💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

time for some dnd heavy theorizing about our beloved eddie, the banished

as we all know, we saw eddie die in the upside down, where his body was left. assuming this since there has been no proof of his death or whereabouts in the public eye. but what if there was a way he could be brought back? what if there was a way vecna brought him back?

there is a character in DnD named kas the bloody handed. he was once a human turned vampire during a battle against vecna, as his former first lieutenant turned betrayer. while i understand its not likely we will see eddie roaming hawkin’s as a vampire - this means that kas was at one point vecna’s puppet. all of the creatures in stranger things have their DnD counterpart who don’t LITERALLY have all the attributes of said counterpart. before eddie is killed by bats (a link to kas’ vampirism in DnD) he plays master of puppets by metallica. which you would think has no literal bearing on the story at hand… unless that is foreshadowing eddie’s fate in the upside down after death. eddie has bats tattooed on his arm, along with the master of puppets himself.

and not only that but while eddie is fighting and is eventually slain in the upside down, hopper picks up a sword which has a striking resemblance to the sword of kas. and imo there was a lot of emphasis on it as hopper picked it up off the ground… based on the prior fights that had happened in the pit there literally could have been anything there, an axe or WHATEVER. (there was actually nothing in the pit when joyce and hopper got down there so it almost seemed like it appeared in front of him, but that could be an oversight on the show productions part.) but THIS sword is what hopper picks up from the ground, as eddie is in the upside down keeping the bats off to the best of his ability.

A BIT OF A RESEMBLANCE, NO? i’m going share some stuff from the kas section of the greyhawk wiki.

“Kas is perhaps best known for the infamous artifact that bears his name, the Sword of Kas. The Sword of Kas first appeared in the Original D&D supplement, Eldritch Wizardry.  It was one of the first artifacts detailed for the Dungeons & Dragons game. The sword has been updated many times and has even been the object of quests as in the adventure Vecna Lives. The sword, variously described as a short sword, longsword, or greatsword, was crafted by Vecna. The blade is said to have been magically honed to a razor’s edge, enhanced the wielder’s strength, and could be used to call down lightning bolts from any storm clouds that might be overhead. The sword itself is intelligent, possessing a vile and murderous spirit. “

“After years of loyal service to Vecna, Kas eventually turned betrayer. It is said that the sword itself whispered to Kas, convincing him to slay his master and usurp his power. The battle destroyed Vecna’s Rotting Tower, cost the lich his left hand and eye, and Kas himself was flung across the multiverse to Vecna’s Citadel Cavitius on the Quasielemental Plane of Ash. The time he spent so close to the Negative Energy Plane changed him into a vampire, and he decided he would be called “Kas the Destroyer.” “

eddie, the banished → eddie, the bloody handed → eddie, the destroyer

“When Vecna was defeated during his bid for control of Oerth, Kas was freed from his centuries of imprisonment, only to find himself facing a shapeless wall of mist. When it cleared, he was master of the domain of Tovag, across the Burning Peaks from Vecna’s domain of Cavitius. Kas waged an endless war of attrition with Vecna’s forces in the hopes of retrieving the Sword of Kas from Vecna’s citadel, where he erroneously believed Vecna held it.”

“According to Dragon #341, when Vecna escaped from Cavitius, both realms were destroyed (explaining, in-fiction, their absence from 3rd edition Ravenloft). Kas was caught up in the destruction and very nearly obliterated; he survives only as a vestige, a soul outside time and space whose powers can be used by users of magic known as binders.”

i think there is a very high possibility we will see eddie munson, albeit changed, in season 5. there is also an additional theory linked to peter gabriel’s cover of “heroes” which plays in season one when it is believed that will has passed after his decoy body was found in the lake. this song also played after hopper “died” in season 3.. this song is also apparently heard after eddie has passed in the upside down. i’m not sure if this is confirmed because i was literally bawling my eyes out after and could have missed it so if anyone has an answer to this, please let me know!!

anyways with all of this symbolism it would be honestly pretty bonkers if it’s not true. this would give eddie a chance to fight in hawkin’s against vecna, in front of everyone, finally proving who he really was in life. even if at the end of it he is also destroyed. i know we all miss our boy and i just think this would be such a cool way to finish his arc as a true and known hero. which is what he DESERVES!

The Love Triangle from Hell - Series Masterlist

Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: Nancy is with Jonathan; Steve is still in love with Nancy; You're in love with Steve; Eddie's in love with you; Robin just wanted to have a movie night but everyone is making it weird.

Warnings: messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing; arguments; crying; angst angst angsty angst; drinking; Robin literally just trying to live her life but her friends are all idiots

This series with be 18+ in later chapters MINORS DNI

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR (18+)

PART FIVE

ALTERNATIVE ENDING (18+) - coming soon

BONUS CONTENT:

Electric Touch (1)(2)(3) - coming soon

Hot & Heavy - coming soon

Brando - coming soon

Foolish One - coming soon

Hey,

First of all, I absolutely adore your writing style and in general your stories (especially the Hannibal ones). Could you please write one, where Hannibal is overly possessive, because he thought his wife got too close to Chilton at one of his dinner parties? And to end it all of there is smut. (If you are comfortable with that).Thank you for considering

Close Call

Hannibal Lecter X Reader

⚠️ Warnings: Over possessiveness on Hannibal's part, slight angst, swearing, mentions of blood and wounds, sociopathic and manipulative tendencies, uhh first time writing smut so hopefully it's okay (it's fairly light) ⚠️

I also didn't read through this again and edit it, so I apologize for any grammatical or spelling errors!

Hannibal finds himself somewhat outraged at an overly confident Chilton getting too close to his wife. No matter, he'll just have to remind the two of you of what's his.

Dinner parties were nothing short of extravagant when it came to Hannibal Lecter's craft.

The wines were paired with the delicacies adorning the plates on the mahogany table; everything had its own respective place, down to the last spoon and fork on each intricately folded napkin. There was, of course, the smell wafting through the corridors of the Lecters' home, signifying the delicious meal being prepared in the kitchen and acting as bait to those mingling in the living room as they awaited the call to be seated. From your perspective, the table had to be crafted to perfection so that the party full of rich good-for-nothings had no complaints of the events of the night. Of course, you adored your husband's cooking, but less so you enjoyed the company he chose. Intelligence wasn't something that came from the accumulation of degrees and the bragging of doing so- in your opinion- but rather came from the passion associated with the understanding of others and their natural environments. In other words, conversations of nonsensical retellings of the rise to power and gathering of wealth that these particular guests had were of no interest to you. These people spoke of books on law and work projects as though they've forgotten entirely what it means to express humanity: experience.

But you were ever so careful to express your opinion on the subject of what it means to be human. Although you acknowledged your differing perspective, you didn't want to diminish the perspectives of those who might only know of the desires associated with "book smarts," and not what you referred to as "experience points." These two things could coexist, but it was often that a person leaned heavier towards either side. You still had more to learn about the balance of these, but alas, that is the human condition.

Hannibal loved you for this.

Being someone so intensely driven towards the path of psychology and law, it was refreshing being married to someone who expressed opposition to having that be the basis of every conversation. He loved a good conversation on written words and philosophers and mathematical expressions, but he loved even more to have someone in his life that kept him his understanding of biology and the preservation of his humanity. With his- er- hobby, as some would refer to it as- it became difficult to maintain this humanistic approach. These dinner parties served more as an obligatory social preservation to his image, so as not to be caught with his peculiar hobby.

And the culinary arts were his escape, anyways. A win-win except for the fact you'd be bored out of your mind talking to some of these people, he knew. Nevertheless, you had a polite smile etched onto your face wearing very presentable attire. You were a master at code-switching, it seemed, replacing your usually laid-back and outgoing personality with a more hoity-toity, reserved aura.

You had on a slightly more revealing outfit; a dress so navy it almost seemed black under any lighting that wasn't direct candlelight. This dress had been cut just above the knees with an off-shoulder neckline, exposing the very top of your chest and the beginning of your upper thighs. It was classily paired with silver earrings gifted to you by your husband, and a half up-do with your precariously crafted curls threatening to spill out of the fastened hairclip from behind. Hannibal had expressed just how lovely you'd looked as he helped you with your zipper earlier, placing a hemline of kisses to your collarbone.

He wasn't the only one who'd had this realization dawn on them during the night, however. A bright-eyed Dr. Chilton who'd received nothing short of a pity-invite, found himself drawing away from the conveniently placed appetizers to the lavish chairs facing the fireplace where you sat. He silently waited for your conversation to conclude before he decided to sweep in and take the woman's place on your right, finishing the glass of brandy in his hand before doing so.

"(Y/N)," He almost seemed exasperated, as if he were already slightly drunk, "A pleasure."

He reached out his hand to you in an attempt to get you to shake it as an overly friendly gesture, acknowledgement to his presence. You proceeded to smile at him instead, as you'd become familiar to his intentions.

"Hello, Dr. Chilton, how are you?"

His face flushed as he withdrew his hand from your space, opting to rest it against his leg as he sunk further into his chair, getting more comfortable. He was definitely drunk and if not drunk, then the far side of tipsy. You already didn't care for the guy much, so this chance encounter was a hinderance in your eyes before conversational topics even arose.

"You know, I never understood the drab curtains you chose for the interior of your living room, Mrs. Lecter. They block out all of the sunlight." He began, eyeing the bottle of scotch being poured out by another guest to the left of your chair. His eyes seemed to be glazed over as he spoke, however, the dimly lit fireplace seemed to cast some light back into them. His suit of choice was a corduroy one. The heavy material of the fabric already making him break out in a slight sweat.

Grimacing, you feign another smile as you fully acclimate yourself to the conversation at hand. You tell yourself to remember your polite flattery, but honestly with the way Dr. Chilton was, you knew he would take any sort of attention to his character the wrong way.

"Yes, that was the way we intended them to be, doctor. Have you ever been to our home during the daytime? It's not as drab as you may have perceived it to be."

Dr. Chilton had been coming onto you for quite some time now. Despite knowing you were wed and the many implications of your marriage you'd spoken about, he still managed to hold onto the hope that maybe one day something would spark between the two of you. It wouldn't. It hadn't. His blatantly disrespectful comments about yours and Hannibal's relationship were starting to burrow under your skin and take root in an uncomfortable fashion. Part of you felt bad for the man, another part wanted to sock him in the face.

Respectably, of course.

"Perhaps not. Maybe I spoke out of turn." He claimed, uneasily moving about in his chair despite his initial comfortability at the beginning of your dialogue. Maybe if you kept with the slight I-don't-like-you innuendos, then maybe he would be drunk enough to give it a rest and would return to his normal self come morrow.

"Maybe." You agree, taking a sip from your glass of Chardonnay. It was almost dinnertime. You could hold out until then, couldn't you?

"You know," Chilton began, staring deep into the fire and allowing a hushed sigh to escape your lips in anticipation of another redundant comment, "I used to set fires in Uni all the time. Its a miracle I graduated with any degree at all with the amount of trouble I used to get into as a boy."

Pause. Was there finally something worthwhile to discuss with this man?

"Really? And the occasion was...?" You asked, trying to direct the topic back to this small bombshell the Doctor had just dropped in your presence. Experience points were far more interesting to talk about than a poor understanding of the "48 Laws of Power," which was the last conversation you'd had.

He seemed to perk up in his chair realizing that you'd finally taken something that left his mouth with interest. "None, we were just playing with matches and grew bored. Only got caught because the wind carried the flames back to our dorm which almost set alight." He smiled and for a moment, you could see the memory replaying through those glossy eyes of his. You felt included, as if you'd been there yourself, watching the growing light of the flames dance around the edges of the matches you were playing with.

As if on cue, your husband's hand was gently but firmly placed on your shoulder from behind. You knew instantly it was him because of the wafting smell of his woodsy cologne and the wine he was drinking infiltrating your nose. His grip on you was polite but there was an edge to it, an unfamiliar one at that. Was something wrong?

Turning around, you see his darkened glare towards Chilton in the chair next to you. His matching dark navy suit making him look all the more professional and intimidating in this light; if you were Chilton you'd have run far far away from the glare Hannibal had. He seemed to pay no mind, however, eyes still focused on you until your husband broke the silence:

"Dinnertime."

It was at that moment that you noticed all the other guests had made their way to the kitchen and the three of you were the only ones in the living room. How long had you been talking to the doctor for? Hannibal's repressed anger suddenly made sense.

Walking to the kitchen, you were in awe at the sight before you. Hannibal had really put his all into tonight, and it showed. The plates were nothing short of art with the first course on display with accompanying sauces and garnish that turned them into something out of a museum painting. The entire get-up was something out of the Renaissance itself; everything in its perfect place. Hannibal stood at the head of the table, glass in hand as he prepared to make a toast to progress the night's dinner.

"I would like to thank you all for coming out tonight."

A collection of smiles and exchanged glances ensued, everyone pleased with their invite.

"Amongst this crowd are the most intellectual and inspiring people I've had the pleasure of getting to become familiar with. You're all of high accomplishments and achievements and I would like to thank each of you, individually, with a meal that encapsulates such dedication shown by you all."

Your husband then smiled at you and raised his glass.

"I would also like to thank my lovely wife, with whom I share this simple but joyous life with."

There was a hint of something there, something alongside the adoration he expressed for you on the daily. There was a twinge of that anger once more, but could it really be directed towards your conversation with Chilton? It seemed so clear to you that your husband surpassed the former in every way possible: intelligence and compassion, hell, down to the formal attire he adorned himself with daily. There was no way he would feel threatened by another man so unruly.

"Likewise." You said, tilting your glass up to the ceiling in acknowledgement of his kind and respectable words.

"Once more to reiterate, MY wife and I spent a long time on this meal so I hope you all enjoy it." He smiled a forced grin and directed his gaze towards Chilton. "And nothing on the menu for tonight is vegetarian."

...

The night was filled with more of the usual countless bantering between everyone in the room, trying to appeal more and more to everyone else. You were swept into what seemed like every conversation in the house and all of this sociability was starting to grow exhausting. The meal was phenomenal, to say the least, but did little to calm your worries with your husband's current expression of intolerance and dismay. You wanted nothing more than to head upstairs to your shared bedroom and to sort things out with him; to maybe end the night with a passionate kiss and to then retire to bed, finally. That desire, however, seemed like miles away because of the ongoing event that you were starting to despise more with every passing minute.

Not to mention, your dress was starting to get extremely uncomfortable, as if your skin were melting into the seams of the fabric.

As if on cue to make the night worse, Dr. Chilton was making his way towards you, undoubtedly much more drunk this time. He was stumbling over his own loafers and the floorboards were not his friend at the moment. He was making a fool of himself and you wanted so badly to just disappear.

Just then, the floorboard by the fireplace where you were sitting popped up in front of him. Everything from then went in slow-motion, the wood, the stumbling of Chilton's feet and the slow advancement towards the fire. Seeing how this would play out, you wanted to yell "Stop!" but you were frozen. Just as you had predicted, he had a horrid fall towards the open flame, his cufflinks connecting with the place stones and his right arm breaking the fall. His hand wasn't lucky enough to miss the fire, his scream instantly echoing throughout the room.

"Dr. Chilton!" Hannibal yelled, already to his feet with the pitcher of water from the charcuterie table. It was insane that his reflexes allowed him to respond instantaneously. Almost as if he had prepared for the doctor's fall. Springing the water onto Chilton, the fire was put out almost as quickly as it had started.

"Are you okay?" You asked the doctor, leaning down to his level on the floor, holding his now hurt hand.

"B-b-bandages." He was able to muster out.

The closer look you got to his hand, the closer you could see the wound. The flames didn't consume his flesh for very long, although there was now a coating of red on his skin alongside a few open gashes. Looking to your husband for help, you instead saw him standing above you, a scowl on his lips. He looked angrier than he'd ever before and the sight of it scared you. Had he been angry that the party was ruined? That one of his guests were hurt?

Chilton was then led to the kitchen where his wounds were properly addressed and tended to. The aid kit that had collected dust on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet had finally been put to use, and, upon further inspection, it had been decided for the doctor to call for an ambulance for a more professional treatment.

He left. Everyone followed suit. It was now only you and your husband.

"I'm sorry that had to happen the way it did." You said, reaching out to touch his shoulder and soothe him in my way you could. "Would you like me to help you clean up?"

He mumbled something under his breath before he made his way up the elongated glass stairs. It was unbelievably peculiar for him to retire to bed this early, especially before cleaning up from a party.

"Is something wrong?" You asked, voice coming out as nothing more than a feeble whisper. He stopped in his tracks, his blazer now resting atop his free arm opposite to the one holding the railing. His tie was loosened and from where you were standing, you couldn't see his face all that clearly.

He finally spoke up.

"What are your intentions with Chilton?" He asked.

You stopped in your initial tracks to follow your husband up the stairs. Was he accusing you of courtship? And with the doctor of all people?

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean, (Y/N)."

Your heart broke for a moment, there was no way he really thought that after years of marriage, after what you had come to learn about him and his... capabilities...that you would choose another man, albeit in front of his own eyes?

"I have no intentions with Chilton, Hanni. Not as an acquaintance, not as a friend, not as a lover." You continued to follow him up the stairs and to your shared bedroom where he placed the blazer and tie on the bedside table rather than hang it up as he usually did. He undid his cufflinks and unbuttoned the top his neckline.

"I only want you, Hannibal. You know that."

He pursed his lips and finally, from where he leant against the bed, looked up at you standing in the doorframe. Your expression was a worried one, not of someone who had underlying intentions. Hannibal knew what you wanted, knew who you wanted, but Chilton had gotten the better of him tonight. And besides, tormenting the two of you to remind both of you who you belong to was a much more satisfying game to play.

"Alright." Hannibal said, accepting your validation with his thick, Danish accent. "Show me."

"I- what?" You asked, being taken aback completely by surprise. His eyes were dark with thoughts you had grown to be all too familiar with from him. Despite clearly understanding his interpretation of the words, you still stood frozen at the door, waiting. There was something about this that wasn't going to be as sweet as the usual slow and sensual intimacy you'd had with your husband and you knew this fact.

Just then, as if taking your hesitance as permission, he stands and walks over to you, the height difference ever so apparent now that you were face to face. His gelled hair was now starting to come undone, as was yours, as he held your gaze. His hand came up to tuck your hair behind your ear and then trailed to your neck, your collarbone, your breast. He then allowed his hand to go further, down to your waist and then pulled you into him, holding you there as gently but firm as one could be. He was watching your face as he did so, never breaking eye contact even once.

Your breath hitched in your throat. A growing warmth developed in your midsection as your husband had you entranced with his every move. He was enjoying this, enjoying you, enjoying the situation he put you in. He had turned on his more sadistic side and it was becoming evident with the way he progressed down your body, replacing his hands with kisses and moving towards your thighs then back up, as if with haste, towards your mouth. You felt as though you were going to faint right then and there.

He suddenly stops his kisses and then goes to finish unbuttoning his shirt. His wide frame was revealed with every unfastened button popping off, slowly but surely. Every inch of his skin had been crafted to the likes of the gods, it was as if he were one of them himself. No imperfections in his skin as far as the eye could see. He was beautiful. He was the divine definition of beauty itself.

He swiftly moved his hands to your throat, fingers following suit as he held you there, against the bedroom wall, a juxtaposition to his masterfully divine beauty of feigned innocence. His breath was hot but not unpleasant as he whispered into the nape of your neck:

"You belong to me."

And that was all it took for you to fold entirely, becoming a puppet to his every command, desires of the flesh being the only thing on both your minds. You needed him and he needed you to need him. He wanted a full surrender, a full understanding that he was the only man you'd ever be able to fulfill these lustrous fantasies with.

"Do you understand?" He asked, not giving you a second to think any further before he moved you from the wall and to the bed, where he towered over you.

"Y-yes." You said, waiting to see what he would do next.

"Good. Now take it."

Confused, you looked up at him but he had already had other plans, flipping you into your stomach and forcing himself inside you, under your dress. The instant burn that you felt was replaced by immediate satisfaction as you saw stars. Through this position you could feel him inside you, hot and intense, pushing deeper and deeper until he bottomed out. He dug into you until he was all you could feel, hear, taste, see. He was owning every inch of your skin and forcing you to feel it.

And you loved it.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked, anger laced in his voice.

"You." You tried your best to get out with the intense feeling between your thighs but it was next to impossible.

"What was that?" He asked once more, forcing you to say it louder.

Just as you were about to respond, he picks you up and turns you around to face him, taking in his expression. You were on your knees looking up at him, tears in your eyes at the intensity of what had just happened. Your dress was definitely ruined by this point but you couldn't care less.

"You." You said, waiting for him to say something, anything at all. He placed his finger on your lips and smiled down at you while he toyed with them. He then put himself inside of your mouth, your jaws stretching to be able to take him.

"Good." He said, quickening his original pace as he sighed with content. You allowed him to finish before the two of you fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and bedsheets.

He was holding you in his arms now, making sure you were alright as he kissed the top of your head and face, looking at the marks he'd left on your skin. He'd make sure those were more visible the next time someone tried to intrude on your guys' company. Especially on a pity invite.

He'd also make sure not to let Chilton off with a warning next time, making sure to purposely set his entire body on fire, not just his hand.

But you were asleep soundly in his arms, full of him and he had won.

...

A/N : Hello! This is my first time writing smut kinda so I hope this is up to par with some other fanfic writers. I really hope this fulfills your request! Lmk if anyone has any other requests, my ask box is open! 🫶

I am sobbing

STRANGER THINGS Vol 2 | Papa (4.08)

Hey Panko Shrimps!

How are we doing today? I am currently obsessed with this picture of Joseph Quinn photoshopped onto a cockroach

I hope you're all having a lovely day.

💛🦐

IN-BETWEEN DAYS

Carl Grimes x Reader

⚠️ Warnings: language ⚠️

The light was so bright it hurt your eyes.

The smell of the hospital room was one you'd never forget. It was your dad's last moments, after all, and the place reeked of death and old perfume. You tried your best to focus on something as silly as the smell to keep you distracted from the scene that was playing out before you. Your dad, lying helpless and stating up at the ceiling as a flurry of doctors rushed around the room and around his bed, yelling incoherent sentences to the others before beginning the procedure. You knew it wouldn't work. He was already gone.

The same light that seemed so bright to you left his eyes and a hoarse sigh escaped his lips. He died smiling and you knew it was purely because he saw your mother waiting for him on the other side.

...

Your father never had to live in this apocalyptic world, which was a good thing. He had died of a heart attack a few years back and you focused on keeping yourself alive throughout all the chaos surrounding you. You were a different person now then you were back then. You wondered if he'd be proud of the shitty decisions you've made leading up to this point; the way you had to teach yourself how to fight and kill, never letting anyone into your heart and break down your walls. That is until you met Carl.

You had been an orphan after your father's death, going in and out of orphanages and foster homes until the apocalypse hit. You found yourself all alone after that and did your best with what you could to survive with what you had. You had met Rick's group along the way, finding out later that they had just lost their last shelter which apparently was a prison not to far from where you were stationed. An old treehouse.

Why you were remembering your past at a time like this, you didn't know why. You just felt especially nostalgic today of all days and you were reminded of your father because Carl had found one of your favorite CD's while out on a run- The Cure.

Your father had also enjoyed The Cure and it felt even more painful to listen to it today, because of the nostalgia and the fact that you were finally starting to enjoy bits and pieces of what was left of the world without him. You felt guilty. Guilty for letting him die.

No. It wasn't your fault.

But it felt like it.

You pet Carl's hair as he laid in your lap, eye closed and lost in thought as you both listened to the song 'In Between Days' by The Cure. You weren't sure what he was thinking about, but part of you felt as though he was reliving his past and overthinking the his actions too. It was songs like these that made you feel your past creeping up on you again. You didn't mind thinking about your past. Your father had been sick for a very long time. You had killed people before but you would do it all over again to save those you cared about. You wondered if Carl felt the same.

He didn't let anyone into his head. He never had a problem showing emotion around you, he just preferred to lay in your lap as you both reminisce of the way things were before and you glide your fingers through his messy locks of hair. It calmed you as well, being able to hold him in that way, a way he wouldn't let anyone else.

The winter was colder, so often times Carl would make his way over to where you were sitting on the couch and lay his head down in your lap looking for the comfort that only you could give him. Sometimes he'd fall asleep on you but you didn't mind. You were an insomniac anyways, so having something as soothing as Carl's short and heavy breathing as you lied awake helped you relieve the tension of the day.

"Are you still awake?"

The blue eyed boy looked up at you, finally opening his eyes and letting a tear slip down his cheek. He looked beautiful that way. His eyes were stormy and the light shining in through the windows of your living room cast shadows across his face and made his freckles seem electrified.

"Yes." Was all you replied with. It was all you could reply with since you were still zoned out.

He moved so he was sitting next to you on the couch and eased you down onto his lap so he could return the loving gesture. You made yourself comfortable against the cold denim of his jeans and felt his hands run through your (H/L), (H/C) hair.

"(Y/N), I don't know if I've told you this before, but Robert Smith is a wonderful musician. I can see why you and your dad liked him so much." He said, as you started to fall asleep against him.

"Yeah. He really is. This song reminds me of you."

"How so?"

You sighed. "It's a beautiful irony. Isn't it? The song seems so happy and uplifting at first glance, but there's so much meaning behind the lyrics and the more you think about them the sadder the story gets. But it is also beautiful. It's beautiful in the way that it reminds you of all the times you felt infinite, the times your heart was broken, and the overwhelming sense of being forgotten but then remembering how meaningful love is."

He was silent for a moment before he spoke "I've never had someone understand me on a level that emotional before. It's kind of nice being around you. I don't have to say anything and you've already got me all figured out. It's why I love you."

You felt the importance of his words flow through your mind and travel down every part of your body. It was so nice to be told you're loved and not from your parents. You weren't sure if there was a greater feeling then that of being loved. And you were loved by Carl so it was extra special.

"I love you too Carl."

And with that, you drifted off to sleep, Robert Smith filling your ears with happiness and Carl underneath you, rubbing small circles in your hair and making you feel infinite. You only felt infinite with Carl. Next time you listened to this song, you knew you would be reminiscent of this moment.

(Gifs aren't mine, sorry the story was so short it's currently 4:00 am and I am on day #2 without sleep)

They Don't Deserve You.

Steve Harrington X Reader

When you ask your friend to go to prom for fun and they decide to leave you, someone far better and more interesting appears and sweeps you off your feet.

⚠️ Warnings: Swearing ⚠️

(Just a short little drabble!)

The lights and music blaring from the venue hid you from the watchful eyes as you were a complete and utter mess. The sky started to darken allowing for a cover as you tried your hardest not to cry, sniffling from the banister leading into the event. Your shoes were scuffed and your wrist hurt from the once pretty corsage and your makeup felt much too heavy on your face. You had tried so hard to make everything about tonight fun since this year truly hadn't been the best. It's supposed to be the night of the year but of course it just ended the same way your previous ones had; you were alone and unhappy.

Your "date's" words rang through your head as you remembered how blatantly rude they had been to you and your friends. Deciding to up and leave the prom entirely, they had walked in with you for the approval of everyone else and left the minute they didn't have a use for you anymore. It wasn't fair. A part of you didn't blame them though. Why would you have expected them to want to stay?

The doors were announced to be closing from the main entryway which you were standing directly outside of. You needed to feel the wind to calm yourself down after today, so you opted to remain right where you were standing beside the railing and hoping for your date to realize they had made a mistake and come driving back to you.

Of course this didn't happen though, and after a couple more moments you picked up your dress so as not to step on it as you walked back towards the horde of other students in sparkly attire and smiling faces. It was going to be hard to meander back into the rest of society after being out here for so long, but you were sure that after a few drinks later this entire school event will be long forgotten.

"Hey!" You heard from under the stair railing. The entire venue had been elevated due to it being on a hill so there was a blind spot out of sight from the teachers roaming around. Looking behind you, you contemplated walking back to your original spot to scope things out but decided it was probably your imagination. Until you heard the voice again.

"("Y/N")!"

It was louder this time, but still a whisper of sorts. Going back towards the banister, you look down and see the most brilliant head of hair. Bright eyes and a shining smile, your friend Steve Harrington stood below you in a black suit and red button up. He had come with a different girl, but he was alone now. Alone with the most excited look on his face.

"Harrington?" You called and tried your best to hide the fact that you'd been crying. Wiping your face with the back of your hands, you put on the best smile you could possibly muster with the sinking feeling in your stomach.

"You look beautiful." He said, coming up to your level from his secret hiding spot. With him standing this close to you, the height difference was apparent as he stood at 6ft. Well, add a couple inches for the hair.

"Thank you." You said, even though you didn't believe it. If you had looked prettier then maybe you wouldn't have been left outside from the party by yourself.

Steve offers his hand out to you and motions his head towards the road. "Wanna get out of here?" He asks, slipping his other hand into his pants pocket.

Confusion dawning your face, you looked for Steve's date. He couldn't just up and leave her, could he?

"What about-"

"My date?" He began, smiling even wider, "She left with yours."

"Oh." Was all you could say, shocked at the idea of your friend leaving because of someone else. You felt the pain in your chest tighten just a little bit more as jealousy filled you. What wasn't envy was self-doubt. Why had things turned out the way they did? And who on earth would leave Steve Harrington when he looks this goddamn good?

"It's really okay! Fuck them." He laughed, placing his hand in yours. You caught a whiff of his deliciously intoxicating cologne and stared at the rest of his outfit. He looked really nice. Too nice to be by himself tonight. Little did you know, he thought the exact same thing about you.

"You know what? Yeah. Fuck them." You said, wiping the stray tear that fell from your cheek as you took off your shoes and followed Harrington into the night towards his car. Running through the grass, you heard one of Kate Bush's popular songs playing, urging you to run faster. Laughing, you allow yourself to feel free and happy being with someone who didn't take you for granted. The way it should've been.

"They don't deserve you!" Steve called out to you over the music, trying his best to be heard over the intensive bass.

"What?!"

"I said, they don't deserve you!"

And just like that, you and Steve drove away into the night, a whole new flood of possibilities overwhelming you and leaving you with the happiest feeling within the pit of your stomach. You silently thanked that asshole for leaving you since someone far cooler with much bigger hair was able to sweep you off your feet.

TAEMIN  ✦  SEXUALITY  ✦  The 1st Stage Nippon Budokan

Hello!!! Can you please write a Seo Moonjo fic, where he becomes possessive/obsessed with Jongwoo's gf or with a female who works with him?

Overcompensate

Absolutely lovely! Here's a bit of a drabble for you!

Pairing: Seo Moon-Jo X Reader

Warnings: mentions of gore & possessiveness, Moon-Jo shows very yandere tendencies, cannibalism allegories

Moon-jo was a simple man.

Not necessarily in theory, but in practice. He knew what it was he aspired to obtain in his lifetime and with the amount of work and dedication he put into those aspirations, it makes sense that he would achieve them. Simple.

But as to what he wanted and the lengths he would go to, stopping at nothing...that was a little more complicated.

To his surprise, he had found himself in a situation where the goal wasn't in relation to dentistry or murder. He was having a bit of an issue sorting out just exactly why the new tenant of Eden Residence was so captivating, so enthralling to him. What was it about the boy who lived next door that led Moon-Jo to believing that his existence was some sort of spiritual awakening he would have to come to discover? Why was he suddenly so fascinated in the idea of pulling back his brain and picking out all of his thoughts, consuming them in their entirety until there was nothing left of poor Jongwoo but a vessel of the human being he once was? It was Kafka-esque, a metamorphosis of his character; to watch him succumb to the ravaging animalistic qualities that Moon-Jo believed all humans to possess. It was strange and it was beautiful.

And oh, was it something Moon-Jo wanted.

So he put in the work. Day after day he spent trying to get under Jongwoo's flesh, tearing open another layer piece by piece to truly understand his newfound obsession. But with every step closer to his goal he got, the more confused he became. There was nothing he was learning that he had hoped for. Jongwoo was buckling under the weight of his neighbor's madness, yes. But he wasn't the right image of Moon-Jo's work. This frustrated him to no end.

He still remembers when everything finally clicked into place. The night had just fallen and the stars crept up in the sky, illuminating the long path to the Residence. Although the lights were dim, one could still make out the small cats darting back and forth as they played with one another in the underbrush. The air was crisp and still with no wind, a perfect temperature to end an outrageously hot summer day. Moon-Jo awaited on the rooftop with two beers, as he usually did, watching the path below for his Jongwoo to arrive back home with his furrowed expression of displeasure and overly large backpack slung over his shoulders from an excruciatingly long day at the office. He would be lucky to convince Jongwoo up to the roof where he sat and even luckier if he could manage to get him to drink his beer. He knew Jongwoo was onto him and his...stranger tendencies, but he would receive the fruits of his labor. He always did.

The beer can was cold under his grasp, the condensation slipping from his fingertips and falling beneath him as the drops pattered onto the cracked concrete. He was starting to grow slightly warm, however, he wasn't sure if it was because of the weather or the growing anticipation he felt as he awaited the boy's arrival. His eyes didn't leave the road once.

As he looked beneath him towards the winding street, he finally saw his neighbor trudging up the path, same expression on his face Moon-Jo had expected him to be wearing. But, to his surprise, walking beside the man he'd so desperately tried his best to court 24/7 was quite possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life.

It shocked him-almost-his hand immediately dropping the beer he was holding as he lost his composure for the first time in many years. It was sudden, as though he'd been impaled by sword, piercing through his lungs and stopping his breath as his heart skipped a beat. He had never been so hungry, so devout for human meat. He didn't want to cannibalize you, no. But he so desperately wanted to consume you and your being which is almost the same thing...right? He knew what Jongwoo had meant to him now, it was almost so clear in the way it presented itself; Jongwoo was never meant to be the product of his manipulation. It had always had to have been you.

Your eyes looked up towards Eden, missing the strange man on the roof entirely. Moon-Jo found himself entranced by them, watching the way they shone under the stars and the soft light from the windows of the Residence. They were like Bosch's paintings of the divine, absolutely encapsulating the beauty of the gods. Your hair fell slightly past your shoulders and framed a face he could only assume belonged to heavens itself. Your body swayed with the movement of your feet as you followed your boyfriend's suit, duffel bag in hand.

Moon-Jo thought he had died and been met with the face of a deity.

On your end, the only thing you were thinking about was Jongwoo's warnings from earlier. Once he had moved to Seoul and started living in this dingy place, he had instantly been met with strange roommates whom he'd talk about often. You were worried about his dwindling sleep schedule and his overall safety, residing in a place like this on the outskirts of town. If something terrible were to happen here, you weren't even sure police would show up in this precinct. For Jongwoo's sake, however, you swallowed down your nervousness preparing to have that conversation with him later.

Collecting himself, Moon-Jo practically sprinted towards the stairs and made his way down to Mrs. Eom's desk, leaning against the dilapidated building's walls, forcing himself to contain the sparks flying through his veins. He had to keep himself together, make the most impeccable first impression and swoon you over, whoever you might be. He needed you to like him, to trust him. If he ruined his image right off the bat by voicing his true inner monologue, it would be so much harder to mold you to his image and sway you into his grasp.

"Jongwoo, are you sure this is something you want to do? We could always sleep at my place if you're as uncomfortable by this place as you say." You said, closing the heavy door behind you and setting down your duffel bag for a moment to regain your breath.

Jongwoo shrugged and picked up your things containing all your overnight clothes and whatever else you'd brought to work that day. He had just simple given you a "yeah, this is fine" before turning around to be met face-to-face with the one person he didn't want to see or have the imposition of introducing to his girlfriend at all. He had hoped he might be able to sneak you past and into his room before anyone even noticed he was there; as he usually did. He'd presumed Moon-Jo to be on the roof for his nightly drink, whenever he stayed at the residence and not in his own apartment.

Beside the wall-almost eerily so-Moon-Jo stood, ignoring Jongwoo completely. His eyes were trained on you as you gathered yourself enough to take him in, watching the man before you breathe in the very fiber of your being. He was tall and dark haired with extraordinary cheekbones. With a face card like that, you were sure he'd have had to be a model or do side-gigs of the sort. His smile was a pleasant one as it seemed inviting, but upon staring at it for a few moments, something about it felt off to you. His black button-up was loose around his collarbones and neatly tucked into his slacks. He was fairly handsome, you thought, forgetting that Jongwoo had warned you of this 'crazy neighbor' before inviting you to stay at his place to catch the train back home tomorrow.

A piercing feeling of nervousness took over your body and shocked you instantly. There was something extremely peculiar about this man and you wanted nothing to do with finding out what it was. There was something haunting about the depth of his cold, dark gaze, contrasting Jongwoo's warm and inviting one. You swore to yourself in that moment not to walk anywhere on these premises without Jongwoo for fear of running into this man alone.

However uncomfortable you may have felt, Moon-Jo was in love, if that's what you would call it. He wanted this-you, so intensely and so immediately that his entire body felt as though it were shaking with tremors. He would stop at absolutely nothing to have you, to own you. You were what he had been unknowingly waiting for his entire existence and Jongwoo had only been the key. Smiling, he shook his hand out towards yours, ignoring the complaints from your boyfriend from beside you.

"My name is Seo Moon-Jo. The pleasure is all mine."

"(Y/N)." You replied.

“my child is fine”

Your child literally reads smut with a straight face while eating breakfast like it’s the morning paper.