he smoldered down at you as he began the opening chords to Freak.

***

You may not have been sure about Eddie’s feelings before tonight, but you were now.

He wanted you. Bad. So bad, you felt high off the lust that was rolling off the man beside you.

You could tell by the way he was looking at you that he wanted to do so many things to you here and now, but due to the giant crowd before you that wasn’t an option. The power trip of knowing that every move you made was driving him crazy and he couldn’t do shit about it made you feel bratty as fuck, and you channeled every ounce of that into each word of your next song.

Pinch me, singe me, inch me to the edge

Your eyes fluttered shut as you let the sultry lyrics take over, arms bending as you brought them up to dance above your head as you stretched your neck back. Your pose mimicked the way you might have stretched across a bed, arching your back slightly in a way that you knew would make Eddie’s mind wander to all the right places.

Prod me, laud me, ungodly but heaven-sent

As the tempo picked up for the bridge, your lips brushed the mic and you bounced slightly to the beat. Looking up at Eddie, you felt your chest tighten when you saw how blown his pupils were as they zeroed in on you. There was nothing silly or flirty in his gaze now- this was lust, want, need… it was predatory in a way that made you shiver.

Get your tickets to the freak show, baby

Step right up to watch the freak go crazy.

Eddie’s guitar launched into the chorus with you, both of your mouths breaking your little standoff by smiling because you couldn’t help yourselves- performing together, this close, singing lyrics that the two of you connected with- you were having so much fun.

Am what I am and what I am is a piece of meat

Take a bite just to watch me bleed

Freak

Say what you want and what you want is behind your teeth

Ain’t gotta spell it out for me

Freak

Now Eddie’s lips were the ones on the mic, his throaty voice tearing through the air in a way that made you stop short from its power alone. He sang the first two lines on his own-

Bait me, you can cage me

Even plate me, I don’t care

You joined him for the bridge on one side of the mic while his mouth remained in place at the other, and his voice dropped down to his chest to create a sound that was more growl than song. He sounded demonic, feral- damn, you wanted to jump his bones right now.

Get your tickets to the freak show, baby

Step right up to watch the freaks go crazy

As you both sang the chorus together this time, your eye contact across the microphone was charged with feelings reflected as though you were looking in a mirror. Anticipation for what would happen after this show was building with every lyric, and as he growled his lines into the mic you wondered what the headline would be if you stuck your tongue down his throat right now.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t how you wanted to start this next leg of your career- at least publicly. Different time, different place. Like, say, in about thirty minutes. In your dressing room. Against a wall, preferably.

When you finished the chorus, Eddie shredded through his guitar solo like a bat out of hell, even improvised a scream into the mic that made your jaw drop yet again. Upon hearing it, you couldn’t help but let out a surprised laugh, hopping up and down in your platform boots and headbanging along with him. After he’d finished, you took hold of the mic stand with both hands and began chanting repeating lines that would take you through to the next chorus before ending the song.

Came from the trauma, stayed for the drama

You sang the line twice before Eddie joined you for the third and fourth repetition, that deep, ripping croon tearing its way through his throat and out of his plush pink lips less than an inch from yours. You wanted to turn your head and look at him so badly, but you were so close that you’d be locking lips if you did.

As you both sang the final chorus, you pulled back just enough for your gazes to meet; you were rewarded with lust blown umber eyes, sweat-soaked curls framing a face as timeless as music itself, and a grin that sparked pure joy in your very soul.

If this guy can fuck, you might just fall for him.

Eddie prompted the audience to cheer for you one more time after the song was over, shooting you a smile as he brought you in for a friendly hug. He was in front of thousands; you knew his hands would remain in strictly G-rated areas (unfortunately), but he did whisper in your ear out of range from the mic.

“Wait for me in your dressing room.”

Bingo.

You thought about following his lead- waiting patiently in your dressing room for him to finish up his show then have his way with you- but you had a better idea. You tilted your head up quickly to bring your lips up to his ear, your clear lip gloss catching its shell.

“I’m gonna keep watching you in the wings- you can do whatever you want after that.”

Your eyes met as you pulled away, and you let yourself revel for a moment at the way he looked at you- like he wanted to, well…eat you. Eyes so dark they were almost black under the stage lights, he shook his head slightly in disbelief. Again, you felt that familiar rush of adrenaline from driving him crazy when he couldn’t do a fucking thing about it; you were beginning to think you might be addicted.

As Corroded Coffin finished their set, you stayed offstage and did exactly what you said you would- you watched Eddie every second. You were like a sponge soaking up every flip of his hair, every deft movement of his fingers as they flew across the frets of his guitar. Every once in a while, his eyes would flick to where you stood, checking to see if you were still there, which of course you were. Each time he saw you, you watched as he shook his head again, or rolled his eyes, or- in one case which almost resulted in you melting into a puddle on the floor- maintaining eye contact as he belted out lyrics to songs he wrote, with a gaze so smoldering it felt as if there were no one in the whole arena but the two of you. With every minute, every note, every song- you felt him spinning a web around you like a spider trapping its prey, and you willingly anticipated the moment he would finally storm off the stage and drink you dry.

And that’s exactly what he did.

The last song ended, and Eddie wasted no time in ripping his guitar from his torso, handing it to a roadie without a second glance and grabbing you by the hand. You didn’t protest as he pulled you into a corner backstage away from any prying eyes. Before you could think a coherent thought besides Wow, I’m wet, Eddie took both your wrists in his strong, ring-dappled hands and slammed them above your head against the wall. His eyes, black with lust and wolfishly hungry, bored into yours as he used the last ounce of restraint to hold himself back long enough to ask the vital question, “Tell me, you want this?”

He bit the words out; growled them into your face as your eyes widened, desire painting your expression a gorgeous shade of pathetic as you nodded desperately. A deep groan sounded from his chest as Eddie pressed his pelvis against yours, and you gasped at how hard he was. “Words, sweetheart, I need you to say it.”

That familiar flare of indignation in your chest mingled with the flames in your core that burned for all he had to give you. Your eyes shifted, screaming rebellion that harmonized with the submission that your body so desperately craved. The corner of your mouth quirked up in a mocking half-smile. “Fuck yes, I want it, what do you think I was bouncing around out there for-”

His lips murmured a “Fucking Christ,” as he cut your sentence short, smashing his needy mouth against your burgeoning smirk. His arms crumbled as he finally felt the release of his skin on yours, caging you in as his forearms collapsed against the wall, hands still closed around your wrists. His biceps flexed, framing your faces as he all but devoured you in a kiss that was so wanting, so possessive- it claimed you. It ruined all kisses that came before it and would ever follow it.

He was ruining you, and you committed the way his whole body covered yours and made you feel both safe and coveted to memory, imprinting it on your mind knowing that you would probably never feel this wanted ever again.

Then, just as soon as he was on you, his touch lifted away.

A needy whine escaped your lips before you could hold it back. Eddie slotted his tattooed hand into the space where your neck met your jawline, thumb caressing your skin as he smiled sweetly down at you- but his eyes were anything but sweet.

“I gotta go back out for the encore. Go take these off-” you melted into his touch as his other hand played with the buckles at the front of your top. His hand at your neck crept back, taking your chin between his thumb and the middle knuckles of his forefinger as if he were scolding a child.

“-and wait in your dressing room.”

Your eyelids were heavy, and you smirked as you opened your mouth to argue-

“And don’t fucking argue with me.”

You bit the reply into your bottom lip- you could save the brattiness for later. Just as Eddie had begun to pull away, his eyes dropped to your teeth on your lip and in half a second he was on you again.

He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, running his tongue along the soft skin before biting down firm enough to set off your mental alarms yet soft enough that you didn’t feel any pain from it. He pulled away once more, letting your lip go with a little pop.

“Been wanting to do that all night.” Eddie said, his shit-eating grin back in full force as he winked at you and jogged back to the stage. You stayed put for a second, smiling like an idiot as you heard the roar of the crowd, imagining what Eddie must look like while he returned to the stage with lips pink and swollen from his attempt at eating you alive. No one would know why he looked out of breath and a little extra happy… but you would.

You’d never walked as fast in your life as you did in that moment, making a beeline for your dressing room, fingers already beginning to work on the buckles at your sternum.

***

When Eddie opened the door to your dressing room about ten minutes later, the gigantic grin on his face fell instantly when he saw you lounging on the couch in the same clothes you’d been wearing during sound check, sans your oversized skull sweatshirt. Your black shorts and knit tank top still showed plenty of skin, but he had explicitly told you to take off your clothes and wait for him. You were still in the mood to brat out, apparently.

You looked up at him from your phone, smiling sweetly with challenging eyes. “Hi.”

Eddie closed the door behind him, leaning against it as it shut. “Hi.” he mimicked, crossing his inked forearms over his chest. He stared at you silently, expectantly.

You raised an eyebrow, coyly pretending not to know what he was being so pissy about. “What?”

Eddie pushed off the door, walking towards you at a pace that was agonizingly slow. “You know what.”

You huffed haughtily, looking back at your phone and pretending to be more interested in your screen than the man who’d had you panting up against a wall ten minutes ago. “Well that’s a little presumptuous of you, I’m not a mind reader.”

It didn’t take Eddie long to cross the expanse of your tiny dressing room, deftly sliding the phone from your hands and placing it on a low table beside the couch. “Should’ve known you weren’t listening earlier,” Eddie tsked and shook his head in disappointment. “I know you were a little distracted back there, sweetheart, but when I told you to take your clothes off, I meant it.”

You sighed as Eddie stared down at you from where he stood, towering over you as you laid back against the couch cushions. His gaze devoured you piece by piece as it roved over your wide eyes, glossy lips- your shoulders still shining from sweat after giving your all to the stage, your chest as it rose and fell with your quickening breath.

“Well,” you purred, like a cat who knew they were the center of attention and didn’t mind it in the slightest. “You didn’t say not to put on clothes after I took the other ones off…”

As you spoke he leaned forward, placing a knee on the couch between your legs so that your heat was only inches from his thigh. His hands splayed across your rib cage, admiring the stark contrast between his ink-covered hands and your soft, cream-colored shirt. It was thin enough to see… wait, were you-?

Eddie smirked, a breathy laugh escaping through his nose as he pulled the fabric taut, confirming his suspicions that yep, you weren’t wearing a bra.

Oblivious to Eddie’s train of thought, you continued, “...if you wanted me to just wait here for you naked then you should’ve been more specif-”

Rrrrriiiiipp!

Your jaw dropped, cold air hitting your bare breasts without warning as Eddie tore your shirt open. You squealed, your shocked voice jumping up several octaves. “Eddie!” but your eyes told a different story. You were pissed, but the anger you felt was nothing compared to how fucking hot he looked after doing something as dominant and unexpected as ripping your fucking clothes off.

He raised his eyebrows, giving you a moment to push him away in case he had gone too far- but you didn’t. Instead, you narrowed your eyes up at him and crossed your arms over your bare chest, pressing your cleavage together the way you knew would drive him nuts. “That was fucking Gucci!” you pouted.

Eddie laughed, taking your crossed arms and shoving them up above your head over the arm of the couch as he mockingly imitated your high-pitched “‘That was fucking Gucci!’” he lowered himself over you, bringing his face to the hollow of your neck, and you heard him inhale the scent of you from your collarbone to your ear. He wrapped his lips around the underside of your ear and sucked, then bit, savoring your little moan at the sensation. His mouth met your ear as he growled, “Wouldn’t have happened if you’d just done as you were told, instead of being a little fucking brat.”

Eddie pulled back, sitting up on his knee that was still slotted between your legs as he cupped his hands around your naked breasts. He kneaded them, played with you like he was testing out a brand new toy. He addressed you without looking up into your eyes as he continued to paw at your chest. “You gonna be a good girl now and do what I tell you to?”

You raised your eyebrows, amused that he expected your submission so quickly. Smugly, you looked up at him through narrowed eyes, placing your hands behind your head like a pillow and sighed petulantly.

“Fucking bite me.”

His eyes snapped up at you, thick with predatory disbelief at your cheek even when he had you half naked beneath you. He’d been challenged before, sure- but at this point, when he had his woman pinned down and moaning under him, he was usually the undisputed decision-maker during sex. The smile that bloomed across his lips was devilish, almost like there was a beast within him that had been kept safely under lock and key- until you’d said that.

Eddie was on you, grabbing one breast and enveloping the nipple in a harsh suck of his lips, biting down on the little nub hard. You gasped, the sound a lewd, sharp moan that brought out a laugh in him so nefarious it gave you chills. He looked up at you with eyes alight with amusement and feral need that shook you to your core.

“Oh, baby-” he laughed, crawling up until his face hovered over yours. “-I’m gonna have some fucking fun with you.”

Taking your face in his hands, Eddie Munson kissed you like it was what he had been put on God’s green earth to do. His lips moved against yours with a beautiful mix of urgency and devotion, like you could just tell that right here, right now, there was nothing else he cared about except making sure you knew exactly how badly he wanted- needed- to make you his. He slowly lowered the rest of his body until his pelvis was flat against yours, grinding into your clothed heat and exploiting the chink in your brat armor that was the his fucking size.

You bucked your hips up into him, craving friction as you moaned into his mouth. Eddie chuckled, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “What’s the matter baby, you need something?”

You pouted against him, moving a hand to reach between the two of you and palm him through his jeans, but he knocked your hand out of the way, continuing to dry hump you to insanity. You whined as he bit your pouting lip, sucking it into his mouth before his tongue slipped into yours. It explored you, tasting you as your tongue happily let him in. You felt his hand creep down your torso, giving your abused, bitten tit a little squeeze before traveling further down to the button of your shorts.

He undid the button with ease before you registered that he was taking off your clothes after he had denied you access to do the same to him. “Hey,” you panted, reaching for him, “you first, that’s not fair. I’m nearly naked and you haven’t even taken off your shirt.”

Eddie chuckled, tilting his head to the side as he feigned confusion. “Fair?” he asked, “Since when did you want to play fair?” He reached back down to your shorts, button already undone, and gently pulled down the zipper. “You were the one out there- as you said- ‘bouncing around’-” His hands raked up your thighs until they reached the hem of your shorts and slowly tugged them down as you lifted your hips slightly so he could remove them smoothly. Eddie smirked; NOW she does what I want her to do. “-knowing full well I couldn’t do a damn thing about it… and that fucking wink-” His eyes rolled back in his head just imagining it. He groaned as he pulled your shorts from your feet and discarded them on the floor. “-what the fuck was that, huh? Trying to get a rise out of me, baby?”

You giggled, bubbly laughter floating into a breathy sigh as Eddie’s finger traced the line of your slit through your panties. “Hmmmmm, like it when you call me baby.” you hummed.

He raised an eyebrow, “Oh you do?” His finger traveled up over the fabric, and he chuckled when you bucked up into his touch as the pad of his finger passed over your clit. That finger slipped under the elastic waistband of your panties, pulling it upwards off your skin as far as it could stretch. “You’re entirely too happy right now,” he stated, matter-of-factly. He let go of the elastic, making you jump with a breathy whimper as it hit your skin with a soft sting. “I’m switching back to sweetheart.”

You whined and he laughed as he continued to play with the elastic on your panties. He stared at them, entranced, before a wolfish grin took up residence on his face. “You like these?” he asked, and you knew where this was going right away.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. “How kind of you to ask this time.”

The grin grew, and he took the crotch of your panties into his fist, grabbing the fabric above it with his other hand to do the same. You ground your hips against his knuckles as they brushed your pussy, already soaked and eager for any friction you could get. “Yeah, you know what,” he voiced, as if he were simply thinking out loud. “I don’t really care if you like them or not.”

And with that, another article of clothing was ripped to shreds by Eddie Munson and his stupid, tattooed, ring-covered, sexy-as-fuck hands.

This time you couldn’t even be offended; you were just fucking feral at this point. While he was still distracted by your panties, you quickly shoved yourself up to a kneeling position, startling him enough that he moaned into the fervent kiss that crashed into his mouth. The two of you knelt on the couch cushions, hands grabbing at fabric desperately in a quest to make your skin connect at every square inch you had. Eddie allowed you to pull his shirt over his head, and the shallow breath you had left was instantly knocked from your lungs when you took in the ink that decorated his torso. Some tattoos were old and faded almost blue, while others looked newer- song lyrics, mythical creatures, hellish images adorned his skin like a tapestry that belonged in a museum- but it was here, under your hands. All for you. You couldn’t hold yourself back from bending down a little lower, sliding your tongue up his sternum over the masterpieces scarred into his skin and licking a long, broad stripe from his chest until you reached the tip of his chin. You felt him shiver, arms tightening around you after shoving the remains of your tank top over your shoulders. You started to push him back, planning to open his pants and show him what else you could do with your tongue- but Eddie wasn’t about to let you be on top after the way you’d been acting all night.

“Mm-mm, nope.” he mumbled, stepping off the couch.

“I’m just trying to suck your cock, baby. Please?” You looked up at him with your best puppy-dog eyes, widening your legs as you knelt on the couch facing him, squishing your boobs together in that way that usually got you exactly what you wanted. For some reason, Eddie was immune.

He placed his hand along your neck, thumb and forefinger squeezing just enough for him to feel your pulse. The way your eyes widened, looking up at him the same way you had when he’d shoved you up against a wall earlier- it brought a satisfied hum out of Eddie, and he loved the way he could feel your heartbeat quicken slightly. There was no hiding what you felt when his hand was wrapped around your throat.

“You like calling me baby, sweetheart?”

You gulped. He felt it, of course, and he had to hold back a laugh- you looked so cute like this. Made him want to break you just to see what you’d be like when he picked up the pieces.

Your eyes were blown wide, like a hunted fox with nowhere to run. “Is that okay? Can I call you baby?”

His face crumpled- god, you were adorable. Eddie smiled sympathetically, “Oh you can call me whatever you want, sweetheart-” His thumb moved up to your bottom lip, stroking gently before working it into your mouth; he groaned, head thrown back when he felt your soft, wet tongue swirl around his digit and coat it with your spit.

“-don’t care what you’re calling me as long as you know I own your ass tonight.”

And then you moaned- oh, you fucking moaned his name around his finger in your mouth, and his cock twitched at the way it sounded. He wanted to record that, play it on loop, put it in a fucking song, hell- anything for him to be able to listen to it again and again and again. He wanted everyone to hear it, to know it was his name on your fucking tongue.

His thumb ripped from your mouth, replaced by his middle and ring finger, delving surprisingly deep into your mouth as you gagged around them. Your tongue quickly resumed its previous motions, lapping at his thick fingers and sliding over, under, around, between them. You reveled in the taste of metal as you tongued his silver rings. You gasped when he removed his fingers before, without warning, he slid them into your weeping pussy.

Your expression was beautifully obscene, eyes wide with surprise while your mouth- glistening with spit from his fingers leaving in a rush- fallen open in a silent scream. Eddie thrust his fingers up and into you repeatedly, forcing you open wider and wider with the rapid motion.

“Actually, I changed my mind,” Eddie grit into your ear, “I don’t wanna hear anything but my goddamn name leave that pretty ‘lil mouth until I’m done with you, aright?”

You were moaning, but evidently that was still not enough to deter you from being your snarky self. “Well that’s unrealistic, I’ll probably say more than just tha- ah! Oh fuck-!”

Eddie’s pace was relentless, fingers ripping through you with a vengeance as he muttered “Bratty little slut-” spearing you over and over as you sped toward the white-hot precipice that wasn’t quite release, but certainly what Eddie intended to pull out of you.

You moaned as what felt like a dam within you suddenly gave way, flooding your inner thighs, Eddie’s hand, and the couch beneath you. Eddie smiled wide, the muscles in his arm screaming pointlessly- he wasn’t going to stop until you’d given him every last drop there was to give.

“-yeah, not so bratty when you’re squirting all over my hand, are you baby? What, are you trying to say something? Spit it out, popstar-”

The noises tumbling from your lips were anything but coherent, Eddie knew that. He just kept grinning like a kid in a candy store as you babbled sounds that might have been his name, might have been a prayer, might have just been yes, yes, yes, Eddie, god yes!

Whatever it was, it was music to his ears.

Eddie looped his arms under your knees, pulling you into a sitting position with your legs wide open. Dropping to his knees, he stared at your spread pussy, glistening with the slick he’d just wrestled from you. His hands, wet with all you’d given him, grasped your thighs firmly but gently as he looked up into your eyes. It might have been the post-orgasmic haze you were experiencing, but for a second, Eddie looked at you with nothing in his eyes but care and admiration. His gaze shone like sunlight as he looked up at you, your stomach creasing from the crunch position he'd placed you in, your breasts rising and falling with each breath- the way he stared at you made you feel like an angel.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful.” he whispered, hands squeezing your thighs affectionately. Before you could even react, his tongue was on you, lapping away at your soaked pussy. You mewled, head thrown back and spine arching as unraveled you from the inside out. He traced endless intricate shapes over your clit, your lips, your hole- thoughts flew from your brain as you let his mouth drive you fucking wild. His ministrations slowed at one point, causing you to open your eyes- you couldn’t even remember when you’d closed them- and look up at Eddie.

Upon looking up, you were blessed with the sight of Eddie Munson, close-cut beard soaked with your slick, shirtless, pantsless, and currently pulling off his black boxers to reveal a cock that made you salivate on sight.

You let your brattiness fly out the window- there would be time for more of it later, but right now you needed that cock in one of your holes and you didn’t quite care which one.

Eddie stroked himself leisurely, eyes boring down into yours the whole time. “Tell me what you want, babygirl.”

You spread your legs open wider for him. “Please.” you whined.

Eddie shook his head, disappointed, sinking to his knees again. “See, this is what I knew would happen,” he murmured, sliding a finger around your clit at a torturously slow pace. “I can’t believe you got fucked stupid already and I didn’t even have to use my cock, those were just my fingers, baby.” From the slick sounds you heard from below your line of sight, you knew that he was jerking himself off as he played with your pussy. It was enough to pull a desperate moan from your throat. He licked one flat, wet stripe from your opening to your clit before murmuring against you, “Can’t even use your words and tell me what you want, sweet girl’s been fucked too dumb to make decisions, is that right?”

You found yourself nodding ‘yes’, the dirty words flying out of his mouth in rapid succession throwing your brain into overdrive. He was right; you barely had the brain capacity to think right now, much less match his attitude with snark. All you could do was stare up at him with wide eyes, waiting for whatever he planned on doing next.

Eddie clicked his tongue, tilting his head as he looked at you pityingly. “That’s right, don’t worry baby I’ll just make all the decisions now, okay?” He rose, leaning over you as he placed a knee to your side and stroked himself, lining up his fully hard cock at your entrance. Your heartbeat quickened, excitement and anticipation building now that you knew his cock would be inside you soon. You mewled as his tip stroked your slit, up and down and up and down again… and stopping at your hole, hovering outside you.

You looked up at him desperately, only to breathe in sharply upon seeing his devilish grin paired with coal-black lust-blown eyes.

“Beg for it.”

You sighed so heavy it became a sob, frustrated and scrunching up your face like you were ready to throw a tantrum.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you whined.

“There she is.” he murmured.

If looks could kill, your glare would have sent Eddie Munson to his deathbed. He matched it with a condescending smile that spoke volumes of the power trip he was on right now. Leaning in slightly closer, he repeated himself. “Beg, sweetheart.”

You narrowed your eyes. “No.”

Eddie shrugged, backing up just enough for his cock to leave your skin- you knew it was over from there.

“Wait!” you cried, eyebrows drawing together desperately under his cocksure gaze. Christ you didn’t want to beg, but you might not have a choice. Eddie waited patiently, stroking his cock absentmindedly as he watched you squirm below him.

You looked up at him, giving him your best ‘fuck me’ eyes. “Please fuck me Eddie.” Your voice was honey sweet, soft and submissive.

Eddie crouched down, sticking a finger in his mouth before he used it to play with your pussy, stroking circles around your clit and pumping it slowly in and out of you. “Aww, baby…” he crooned before narrowing his eyes. “-we both know you can do better than that.”

You groaned, back arching as your hands fisted frustratingly into the cushions. “Eddie, pleaaasse-”

“Try harder, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Eddie you fucking prick, just fucking fuck me, please, I need your cock-”

Eddie smiled- that was good enough for him. “‘Atta girl.” he groaned deeply as he pushed his cock into your waiting hole, your thankful moan mingling with his.

His dick was perfect, filling you deliciously and long enough to just hit that spot beneath your clit that made your nerves go berserk. You didn’t realize how loud your moaning was until Eddie shut you up by covering your mouth with his own, swallowing down every sound you made and repaying you with noises of his own.

“God, baby- so fuckin’ tight-”

You moaned, squeezing him as his cock speared you again and again. You were so built up between your squirting earlier and Eddie’s talented tongue- you were already getting close.

As if he could read your mind, Eddie grunted out as he continued thrusting into you, “I’m nearly there already, baby, you gonna cum with me?”

You whined, nodding ‘yes’ as he pacified your mewling with his thumb. You lapped at it lewdly, covering him with a thick layer of your spit before releasing it with a pop. Eddie brought it down to your clit, working gentle circles around your bundle of nerves as his thrusting picked up the pace. You squirmed under him, chasing your release as you listened to the filth that poured from his mouth while he fucked the living shit out of you.

“Jesus, fuck, so tight- my sweet girl, gonna fucking ruin you. Gonna make you come undone on my cock, just a fucking mess, gonna cum so hard on my cock-”

That last thing he said seemed to jerk him back into reality- his eyes grew wide, snapped out of his high as he looked down at you. “Shit, I don’t have a condom…baby, I’m so sorry, shit, where should I-”

You reached down, raking your nails softly over his hips. “I’m on birth control.” you said, smiling calmly. You kicked yourself for being so eager; normally you would still insist on a condom even with your implant, but Eddie just did something to you. “You haven’t been fucking any random groupies, have you?”

Eddie huffed, his laughter strained by his fast-approaching orgasm. “You’re the first in a while, angel. Last I checked I was clean, but I can still pull out if you-”

“Inside.” you whispered, grasping his ass and pulling him deeper into you. “I trust you, Eddie, I want you to fill me.”

His movements stuttered, big brown eyes wide and watching you like you were a miracle unfolding underneath him. He was still for half a second before his thumb resumed its movements over your clit as he thrusted faster, harder than before.

“Oh fuck, you want me to fill you baby? You want my fucking cum?”

His cock speared into you as deep as it could go, Eddie’s attention to your clit driving you over the edge with relentless speed. “Yes, I want it Eddie, fuck, I’m gonna-”

“Fucking take it baby, cum on that cock.”

Eddie groaned as you clamped down on him, his seed spilling inside of you while your pussy fluttered around him. You arched your back until your face was pressed into the cushions behind you, muffling your whimpering voice as you moaned his name.

A few moments passed, the air thick with the sound of heavy breathing and the smell of sex, before Eddie slowly pulled out of your wet heat. You laid there for a moment before you felt Eddie clean his sticky spend from your thighs and ass using a tissue.

“Normally,” he said gently, “I would use a warm washcloth to do this, but we have limited options.”

You sat up as he finished, smiling up at him playfully. “That sounds nice,” you said, “maybe I shouldn’t have listened to you earlier, made you wait until you couldn’t take it anymore and just whisked me off to your place.”

Eddie sat down beside you, pulling you into his lap. He looked up at you with nothing but content sweetness in his eyes, any trace of the feral dominance from earlier gone for now. “I mean, we can still do that.”

You beamed, “Really?”

Eddie scoffed, tugging you closer. “What do you mean, ‘really’? You think I need to be desperately horny to want you in my bed?”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the mention of his bed. “I don’t know… I guess I didn’t know if you wanted this to just be a one time thing, or…” You trailed off, unsure of what Eddie’s expectations had been for what happened after.

Eddie’s eyebrows drew together, confused. “Sweetheart,” he said, his finger tracing circles on your thigh affectionately. “We can hash out details whenever you’re comfortable… but tonight? I would count myself a very lucky man if you came home with me tonight.” He touched his forehead to yours, placing a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose. “Okay?” he asked.

You looked down, suddenly shy upon hearing his honey-sweet words. You gave him a quick peck on the lips before looking him in his big brown eyes. “Okay.” you whispered.

Your eyes stayed connected, melting you until your lips met his again, kissing him sweetly as his hands worked their way to your ass, squeezing as he sighed into your kiss.

“Alright,” he grunted, playfully slapping your thigh as a signal to stand up. “Let’s get you dressed.”

You giggled. “In what? You ripped up all my clothes!” you held up the shredded panties, shaking your head in disbelief.

Eddie shrugged, stepping into his boxers. “I didn’t rip up all of them, don’t be so dramatic.” He picked up your shorts, tossing them to you. “Just go commando with the shorts and wear your sweatshirt, no one will know.”

You sighed, stepping over your torn Gucci tank top and retrieving your bra from where it sat neatly folded in a chair. Eddie looked over his shoulder at you as you began to put it on and gasped.

“You did have a bra!”

You smirked, reaching behind your back for the clasp. “Yeah… I wanted to see your face when I wasn’t wearing one.”

Eddie shook his head, smiling like an idiot as he buckled his jeans. “Unbelievable.” he chided, “Was it worth it?”

You tugged your sweatshirt over the bra, taking a few steps in Eddie’s direction until you were close enough to snake your hand around to the back of his neck and pull him down for one more kiss. When you pulled away, Eddie looked down at you entranced, blinking rapidly as if emerging from a dream. He could only describe the feeling in his chest as complete and utter euphoria.

You grinned up at him, eyes alight with adrenaline that still lingered from your performance onstage and absolute infatuation with the man before you.

“So worth it.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #rockstar!eddie munson #older!eddie munson #popstar!reader #inspired by demi lovato's album holy fvck #brat!reader #dom!eddie munson #rip-quizilla

2K notes · View notes

mooshywrites · 3 months

Text

~Masterlist~

Fanfic Requests ~ OPEN

Art Commissions ~ Closed

This is not a minor friendly page. 18+ only. On extended hiatus :)

Baldur’s Gate

My Series -

~Fem!Reader x Halsin~ Echoes of Love and Loss ~ complete

~Fem!Reader x Ascended Astarion~ Bloodied Stars ~ ongoing

Astarion -

~Gn!Reader x Astarion~ Something Borrowed, Something New - Fluff- Both you and Astarion have spent many months searching for something to allow him to walk in the sun again. However, you’ve had absolutely no luck. Who knew that the solution to your problems would come from just a little teasing

~Fem!Reader x Astarion~ Making It Our Own - Smut/NSFW - Astarion has made the incredible decision to settle down, buying a shop to run a fabric business. The place is definitely a fixer upper, but that doesn’t seem to be the Vampire’s biggest problem. It doesn’t quite feel like his own and he knows exactly how to fix that

~Gn!Reader x Sub!Astarion~ Unwind - Smut/NSFW - Astarion has been stressed lately, his embroidery business completely taking off. Between orders and customers, he’s sure his entire neck is full of knots. Luckily, you have something to help him unwind

Gale -

~Fem!Reader x Gale ~ Mage Hand - Smut/NSFW - Gale has been trying out a few new spells now that the world isn’t, well… ending. Ones that he didn’t deem useful in the chaos of his adventure. The latest one he’s learned intrigues you more than him. Doesn’t everyone need a helping hand?

Halsin -

~Fem!Reader x Halsin~ Bedtime Stories ~ Smut/NSFW - Halsin has ran himself ragged with bedtime stories, his charges demanding to hear a tale or two every night. He comes to you for help, hoping you have a few stories to spare. Unfortunately, this simple ask is going to leave the two of you with very little sleep tonight.

~ Fem!Reader x Halsin~ Rutting season ~ Smut/NSFW - After learning as much as you can about your Druid, surely there’s nothing about him you dont know about. Or could he be hiding a kink that you’re just dying to try?

Polyamorous! pairings -

~Gn!Reader x Astarion x Halsin ~ I’ll love you forever ~ Fluff/Angst - Being in a relationship with your pale elf and bear is easy. Coming to terms with how short your human lifespan is compared to yours? Definitely much harder.

~FemOmega!Reader x Beta!Astarion x Alpha!Halsin ~ Cold Relief ~ Smut/NSFW - Your heat is coming, and it’s coming on fast. Much too fast to hide it from your companions

Headcannons -

~ You fall into their laps accidentally

~ Giving and receiving flowers from them

~ Jealousy

~ Teasing them

~ Are we married now?

~ The Gentle Drow

~ Can we have a baby?

~ Can I touch your ears?

~ Tiefling and their Pale Elf

~ Picnic

~ Wedding Day

~ Being a Dad

~ How they like to kiss

~ What makes them blush

~ How they take care of you when you’re sick

~ How to tell they’re falling for you

Blurbs -

~ Bubbles and Ducks - After a long day, every throuple needs a way to relax

~ Ever the Gentleman - Wyll wont get to be the most charming one. Not with you around

~ Serenade - Baldur’s Gate men and their silver tongued bard

~ Revivify - Halsin wont lose you. Not today

~ Secret Turn Ons - What makes the Baldurs Gate men squirm?

~ Sensitivity - Everyone’s got a soft spot

~ Falling asleep on their laps - Naps can sneak up on even the strongest of heroes

563 notes · View notes

just-a-hooman64 · 8 months

Text

I ADORE environmental

details/storytelling

In the entrance of the pizza plex of RUIN, You can tell so many details about what type of people explored the pizzaplex before Cassie. To me at least, they truly feel like teenagers who may or may not spent time in the in-canon FNAF fandom (or that they're just realistically silly goobers)

This all comes from the graffiti of course, and the little marks people left around

"I Spent the night here and lived!!"

To me, this tells me that they are aware of the same "Five Nights at Freddy's = dying" correlation as we are (Thanks to Help Wanted making fnaf games canon in the fnaf universe). You cannot tell me that you wouldn't see this in real life if a fnaf attraction closed down.

"Tag Yourself"

A silly tag yourself chart. I can't tell what all the corners say, but I can read "Wizard" At the top most and "Filled with terror" on the right. The left hand side also says "Filled with" but the Vanny graffiti blocks it out. If someone knows what it says I'd love to know!

"Me"

The question is, does this have any significance for did a (maybe) Monty fan climb all the way up and spray paint the two letters green in dedication to their favourite animatronic

"do NOT eat the CHOWDA"

A reference to the code name for the RUIN Dlc. I wonder what was in the chowda...

"He was our superstar <3"

There are various instances which let us know that Freddy Fazbear is truly a beloved person in universe. The people adored him, and even after the plex closed down, the people sneaking in show their love and appreciation to the big bear <3

"they're still here"

Seems like someone encountered the animatronics and managed to live to tell the tale in yellow spray paint. Wonder how this person is doing.

"I miss fizzy faz :("

Apparently the pizzaplex is the only place where fizzy faz was sold. That or the company who made it broke ties with fazco and its out of production.

And finally

"Forever &Ever, Love Freddy"

It seems that those within the fazbear universe are just as interested in this phrase as many of us are. These words are found basically all over the pizzaplex, however I just have screenshots from the enterance. Seems like others had found their way into Bonnie's Green room and discovered the poster.

While some of these graffities may be referencing the Fazbear and Friends theme song, "Love" only shows up on that poster as far as I am aware.

This Is wonderful detailing to me, not only displaying how the outside world loved the Fazbear and Pizzaplex, but also enforces the importance of that poster and the words "You & Me Forever & Ever, Love, Freddy"

#I hope someone else finds this as interesting as I do #details in games are fantastic #fnaf #fnaf security breach #security breach #fnaf ruin #glamrock freddy #montgomery gator #roxanne wolf #Glamrock Chica #glamrock monty #glamrock animatronics #fnaf sb ruin

955 notes · View notes

tiyoin · 17 days

Text

heartbeats to the drum

floyd x reader

sigh floyd being a softy for you and only you

sighhhhh floyd treating you like a glass flower one day and a stress toy the next. ofc he’s unconventional with his love, the slightest bit of worry fogging his mind as he wonders if you’ll leave because of his many quirks.

but that wasn’t always the case

he follows the beat of his own drum, not once stopping or changing it for anyone or anything. if they don’t like it- who cares! not their drum, go find another or whatever…. yet you followed him, followed his rhythm, danced to it sometimes. tripped and fell flat on your ass too, a a fleeting sense of satisfaction felt as he figured you’d had enough and would leave him be like all the other unimportant minnows.

but whenever he looked back, you were still there, a little further, but still following him… jade and azul were just as surprised as floyd when you kept following him. through his rough pounding of war drums, to the soft lonely pings of a bongo that suddenly switched to a war snare, then to a smooth jazz rhythm- he was unpredictable.

switching his styles, rhythms and interests on an impulsive whim. that was floyd. jade would follow sometimes too, though he created his own too. straying from floyd’s more often than not.

so one day, when floyd stopped drumming, stopped walking to do something he normally hate doing on a ‘bad day:2 (which was standing still.) he opted to listen for once. just once. expecting to hear the usual pitter patter of your feet, or the soft humming you’d usually let out, but there was nothing. nothing but silence and stillness around him.

a comet of a thought raced through the night sky of his mind. maybe he marched too fast, or went to far- he scoffs

‘finally,’ he thinks with a heavy mind ‘you got the hint that he wasn’t stopping or changing for no one. that you should just give. up. and go home.’

but like orpheus in the one tales of old in your world you would sometimes divulge him in. there’s a dying need to just turn around and look, to see if you were still following.

he shouldn’t though… he shouldn’t let his mind wonder and his heart pick up a pace. you reality that you weren’t there was already a preconceived notion in his mind. the inner workings of his soul not sensing yours. the voice in his head telling him he was free to march on without anyone bothering him.

yet… there was a feeling, and itch somewhere. he couldn’t place where that itch was and it pissed him off. was it inside or outside his human form? maybe it was his mer instincts taking over? the hunter in him subtly telling him to turn around? nah, that couldn’t be it, right? i mean logically, that would make sense, but… it couldn’t be…

floyd does what he wants when he wants. so he’ll look on his own chagrin thank you very much. yet, like slowly ripping off a bandaid, he turned his head.

he could almost howl in laughter.

because there you were, sitting down and playing with your hands. he couldn’t hear you cause you were taking a break, waiting for him to continue drumming so you could follow along, like how a whale calf would cling and follow their mother.

floyd was good with his emotions, he’d like to think- but anyone around him would disagree. but for him it was simple, if he was happy, he was happy, if he was sad, he was sad yadda yadda yah.

he sometimes couldn’t understand how people couldn’t feel like him or understand him, excluding jade and azul on numerous occasions. he was emotionally intelligent enough to realize that his mood swings weren’t convenient or conceived as normal behavior, especially to humans. that there was an irrational logic or a spring loose to the compass that dictated his life.

yet here you were, always right behind him, following him, almost clinging to him. like a barnacle. a pesky, useless barnacle…

his shadow blocked the light that was once illuminating your figure, looking up at him with a smile as he just stared down at you. his neutral, bored expression slowly churned and morphed into a boyish/ teenage expression someone your age would normally sport.

floyd would tell you that he held that neutral expression, that you were hallucinating when his neutral frown grew into a lazy grin or how his brows lifted into an almost, almost softer expression. no there wasn’t any crinkle in his nose either!! or in his eyes!!

but despite his protests and self proclaimed emotional maturity he’d talk to you about. sometimes, when our mind is too busy processing, our body’s will usually give away our intentions, our true thoughts that we aren’t aware of. a lot of the times, without our consent or knowledge.

you call it habitual responses while floyd calls it inconvenient lies.

but that doesn’t matter, because that day he handed you a triangle and a little metal stick along with it. helped you up, and continued marching.

idk where i was going with this, i wrote as i thought.

i’m gonna try to get better at symbolism because i love that style of writing. hehe

sorry if this is poo poo i wrote it in a combined 30 minutes, before and after therapy 🤷🏻

idk if it’s too short to put a ‘read more’ cut in, or not

#tiyoin 🔎#so uhhhh therapy therapied a littttle too hard today hahahaha #me yapping #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #floyd x reader #floyd leech twst

292 notes · View notes

serenewrote · 1 month

Text

"And nothing hurts anymore, I feel kind of free" - Daemon Targaryen x Daughter! Reader

Synopsis: You are Daemon's daughter. Lady of Dorne. Following Aegon's coronation, Otto Hightower travels to Dorne, in hopes that you will declare for him. In light of your aggressive refusal, the Queen's guards attack.

Warning: Mature Language

You lie on the ground, trying to stop the bleeding. How embarrassing. They caught you off guard.

And that Hightower cunt. He wants Dorne as an ally. You weren't going to ruin all that your ancestor, Princess Nymeria, has done in order to help a usurper.

You hear a dragon's cry. You know that sound, it was first sound you heard when you first laid your eyes on the world around you. Caraxas.

He lands and your father rushes towards you.

"Who did this? Who would be so foolish?"

You speak, trying to save your breath. "Otto Hightower, Kepa. He came to ask for an alliance."

Daemon moves your hand away from wound. The wound conveniently placed under your womb, bleeding heavily.

"He and the rest of those snakes will pay for their crimes."

He looks around the throne room. The guards are calm, the maids look at you in sorrowful understanding.

"Why has no one fetched a maester? You are in pain. I need you alive and healthy, Y/n."

You look at your father with sad smile, "It doesn't anymore, Kepa."

He looks at you, eyes filled with sorrow. He doesn't know how to feel. His eldest child is dying right in front of him and she wants nothing to be done.

"Nothing hurts anymore, Father. I'm free from all of this."

And with that, you take your last breath. Historians will go on to say that Daemon Targaryen was a rogue with no love in his heart, but the future peoples of Dorne can recall tales of the Rogue Prince crying and his dragon roaring in distress. For he had outlived his eldest child.

fin.

I might write a a short oneshot on how you came in the world of Westeros because I didn't put an explanation here. Thanks for reading and if there is something that you want to read from me, don't hesitate to ask. Enjoy!

#daemon targaryen #hotd daemon #house of the dragon #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader

214 notes · View notes

wisyhana · 8 months

Text

Destructionshipping Monster Tamer AU

So here are some of the drawings from this AU and a little summary of what is about and how is the story going (it's still a work in process so I'd probably change a few details in the future):

It's basically about Yugi (half elf), Jonou (human), Seto (elf) and Atem (human) as beast tamers all set in a fantasy world. Each of them protects their own region, they're in charge to prevent any monster from disturbing the life of people. They're not hunters, they work to take those beasts and return them back to their lands. Sometimes they keep some beasts as pets (Jonou), partners (Yugi and Atem), even trophies (Seto)

All starts when Seto shares some information about the movement of a peculiar dragon, one of its kind that had entered Yugi's territory. No beast tamer want to deal with that dragon since it's known for its destructive power. All the tales talk about Gandora being a powerful type of dragon that even managed to bring itself to extintion, a single of its kind is enough to be considered a problem. So having the last Gandora wandering around is enought to concern a whole region. Seto only cares about its region and doesn't want to get involve, especially when is about a dragon that can instantly kill/destroy everything, so he only 'wishes luck' to Yugi and see if he can survive Gandora's visit. Jonou feels uncapable of helping but encourage Yugi to find a way to lead Gandora out. Of course Yugi is very curious about this dragon and wants to find out more of em.

Yugi here moves more around his own curiosity more than other thing, as the games in Duel Monster, he can't reject a new game as he can't reject a lone dragon. He investigates and travels to where Gandora is staying: a really dark and dried base of a volcano. It takes a lot for Yugi to find Gandora, he has to go through caves and burnt forests to find the lair of the dragon, who apparently is very awared of Yugi's presence. Gandora tries to kill Yugi MANY times, but Yugi always manage to escape and come back later to study em and find a way to win his trust. Yugi speaks to Gandora noticing that the dragon is capable of understand more than other dragons he knew.

Since Yugi's way too into studying Gandora's behavior he kinda let his region a little aside, so things don't go so well since he's so invested in 'his quest' as Yugi constantly talks about the dragon. Also Gandora doesn't just chill and relax, he slowly destroys the forest that goes around the volcano he's living in, causing monsters to leave and invade human territory. This concerns Jonou (and Seto as well but he's a bitch) and they try to persuade Yugi to shoo Gandora away in some way and protect his land as he should. But big hearted Yugi wants to know what makes Gandora so angry. Eventually Jonou sends a message to Atem and consults him for support. Atem is a peacemaker and he belongs to no land, he's a traveller that helps people and monsters to keep at peace. He visit the guys in time to time but not really often.

Yugi tries to confront Gandora in some way, almost dying in the process, but he can't calm down Gandora. The boy finds himself failing to his quest, which makes him burst into tears apologizing to Gandora for not being able to help him. In all this time Gandora just acts as a furious beast, but somehow understands when Yugi apologize to him.

There's no much time to talk when Yugi notices that Atem shows up, he sees Yugi badly wounded and decides is time to take action. Of course Yugi doesn't want him to interfer, but Atem is more concern about him than peace between them. Also Atem kinda scolds Yugi for prioritizing a giant dragon than his own people. So Atem calls for Osiris that's enough to intimidate every beast, but Gandora is stupid and even tries to fight them back. Yugi begs Gandora to leave and this one finally listens to him and flee. Yugi isnt necessarily angry at Atem but his words sure hurt him and there was no more Gandora.... for the moment.

So that's all for now, I'm looking forward to turn Atem into an anti-villain type of character, I like a lot the idea of Yugi and Atem finding themselves disagreeing for the first time and seeing them defending their own ideals.

Of course all resolves around Gandora finally trusting in Yugi, but it'll take me a few more drawings to explain it!

#wisy art #yugioh #yugi mutou #seto kaiba #katsuya jonouchi #pharaoh atem #gandora the dragon of destruction #destructionshipping #destructionshipping monster tamer AU

644 notes · View notes

fandomsandfeminism · 2 years

Text

"Romeo and Juliets romance is just so unrealistic! It's not what a romance is like in MY experience!"

Oh? Oh really? You, adult living in 2022, you never went to a fancy Venetian masquerade in the 1590s and met a mysterious stranger and then your first conversation spontaneously forms a perfect sonnet? That's not a totally relatable experience for you?

Is Macbeth unrealistic because of the witches? Is Midsummer unrealistic because of the love potion?

Like, there's no explicit magic in Romeo and Juliet, but it still exists in a heightened reality, and overlooking the role that language plays within the text itself kneecaps your analysis of the intent.

When we hear of Romeo, his dad and friends are discussing his recent sad mood- he's upset because the girl he likes has no interest in him. His friends try to distract him from it with a party, but dont really seem to...connect with or fully empathize with his sadness. When we first hear of Juliet, her father and Paris are planning her marriage (without her input.) They are both talked about but not really listened to. The way they are spoken about isolates them from others.

Then they meet, and with no knowledge of each other, not even their names, they click into perfect rhythm. They finish each other rhymes. They form perfect ABAB quatrains in conversation, their sentences form a rhyming *couplet* at the end.

You know the song Ana sings with Hans in Frozen? Love is an open door? We finish each others- Sandwiches? Yeah- it's riffing on this. The idea that you meet someone perfect and right away your souls can make poetry together. The immediate intimacy of being so in sync that your introduction is a love poem.

I don't know, yall. Romeo and Juliet isn't a gritty hyper-realistic Oscar nominated docu-drama. It teters on the edge of fairy tale and myth, it leans on its language to convey deeper emotional truths that a 5 act play doesn't have the time to develop as deeply as we, in our world of movie montages and long form TV, are more accustomed to. This isn't a slow burn, pining, enemies to friends to lovers. It's soul mates love at first sight, and when you accept that, the play can get on with the business of saying what it wants to say about hate and the cycle of violence and social rules and decorum and how grudges and blood fueds can destroy the magic in the world if we let it.

"It doesn't matter if they are really in love. They should be allowed to be stupid hormonal teenagers without dying" I see many people say, and while I think that sentiment is true, I DO think it matters that they are in love. I think it matters that their meeting sparks a sonnet, and that poetry is snuffed out by the violence around them.

I think it matters that what they had wasn't an arranged marriage or a "good match" made by approving friends- that it was spontaneous and instant and inexplicable, but that the world couldn't let that be because it defied all the rules. Because it wasn't set up by parents and wasn't politically convenient, because it wasn't part of a proper, prolonged courtship with chaperones and social approval- it was love and poetry that defied all of that and so it was snuffed out. That they are pushed to such extremes not just by the killings, but by Juliets impending engagement to Paris, they have to act now because their love doesnt fit into the proper pattern set out by society- I think that matters.

#romeo and juliet #im all for modern remakes that take whatever modern readings they want #but Im hesitant to AGREE with all the grown ups in the play that their love cant be real because it didnt happen the right way #they speak a sonnet together the first time they meet!

5K notes · View notes

visenyaism · 8 months

Text

the thing i find the most compelling about both a feast for crows and tales of dunk and egg is that very like. humidity-heavy sense of low-grade doom just throughout. every chapter starting with someone alone reflecting on an act of violence they witnessed. the sense that something is fundamentally wrong. everyone knows it. the world is dying. it is so askew that nature is responding in kind and becoming increasingly inhospitable.

and even though everyone knows there’s something horribly horribly off the question the narrative asks is not “how do we stop the world from falling apart” it’s the much more intimate “but how do we live through a time when the world is dying.” how do we endure all that and decide to be good anyways. deeply profoundly human!!!!!!!!!

#this is soooooooo incoherent #but affcs focus on how we live through a dying world how can we be good people feels so real to me #asoiaf #also this is how it feels to live in the south during climate change a little bit. anyways

593 notes · View notes

galacii-gallery · 2 months

Text

Shattered Fates AU: The Beginning [ Chapter 1. ]

Read it on Ao3 ( Edit: fixed the problem )

read it below! [ Exclusive Images Included ]

The battlefield, where it began… adorned with statues of the villagers they knew before, ruined buildings that used to be tall… the stump where their ‘mother’ laid. It was all there, and they were too… the guardians of this world, ending it all again with conflict. Such a cruel fate, these two. Arrows pierced in tar, while on the other side of the field was a skeleton covered in yellow, dripping from their chest and skull, a tendril impaled the being; keeping him still in this. The two souls looked to each other… one hoped that the other would give up, the other had differing intrusive thoughts.

“Again, I win and you… the hero of this story.”

he pulls the drowsy target close, face to face with a grin he then speaks truthfully.

“...you’re dying- certainly not like every other fairy tale huh?”

Coughing erupts from the dreamer, then they glance up to Nightmare

“...you’re right.”

even in their weak state, they smile

“though next time, perhaps this story of ours will have a nicer end.”

“Next time? Ha- you wish.”

the triumphant sneered.

“ I don’t wish, It just happens.. Though I doubt you’d understand.”

Dream then spoke of a distant concept, one believed that only particular humans could possess.

“not this time, not the next… not the four hundredth either… ha, will things ever change?”

“You’re insane… crazy even, you should know that we only have one chance.”

their head disdains, vision starting to get drowned by yellow. A faint whisper left his teeth, silence filled the air.

The entity looms over, it was clear by now it ate his brother entirely in this life too.. It ‘freed’ them from their sadness.

Nightmare brought his hand to Dreams neck, holding it up and softly told them.

his grip loosened, the Dreamers head dropped more. One part of Nightmare felt.. Bad, however it was flooded out by the images which it provided; how Dream was the one to bring this upon himself.. By not helping but instead fighting what he has become.

. . .“Finally kicking the bucket?”

“Maybe things will change... In your next run possibly?~”

The Nightmare commented, after hearing Dreams' continuing silence.

Their grin twisted and contorted, his tone became that of someone making fun of the other.

A thud could be heard in the place where it all began, a vision of Nightmare walking away from the scene… turned to pitch black. The ringing in Dreams head began to vanish, becoming hushed.

Their words haunted dream, next run?... ha. Sure, next run. Then we’ll see what’ll change… surely.

Dream lifts their head with the last of the energy that stayed within their core, something began to break in him… not just his heart. Their sunken eyes, the one not broken hues darkened; tainted by the battle.. Finally went out.

White noise, a quiet place again... pitch black and empty. They saw this so many times, he lost count.

“Again, I win and you… the hero of this story.”

he pulls the drowsy target close, face to face with a grin he then speaks truthfully.

“...you’re dying- certainly not like every other fairy tale huh?”

Coughing erupts from the dreamer, then they glance up to Nightmare

“...you’re right.”

even in their weak state, they smile

“though next time, perhaps this story of ours will have a nicer end.”

“Next time? Ha- you wish.”

the triumphant sneered.

“ I don’t wish, It just happens.. Though I doubt you’d understand.”

Dream then spoke of a distant concept, one believed that only particular humans could possess.

“not this time, not the next… not the four hundredth either… ha, will things ever change?”

“You’re insane… crazy even, you should know that we only have one chance.”

their head disdains, vision starting to get drowned by yellow. A faint whisper left his teeth, silence filled the air.

The entity looms over, it was clear by now it ate his brother entirely in this life too.. It ‘freed’ them from their sadness.

Nightmare brought his hand to Dreams neck, holding it up and softly told them.

. . .“Finally kicking the bucket?”

“Maybe things will change... In your next run possibly?~”

The Nightmare commented, after hearing Dreams' continuing silence.

Their grin twisted and contorted, his tone became that of someone making fun of the other.

A thud could be heard in the place where it all began, a vision of Nightmare walking away from the scene… turned to pitch black. The ringing in Dreams head began to vanish, becoming hushed.

Their words haunted dream, next run?... ha. Sure, next run. Then we’ll see what’ll change… surely.

White noise, a quiet place again... pitch black and empty. They saw this so many times, he lost count.

“Again, I win and you… the hero of this story.”

he pulls the drowsy target close, face to face with a grin he then speaks truthfully.

“...you’re dying- certainly not like every other fairy tale huh?”

Coughing erupts from the dreamer, then they glance up to Nightmare

“...you’re right.”

even in their weak state, they smile

“though next time, perhaps this story of ours will have a nicer end.”

“Next time? Ha- you wish.”

the triumphant sneered.

“ I don’t wish, It just happens.. Though I doubt you’d understand.”

Dream then spoke of a distant concept, one believed that only particular humans could possess.

“not this time, not the next… not the four hundredth either… ha, will things ever change?”

“You’re insane… crazy even, you should know that we only have one chance.”

their head disdains, vision starting to get drowned by yellow. A faint whisper left his teeth, silence filled the air.

The entity looms over, it was clear by now it ate his brother entirely in this life too.. It ‘freed’ them from their sadness.

Nightmare brought his hand to Dreams neck, holding it up and softly told them.

. . .“Finally kicking the bucket?”

“Maybe things will change... In your next run possibly?~”

The Nightmare commented, after hearing Dreams' continuing silence.

Their grin twisted and contorted, his tone became that of someone making fun of the other.

A thud could be heard in the place where it all began, a vision of Nightmare walking away from the scene… turned to pitch black. The ringing in Dreams head began to vanish, becoming hushed.

Their words haunted dream, next run?... ha. Sure, next run. Then we’ll see what’ll change… surely.

White noise, a quiet place again... pitch black and empty. They saw this so many times, he lost count.

. . .

[ * You need to live on. ]

[ * Wake up. ]

. . .

But what’s the point? It’ll repeat once more.

Attempts to prevent their downfall failed, the least the world could do was let him rest once more in this quiet place.

. . .

[ * You don’t have that choice. ]

. . .

[ * I believe that you'll change fate. ]

. . .

The Silence was soon broken, birds began to chirp and the light was starting to invade their resting place, the ray landed on the skeletons- they were both laying on top of a hay pile, dozing away from prying eyes.

they mumbled a bit, struggling to sleep before waking up in a cold sweat, their arms wrapped around themselves before settling on their ribcage. Even after going through this several times the phantom pain still gets to them.

after investigating It was clear that they were staying in a farm shed, a place where he and his brother would stay when they’d get the chance to; better than sleeping in those stone-like beds. Besides the dreamer was their brother, well what they were before the incident… still asleep.

...There was a brief moment where their imagination had gotten rid of it woke up- thinking of that even for a moment sent chills up their spine, what was wrong with them?

Soon after they brought themselves up from the makeshift bed, leaving the other behind. Dream walked to the door, making sure to stay quiet.. Their hands pushed and the rays poured in, waking their brother in the process- suddenly they brought up their hands, trying to combat the sun by blocking it from their face

“mmmgh…”

his expression scrunched up.

“Shut the doooor-”

the response to this was a slight chuckle from Dream, after they spoke

“I’ll let you get back to your beauty sleep Night… though it’d be bad if Mr. Neriah found you hum?..”

The other jumped awake, stumbling up

“Gods no-”

he sighed, placing their hands on their head- saying in a defeated tone

“...I still remember how he made us clean the entire basement-”

a pause came out of their brother... they had caught what their sibling called them, confusingly they said

“Night?? Who- you know my name!-”

they were then cut off with

“-Because we didn’t show up for morning prayer! It’ll surely happen again if we don’t get there soon-”

they grinned a bit

“you’ll get your name out of my mouth once you beat me there yeah?”

Dream rushed to the door, swinging it open.

The door began to shut as one of the Skeletons left. They jumped up and scurried, putting on their worn out jacket

“Wait up!- wait up- I'm getting ready-”

they then followed, making sure the door wouldn’t slam on the way out.

“Jeez, aren’t you up and ready for this!”

they sighed as they finally began to catch up

“You normally avoid it..”

Dream quieted down for a second, thinking of what he'd say back then.

"...Just have a hunch, trust the gut! especially mine!"

The two strolled towards the Village from the farm shed, it was full of life, Humans and Monsters in harmony… working together to make things work, buildings in which they made.. Bakeries and shops galore; but in the very center of it was their ‘mother’. But even in this ‘paradise’ there were still things wrong, they should know this well. As they continued some waved, others looked at them in distaste… the two were used to this treatment, Dreams brother was just glad that group of kids weren’t here. Their brother was starting to notice the glares given to them… To ease tensions growing, Dream then asked.

“Think we should grab something after?”

their brother paused, thinking

“But we don’t have the money- you know this- interrupting the other”

tsk-

“who knows, a miracle could happen!”

The twin looked away slightly, surely if miracles happened it’d be better to hope on something else other than bread.. A real family, maybe?

“...Sure. let's say if one were to happen, who’d get it?”

Their brother jested, Dream beamed, smiled even

“Both of us, Brother.”

he suddenly pressed his finger on his brother's nose, causing them to kind of push Dream away a bit afterwards holding their precious nose

“you should know I wouldn’t leave you behind… or out of things, especially a meal.”

Dream mentioned, even after everything they didn’t exactly want to leave their brother out of the good things which fate provided. Their brother was grateful that he wouldn't be left behind if that were to happen.

“Now since that’s done-”

Dream clapped their hands together, now approaching the church.

“Let's say hi shall we?- haven’t seen everyone in a while.”

the other was confused about that last bit, raising a brow- considering they had just seen the others the day before.

“...We just saw them yesterday?..”

the Dream told them in kind

“Those hours felt like days.”

Now time for their 'grand plan'

They snuck into the establishment, making sure to step on the floor which didn’t creak. Being barefoot has its perks… navigating around the place was easy, they had been there many times.. Dream had even memorized the pattern in which they’d have to go however... their brother wasn’t as fortunate to remember. A sound emerged beneath their feet- fear arose. Silence came after. . . the anticipation of something happening was ruined with the pitter patter of footsteps- not as loud as an adult but it still frightened them.

. . they stared at where it was coming from, the door at the end of the hall-

They were expecting it to be Mr. Neriah was going to be there at any moment but thankfully they were saved, a monster… one with a burn across their face arrived and greeted the two.

“Never seen you two arrive this early- is it a special occasion???”

they eagerly waited for a response, the rabbit crossed their arms.

“or did you fear that Mr. Neriah would give you that task?...”

Dream spoke up.

“Well, maybe. Just had a hunch something would’ve happened if we were late again!”

Felix commented after the other was done, then glanced to Dreams brother.

"Epiales you need to sneak up your game if you want to avoid it."

Nightmares name before the incident. Dream had almost forgotten it, but with this reminder it brought a weight off his shoulders.

Dream knew that very well… they had repeated this many times, mainly cause one of them couldn't sneak that well.

“Anyways that's fair, you could’ve been cleaning the outhouse next- after all it’s on rotation this week.”

“Whew, looks like we dodged a bullet…”

Epiales seemed a bit stunned at this, relief seemed to wash over him- while Dream acted normal as if they knew that was the outcome.

Dream spoke, un-phased. Felix then began waving them along, urging them to follow.

“Come now- be thankful later things are about to start!”

...There was a brief moment where their imagination had gotten rid of it woke up- thinking of that even for a moment sent chills up their spine, what was wrong with them?

“mmmgh…”

his expression scrunched up.

“Shut the doooor-”

the response to this was a slight chuckle from Dream, after they spoke

“I’ll let you get back to your beauty sleep Night… though it’d be bad if Mr. Neriah found you hum?..”

The other jumped awake, stumbling up

“Gods no-”

he sighed, placing their hands on their head- saying in a defeated tone

“...I still remember how he made us clean the entire basement-”

a pause came out of their brother... they had caught what their sibling called them, confusingly they said

“Night?? Who- you know my name!-”

they were then cut off with

“-Because we didn’t show up for morning prayer! It’ll surely happen again if we don’t get there soon-”

they grinned a bit

“you’ll get your name out of my mouth once you beat me there yeah?”

Dream rushed to the door, swinging it open.

The door began to shut as one of the Skeletons left. They jumped up and scurried, putting on their worn out jacket

“Wait up!- wait up- I'm getting ready-”

they then followed, making sure the door wouldn’t slam on the way out.

“Jeez, aren’t you up and ready for this!”

they sighed as they finally began to catch up

“You normally avoid it..”

Dream quieted down for a second, thinking of what he'd say back then.

"...Just have a hunch, trust the gut! especially mine!"

“Think we should grab something after?”

their brother paused, thinking

“But we don’t have the money- you know this- interrupting the other”

tsk-

“who knows, a miracle could happen!”

The twin looked away slightly, surely if miracles happened it’d be better to hope on something else other than bread.. A real family, maybe?

“...Sure. let's say if one were to happen, who’d get it?”

Their brother jested, Dream beamed, smiled even

“Both of us, Brother.”

he suddenly pressed his finger on his brother's nose, causing them to kind of push Dream away a bit afterwards holding their precious nose

“you should know I wouldn’t leave you behind… or out of things, especially a meal.”

“Now since that’s done-”

Dream clapped their hands together, now approaching the church.

“Let's say hi shall we?- haven’t seen everyone in a while.”

the other was confused about that last bit, raising a brow- considering they had just seen the others the day before.

“...We just saw them yesterday?..”

the Dream told them in kind

“Those hours felt like days.”

Now time for their 'grand plan'

. . they stared at where it was coming from, the door at the end of the hall-

They were expecting it to be Mr. Neriah was going to be there at any moment but thankfully they were saved, a monster… one with a burn across their face arrived and greeted the two.

“Never seen you two arrive this early- is it a special occasion???”

they eagerly waited for a response, the rabbit crossed their arms.

“or did you fear that Mr. Neriah would give you that task?...”

Dream spoke up.

“Well, maybe. Just had a hunch something would’ve happened if we were late again!”

Felix commented after the other was done, then glanced to Dreams brother.

"Epiales you need to sneak up your game if you want to avoid it."

Nightmares name before the incident. Dream had almost forgotten it, but with this reminder it brought a weight off his shoulders.

Dream knew that very well… they had repeated this many times, mainly cause one of them couldn't sneak that well.

“Anyways that's fair, you could’ve been cleaning the outhouse next- after all it’s on rotation this week.”

“Whew, looks like we dodged a bullet…”

Epiales seemed a bit stunned at this, relief seemed to wash over him- while Dream acted normal as if they knew that was the outcome.

Dream spoke, un-phased. Felix then began waving them along, urging them to follow.

“Come now- be thankful later things are about to start!”

They continued down the church hall, entering the foyer where the rabbit resided- following on they were soon gathered with the rest of the orphans. Most were monsters, the others humans… seeing the two enter made a few of them run up to the older siblings. Dream greeted them with ease, while Epiales stood slightly back not wanting too much attention- even with that though there were some they would interact with commonly.. Like the small feline Monster in a dress, their chosen name being Caspera. They showed off their dolls' new dress to Epiales and then he complimented it.

“Gloria’s dress is very nice, did you have Mr. Neriah help you make it?”

the smaller one shook their head- then pointed to themselves exclaiming

“Made it mythelf!”

They were proud of their accomplishment. after they pat their chest a bit and spoke proudly -

“no help thith time!”

The skeleton gave a sound of awe and then he placed their hand on Caspera's head, patting it slightly.

“I can’t wait for you to open up a store, I’m in dire need of new clothes and I love your style.”

He then gestured to their own clothes, Epiales was wearing a worn down jacket- it was handed down to him through someone who had previously been here. He then pointed at Dream and made it clear

“You should too!- your belt is practically falling apart!”

Epiales and Caspera continued their conversation, Dream started his own- with Felix. He sighed, looking at his homemade belt and pulling on it lightly, he really should get something new… maybe around the upcoming festival?.. they then turned to Felix. would there be any point in replacing it knowing what will come tomorrow?

someone, presumably dream hollered back, Epiales snickered a bit.

Caspera’s expression beamed, it was always their dream to be a tailor, to make things that they’d be content with… that their big brothers and sisters would be happy with too!

“...So any luck finding that hidden cache?”

Felix huffed a bit, then expressed

“not here, though I might let you in on what I found afterwards.”

he placed their hands on their hips, and stared at their belt.

“Need the funds from it for a new one don’t ya?-”

Felix teased, Dreams face flushed up in response.

The doors opened once again, a shadow covered the group.. A creepy light swayed back and forth and the children suddenly scattered. But the younger ones recollected by the figure which had entered- a few ‘Mr. Neri’s’ were said… some even said a few 'Papa Neri's'. The priest who ran the church was a Anglerfish monster, and despite their looks they were quite the angel- acknowledging the younger ones with nods and small greetings as they made their way to the pulpit. The priest opened the book, glancing over it and soon after to his kids.

They raised a brow once they saw the twins amongst the crowd- his voice rasped

“Good morning my children…. It seems like everyone is here, that is great- amazing even, we can keep this up… yes?”

Dream and Nightmare laughed nervously knowing it was directed towards them in general. Father Neriah then told the group.

“If things continue, perhaps a reward is in order… who likes the idea of getting a grand feast at the festival. my children?”

small gasps could be heard, clearly these kids were hyped towards the idea- then they all looked to the twins, urging them to keep this up! Stopping the glares, Father Neriah began to say

“Anyways, Now my children… Are we ready to give thanks to our mother Nimeeta?”

Also known as Nim, Nimeeta’s name was shortened due to religious views on speaking her full name. It is only permitted by high ranking priests, ones who hold similar views to the all-mother. neriah brought his hands apart, forming a sort of pose, a prayer pose one which resembled the two emotions coming together in unison.. The right hand represented the positivity in the world, the other Negative emotions both were equal in power and could influence the world. The children followed, a few of the younger ones messed up but were corrected after a few minutes. Neriah found this entertaining, seeing such young souls do their best. Now to what needed to be said.

. . .The prayer began, and Mr. Neriah spoke.

“ Our Mother Nim blessed us with life, giving up her divine form and created the tree of life; it breathed existence into us and our paradise.”

he shifted his arms to flip the emotions, reversing their positions

“Nim, a being of pure emotion, split her essence in two and gave it up for her guardians, her sons and daughters in future generations.”

he took a moment before continuing on

“We are grateful for the guides given to us, the two who protect the tree and the emotions which it holds… which we hold dear.”

Father Neriah then brought up

“ The emotions that were captured by the tree, souls that were given a chance to return to their Mother after their time was up… ”

lastly

“ We hope to find the new guides during this years festival, so that we may see your vision for us Mother.”

he then gives a bow.

“ Thank you mother…”

his hands clasped together, gently forming a connection between their hands

“We all give thanks for you listening to us, may we part with ease.”

he then loosened their grip before parting their hands, representing how Nim had parted their soul.

After all was said and done, the children rose once Mr. Neriah was done with their morning prayer. Dream would normally skip this all together.. It left a sour taste in his mouth, after all it was ‘Nim’ who cursed them with this repeating dream of his. Dream sighed a bit, it was always hard to get through that-

“Why the long face?-”

Felix asked.

“I- uh it’s nothing, really.”

He that wasn’t the case- so they surprised the other by pinching their cheeks a bit-

“Wh- hey let go!"

Felix narrowed their eyes, countering with

“not until you let me in on whatever's going on-”

they paused then said

“don’t tell me those punks are messing with you and Epi again!?”

Dream shook their head, denying their accusations.

“No, just feeling a bit under the weather I guess?..”

Felix chirped back.

“well… if you’re like that maybe you shouldn’t see what’s in the cache eh?-”

Dream blinked, bringing himself to then say

“Man you really want to know don’t you??”

he huffed a bit. giving in.. but he knew that chance wouldn't come.

“..fine on the condition it happens after the festival.”

Felix thought about it, nodding in agreement- putting their hand after this too

“shake on it?"

Dream rolled their eyes, shaking their hand

"Fine I'll shake on it”

some sort of sorrow showed on his face as he made this ‘deal’... would there ever truly be a day after the festival where they could meet and let secrets be free? It seemed unlikely.

Epiales and Caspera finally brought themselves over to the rest of their little group.

“So what now? Should we go find out what that miracle you mentioned would bring us?”

they didn’t believe such miracles could happen, but were curious none the while. The smaller one commented

“ miracle? I want a miracle! Ariadne can I go pleathe? “

Ariadne, Dream's given name… how ironic how he and his brother would be given these names huh? Dream looked down to Caspera

“If you can keep up, then yes- yes you can Cas”

Caspera jumped a bit in joy, and hugged their doll tight.

“Gloria we're going to the village! we can get all the thweetths!”

Felix turned to Dream and Epiales, smiling.. It’s not everyday that Dream lets Caspera join in. He was always worried that they’d get themselves hurt especially with the bullies which roam around, he’s glad to see the change.

“So what’re we still doing hanging around here- lets go before Mr. Neriah thinks we’re trying to set up a bucket again, yeah?”

the Rabbit mentioned. Dream nodded- Epiales looked at Dream- so they were the reason that water got dumped all over their dad!?- and he got thrown under the bus for it... that's why they cleaned all of that!?- oh he’s so going to get back at Ariadne later. Seeing Epiales reaction, Felix not realizing what he said earlier...

“heh heh- oops?...”

Dream sweated a bit, just feeling their brother's death gaze on him and Felix- grabbing Felix's hand he kind of rushed themselves out of the building.

Dream and Felix went outside and continued on into the village, even if Felix was the best runner it caught him by surprise just seeing how much strength and stamina that Dream held.

“Ha- Why the rush? Your brother isn’t that scary-”

Dream then paused, turning to Felix- his expression was serious but changed to a more calm one.

“..I know, I just fear what he’ll do in the future because of that.”

Felix pushed Dream a bit, not so rough if anything playful

“like what, mark your body with a sharpie?”

A long pause came after.

“...maybe.”

a burst of laughter came from Felix

“Really? That’s what you’re worried about- you scared me for a second.. Thought something more serious would happen.. especially after that look ya gave.”

Dream punched their shoulder, his face full of yellow.

“It is serious!- I can’t show up to anything looking like that-”

footsteps could be heard coming approaching the two.

“Fighting already? It hasn’t even been an hour”

Epiales said as they strided towards them, holding Caspera on their back, the Feline monster was laying their head against Epiales' back comfortably with their doll Gloria in hand..

“What’s it even about huh?”

Dream focused on Epiales

“Nothing much, just the usual.”

. Felix was about to say something but was stopped when Dream put his hands up to their mouth.

“Everyday matters!”

Dream didn't exactly want to give their brother Felix's ideas. in retaliation… after a minute passed Felix licked their palms- the skeleton shivered, afterwards sliding back- looking at his hands now making a

“eeeww.”

sound.

“That’s what you get!”

Felix blepped. Dream shook their hands, then laid them on their own pants trying to wipe off whatever the Rabbit left.

“Oh I know what you’ll be getting Felix-”

he rolled his sleeves up, the bunny quickly ran off. Epiales snorted at this. Of course Dream followed, needing to get back at that ‘friend’ of his. A distant

"You cannot silence me!"

could be heard. of course this caused Epiales to burst out laughing at the chasing and overall ridiculousness of the situation, this woke Caspera though but he quickly made sure to quiet down and assure them that everything was alright and that they'd get their sweets soon.

[ Time passed, and it seemed as if that ‘miracle’ happened as Dream described. Someone had dropped their bag of fresh goods. Being the troublemakers they were Felix and Dream quickly took that opportunity to snatch it up… thankfully without notice. As the day began to turn to night, they all returned to the orphanage, sharing their goods. Of course Mr. Neriah had to question just where the various fruits and vegetables came from.. Hearing their explanation they had gotten a slight scolding; but were forgiven slightly due to their kindness amongst the younger souls. Everyone had a nice time, eating the dinner provided and then sharing stories.. Dream’s being the most adventurous, telling of different versions of himself saving the world and sometimes even other versions of himself! Soon after Mr. Neriah ushered the children to the beds, seeing how late it was. Dream and their brother of course snuck out at the peak of midnight, but made sure to give their goodbyes to the ones who were awake still… before they fully had left Epiales left some candy underneath Caspera's pillow, the sweets that they promised to them. The brothers ventured through the silent yet dimly lit village, making it back to the farm house where they had slept before, making themselves at home... at least temporarily. ]

“Ariadne?...”

It took a moment, Dream didn’t realize his brother was talking to him… after all he always went by ‘Dream’ and the other always went by ‘Nightmare’. He brought their hand up to their face- swinging it around to get their attention

“huh- yeah what?”

Epiales hesitated, continuing with

“I’m sorry-”

with a quick response

“For what?-”

the twin spoke up- it quickly turned into a few mutters-

“I’m sorry for not believing you earlier-”

Dream turned over on the hay, putting his hand up to his non-existent ears

“hum- didn’t quite catch that Epi-”

Their brother said aloud

“hmph- keep going like that and I might have to take it back!”

Of course, they were only joking around with each other… having fun.

“Alright alright- I accept your apology.”

Dream then laid down, trying to get into a more comfy position.

“So tomorrow… what do you think about it?”

Epiales spoke up

“The festival?”

a yes was given back

“Well… we might have a nicer life with the Guardians around, they’d whip the villagers into shape- get us all places to call home!”

Dream thought about it then responded

“You really think so?...”

and their brother talked back with a

“I know so… they’re supposed to keep the things in balance, there’s a lot of us who were dealt a bad hand… they’ll make things right.”

Dream looked to the ceiling, his hands resting on his chest. He closed his sockets for a second..

“You’re right, they’ll make things right…”

As Dream talked, Epiales seemed to drift to sleep… as Dream kept looking at the ceiling, their hand then reached to it, he stared at it…

“I’ll make sure of it.”

That sentence ended off with him clenching his fist. The day of the Festival was approaching, Dream didn’t exactly want that day to arrive but his eyes began to shut on their own. The next day was soon arriving, and so was the beginning of it all.

212 notes · View notes