#a living space Made for me. my bars to hang off of... my bed to climb as i please......

[trying-harder-then-u]

Someone Unexpected

"Fort Stonepeak was a small town in the middle of the Appalachian Mountains. With a population of only a few thousand, most people made their livelihoods by serving the farmers that worked just outside the city boundary or as members of the lively tourism industry that flourished in the region due to its fresh air, majestic mountain peaks, and clear blue rivers. Maybe that's why I came here? I did need some space after my breakup, but it hasn't worked. All I've done is sit in this hotel under this dim light on a creaky bed and feel sad for myself. Jesus, I need to do something. Maybe I will go to the bar tonight, and then I can at least drink my problems away. So after a shower, I looked in the mirror, put a shirt on, and got going.

Walking into the bar, spots flashed before my eyes as the bright lights flashed. I hadn't been expecting them; it gave the bar much more of a rave atmosphere than I had expected, but when in Rome, trudging to the bar, I had to practically scream over the music just to get a whiskey. Looking around, I saw couples dancing. Great! I thought, Now I get to mope with a headache, but just as I thought that, a clink noise sounded next to me. Looking over, a gay, twunkish-looking farm boy sat next to me. "I hope you don't mind me sitting here; there are not many seats around." His chuckle filled me with a giddy feeling as he laughed. "No worries, I'm not waiting for anyone," I replied, putting my hand out for a handshake. He had a much firmer grip than I thought.

The next few days, I went to hang out with John and began to learn more about him—about his family, friends, and, most importantly, his sexuality. It was another night of meeting at the same bar when John finally dropped the bomb. "I know you are gay; I am too, so I was wondering if you wanted to..." John trailed off. I was shocked as all hell. I had had my fair share of exchanges with other guys, and sure, a lot of them wanted me badly, but none had ever been this blunt. "Sure," I said, winking, "I can give you a good time," and before I knew it, we were heading over to my small hotel.

Leading John back to my apartment, I was full of joy. There was a strut in my step as I led him, and I had to slow down to stop myself from rushing too quickly. Once we got to my room, I held the door open for him and followed him in. The door shut with a bang, and I saw his shoulders tightening. Before he turned to me, "We're going to the bedroom now," he told me. I was shocked. Just a minute ago, he had been following me and gleefully talking about the starry sky and how he couldn't wait to do the deed with me. Now here, he was acting like he was in charge. I was going to talk to him about that, but then I felt the will to fight him on it leave my body as he stared at me, and like a defeated puppy, I followed him to my own bedroom, where he got me to sit down. Looking at me, I could feel his eyes undressing me before he finally seemed to be focused on my face. "I know you want me, but I want to hear it from you," he said. Still in shock at the situation, I stayed quiet, but soon waves of pleasure began to radiate through me. I looked to see where they were coming from, and his hand was massaging my crotch. "What do you want?" he asked me, and as I moaned, I only managed to whisper "you." Smiling at me, John pulled off my shirt and pants and pulled me into a kiss. I could feel his tongue invade my mouth, and I knew this was my last chance to assert that I was in charge here, so I fought back, but it was futile as he continued to slowly pressure my pouch, and finally I submitted, and his tongue began to explore my mouth. This is when I felt the first change begin. I felt inside my pants that my boxers were changing, the fabric changing to be less coarse, perhaps nylon, and shrinking down until my goods were held in a pair of briefs. looking down at them. John grinned; he said, "You look good on me," and I could feel my cheeks go hot as I blushed.

He proceeded to push me down and start kissing what felt like every inch of my body. As he did, my muscles began to shrink and my broad shoulders narrowed, but I still had a muscular frame, just a swimmer build rather than the body I had worked for at the gym, and before long, John was pulling down my pants and staring at my 9-inch. I looked at him with begging eyes as he began to suck me off, wave after wave of pleasure as I neared closer and closer, and right before I came, he moved back to kissing me and finished off my transformation as he gave me a hand job. Ribbons of cum flew out, leaving me with a reduced size. Putting his fingers covered in my own product into my mouth, my neurons fired. My brain was rewired; I was a bottom through and through, and John was certainly my boyfriend, and every night we would make love. That was how it was.

a few months later, and I've finally moved in with him. Of course, I do all the cooking and cleaning at home while he works the farm. Every night, I get to enjoy his hot, sweaty body. I think I hear him coming now. I don't think I've ever been so happy as when I see him after a long day.

[loservernon]

𐙚⊹₊⋆☆ my dream | sim jake

𐙚 idol!jake x student!reader (she/her)

𐙚 angst, fluff at end, part two to nice guy

𐙚 1.5k, not proofread sorry, swearing, panic attack tw

𐙚 note // it doesn’t get happy until the very end but i promise it does get happy lol. a second part as promised. i wrote this with lowkey no plan and one half hour sitting, so shitty writing ahead. also idk their dorm arrangements. enjoy nonetheless ~3~

“what do you want?” is the first thing jay says upon opening the door to their dorms. considering the fact that it was half past four in the morning, jake couldn’t blame the guy for the obvious peeve in his voice.

still, he can’t bring himself to say anything and instead just pushes past his groupmate into the dorms. jay seems to catch the gist of the situation from that alone, following suit and letting the door slam shut behind him without seeming to mind.

“was it your fault again?”

en route to the room he shared with jungwon, jake stops in his tracks. he doesn’t turn to look in jay’s direction, and he presses his lips into a thin line. “what do you mean by ‘again’?”

“i mean, last time you yelled at her for talking to that guy from her math class. i was just wondering what it was this time.”

at this, jake turns around abruptly, “you know i’m in a bad mood already. can you not rub it in my face that i’m a shit boyfriend?”

jay gives him a straight face. the tension between the two guys is strung high but he resolves it promptly and simply by responding, “i’m sorry if i overstepped and asked too much, but it’s not fair to take out your frustrations about being an asshole on me.”

neither of them break the stare for a few moments before jake caves, looking away whilst admitting, “i bought a drink for some girl at the bar we were at yesterday.”

“you what?”

jay’s immediate disbelief is jake’s affirmation that he’d truly gone too far this time. it made him feel dumb, really, for so fervently trying to defend his actions when they were so clearly viewed as wrong to those around him. jake turns his gaze to the ground, shaking his head in resignation.

“she kicked you out?”

with his eyes still on the floor, he replies drily and belatedly.

“yeah, something like that.”

in his top bunk later that night, jake stares at the ceiling that hangs two feet above his face. jungwon’s snores from below and the clacking of heeseung’s loud ass gaming keyboard two doors down should be enough noise to drown out all his thoughts, but it’s far from it. jake’s thoughts are loud enough to consume him whole.

he did not get kicked out of your apartment. jake knows you don’t have the heart to do that to him, not when he helps with the rent and not when he unofficially lives there. but jake can’t stand being there without your presence.

earlier that night, he was brushing his teeth to get ready for bed but there was no you next to him, trying to mimic his actions until he caught on and laughed at your imitation of him. when he turned off the lights and made his way to the bed, jake caught himself saying, “goodnight, love you,” to an empty room. it was embarrassing, sure, but it was even more so heartbreaking when he slid into the sheets and instinctively reached out for your warmth, only to be met with the coldness of your absence.

so jake kicked himself out. because staying in your room, where your scent lingered everywhere, ate away at his conscience until he had to physically remove himself from anything remotely related to you.

he still remembers with a heavy heart the last time the two of you had fought. without a sorry and only his angry words ringing in your ears, jake remembers how you’d tried to discreetly slip out of bed late in the night. immediately sensing your absence in bed, jake shot upright and asked where you were going.

“to the couch,” you had said. “i need some space.”

you had turned away from him before he even uttered his feeble, “i see,” the air around him stilling where your breath had once been. jake felt the palms of his hand grow cold, and the edges of his eyes stung with the threat of tears. he doesn’t cry, not even infrequently or on special occasions. but in that moment, jake swore he’d never felt closer to tears.

it’s these suffocating memories of his failures that make the ceiling above him seem as if it’s closing in on him, inch by inch. it seems it will smother him flat, squeezing shut his airways. any minute now, any moment now. he lays there unmoving, accepting his fate and in anticipation of his last breath. but the ceiling remains sedentary. instead, jake is gasping for air, breaking out into a sob so sudden that he barely registers what’s happening.

he kicks off the blankets, for he’s breaking out into a sweat. though he’s breathing hard and fast, there doesn’t seem to be enough oxygen. the sounds of his roommates diminish into nothing. his vision of the dark room blurs further into nothing, and his face is wet with oncoming tears that lack an end in sight.

it is a matter of fight or flight for jake as he scrambles to find his phone, clambering clumsily down the steps of the ladder on the bunk bed. once he reaches the bathroom with the door shut and behind his back, jake fumbles to press his speed dial.

each ring that goes unanswered feels like another step closer to death for him, thus it’s fortunate enough that his call was received on the third ring. the line on the other end is quiet, however, and only the sound of jake’s labored breathing and choked sobs fill the silence.

“jake? are you okay?”

he doesn’t stop crying until the moment he hears your voice. even his breathing manages to even itself out for the half second it takes for him to weakly respond. “i’m okay.”

“are you sure?”

as he returns from the climax of his panic attack, jake reassures you, “i’m okay now.”

“do you want me to come?”

it’s so sudden, the way the feeling dawns upon him. jake loves you. he’s sure of it all the time, but he feels it so strongly right this moment. if he thinks too hard about it, he could cry again. he is crying again. he’s crying at the way you pick up with no hesitation, even though it’s six in the morning. he’s crying at the tenderness in your voice, the warmth, the concern with which you speak. he’s crying because you’re upset at him — to the point at which you can’t stand being in your own apartment with him — but one sign of his distress and you’re asking if he needs you by his side. jake says yes. he needs you.

“i need you. come home, please. i– i can’t stand myself. why can’t i just be good to you? i just… want to be good for you.”

the lines goes silent, save for the occasional sniffles on jake’s end. he knows this isn’t the apology you deserve. he wishes he could do more for you instead of this emotional and unwarranted plea that probably woke you up. but this is his best. jake hopes it’s enough.

“i know,” you rejoin, “i know you’re just doing your best. and your best will always be enough for me.”

his world goes back to normal when you say that. whatever havoc he’d wrecked has been rectified, and jake is no longer seeking to fight or flee the cage he’s built himself. and in this way, you’ve saved him from himself.

“i love you.”

jake thinks he hears a laugh from the other end. he smiles.

you laugh again, and it’s definite this time. “i love you too, silly. i’ll be home after class today, so just let me know when your schedules end.”

“can i see you now?”

“really? me over work?”

your doubt is incredulous to him, “of course. you over everything.”

normally, you’d take that as is and move on, though you decide to play along with him a little more, “that’s nonsense. being an idol is your dream.”

“no,” there’s a dead seriousness to his voice that you don’t expect, “you’re my dream.”

caught off guard, you only manage to muster a, “what?” in response.

“when i’m seventy and wrinkled, i’m not gonna be dancing and singing in front of a bunch of screaming teenage girls. i’m gonna be with you, telling you lame jokes and doing indecent stuff at funerals.”

you don’t need jake to repent for his wrongdoings when his intentions are so clearly written out for you. even when he hurts you — which you acknowledge is inevitable in every entanglement — you know he loves you twice if not three times as much.

“you’re my dream.”

copyright ©️ 2024 loservernon all rights reserved.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Daddy Knows Best, Part III

Title: Daddy Knows Best, Part III 

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI 

Pairing: StepDad!August Walker x StepDaughter!Reader  

Fandom: Mission: Impossible - Fallout 

Word Count: 2.5K 

Summary: August Walker and your father were once friends. One mission, a single decision, made them enemies. August decides he needs to get his revenge. And what better way, than to become your new Daddy? 

Chapter Summary: Daddy and Babydoll take a trip together. 

Warnings: pet names (Daddy, Babydoll, babygirl), age gap (the reader is 18, August is in his late-30s), Dom/sub vibes, oral (m receiving), cum facial, cockwarming, unprotected p-in-v sex, cumshot, loss of a parent (mother), dead dove: do not eat 

A/N: This is different from my usual fics. This would be considered dark!fic in every way possible. If you read the warnings and still choose to read, you are making your own decision. No one is forcing you to read this. This is an entirely self-indulgent therapeutic fic. Enjoy! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.  

Dividers by: @saradika 

Support/Reblog banner by me

Spotify Playlist is here. 

Cover Art by me 

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

“It’s only a couple of days, Babydoll. I promise I will be back before you know it.” I fold a polo and put it in my suitcase on the bed next to a grumpy Babydoll. 

“You’re gonna leave me here with Mom? I might as well be alone.” That little pout on her face gets me every time. And she’s not wrong. Her mother will ignore her at best, and at worse she will try and connect with her.  

Too little, too late. 

“You want to come with Daddy on his trip, don’t you?” I start thinking about what things we could get up to in my safe house. 

And it could make it easier to do that...other thing I had planned.  

“Please, Daddy?! I promise I won’t take up a whole lotta space and I’ll do whatever you say, I promise!! Please, can I go?” She clasps her hands under her chin and pokes out her bottom lip and I am a goner. 

“Whatever I say, huh?” A couple of things come to mind at that moment and I file them away for later usage.  

She bites her lip to hide a smile, nodding furiously.  

I wink at her, leaning down and claiming her lips. Pulling away and smiling at her, I say, “Go and pack for a three-day trip,” I bring a hand down to cup her pussy, moving her panties to the side and dipping a finger in to feel that she was a soaked mess, “You are going to do everything I say, Babydoll. And you will respond with ‘Yes, Daddy’. Am I understood?” 

“Yes, Daddy.” She wiggles her hips to try and ride my finger, but I pull it away and lick it clean as she watches. 

“Don’t make me have to ask you to go pack, Babydoll.” I give her a stern look and she scurries away. 

Soon, our suitcases are in my Escalade and we are off on our small road trip. 

You wake up slightly as Daddy is carrying you into a cabin under the light of the moon. You keep your eyes closed as you are put into bed and your shoes and jacket are removed. You peek an eye open as you lift a hand to grab Daddy’s arm as he starts to leave. 

A warm hand touches yours, “Daddy just has to make a quick phone call. I’ll be right back, Babydoll.” 

You nod and close your eyes, melting into the plush comforter surrounding you. The creak of the wooden bedroom door shutting is all you hear before sleep claims you yet again. 

I shut the bedroom door and immediately pull out my cell phone. Dialing a number I’ve memorized, I wait until the line is picked up.  

“Timeline’s moved up. Do it now.” Hanging up after hearing confirmation, I make my way over to the small bar in the living room. 

I pour two fingers of Black Label neat and swirl it around, taking a sip. The smoky vanilla liquid coats my tongue as I savor it and then swallow. Whether it’s the placebo effect or not, I instantly feel calm.  

Sitting on one end of the couch, I throw my feet up on the coffee table. Holding my drink in my lap and leaning my head back against the backrest of the couch, I close my eyes and just rest.  

It’s so rare that I can just sit in silence anymore. I didn’t ask to be a father...figure. Not that I’m upset about Babydoll being in my life, far from it. She's perfect for me.  

I’m terrible for her. But she has no clue about that. And I'd like to keep it that way. 

My sweet little empty-headed Babydoll is ready to do anything and everything I ask her to. If pleasing me makes her happy, who am I to stop her? 

I take a sip of my drink and hear the slow creak of the floorboards in the bedroom. I throw my arm over the back of the couch as the bedroom door opens and Babydoll’s head pokes out. 

“Daddy?” Oh, how I love to hear that out of her mouth. 

“Come here, Babydoll,” I hold an arm out as she shuffles across the hardwood in her thigh-high socks and makes her way over to the couch to sit sideways in my lap, “I thought you were sleeping, babygirl.” 

Laying her head on my chest and wrapping her arms around me, she settles in against my warmth. “I reached over for you and you weren’t there and I got scared.” How is she this fucking adorable? 

“Oh, my sweet girl. I was right here the whole time. I promise you are always safe with me,” Safe was kind of subjective, but I went with it, “I’ve got an idea to get you back to sleep, it’ll make you nice and tired.” 

She starts to squirm in my lap and I put my hand on one of her thighs, hooking my fingers in her thigh-high sock and pulling it down her leg. I do the same with the other before I reach over her to put my drink on the table. 

Moving her to the couch, I kneel between her legs on the floor and get my hands under her skirt to pull her panties down. The thought crosses my mind how I went through her suitcase and pulled out all the panties she packed. I want easy access to this pussy while we’re away. 

She snaps me out of my reverie with, “Daddy?” 

“What’s wrong, Babydoll?”  

She leans up and runs her hand over the front of my slacks and grabs my dick. “I wanna learn to give Daddy special kisses too.” Did she know what she was doing to me? 

Fuck. 

I bite my bottom lip and sit back on my heels for a second, looking into her pleading eyes. Standing back up, I open my zipper and pull out my already half-hard dick right in front of those pretty plump lips. “You want this in your mouth, Babydoll?”  

“Yes, Daddy. Please teach me how you like it?” Her eyes go wide when my dick twitches at her words, so she decides to go a bit further. “Wanna taste Daddy.” She’s rewarded with another twitch. 

“Why don’t you grab Daddy’s dick and stroke it first, Babydoll?” The moment she has a hand around me, she licks her lips and it threw me for a loop. Up until this point, she has been my sweet virginal Princess, now she wants to suck me off and it turns me on beyond belief. She reverts to using both hands and that little tongue snakes out again in her concentration. I take my dick out of her hands and grab her chin, “Stick your tongue out for Daddy and keep that mouth open.” 

I hold the head of my dick and spread my precum all over her tongue, pushing just the head inside her mouth. “Now, close your mouth around Daddy’s dick with just your lips. No teeth, Babydoll. I’m gonna fuck your little mouth and then you’re gonna see how far you can go. If you have to stop to breathe, just open your mouth, ok?”  

She hums her understanding around my cock and I twitch in her mouth again. I grab the back of her head and move my hips to shallowly fuck her hot wet mouth. She’s doing so good just letting me use her, and I want to fucking cum down her throat any second but I bide my time and just thrust into her nice and slowly. I stop and pull out, a string of her spit still connecting us. 

She gulps in some air and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, looking back up into my eyes. “Can I try to see how far I can go now, Daddy?” It’s like I created the perfect little cockslut. 

“Yes, Babydoll, I want you to show me how deep you can take me. Now, be a good girl and suck Daddy’s dick.” 

“Yes, Daddy.” She takes me in both hands, licking the underside of my dick then taking me in her mouth. I groan in the back of my throat. She gets about halfway and then begins a slow rhythm of stroking and sucking.  

Not the best blowjob, but for a beginner? Damn fine first try. She takes direction well, she’s eager, and she looks so fucking cute while sucking a dick.  

I feel the coil in my stomach tightening. I was so ready to cum down her throat, but her fucking face was so pretty I wanted to mark it as mine. I run a hand through the sweat-slick hair on my forehead before throwing my head back and grunting.  

“Fuck, Babydoll. Daddy’s gonna cum all over that sweet little face...ugh, fuck, close your eyes!” I pull out and shoot rope after rope of thick milky cum over her beautiful perfect face. When her tongue slips out to taste what landed on her lips, I thought I would never stop cumming. 

Slowing my stroke, I squeeze from the base to the tip of my dick, I wipe the last of my cum on her chin. Luckily, none of my cum hit her lashes or eyelids. When she opens her eyes, I smiled at her. I use my thumb to move a bit of my cum between her open lips and she sucks my thumb so sweetly. 

I take back my thumb and place my hand on my chest to steady my breathing. 

“Daddy, I’m tired now. Can we go to bed?” She yawns lazily and the glob of cum hanging from her chin dances.  

I hold in my laughter and suggest, “Wash your face first, Babydoll. Then bedtime.” I take her hand and lead her into the bathroom so she can wash her face and I can use the can. She doesn’t seem to mind me taking a piss, but she isn't covert as she glances sidelong at my dick. I flush, wash my hands after she’s done and we enter the bedroom together. 

I take off the majority of my clothes, then I decide I don’t need to wear anything. We’re out here free from prying eyes, might as well sleep comfortably. And if that makes it even easier access to that pussy, why not? Removing my boxer briefs, I turn to where Babydoll is going over to her suitcase, no doubt to look for pajamas. 

“Babydoll, I want you to sleep naked tonight." I settle under the covers and make myself comfortable. 

“Yes, Daddy.”  

I watch as she pulls down her skirt and pulls off her sweater and undershirt. That tight little body bounced slightly as she made her way over to the bed. Climbing in, she pecks me on the lips and settles down on her side with her leg pulled up. 

I turn to face her and wrap an arm around her waist, pushing her leg up a bit further with my own so I can slide the head of my dick into her tight wet heat. I groan lowly as she moans from the sudden intrusion. 

“We’re gonna sleep with it inside tonight. I want you to just sleep and warm my cock at the same time.” I could feel her heartbeat racing and her breath quickening as he tries to keep herself calm. 

“Yes, Daddy,” She wiggles her hips in the slightest, getting used to the fullness. 

“Stay still, Babydoll. Daddy’ll fuck you in the morning, ok? For now, just rest, babygirl.” I angle my hips and aim for her g-spot and she’s putty in my hands. 

“Daddy, just right there, please? Please please, I won’t ask for anything else. I promise!” I can’t see her face but I can hear how easily she could cry from the tension. 

“Fine, fine. But I’m fucking you to sleep, Babydoll. You better cum for me when I tell you to.” I stay inside her while moving to kneel behind her, fucking into her into the mattress. 

I lean over her, my hands holding her hips as I continuously kiss her cervix with the tip of my dick. Her moans are music to my ears, along with the slapping sounds of flesh that fill the dimly lit room. I can feel her walls start to tighten around me and reach under her leg for her clit. 

“Cum for me, Babydoll. Cum all over Daddy’s dick, babygirl.” I pinch her little clit between my fingers and the dam breaks. 

“Yes, Daddy!” Her toes curl and her core quivers around me. Her warm wetness coats my length and it’s even easier to fuck into her now. Once I hear the squelching sound of her wet pussy, I can’t help but chase my release. 

“That’s my good girl. Just like that...Daddy’s gonna fuck this tight little princess hole til you can't take it anymore. You’re doing so good taking my cock, babygirl. Fuck...fuuuuuuck. Such a perfect little pussy for me to fuck. Shit! Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum. Ugh, fuck!” I pull out and cum all over her ass and back in heavy white stripes. 

I get up to grab a wet washcloth to wipe away the evidence of my orgasm. Coming back, I realize she is down for the count. Wiping her down, she hums but soft snores are soon to follow. 

Well, I meant what I said when I wanted to fuck her to sleep. 

The next two days are a blur of time with Daddy. The only time he has to go do something alone is the day you left. You wake up and find a note saying that he had to run out. When he comes back, he is in a bad mood and takes it out on your pussy.  

You both load your bags into the Escalade and start your trip home. You sleep most of the trip home, tired from your guts being rearranged. Instead of carrying you in the house, you get a soft nudge to wake up when you are back home. 

"Take your suitcase in, Babydoll. I’ll be right behind you.” He pops the trunk and meets you at the back of the SUV. You pick up your bag and head inside, going straight to your room to drop your luggage. 

It’s very quiet in the house and you wonder where your Mom could be. You check the Master bedroom and the bed is made but she’s not there. The kitchen is empty, and both bathrooms are as well. It wasn’t until something catches your eye in the backyard. 

Something is floating in the pool. Not something. It is someone.  

You go out to the patio, looking into the water you spot your Mother’s lifeless body in the water. 

Before you know it, a blood-curdling scream is escaping you and the world turns black as you’re caught by two strong arms. 

Part IV

A/N: Well, that was a doozy!!! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Guess I’ll just leave this here and see what y’all think. 

**Tag List** 

@raccoon-eyed-rebel @viking-raider @devotedlythoughtfulanchor @livisss @randomweirdoss @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102 @mrs-solo-walker [Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁] 

[writingcold]

Hello!  Welcome to Chapter 5 of CD&FE.  

Pairing: Jake X Female Reader 

Summary: This is an AU that starts with the release of GVF’s first EP, Black Smoke Rising, and follows along life paths over the course of twenty plus years.  More life happening without each other.     

Content warnings: Language, smoking, drinking, adulting? Mentions of sexual situations, no smut in this chapter either.

Word Count: approx. 5.1K 

@edgingthedarkness and @takenbythemadness thank you ladies.  For all of it and everything.  💚

CD&FE, Part 5.1: Her POV

     The metro area of the Twin Cities is home to many beautiful parks and green spaces that meander along the Mississippi River.  I had found myself unpacking boxes in my new kitchen overlooking the river along a stretch in the historic district.  The loft apartment had come open and had caught Frankie’s eye immediately.  It was close to his university and it was close to my office.  Somehow it made sense to move in since we had invaded each other’s spaces so much that it made no sense to keep up with two places.

      “You doing okay up there?”  I yelled out as I was setting up stemware to hang in the cabinet of the whet bar.

      There was no answer.  I turned down the volume on my phone and asked again with a little more volume.  Still, Frank gave no answer.  Finishing up the wine glasses, I set the empty box on the stack to break down before walking through the long living room and up the spiral staircase.  I found him standing at the window, eyes frozen on the river.  I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind and stepped close.

      “You okay?”  I asked, pressing my cheek to the back of his shoulder.

      He placed one of his large hands across my wrist and gave a little squeeze.  “Just daydreaming.”

      “Oh yeah?”  I sighed as I melted a bit against him.

      “I know marriage is off the table,”  he said, tone full of warmth, “but what about something else.  Something for just the two of us.”

      “Well, we have this home.  We have us-”

      “Y/n.  I’m talking about a commitment to us.  Something formal.”

      I breathed in deeply.  I loved him.  Our relationship was steady and filled so much of me.  But marriage scared the fuck out of me.  It was not something that I wished for - not even as a little girl.  All the friends would pretend to be beautiful brides with elaborate ceremonies and giggling fits over what happened that night.  Hell, even Patrick would volunteer to be the groom and wear his ugly tux t-shirt and pretend to kiss the girls.  Ick.  I just never needed any of that.  Even when my friends started to get married, it just did nothing for me.  

      “After buying this place,  do you doubt my commitment?”  I asked drifting away from him and feigning interest in the closet.

      “No.  Not at all.  Even if we didn’t buy this place, I would not doubt it,”  he answered, scratching at the beard on his cheek.  “It wouldn’t change anything - not between us if you didn’t want to, but I just have this desire.  Something that is meaningful for us.”

      I frowned at the notion.  I know, I know.  Selfish, but I just didn’t understand the sudden shift.  The night previous, we were fucking in every niche and corner of the apartment to make it all our own.  Puffing out my cheeks I decided that it wouldn’t harm anything to perhaps continue the conversation.

      “What kind of thing are you talking about?”  I asked, sitting down on the corner of the bed.

      “There’s so many different ways to show commitment, love,”  he said, finally turning from the window to look at me.  “Handfasting would be lovely.”

      “Does it mean that we dress up and stand in front of all of our friends, and it costs a ridiculous amount of money to sign a paper?”

      “Boy, someone is jaded,”  he teased.  

      I instantly threw up my defenses.  “Come on, I don’t-”

      “I’m teasing.”  He caught me by my hands and tugged me closer, though I tried to fight a bit.  “It could be as simple as just us - no one else has to be involved.  We just write our words out that we mean to say to the other.  If you want to dress up fancy, you can.  Hell, I’d be more than happy to have you there in those gross sweats and flops.”

      At the sound of his laugh, I relaxed.  I knew he was looking for a more outward show of commitment.  I parted from him with a ‘I’ll think about it’, and it wasn’t lost on me that it was a rather romantic notion.  I spent the better part of an hour trying to unpack books and albums and pieces of memories that would look good on display.  My hands paused on the Deep Purple Gatefold.  It had been ten months since I had seen him during the pre-show meeting.  Billie had recovered and taken back control of the account and everyone went about their merry way.  

      I had avoided anything dealing with the band and even more importantly, Jake.  I threw my whole focus into my relationship with Frank and of course, work.  The job was taking another turn and growing all the more for it.  I had insisted on keeping some contact with editing and creating, but was finding myself more and more in the wining and dining of new clients.  It was fine.  Way more glamorous than I ever was, but new accounts meant more business.  

      I found myself unable to sleep a few nights after the last box was unpacked and discarded.  Frank was deep asleep.  I slipped out of the bed and wandered down to the kitchen for a cup of chamomile tea.  The night was warm and thick with pending storms.  I watched from the sliding doors, not wanting to deal with the security code that I seemed to forget about at least three times a week.  The lights of the bridges across the river rippled gold and silver on the murky water.  It was beautiful.  The constant strum of traffic and the stirrings of life was always welcomed, even beyond the glass I was staring through.  

     I tucked myself at the dining table with my laptop.  Work was not what was calling to me.  Frank's words about handfasting - whatever the hell that was - was prickling in the back of my skull case.  I took a sip of tea and started searching for the ceremony, digging deeper and deeper.  At first I was panicked that it was part of a wider wedding ceremony, but finally landed on the fact that it was just the piece that he was talking about.  It was a lovely concept that could be tailored to just us.  

      “Caught you,”  he said sleepily from behind me.

      I grimaced in surprise.  I was holding fast to my chest as he dropped a kiss to the top of my head.

      “Why are you up?”  I grumbled as I started to reach for the laptop in an attempt to hide what I was looking at.

      “I discovered my love was missing,”  he answered with a smile.  I knew he had seen it.  “I like that you’re looking at that.”

      No point in being coy as he moved into the kitchen for a glass of water.  I shrugged and wrapped my hands around my mug.  “What about it?”

      “Isn’t that what I should be asking you?  Did you like what you found?”  he asked, leaning his lean frame against the counter like a damn model.  

      I couldn’t really hide, so instead decided to be open.  “It was interesting…”

      I watched as his eyebrows raised and lowered with thought.  I wasn’t giving him enough.  I knew I wasn’t.  Clearing my throat, I set my cup aside and found my feet.

      “I liked the idea that we could do this just for us.”

      “Yeah?”

      I nodded.  “I understand that you want this to be more so to show your commitment to us.  I love you for it, too.”

      “But.”

      “But nothing.  I think we should do it.”

      The smile that lit his features made my breath stutter.  My beautiful man was all messy hair and flustered at two in the morning.  His excitement was easy to catch myself in.  He started talking about the cording and creating our own bindings.  We planned it out right then and there - because that’s what we were.  We would then secretly celebrate it calling it a housewarming party.  Perfect.

      True to tradition, we selected the color of our bindings according to the meanings of specific colors.  We decided to create our own cords, based on our commitment to each other, then twist them together.  The first day of May found us on the roof terrace overlooking the river.  Frank had poured us two very expensive glasses of wine while I found a pretty playlist for the afternoon.

      “Where do you want to start?”  I asked simply, my heart pounding clear out of my chest.

      I was fingering my cord as I held it tightly behind my back, hoping like crazy that it would be up to his expectations.  God, it was just the two of us and it still felt like there were a few hundred people watching.  He bent and kissed me, robbing me of my stabbing thoughts.

      “How about we share our bindings?”  he said, taking his out of his back pocket.

      I held mine out with a heavy sigh.

      “What was that?”

      I was finding myself swept over a tide of emotions that I did not expect.  My chest felt like it was full of fire while my throat was coated with concrete.

      “Baby, it’s okay.  Just us here.”  He trailed his fingers across my cheek.  “Do want me to go first?”

      I nodded my head mutely as my eyes totally betrayed me.

     His warm laugh filled me with all the more feelings.  I let out a stupid sob as he wiped at the ridge of my cheek.

      “I picked red for passion.  You have shown me nothing but passion in so many parts of you that are important.  Your work, your life, your thoughts and beliefs are so full of this passion that it’s hard to not think of you without passion being involved.

      “Next was blue for devotion.  You make loving you so easy that it is hard not to imagine myself being devoted to our life together.

      “Gray is for balance.  You showed me that I don’t have to be so serious - all the time.  There is a balance to our life together.

       “Pink to show you that we can have romance.  Silver to let you know that you are treasured.  And finally, purple - this relationship is sacred to me.”

       I cursed softly as I wiped at my face.  He just smiled his perfect smile, holding the three feet of cord before me.  I swallowed hard and held mine up.

       “Black, green, gold, brown and white,”  I struggled through these stupid words.  No way I could be as poetic as him, but he was smiling the whole time.  Those eyes encouraged me to continue.  I let out a groan as I practically danced from foot to foot.  “Strength, health, longevity, grounding, and peace.  Everything that I hope we can share.”

       I sucked in a huge breath like I was about to stumble into a panic attack.  He leaned down and captured my mouth in a kiss.  He whispered his love as he twisted the two cords together and took my hand in his.  I watched full of sniffles and jagged breath as he wrapped our joined cords around our hands.  I have to admit, in hindsight, it was beautiful.  And it was just ours.  

      “Until this love ends,”  he whispered.

      I nodded as he cradled my face.  He snapped a picture of the moment and we carried on, getting ready for our party.  Patrick was the first to arrive with Sidney in tow.  They were lovely as they filled our space with the warmth that all them.  The housewarming was a success.  Pat felt for sure something was up, but he dropped it when I finally just immersed myself in some conversation with Sidney that he found too boring to participate in.  

       In the night’s stillness, we made love until we were both complete messes of each other.  He sacked out so completely that he did not realize that I was once again slipping out of our bed, unable to sleep.  This time, a cup of hot chocolate was my comfort and my laptop was open to the main screen.  There was a scrap of betrayal in my heart that was pulsing.  Grinding at me like a virus that needed to be addressed before it delivered a murdering strike.  

      I pulled up my socials page.  There were notifications from all sorts of friends, and on the professional side, those from contacts around the world.  I ignored them.  I tapped my fingers to the trackpad in debate.  I had awoken because the shadow of him had strayed into my slumber.  The shade of old love lay stoked in a fold of my heart that I was sure had been gone.  But it wasn’t.  I found myself on Jake’s private page, frowning that I was still allowed to be in such a space.  But there he was.  The array of pictures of him and his family and her was astounding.  I felt like I was trespassing.  He was happy.  Every picture was that genuine joy that just radiated out of him like a beacon.  I found myself wondering if he ever married the girl, but there was nothing regarding a wedding.  

       Feeling like a stalker, I closed out and shut everything down.  I missed him.  The absolute polarizing moment that felt like my entire self was being shredded in two - I was so in love with Frank.  He got me.  Held me.  Elevated the idea of us.  I could only imagine the awful hurt that he would feel if he knew I clung to this tiny shred of love that was never to be.  What more, if he would ever find out that that love I held for Jake burned brighter than anything he could ever share with me, I’m sure it would be the end of me.  Fuck.  I felt myself crumble a bit under the weight of my own self hatred.

CD&FE, Part 5.2: Jake’s POV

      “I’ll be right back,”  she said, pointing towards the bathroom.

      The airport was beyond busy.  I sat down with a heavy plunk and the sigh that followed was filled with weariness.  I wanted to be anywhere but heading out to Portland for yet another one of her friends’ gallery openings.  It was great - don’t get me wrong.  It was just literally us getting back from Sydney and jumping right on a plane without getting home to try to shift to changing time zones.  We weren’t in our twenties anymore.  We had just wrapped another tour, this time actually making it all the way around the planet.  It had taken every bit of time for two years, but we did it.  

     Clara had lived through every time change, every plane trip, every bus misadventure - everything with me.  All the while she had accepted the isolation and the absolute chaos that went along with being on tour.  She somehow found the time in those long stretches of me being busy to wander.  Her painting was really beautiful, and seemed to evolve as each month and each destination passed us by.  She never complained.  She never seemed to lag behind or want to return to Nashville and her studio.  In all honesty, I was concerned that we could not flourish under such conditions, but somehow, we were doing just fine.

      Except for at that moment in the Nashville Airport, it was absolutely packed due to weather delays.  My head was throbbing and my patience had been worn beyond thin.  I noticed that she was gone for quite some time when I started to look around to see if perhaps she made her way to a kiosk or was just walking to stretch her legs.  A fan stopped with a look on her face and I was happy to oblige with a quick picture.

      I started to scroll through my phone in hopes that perhaps Clara had found coffee or some form of super caffeine to power through this sludge of jet lag.  I responded to texts from Josh and Mom.  I checked the socials to find that Danny had posted up pictures of his boys playing on dad’s kit.  I grinned at the auburn haired boys in their feral joy.  

      “Hey!”  Clara called out as she was practically running towards me.  “Grab our stuff.  You’ve got to see this!”

      The excitement was just roiling off of her.  Her smile was beaming as she was grabbing at my hand to rush back the way she came.  Her words were pouring out, most of which were lost due to the noise around us, but she was definitely chirping about seeing something while stretching her legs.  She tugged me all the way back to the shops, stopping in the window of one of those stores with all the decor and little trinkets.  There were poster prints framed along the upper walls.  Clara was pointing up towards the top and was practically bouncing.

       “It’s so strange to see something of mine here!”  she said, her frame bounding with excitement.

      Indeed it was one of her pieces she had done a few years prior when we were in Scotland.  It was rough and wild and muted and perfect.  

      “That’s amazing, babe,”  I said as I wrapped my arms around her.  

      It was not the first time we saw her work someplace, but any time we saw it, it solidified that she was truly a professional artist, not just a hobbyist.  We bumbled back to wait for our flight, which finally made it out only four hours later.  Portland came quickly after falling asleep on the plane.  I fought my own self to drag my body off the plane and not be grumpy about it.  At least the hotel was close by.  

      Clara was all full of energy.  I was not.  I might’ve been a bit of a dick about it.  She had already been on the phone with the friends to meet up at a bar.  I knew, however, the moment my feet entered our room, there was no leaving it.  At least not that first night.  She called me old, but you know, I didn’t care.  At least we didn’t argue about it.  She was cleaned up, changed and out the door before I could fully figure out that I really didn’t need to be in public.  

     I wandered down and found a few beers to drag back to the room with what looked like some kind of sandwich.  Perfect.  I chewed my food mindlessly as I scrolled through my feeds.  Somewhere in the course of beer number two, I landed in less familiar territory.  I found myself looking into Y/n’s page.  It had been close to a year since I had last found myself anywhere near her sphere.  It had been nearly five years since the last time I saw her in person.  She looked good.  Beyond good.  She looked happy.  It looked like she was still with the same guy.  Imagine my surprise when she posted up a picture of her hand being held by him with a cord wrapped around it.  I had no clue what it was supposed to mean.  I finally had to look it up only to find that I wanted to vomit.  She was pretty much married to this man - something she had proclaimed to never truly desire.

      I tossed the phone onto the night stand with a curse.  She was happy.  That was all that counted.  I was happy with Clara.  Things were beginning to wear thin on the whole engagement front.  It was really getting old to have the folks question when they could expect us to either show up married or invitations.  Her family was scattered, but the friends were beginning to question if I would ever really commit.  Some voices were louder than others.  But Clara, herself, was beginning to lean towards making it official.  There was a piece of me that just resisted.  I was sure this was the part of me that was still dedicated to the idea that I would finally land in a place where Y/n and I would be together.  It was juvenile hope that drove that desire, but it was there.  Rooted deep in the shadows that Clara just couldn’t reach with all of her sunshine.

      To see Clara in her element was something special.  The night of the gallery opening, we were there, dressed well and champagne in hand as she glided through business partners, friends, and colleagues alike.  She had several commissions that she had been working on that were coming to a close soon.  It was like watching a bird on a branch that was ready to take flight.  She was so talented and unique.  Her nature spilled out into every stroke of her art.  Sometimes, I wondered if she was putting her literal spirit into the paint.  At some point in the show, I found myself off to the side in a darker corner, alone.  There were people around her that I had no idea who they were or what they wanted from her.  And I was fine in my little corner.  I did the partner thing - smiled and waved whenever her gaze turned to mine when she needed reassurance.  Eventually, though, I found myself alone completely.  Her friends were nowhere to be found and Clara was gone.

      I couldn’t help the pang of anger until I dug my phone out to see I had the Do Not Disturb on.  When I turned it off, I was quick to hold my hand over the speaker to dampen down what seemed like a million notifications.  Finally a text had come in that Clara was discussing a show in Chicago with a gallery owner who was quite taken with her collection.  She said to head back to the hotel if I wanted to.  

     Wow.  Dismissed.

     I didn’t like the feeling that washed across me.  I landed in the hotel bar drinking a double bourbon and feeling sorry that I was sitting on that ugly assed stool in that ugly assed bar.  I knew I was being stupid.  This was basically what Clara did all of the tour - waiting.  Waiting for those few hours each day that we could be together uninterrupted.  I could at least extend her the same kindness.  Honestly, though, through the jet lag and the lack of courtesy, I just felt slighted.  

      Up to the room and I once again landed face first into the socials, staring at that picture of Y/n with a short description of what she said was handfasting.  Hurt.  She hurt me each time she would not accept my love for her.  She hurt me with a show of ability to formally love some other man.  Did it squelch the spark that lingered in my soul that was only for her?  No.  God that woman fucked me up in ways no one else could.

       We were in Portland for three more days.  I spent most of the time buried in the bed at the hotel.  Clara was apologetic, but it was work.  Her work.  When we finally reached home in Nashville, it was quiet.  She was in her studio working.  I spent time with the family, and she was working.  I flew up to Michigan to spend some time with the parents, and she was working.  She was really on the precipice of something big and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to step in the way.  I allowed her that space just as she allowed me mine when I was working.

       We were off for eight weeks.  I had eight weeks to write.  With Clara in her own space, I worked with Danny and Sam dusting off a few projects that we had set aside.  I can’t lie, I was feeling a bit of distance between us when it came time to start the festival circuit for the summer.  It was the first time that she stayed behind.  Her opening in Chicago was the last weekend of July.  I promised that I would get a ticket and be there as it happened to be on an off day in between shows.  We were supposed to be in Denver for the start of one festival on a Friday and heading to New Jersey to finish another on Sunday; so really, the events were thankfully lining up right.  No way I would miss that show.  Her big debut.

       I had not been alone on tour in years.  It felt odd.  Sam had brought his whole family since the kids were off for summer vacation.  Danny, too.  Josh and his partner were thick as thieves with their small brood.  And I was alone.  I struggled.  Clara and I tried to connect over video calls and texts.  Late night phone calls did not work as she was either still working or dead asleep from hours of work.  I fought my own selfish need for her to be with me.  To watch my nieces and nephews tear around like we did when we were little made me feel a little removed.  I loved playing with them.  I loved being Uncle Jake.  However, knowing that I had only myself at night while my brothers had the love of their families so close - hurt.

     July had come storming through.  We had criss-crossed all over, soaking up the summer crowds.  I was busy.  Somehow, Denver arrived and I had forgotten to purchase my own ticket to get to Chicago.  I had been saying for weeks that I was going to get a ticket.  Each conversation with Clara, I was literally looking at airlines, and yet, I never purchased said ticket.  The day before the show, I was talking with Josh about the debut.  I was proud, showing off pictures that she had shared with me of what had been selected to be featured in her show.  Mom had called earlier in the week.  Her and Dad were already in Chicago, taking the opportunity to visit family there before showing their support for their almost-daughter-in-law.  I was so caught up in the shows and little things that I simply forgot to get my ticket.

       The night of the Denver show, I was on the phone while waiting for sound check.  One of the assistants took pity on my stupidity and offered to help.  After our check, he returned to me with a few options, all were just impossible.  One option was to fly to LAX first before Chicago.  Another was to fly to Pittsburg then back to Milwaukee with a car rental.  There was a private flight on one of those death traps, but my gut threatened to vomit all over the place just with the thought of being on one of those things.  I could also rent a car - and try to make the fourteen hour drive.  I was fucked.  The best I could do was fly standby.

      “I don’t understand.  I thought you had the ticket purchased,”  Clara said, her voice thin on the phone.

      I was shoving everything into my backpack as fast as I could.  It was seven in the morning and I had a cab waiting for me downstairs.  I was going to sit in that airport and force my way on any flight heading to the Midwest.  I would make it.  I could hear the stress in her tone.  I could hear the disappointment between her unspoken words.  I texted her when I scored a flight to Rapid City.  From there, I’d be on standby, but it was more likely to get me to Chicago before the end of the show.  I would be there.  No matter what.

      I didn’t hear from her.  I knew she was probably beyond pissed off with me.  I had been careless.  I got to Rapid City and found myself stuck.  Storms to the east across Minnesota had stalled my trek.  I could fly back to Denver and hope for the best.  Really?  

      “It was a noble try, Jake,”  Josh said, just before the chaotic mass of Kiszkas and Wagners were boarding the flight to Newark.  “Just get your ass here and you’ll have to sort it out later.  I’m sure Clara will understand.”

      “This was her fucking debut!  I can’t miss this.  She expects me to be there,”  I barked loudly.  

       He was right.  He knew it.  I knew it.  Our obligation was to get our asses to the next show.  It was thirty minutes until her opening when I called.  She didn’t want to hear it.  She knew that I tried but was too busy with her task at hand.  She said she would explain it to my parents before she hung up.  

       Exhausted, I surrendered to a red eye flight to Newark, but had a stop in Minneapolis.  My heart gasped with a deep ache.  It was hard not to feel that it was Fate poking a five pound block of salt in the wound.  Bitch.  

       I didn’t make it to New Jersey until somewhere around five in the morning the day of the show.  Management scolded me, but sent a car around to pick me up.  I slept a few hours before hitting the stage before a crowd of 40,000 people.  I wondered if anyone noticed that I was off that night.  I swear my chest was flayed open for any and all to see how I had fucked up.  

      I tried to call before and then after the set, but Clara didn’t answer.  I called Mom and she gushed how good the show was and how impressive Clara had been.  I knew that she would handle it with grace, but…

      “She’s angry,”  I said, allowing myself to feel my own disappointment.

      “Clara’s got all the right in the world to be angry with you,”  she responded in between talking with Dad.  

       “I can’t fix it, can I, Mom?”

       “I’m not sure, honey,”  she answered truthfully.  “All you can do is show her that you still love her.  That she’s your center, Jacob.  Time will make it up.  Just means you have to try harder at her next showing.”

      I flew home the next day.  Everyone else had a week to spend with the families before a show in Toronto.  I found her in our room with her bags packed and boxes waiting to be filled.  I really had fucked it up beyond repair.

😐  I know.  Just hang in there.  Next posting is messy.  I mean, messier than this one.  

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[moaihybitoyoidaics]

Ghastly. (Jurdan)

Okslay, so I published this on my wattpad bare time ago. It was originally published in chapters so I've put little stars where that was in the story. TW SMUT

Word count: 8014

Vivi slouched against my bedroom door and scoffed, I didn't bother to turn around, I would only get chastised yet again. The room was riddled with dirty cups and plates, the curtains hadn't been opened in days and it had started to smell. I probably smelled a bit too. "I know you're used to people waiting on you, you're highness," she said sarcastically. "But that shit won't fly around here for much longer." "Leave me to die, Vee." I mumbled, tucked away under my unwashed covers. "I have nothing to live for anyway." "You're right. You're absolutely right. You should kill yourself right now and be done with it." I looked up from under my cocoon, to see her face was more jovial than sinister. "Or you can shower, get dressed and come out with me and Heather." "Out where?" "Clubbing." "Should I hang myself or jump off the roof?" I burrowed back down into my duvet. Vivi knocked her hand against the door frame before disappearing out of my room. In the months since my exile, most days had been like this and I didn't see it improving. I found myself obsessing over what I would do to Cardan should I ever come to be in his presence again, I hated him and would never forgive him for subjecting me to the torture of the mortal world. And yet I still found myself musing over his wicked lips and all too clever hands, his kisses that bewitched me like faerie fruit. But still I thought of nothing more than my knife against his throat tied to that chair in the Court of Shadows. I turned over, tugging my duvet with me. There was a clattering of porcelain and metal against the floor. I sat up quickly to see what had made the noise, plates encrusted with hardened food had shattered against the carpeted floor, followed by silverware that had fallen and bounced across the room. Vivi was right, it was time to sort myself out. I pried myself away from the duvet and stood in front of my mirror. Ghastly. A two day old spaghetti hoop stain, matted hair and breath that could knock Maddoc on his back. I was undoubtedly a mess. I began by brushing my teeth, the mint stung my tongue, and then I dragged a brush through the tangled bird's nest on my head. I looked at myself in the mirror again, still not much better. So I showered, shaved my legs and changed my clothes. They were all minor changes but still, I felt marginally better for making them. Next came the challenge of tidying my room, it wasn't something I was particularly eager to begin but nonetheless I embarked on my mission. I began with the food encrusted plates, scrubby at them with everything Vivi held in her kitchen, before hoovering and changing my bed sheets.

When I had finished my self-prescribed chores, I called for my sister; knowing that as a faerie she could not lie about my accomplishments. I braced myself for the fanfare, as I guarded my door. When she approached, I dramatically unveiled my almost clean room. I anticipated her reaction as she inspected the space.

"Open a window." She said, hardly glancing at me. "It still stinks."

"Oh," I sighed, a little defeated.

"It's better than it was though." She turned herself to face me. "Do you feel any better?"

"I suppose. So, where are you guys going tonight?"

Vivi explained that they had planned to go bar hopping across town and hit a couple of clubs if they had time. "It's not exactly attending Court at the palace, but it's better than letting you wallow in your own self pity any longer."

I laughed hollowly, she was right. I needed to get out of the apartment soon or I would go crazy. "If I had anything to wear maybe I would go with you, but I look like the Queen of Mirth right now. Maybe I'll come with you next time."

"My God, could you be any more obvious? You can raid me and Heather's wardrobe." Vivi laughed, playfully nudging my arm. "Sort your face out, I know you have makeup."

That was true. I did have some makeup, however the method of which to use it eluded me. Never quite blended or bright enough, lines never straight, just splotchy clumps of black and beige. In Faerie I had Tatterfell to help me to ready myself, but here in the mortal world, I had to rely on my own clumsy hands. I looked back to Vivienne. "What time are we leaving?"

                                         ***

With my eyes smeared with shimmering black eyeshadow and my lips painted a similar shade, I wriggled into a crimson, latex minidress, raided from Vivi's extensive closet. I tried to recreate the horn-like braids that Tatterfell so skilfully created in my hair, however one ended up a little lopsided. Finally, I stuffed my feet into a pair of black, platform boots. For the first time since arriving back in the mortal world, I looked in the mirror and liked who I saw. I may not be the High Queen of Elfhame, but by god I was majestic. I strode out into our communal space, enveloped by a new sense of power. Vivi and Heather cheered for me, both standing up to embrace me. "You look incredible." Vivi grinned, at last telling me a truth I wanted to hear. "I know."

***

After glamouring a bouncer, Vivi lead us into a dimly lit bar. The walls were lined with what looked like red LED lights and varying graffiti style artworks. There was a bar on the back wall, proceeded by a sticky looking dance floor. Heather, who was apparently a regular, marched over to the bar and ordered a round of drinks. She handed me a tiny, triangular glass filled with a pinkish beverage.  I sniffed it and recoiled, feeling the alcohol in the backs of my eyes. 

"Christ, Heather! What's in this?" I laughed a little.

"I don't know, but they taste good." Fair enough, I thought sipping the drink. She was right. Vivi grabbed Heather's free hand and pulled her onto the dance floor. The DJ was playing something grungy, like our dad used to listen to. The song sounded familiar, like something from a distant, faded memory or a dream. Perhaps he'd played it for us on a long forgotten road trip. I watched them twist and twirl together with the music and smiled, Vivi had found a home in the mortal world, something I could only hope to accomplish. I swayed as they danced. It had none of the extravagance of the High Court revels, but at least they were happy here. I took a long sip of my drink and decided to join them, they welcomed me into their space as my clumsy feet tried to keep up with them. Heather grabbed my hand and spun me around. 

I thought of the way Cardan had danced with me at Prince Dain's disastrous coronation, the way his fingers had grazed against my waist and his eyes, black as night, had looked down on me in sickening contempt. The way he loved hating me and hated loving me, my cruel husband. I pulled away from Heather. 

"Where's the bathroom?" I shouted over the music. Vivi pointed past the bar, I nodded and started to walk away. 

I tried to push through a rowdy crowd of middle aged men, but gave up and went around them. The room seemed to get smaller, maybe I wasn't ready for this. Maybe I was still too angry. And then, a few feet away from me I saw two midnight eyes. Panic seeped into my blood, I closed my eyes and tried to breathe but my breath hitched in the back of my throat. I reopened my eyes and they were gone, I was so certain I had seen them. I rushed towards the bathroom, my heart hammering against my chest. I leaned over the basin and splashed some icy water against my face, sending mascara streaming down my cheeks. Surely it hadn't been him, surely I had hallucinated it. Cardan could not be here, Cardan couldn't know where I was. I must have seen what I wanted to see,  there was nothing more to it.  I took a deep breath and stepped away from the sink. Cardan wasn't there. 

I left the bathroom hesitantly. Despite assuring myself that I had hallucinated, I kept my eyes peeled. I saw Heather and Vivi propped up against the bar, nursing a blue drink. Heather was astounded when she squeezed a lemon into the drink, turning it magenta.

"It's like magic!" She giggle. Vivi and I shared a look between ourselves. "You were gone for ages, Jude! You good?"

"Yeah... I just needed a moment." I lied. I leaned against the bar and rested my head in my hands. I made eye contact with the bar tender and smiled, pointing at Heather's drink. "Can I have whatever this is?" 

                                                                                          ***

My head tingled as I drunkenly swayed to a what I assumed was an old rock ballad. The room had filled out even more, leaving little room to negotiate the dance floor. I tried my hardest to put the image of Cardan out of my mind, but it came to the forefront of my thoughts every now and then. I took a long swig from the bottle of beer I was holding and turned to look for my sister. Vivi and Heather had disappeared into the sea of people crowding the bar. I pushed my way to the side of the dance floor, hoping that distancing myself from the hoard would reveal them. To my disappointment, however, they were no where to be seen. 

I turned away from the dance floor to face the seating area, plush velvet couches and red tinted lights. There, across the room, slouching back against the far wall were two inky black eyes stared right at me. His dark hair was slicked back from his face and his eyes were rimmed with kohl. He wore a sheer black shirt and what looked like black jeans. I saw his coiled tail twitch as he looked at me. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, my attire was not at all what I would usually be seen in. 

Before I knew what I was doing, I was halfway across the floor. His head cocked to one side and he smirked as he began to approach me.  I felt Cardan's breath on my cheek as he leaned in to me.

"My darling, Jude." He whispered. I felt my fingers curl into a fist and I took a slight step back. My arm launched through the air, my fist colliding with his jaw. 

"Fuck you." I spat. I felt my arms get pinned against my sides as someone much taller and heavier than me seized me. The bouncer.  I was dragged from where I stood, away from Cardan's smug grin.

"I wish you would." He called after me, wiping a speck of blood from his wicked mouth. He watched as I was tossed out of the bar, a feeling that was reminiscent of one I had felt just a few months before upon my exile. 

***

Vivi and Heather came tumbling out of the bar, shouting atop of each other. Through their mumbling and bumbling I managed to pick out only snippets of what they were actually saying.

"You just punched a guy!" Heather said, panic in her voice.

"That wasn't who I think it was... was it?" Vivi's feline eyes bored into me, chilling me to my core. I nodded, curtly and turned away from her.

"Who was it?" Heather asked, her words slurring slightly.

I looked back to Vivi who looked back at me, with a panicked gaze at her inability to lie. "Ex boyfriend." I responded, unable to looked her straight on. Vivi's look of relief spurred me on. "You know, the one who dumped me before I started crashing with you guys?"

Heather nodded slowly before kneeling down and unbuckling her shoes. "He probably deserved it then."  She laughed and took both of her shoes off. "Shall we go somewhere else? I'm still in the party mood."

I thought about it for a moment, sobering up in the cool night air. "Fuck it. Why not?" Heather celebrated and stood back up.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Jude? I mean, aren't you kind of angry?" Vivi asked. She was absolutely right, I was furious with Cardan for showing up in my world but I refused to allow him to ruin my night any more than he already had.

"I want to go and get drunk and dance and forget about all of this. You were right earlier, Vivi. I need this night out."

"Well can you at least try not to deck anyone else, please?"

"I'll do my best."

We set off from the bar and headed further into the town centre. Clusters of girls in tight dresses and boys not dressed nearly well enough for the occasion sauntered through the cobbled streets, the air was filled with drunken laughter and flirting. The latter made me sick to my stomach. As I walked I felt  my latex dress dampening from the heat of the evening, sticking to my back and legs. I began to realise that Vivi and Heather we far more intoxicated than I was, which I assumed would be a problem later in the night.  Heather tripped on some invisible force, sending her careening into a conveniently placed Vivi. I turned to her, sending her a disapproving look. Since I had moved in with Heather and Vivi, I had noticed that my sister would sometimes glamour Heather into tripping or dropping things which Vivi would conveniently  catch. Although I could no longer be glamoured, I did remember the feeling. I didn't approve of my sisters manipulations, and it seemed that being a mortal wooed by the Fae had only downsides in my experience.  Vivi glanced back at me and shrugged, in her opinion she was doing nothing wrong; she was merely using her power to further her relationship with Heather. Regardless of what she thought, it was manipulation. She had power and Heather did not.

                                                                                         ***

The line outside the next club was disastrously long. I believed the sun would have risen before we made it inside. Heather looked at her girlfriend, with pining eyes. "But baby, you can get us in anywhere! You said we were always on the list!" Of course, Heather thought this, Vivi had obviously been glamouring half of the mortal world just to stay in Heather's good books. As much as I hated it, I wanted Vivi to get us into the club, the evening had turned cool and I wasn't used to wearing so little this late in the day. The hypocrisy was not lost on me.

Vivi sighed in faux relent. "I guess I'll see what I can do, just for you." Heather gleamed as we followed her up to the front of the queue. As Vivienne spoke to the bouncer, her voice was thick with glamour, "I think you'll find us on the list." She purred. The bouncer, poor man, became distant. His eyes glazed and he smiled. "Of course you are. Welcome." He pulled a smooth, velvet rope aside and ushered us into the building. As soon as we entered my ears we destroyed. The thudding base reverberated in my chest and a fog machine choked my lungs. It was rammed with bodies, moving and grinding against each other; I tried to force my way into a less densely packed area but was thrown to the dance floor. My thoughts harkened back to the High Court, a mortal would be entranced by the Faerie music and dance until their heart gave up. My tongue was dry and I couldn't see Heather or Vivi anywhere. Panic set in, this wasn't what I had intended when agreeing to the night out. Again I tried to push my way out but was knocked to the floor, I curled up my fingers trying to avoid them being trampled and pulled my knees to my chest. No one seemed to notice that I had fallen. No one cared. A foot came down on mine, hard, and I yelped out in pain. My cry was swallowed up by the cheering and the bass. Through my balled up fist I rubbed to top of my bitten off finger, seeking comfort in the most rudimental way. I was yanked up to my feet and dragged through the crowd. In my shock I fought back, pulled against the bejeweled hand. Bejewelled? No... no surely not- I looked up to the person dragging me. And pulled harder. His dark eyes scolded me as he turned to face me.  He pulled me towards him, making me collide with his chest. He placed his hand on my chin and forced me to look up at him. "You're weak."

***

I guzzled down a bottle of water, trying to regain control of my breathing. Cardan sat next to me, staring ahead dismissively. His finger ran around the edge of a plastic cup, something I had often seen him do in deep thought at the palace, although I was used to seeing him do this with fine glassware. Vivi and Heather were still in the club, but Cardan had dragged me over to a quiet dive bar a couple of streets away. My head swam with questions, although I was grateful to him for getting me out of that situation, I was furious at him for showing up unannounced. Why was he even here?

The jukebox played a whiney jazz song on what sounded like a scratched record, occasionally jumping and hissing like a startled cat.

"I didn't need your help." I said, more aggressively than I had intended. Cardan continued to stare ahead as if ignorant to the fact that I had spoken. "I'm serious, I was fine. I was about to get up."

Cardan laughed, sourly. "Oh yeah? Is that right?" He caught the eye of the bartender and held up two fingers. The barkeep approached us.

"Does she have ID?" He asked Cardan.

"You can ask her yourself." I started.

"You can serve her." Cardan's voice was heavy with glamour, seductive and rough. The barkeep nodded and brought us two rusty brown drinks. I took a sip and recoiled, having grown used to Heather's sweet and fruity beverages. This lingered in the back of my throat, clawing and hot. Cardan laughed.  "You never were a good drinker."

"You've always been too good." I retorted. He finally turned to face me, his dark eyes gazing into my chestnut brown ones.

"You're ghastly. You know that?" He grinned.

"God I hate you." I was the first to turn away.

"I love it when you say that." I felt the heat rising in my cheeks, boiling my blood.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" I snapped. "Don't give me that 'I'm the King' horseshit, because I put you there. How dare you show up here! I'm moving on, I have a life here!" Most of that last bit were obvious lies. I hadn't moved on, not even a little bit. And I clearly didn't have a life in the mortal world.

Cardan took a moment to consider what I had said, chewing on his drink as he did. "I have visited you. Many nights, I have watched you. Some life you're living here. Living in that box, in your own squalor, tossing a turning at night, dreaming of me no doubt. Some life without me."

"You cast me out! I had nothing!" I spat.

"You had your supposed hate for me keeping you warm, my darling Jude." He smirked, his curly hair flopping into his eyes. "And it seems you had one hell of a punch to keep you safe. But I ask you this, why didn't you try to return? Why didn't you come home to me?"

He placed his hand on my thigh, too close to the hem of my dress, and slowly started moving it up. I plastered my face with a smear of disgust and whacked with hand away.

"Excuse me, I must use the facilities." I said, already regretting it.

"So human, my sweet villain."

                                                                                     *** After staring at my seething reflection in a cracked bathroom mirror, I returned to my seat at the bar. Cardan had obviously been nursing his drink in my presence and my absence had encouraged him to enjoy it at a quicker pace. It seemed that he had helped himself to some of mine as well. I slid in next to  him and looked intently at his features, wondering what his eyes, ears and tail looked like to the people he glamoured. Did he make his eyes appear brown, blue or green? Did he keep some kind of point to his ears? It was something I never had time to consider before.

"Would you stop looking at me?" Cardan asked, startling me out of my daze.

"Sorry."

"No you aren't. You've missed me."

"Missed you? Please. I've hardly thought of you." I lied. "Cardan, tell me. What are you doing here?"

"I've come to bring you home. Back to Elfhame, to the palace with me. You're miserable here and you belong to- with me." The bartender called for last orders. "I could make him let us stay, you know?"

"Leave him alone. He's already been glamoured once tonight, it's not fair." I sighed.

"Where was that compassion when you killed my brother?"

"Cardan I-" I was taken aback by this. Cardan had not shown any real disturbance at the time of his brothers demise. Of course I could blame that on the effects of the poison but I thought he hated Balekin.

"Perhaps I should take you home?" He said, almost sadly.

"No!" I said, before  I had considered what that would mean. "Maybe you could ask him for one more drink?"

Cardan's devilish eyes met mine as he smirked. He beckoned the barkeep over and told him in that sweet and sour voice that we would be staying until we felt like leaving, setting our night in motion.

***

"See, I knew you were missing me." I laughed, slopping some of my drink across the bar. Everybody else had been asked to leave, but Cardan had glamoured the bartender to allow us to stay and to continue bringing us drinks. 

"I've missed having someone tell me what to do." He grinned and looked away. "It's not been easy without you, having to make all these choices by myself. I'd rather have my senechal -"

"-Your Queen." I interjected. 

"Yes of course, I'd rather have my Queen beside me." He took a long sip of his drink. 

I sighed and followed suit. "Well, whose fault is that?"

"Mine, as so many things were when we were together." He moved his hand back to my leg. "Remember that time behind the throne room?"

I swatted at his hand again but he persisted. "The only time, Cardan. That was the only time that happened." I tired to conceal it, but a nervous shiver ran through my body. "And I would very much like to forget it. It was... embarrassing." 

He shook his head and looked at me, deep and intently. "For you, maybe." His fingers traced little spirals against my goose-bumped flesh. "For me it was an entirely different story."

"Tell me your version then." I pressed.

"I was furious. At you mostly. To suggest I seduce Nicassia? She wasn't the one I wanted, Jude." I felt my cheeks flush. "I yearned to feel you beneath me. I wanted to feel your mortal skin on mine. I think you wanted it too, I remember the way you moved against me. I was born into magic, my dear Jude, I always thought I knew what it felt like but... something about you in that moment... I hadn't really  felt it until then." 

The knowledge that he could only speak the truth chilled me to my core. I tried to find tricks and riddles in his words but every time I came up short. My breath caught in the back of my throat and I tried to pull away but his grip on me wouldn't allow it. "You're drunk, Cardan."

"And yet I feel sober as a monk. That feeling it lingers. Every time I touch you, I am scorned to know that Locke touched you first, that I ever laid my hands on you in malice. I have wanted you since I have known you and although I have dealt with those feelings poorly in the past, it is you I want. Only you. So yes, I have missed you." This time, Cardan pushed himself away from the bar, offering out his hand. "I beg you ignore me. I have felt so much for you since you have been gone. I have longed for you Jude. I have longed for you and I will long for you until you return to our home." 

My body twitched with anticipation, awaiting his next move. His vulnerability was startling and I wanted nothing more than for him to kiss me. Or kill me. The sensation was often tricky to pin down when it was brought about by Cardan. I felt myself move towards him, leaning in for the release of his lips on mine, but found that he did not meet them. "What's wrong?" I breathed. 

"I do not desire your pity. I do not wish to be kissed under the duress of my broken heart. I want you to want me too."  I finally took his hand and he pulled me away from the chair. He placed his free hand on my waist and swayed slowly with me. 

"Last time you held me like this, you said you hated me." I rested my head against his chest, listening to the rapid beating of his immortal heart. 

"Maybe I thought I did. But I know better than that now." 

                                                                                                ***

We swayed like that together for a while, Cardan's hand occasionally finding it's way to stroke my hair. My heart swam with so many unanswered questions, feelings I had left untouched for as long as I could. He rested his head against mine and breathed softly against my braided horns, at last he let go.

"Do you suppose we should relieve our man from his duties?" He asked, nodding towards the bartender. "I think he has served us long enough."  I nodded and he left me to remove the glamour. I imagined that next time  the man played the lottery, his numbers would come up or he would have a habit for finding money in the street. 

When Cardan approached me again, he had a certain spring in his step and a devilish gleam in his eyes. "What is it?" I asked nervously.

"Your sister is clubbing?" He said. 

"Yes..."

"What say you, we do the same? I should like to try it before I return to Elfhame." 

I pondered this for a moment, would anything in the mortal world live up to what High King Cardan was used to? Well... I suppose I did. 

***

It seemed as though I had abandoned my moral compass altogether by the time we arrived at the next club. My head was swimming and I had trouble remembering how it was I came to be in Cardan's presence. At the time however, that didn't seem to matter, I was just glad to be with him. He glamoured the bouncer to allow us into the club, we painted ourselves with UV paint and decked out our bodies with glow-sticks. Cardan took one look at me and began to howl, his laughter seemed to reverberate through the speakers, which sent me into a crumbling mess of giggles. I found myself feeling freer with him than I ever had done with anyone else. I took two glow-sticks from my wrists and dangled them over his pointed ears.

Further into the club I noticed podiums, with half naked girls dancing against glimmering poles. It didn't shock me to find Cardan practically licking the stage. I pulled him away and found a booth, the lights were dimmer but the music seemed louder. The seats were sticky with what I hoped was nothing more than a spilled drink, but my conscience told me otherwise.  I looked at Cardan, whose eyes were alight with intrigue. He leaned in to me, his lips against my ear and whispered, "I thought such debauchery was  of Faerie, not of the mortal realm."

"You'd be surprised what we get up to!" I laughed. He didn't move away and neither did I. His lips trailed against my skin, hot and wet. His hand founds its way back to my thigh and, against my better judgement, I allowed him to slide his hand further up.

"I changed my mind," He hissed.  "I don't care if you pity me, Jude Duarte. Because I pity you more." He turned my face to his and kissed me, forcefully. In my drunken stupor I didn't feel like pulling away, instead I insisted that he stayed by thrusting my hands in his hair. His hands explored my body, making me ache for him. His fingers clasped around my throat, instinctively I tried to pull away but when I eyes met his I saw... what was it? Not hate... no not exactly. It was something new. When I started to panic and pulled back, he looked at me hurt as if I had my hand around his throat. "I want to dance!" I lied over the music. He nodded and followed me into the crowd. Surrounded by jostling, sweaty bodies his hands found my waist. I turn away and danced against him, at first he seemed to recoil- unsettled by the intimacy, perhaps too used to the way we moved in Elfhame, but after a moment he settled into it and moved with me. He gripped my waist tightly, as if I was his only life jacket in this strange mortal sea. I turned to face him, to see his big black eyes staring down at me. I cocked my head to one side. He leaned down, so close that his lips brush my ear as he spoke, "You should come home." I dragged myself away and stared at him, face on. His liquid irises hardened. Slowly and methodically he said; "You. Should. Come. Back. Home" In a second my mind reeled. What? He sent me away? He didn't want me? He confessed that he missed me but didn't want to kiss me? Then he's all over me? Before I knew what I was doing I turned and fled, pushing my way through sweaty, sticky bodies. I had grown weary of his faerie mind games, his trickery had grown tiresome. Of course I had longed to return to Elfhame, to find a riddle in his banishment but how could I ever go home? With the threat of execution or worse hanging over my every step. No. I refused to believe there was any way to escape my plight. Before I knew it I was a block away, panting alone on a street I didn't recognise. My ears rang and from the distance I heard to rhythmic thumping of club music. I looked left and right, but couldn't quite remember the way I had come from... or the way home. I fumbled in my purse, searching for my phone. I could call a taxi or Vivi or Heather, anyone to take me home. I fought back the tears that stung behind my eyes. Cardan Greenbriar had always been an enigma but this... oh this was worse than anything he'd ever done before. "Jude!" His voice echoed through the empty streets, it's direction untraceable. "Jude! What did I do? Please, Jude!" He rounded the corner nearest to me. Startled as he saw me, he rushed over. I raised my hand and swung it towards his face, instead of hearing a sharp slap against his skin, my wrist was caught in his long, slender fingers. "If you strike me again tonight, I will lose it." He breathed. "Why won't you come home. I know you're smart enough to have figured it out. So what is it Jude Duarte? Is it that you truly hate me as much as you always said? If it is so, then I beg you tell me mortal lies and let me believe you love me." I clawed my hand away from him, I couldn't bare to look at him. A wounded little boy, abandoned and turned wicked, but wounded nonetheless. His deep black eyes were a golden blaze in the street light, I finally met his gaze. He was hurt and lonely and still so wicked and he could have had me killed or left me to rot in the mortal world and yet I wanted to hold him. "Why did-" He cut me off with a long, gentle kiss. I tasted no malice on his tongue, his lips were as sweet as the faerie fruit I so desired. "Please say you love me." He whispered as he pulled away.

***

Our foreheads resting against one another, I closed my eyes right away from his words. Truth. It was all he could speak. As desperate as I was to find treachery in his words, I could decipher none. "Cardan, I-" I began. "You need not speak now, Jude. You should tell me if you should ever return to our home." He whispered. "If you wish for me to leave you, you need only say once and I'll leave you alone." I hate him. Except I don't. I only want to keep hating him, I know that now. "Stay with me." My voice, soft and timid, was entirely foreign to me. "Don't leave me again." He took my hand in his and brought it up to his lips. His hands were soft against my calloused fingers. "Take me home with you."

***

The apartment was silent, undisturbed since we left several hours before. I flipped the switch and illuminated the open living space, socks and bras and unwashed jeans lay over the couch and coffee table. "I'm sorry about the mess. I wasn't expecting to bring anyone back here tonight." I said, feeling my cheeks glow crimson red as I gathered up the dirty laundry. "We don't have maids or servants, it's hard to keep on top of." I turned to see Cardan, leaning against the washing machine, a smirk dancing on his lips. I glared at him and he laughed a short, curt laugh. "You are so very mortal, Jude. Has anybody ever told you that?" I scowled and he laughed a little harder. "I like watching you do things... normal things to you. I think tonight is the first time I've seen you without a blade." This made me laugh. Without saying a word, I hitched my skirt up slightly to show him the small silver dagger I had strapped to my thigh. "I'm surprised you didn't feel it." Cardan moved towards me slowly, I cocked my head to one side trying to work out his next move. His eyes narrowed as he examined my body. Phlegmatically, he lowered himself down to his knees before me as his hands crept up across the back of my dress. He leaned in and kissed my thigh, just above the hilt of the blade. His fingers trailed along my skin, before gently slipping the strap down my leg. He continued kissing my leg as he reached up my dress. With the same methodical movements he pulled down my underwear. My cheeks ran hot as the rest of my body shivered with anticipation. Cardan stood, towering over me. His black eyes were hungry, I looked up at him like a doe in the line of an arrow. He tipped his head towards the sofa, and obediently I went and sat down. The High King placed his fingers softly under my chin, tilting my head to look at him. "Open your legs for me." His voice was low and gruff and I obliged. "Good girl. Now tell me, did Locke do to you what I am going to do to you?" I shook my head and he smirked. I had always hated when he did that, but then in that moment I felt something with in me begin to boil. Passionate heat coursing through my blood in a way it had done only once before... the annex behind the throne. Cardan seemed to notice my squirming as he traced his keen fingers along my jawline. His hand lingered for a moment too long and I felt myself sink my cheek into his cupped hand.

In one swift motion Cardan was on top of me, pinning me against the couch. His cool breath tickled my neck, sending an icy shiver through me, as he expertly unzipped my dress and slid it from me leaving me naked and vulnerable to his next move. My fingers shook as I unbuttoned his shirt, fumbling with the intricate clasps.

When finally I rid him of his clothes I allowed my hands to wander across his back. He flinched away as my fingers ran over the crest of a particularly raised, long scar.  "Memories from a lifetime ago, my love." He whispered through gritted teeth. He inched closer, his knee pressing up against me. I let out a soft moan as a chill sprang up through my back, I wanted him more than I could scream. I wanted to push him off me and pull him into me in the same instant. Before I could form a full thought his head had migrated away from mine and had found it's way between my legs as he breathed a soft, cool gasp. His long fingers wrapped around my thighs and squeezed, his nails pinching at my flesh. I took a sharp breath as Cardan's tongue grazed my skin and laced my hands through the tangle of his dark hair. "Cardan.." I whispered breathlessly. "Cardan please..." He pressed his tongue harder and faster as I squirmed beneath his weight, pulling at his hair. I felt my eyes begin to roll as I climaxed, I arched my back and curled up my toes, it overtook me in tides of pleasure.  As he sat up and wiped his mouth, by body tingled and my legs were weak but I could feel only one thing. I was horrified. How had I allowed this to happen? 

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "This is only going to make things ever more complicated." 

I stared at him, aghast. "Yeah, no shit." I grabbed a cushion from the back of the couch and threw it over my body . 

"I'll ask you this only once, did you figure it out?" His voice was soft. "Did you see through my trickery and stay away only to make me suffer?" 

"Your trickery? What are you talking about?" I asked, my voice shaking. I had grown tired of his mind games, it seemed to me that the whole evening he had been leading me to some proverbial cliff only to keep threatening to push me over the edge. 

"Jude you are the High Queen of Elfhame. The High Queen. You are the crown." For a moment his words meant nothing to me. I knew I was the High Queen, of course I knew. But the crown? What did the crown have to do with anything. Until it dawned on me. "The mortal queen of Faerie who is oh so clever, my dear Jude. Pardon yourself. Better yet, I'll pardon you. Come home and be my wife, come home and be beautiful by my side." I could have strangled him. 

I stayed silent for a while, allowing his revelation to wash over me. "Make me forget." I whispered. "A gease. Or a glamour... I know you can do it. Make me forget tonight so I can go back to hating you."

"Jude-"

"I command you to make me forget." I had lost track of how long I had left controlling Cardan and just hoped with everything in me that he would follow through. "You will make Vivi swear to never tell me. 

"Your deal with my brother, Jude-" 

"You are High King Cardan of the Isles of Elfhame, do you mean to tell me a deal with a dead man is enough to sway your power? I have commanded you Cardan and you will do as I say."

Cardan nodded slowly and looked away from me. "Can I at least stay with you until morning?"

                                                                              ***

I climbed into bed closely followed by Cardan. He wrapped his arms around my waist and scooted his body into mine. His breath was hot against my neck as his chest rose and fell. 

"I'm going to figure it out. Your little trick." I whispered. "I'm going to figure it out for myself. My word isn't worth much but I'll give it to you."

"Your word means everything to me." 

***

The sun streamed through my windows, sending shocks of pain through my head. I grabbed the pillow next to me and smashed it over my face, trying to block out the light.  I breathed through the pillow, breathing in a nostalgic scent I couldn't quite put my finger on.  I heard Vivi bustling around the kitchen through my walls. I heard the hushing of words and the slamming of a door. 

My body groaned as I pushed myself up and I vowed to never drink again. I crept out of my room to see Heather in a slight daze on the couch and Vivi brewing coffee in the kitchen. She turned to look at me, seeming almost shocked that I was awake. 

"Look who it is!" She said, sarcastically. "How's the head?"

"Not great, Viv. Not great." I chuckled softly. "What happened last night?" 

Vivi took a moment, pouring out three black coffees before turning back to meet my gaze. "So you don't remember, huh?" I shook my head, of course I didn't remember. Why else would I have asked. "We lost you in a club, we looked for you but we couldn't find you. Then when we got back home you were asleep in bed."  

"I don't like this... not remembering I mean..." I muttered, taking a sip of my coffee. " Surely I can't have had that much to drink?"

"Like I said, we lost you. We didn't see what happened after that." It struck me that Vivi was choosing her words very carefully,  as if there was something she wasn't telling me. I turned my attention to Heather, who seemed just as confused as I was. 

"Heather. Do you remember what happened last night?" I pressed. "Anything you can tell me about what I was doing?" Her head snapped towards me as if she only just realised I was in the room with her. 

"I don't... I don't remember." She whispered. I crept further into the room as Vivi's cat eyes bored into me. "Why can't I remember?" The room reeked of residual magick, clinging to the air around Heather.  I narrowed my eyes towards Vivi.

"What aren't you telling me?" I demanded. 

"I can't tell you anymore. I didn't see what happened. You don't want to know." It sounded as though she was begging,  begging for a way out of this conversation. "I can't tell you anymore." I looked around the room, searching for clues as to what had happened.  Yes, something magickal had happen. That much was obvious. Thanks to my gease with the late Dain, I couldn't be glamoured but it was awfully convenient that neither Heather or myself could remember a thing.  I was struck with a deep feeling of betrayal, I knew that Heather's words were being cleverly strung together in order to deceive me without outright lying to me. It dawned on me all at once. 

"Who did you make your oath to?" The question seemed to take her by surprise, the shock clear in her flushed cheeks. 

"What?"

"The oath. Who did you swear to?"

"I cant..." She croaked.

I nodded slowly and backed away, trying desperately not to let the anguish show on my face. Heather still seemed dazed, obviously recovering from a glamour of some kind. Possibly binding her to the same secrecy my sister was obliged to. I returned to my room, shaking with rage. How could she swear to keep last night from me? How could she double-cross me like that? It made no sense, it wasn't in her character. I tried to breathe through my fury, to not let it consume me, I found myself laying back on my bed breathing in that distant memory, a smell that reminded me so much of home. 

A long time passed that way, until I heard a knock at my door. "What?" I demanded. The door swung open to reveal Vivi, standing solemn in the opening. 

"I didn't want to swear. I had no choice." She said. 

"We always have choices." I retorted. 

"Not this time." She lingered there, waiting for me to say something. I rolled over, not wanting to look at her for fear of saying something irreparable. "They said it was what you wanted, that you'll figure it out in your own time. We won't be bound any further from that point.  I just hope you can forgive me." 

I thought about it for a long moment. "I'm mad." I whispered, realising immediately how childish and immature I sounded. 

"I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think it was in your best interest."  She slapped her hand against the wood of my doorframe.  "Heather asked if she can have her dress back, she really likes that one."

I sat up reluctantly, and hopped off my bed. I searched the floor and in my wardrobe but came up empty. I got down on my hands and knees to check under my bed but still, I could not find it. "That's weird..."

"Is it?" Vivi smirked.    

*******

Epilogue (I guess)

I kiss Cardan softly before climbing out of bed, my nightgown trailing on the floor behind me. I glance over my shoulder at him, sleeping soundly and looking as painfully handsome as ever. He hates how early I rise each day, wishing me to stay curled up next to him for as long as possible. But if he had it his way, Faerie would be left to fend for itself and we would descend into anarchy. 

I sink my feet into the plush, luxurious rug woven by Mother Marrow; it supposedly had a plethora of magickal qualities but Cardan decided it was too delectable to refuse, and make my over to the dressing room. I sigh as I begin rifling through the abundance of regal clothing, searching for something simple. The Court of Shadows requires no façade of grace. 

I hear Cardan stir behind me, turning to look at him I see he is grasping at the sheets trying to feel me out. I snort and stifle a laugh, looking at the ground. My hands continue to trace along the garments until I feel something entirely foreign. Cold and plastic, bright red in colour. I take the dress from it's place and hold it against my body. It's tiny, shiny and definitely not from Elfhame. 

"Oh my god." I shout. Cardan sits bolt upright, brandishing a dagger he must've found under my pillow. 

"Jude!" His voice is panicky. "Jude what's going on?" 

I turn to him, holding the dress at arms length. "What the fuck is this doing here?" 

"I will tell you everything... but you have to promise not to kill me... and maybe put the dress on?"

[bullet-prooflove]

What Could Have Been - Cyrus Lupo x Reader

Tagging: @darqchilddaydreamz @words-and-seeds @@gia999 @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989 @infinity-mars @malindacath @tkappi

It’s the sting that gets Cyrus thinking. The weight of the wedding band on his finger as the two of you sit at a kitchen table in a cluttered house, across from a man who is trying to scam the both of you. And of course, you let him.

It’s being in your proximity that does this to him, the brush of your skin against his as you sign the paperwork. He thinks about what could have been if that day had gone according to plan, if he hadn’t offered to cover Wilkins shift because the guy had three kids at home and wanted to spend Christmas morning with them.

He'd been going to propose that night, in front of the Christmas tree in the courtyard of the apartment building the two of you had lived in. He’d had the ring for weeks, burning a hole in his pocket.

He remembers kissing you goodbye on Christmas Eve, the taste of raspberries on your lips from the balm you used to ward off the cold weather, how good you had felt pressed against him in that sweater that hugged every single one of your curves just right.

There’s a disconnect after that. He can’t recount the rest of his shift but he remembers in vivid detail attending the crime scene at the Anderson house. The tang of copper in the air, the taste of it in his mouth as he stands in the doorway of kitchen, the bodies of two tender age children lying at his feet.

Familicide is what they call it now.

The kids, then the wife and then the husband himself.

It was all over in a matter of minutes.

It breaks him that crime scene, it destroys something deep down inside of him. He thinks he felt the moment that his soul shattered. It was when the M.E had turned over the youngest, little Stevie, the expression on that kid’s face…

It haunted him even now.

Everything had fallen apart after that.

Instead of coming home to you he’d hit a bar, one drink to take the edge off. Before he knew it, he was waking up on the living room floor in front of his own Christmas tree with no memory of how he got there. It was a one off, he thought. He’d seen something horrific that day but he coped, he always coped.

But the nightmares kept coming, so did the flashbacks. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t talk about it because the images they were just too visceral to put into words. He began to self-medicate. You'd tried to snap him out of it, he lost track of the constant conversations about his mental state, how erratic he was becoming.

When you left it should have been a wake-up call, but it wasn’t. It only gave him more rope to hang himself with.

He lies in bed the night after the sting and stares at the ceiling, his thumb rubbing over the space where the gold wedding band had resided. For a second, he imagines what his life would be like if he hadn’t covered for Wilkins. The two of you would have been married by now, maybe a couple of kids. Your home would have been one full of laughter and joy. After putting the children to bed he would have slipped underneath the sheets beside you, kissing you until you were breathless, shushing you when things got a little loud, because you always got a little loud when he made love to you.

In the dark he thinks of you and this other life, the one the two of you could have had and he mourns it because there is no going back. He fucked up a long time ago and now he’s paying the price.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[hellowhisperingstars]

Chapter Two: The Morning After

Summary: You wake up in a new bed and remember the night after the New Years kiss.

Pairing: Rockstar/Bar Owner!Eddie Munson x Baker!Reader

Words: 7K

Warnings: 18+ CHILDREN BE GONE, Y/N used, alcohol, (The world's okayest) smut , P in V, oral (m and f receiving), hair pulling, mild choking, an overuse of pet names, very slight dom/sub dynamic, cussing, fluff. Please let me know if I missed anything! All typos and fuck ups are my own!

A/N: Chapter two! Enjoy!

Previous - Masterlist - Forward

You groan quietly as a light from the early morning sun shone on your face bringing you back into the waking world. Blinking your eyes open, you stretch your slightly sore muscles, your arms going above your head as your muscles move, it hurts but in a good way. The deep red walls of the room made your brows scrunch together as you tried to remember where exactly you were. Leaning up on your elbows you looked down to see you were wearing a shirt that definitely wasn't yours. The zombie on it said so himself. Glancing around the room you realized you weren't in your home either, the window that was shining light on you was on the wall to the right just above a dresser, straight ahead of you was a tiny kitchen and the door to the bathroom, and to the left of the bed was a little alcove that held a small living room space complete with a plush chair, a couch, coffee table, a small bookshelf, and a TV on the wall. A few guitars sat perched in corners or hanging on the walls to show them off, they were a good mix of electric and acoustic. One had white writing on it, but you couldn’t read what it said from your current angle. But next to you on the bed was the important part. Next to you was Eddie. Laying back down you turned on your side and looked at him as he slept, the covers having slipped so they were laying around his waist.  

He was shirtless, the broad expanse of his toned back in full view as he laid on his stomach with his arms wrapped around the pillow he rested on, his face towards you. His hair was a mess of curls that fell into his face. With a small giggle you lifted your hand and carefully pushed long curls away to see him better. He looked so peaceful you didn’t want to wake him. 

Memories from last night bubbled up in your mind the longer you stared at him, your hand in his curls. He wasn't as innocent as he looks when he's sleeping. Smiling you turned so you could lay on your back biting your lip at the thought. Covering your face with your hands, you felt heat start to simmer under your skin. Hard. All it took was a little flirting and some liquid courage and you were in his bed.

That was one hell of a kiss and Eddie smiled down at you before both of your attention was taken away by Steve, who had come up to wish you guys a Happy New Year. He hugged you first, placing a kiss on the top of your head before shaking Eddie’s hand and pulling him into a hug that was so painfully male it made you laugh. The one arm hug with the back pat. 

“Happy New Year Harrington!” Eddie said with a laugh.

“Happy New Year guys!” Steve shouted as he looked at both of you before moving on to give his greeting to others in the bar. He was slightly drunk already. You could tell.

Laughing, you looked back over at Eddie almost shyly. “Thanks for being my New Year's kiss.”

“Thanks for letting me be your New Year’s kiss.” He said as he took a drink of his beer with a wink and a smile thrown at you. 

Quickly you finished your drink and set the glass back on the counter. 

“You look so pretty when you’re flustered,” He said as he leaned towards you. Almost like he was going to tell you a secret, his lips so close to your ear. “I wonder what else makes you look like this.”

“Oh my god,” You said as you covered your face with your hands. He was actively out to kill you. Not even one minute into the New Year and you were already a mess. Damn this man to hell. 

“Don’t hide.” Eddie laughed as he grabbed your wrists gently pulling your hands away from your face so he could see the pretty flustered look that washed your features. “I wanna see you, pretty girl.”

Cocking your head to the side you looked up at him through your lashes. “You’re trouble…”

“I’ve heard that before.” A smirk pulled on his full lips. His hands moved slowly from your wrists to your hands, holding them gently but firmly. Lifting them up he looked at them in awe. “Your hands are so tiny!”

That made you laugh, the sound falling from your lips before you could stop it. Leaning forward a bit you smiled as you turned his own hands over your fingers running over the calluses there. Two can play at this game. "And yours are so strong. So… rough."

That made his breath hitch, you saw as his adams apple bobbed slightly in his throat when he swallowed. A very kissable throat, if you were being honest with yourself, it was just begging for your lips to leave its mark with your lipstick. A cough caught your attention, making you turn to look at Robin who was smiling at you both with a sly look holding up your empty glass.  

"Want another drink?" 

“Yes, please.” You nodded. If this man was going to continue to flirt with you, and you flirt right back, you would definitely need some liquid help. “How much do I owe for the two drinks?”

“Don’t worry about it Sweetheart.” Eddie said as he smirked down at you. “All your drinks are on the house tonight!”

“No!” You said, shaking your head at him. You know the struggle of being a business owner. “I have to pay for these!”

“Nope,” He said, as he looked back over at Robin. “Don’t take any of her money!”

“Okay!” Robin agreed with a nod and a small salute before she went to work making your drink.

“Eddie!” You glared at him while he just looked at you with a smirk.

“As the owner it is within my rights to give free drinks to pretty girls!” 

Your drink slid into the space in front of you as you huffed at Eddie. You would just give the money to Steve, have him add it to the till, and Eddie would be none the wiser. 

It wasn’t much longer after a bit more flirting and that last drink that you let Eddie take your hand again. He wanted you. Oh how he wanted you. You could see it in his eyes, and you wanted him just as much. Squeezing his hand you cocked your head again, just begging him to ask you something. Anything.

“Wanna come upstairs with me?”

“Yes,” You nodded. Remembering how last time he needed verbal consent just for a kiss. Going up to the second floor seemed like another beast entirely so you decided to give it the same respect. 

Grinning, he gently pulled you from the stool and held your hand firmly so as to not lose you in a crowded bar. Looking over your shoulder at the bar you saw Robin smiling and you snorted when you looked over at Steve, he was a little preoccupied as he sucked on the neck of the brunette like a vampire. That girl was going to have one hell of a hickey in the morning. Through the bar and up the stairs you followed Eddie. The second floor looked a little more boring than the first floor. It was just a rail lined almost square walkway that looked down into the floor below it. The three walls opposite the stairs held two doors each. Rooms most likely. The walls between the doors were covered in more posters and photos. 

But one caught your eye, it was different then the others on the walls. Not a band poster or a group photo. It was an old black and white photo of a woman. Her hair piled up high on her head in a Gibson Girl fashion, her skin pale and unblemished as she leaned on the back of a chaise lounge, one hand supporting her chin while the other was draped along the back, the delicate robe she wore had fallen presenting one naked shoulder to the world. She had a sly smile on her face almost as if she knew a secret. Pulling Eddie to a stop you leaned down to look closer at it. A small plaque with a name and a year sat under the frame. “She’s pretty.”

Eddie turned and looked at the photo hung in a pretty frame. “Oh Ruby?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, looking over at him. “Is she an ancestor or something?”

“Uh, no,” He laughed, shaking his head. “The photo came with the building. Rumor has it this place was a brothel way back in the day before it was ever a bar. We found it while we were renovating, so we put her up so no one would forget her. We only know her name because it was written on the back.”

“A brothel really?” 

“Mhm,” He nodded, his hand still in yours. “There were more rooms downstairs that the old owner got rid of when he made it into a bar. This photo was in the storage room.” 

“It was nice of you guys to put her up.” You smiled at him. 

“Everyone deserves to be remembered.” Eddie smiled as he gestured down the hall with his head squeezing your hand. “Come on.”

“‘Kay,” You smiled as you let him guide you around the landing and to the doors on the left wall that matched with the stage on the bottom floor. Pulling a key ring from his pocket he found the key he needed and opened the door letting you in before him. You looked around the room as you entered with him following you. The music was still loud but muffled now with the door closed. No more yelling to be heard. This wasn’t so much a plain old room, but more like a studio apartment. There was a living area, a small kitchen, and a bed. You turned to look at him with a smile as he clicked on the light that sat on the nightstand by the bed. 

“There,” Eddie said as he put his keys down. “Now we can see.”

You chuckled at that as you looked around the place again. “Nice place.”

“Thanks.” He said as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching you walk around. His eyes wandered up and down your form in that dress and your legs in those heels. He wanted to worship you. “There are three other rooms just like this and two guest rooms. Those don't have a kitchen though.” 

“Steve said he lives here too.” 

“Yeah,” He nodded as he pushed off the wall walking towards you. “His room is the door closest to the stairs on the landing.”

“It’s nice of you to let him live here.” You said as you peeked into the bathroom that sat next to the kitchen. “He seems much happier now.”

“I’m glad,” Eddie said, putting his hands on your waist pulling you gently into his chest. He chuckled, placing a soft kiss on your exposed shoulder. “But you don’t really wanna talk about Steve right now do you?”

Shaking your head, you looked over your shoulder at him. “No. I don’t.”

“Thank god.” Eddie said, dramatically throwing his head back as he spun you around causing you to laugh. He cupped your jaw with one hand as he looked into your eyes. “I really wanna kiss you again.”

“What’s stopping you?” You asked as you brought your hands up to his sides letting your fingers gently caress his exposed sides. The feel of his warm skin on yours made your fingers tingle. “Kiss me.”

“Yes ma’am.” He smiled as he caught your lips with his. Slowly he walked you backwards until your back hit the wall by the door to the bathroom, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head so it didn’t hit the wall. The kiss was messy, all tongue and teeth. You loved it. A little whimper left your lips as he pulled back and he smiled down at you. “That was a cute little sound.”

“Oh my god shut up.” You huffed as you looked away, heat starting to creep back onto your cheeks.

“What other sounds can I get from you?” He chuckled, pushing some of your hair out of the way he leaned down to place kisses on your neck, leaving little nips and licks up and down the column of your throat. He grinned into your neck when you leaned your head to the side giving him more room to explore as quiet little moans left you. “There are those pretty sounds I wanted.” 

That made your thighs clench and you felt a heat bloom between them. If he could get this reaction out of you by just neck kisses and simple words alone you were a dead woman. “Ah… Eddie...”

“Hmm?” He mumbled as he continued his exploration of your throat and jaw. “Want something Sweetheart? You gotta tell me.”

Your hands glided up his sides, your fingers leaving hot trails on his skin as you reached his shoulders and neck, pulling out his hair tie so his curls would fall, and pushing your hands up into his hair you gripped a handful in both hands. Pulling gently he gasped as his head leaned away from you. His eyes were wild for a moment before he closed them. He liked it. You could feel it where he was pressed against you. “Fuck me Eddie.”

His eyes snapped open then as he looked down at you from this new angle. It happened so quickly, one second he was cupping your jaw with one hand and your waist with the other, the next thing you know one hand is slammed against the wall by your head and his other is pulling you closer using the empty space behind you to pull the zipper of your dress down. He leaned forward again catching your lips with his, your hands loosening their grip on his strands giving him more space to move. You felt his hand drag up your spine to your bra, goosebumps rising on your skin as he went, quickly he pinched the sides together to release the clasps and you both felt as your dress and bra started to slip from your form to pool on the tile floor of the kitchen. Leaving you in just your black panties, thigh high stockings, and black heels. Leaning back just a hair's breadth from your lips, he looked down and sucked in a breath at the view before looking back into your eyes. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“So are you.” You mutter as your hands fall to the hem of his shirt. Pulling it up over his stomach and chest. 

He took a step back to allow you to pull the shirt up higher and he took over pulling it off completely tossing it to the side.

He was covered in tattoos. A black widow, a bleeding zombie head, and a few others decorated the skin on the left side of his chest. While his right pectoral had a circle of words written in a language you didn’t recognize. Your fingers grazed over the writing and some of the others that painted his skin. A black and red swirled guitar pick hung on a small chain around his neck and it made you want to get a closer look but that was before a glint of silver caught your eye and you looked down.

“Like the view?” He smirked as you blinked at his chest.

“Your nipples are pierced.”

“Yes, they are.” He laughed with a nod. 

“Did that hurt?” 

“A little.” Shrugging, he brought a finger up under your chin lifting your gaze to look into his eyes. He was smiling down at you as his hands moved to gripped your hips. “Up.”

Carefully you wrapped your arms around his neck and jumped as he lifted you up. Bringing your legs around his waist you took a moment to look at him before you kissed him again, your hands cupping his cheeks. The sound he made in his throat made you roll your hips against him.

He moved you both quickly to the bed before laying you down gently. His hands on either side of your body as he braced himself above you. In a quick movement he grabbed under your knees and held your outer thighs, pulling you where he wanted you. You got lost in the feeling of him leaning over you again as he kissed your neck, down to your chest lavishing attention on your nipples until they stood at attention, leaving little nips and licks to your breasts before moving over your soft belly, and finally down to your pubic area placing a soft kiss right on your hip. “You want this?”

“I want this.” You nodded. You never wanted something so much in your life. “If you don’t do something right now, I might explode.”

“You and me both.” He laughed as he moved backwards so he could stand up, his fingers trailing down your thighs, past your knees, and to your calves. Lifting one leg at a time he grabbed your heels and chucked them behind him leaving your stockings in place. Leaning back over you again he hooked his fingers under the band of your panties. Pulling the material from your legs he tossed them over his shoulder as he leaned down to place a kiss right on your puffy lips, making you hitch a breath as he used two fingers to separate your folds allowing him access to your clit. Giving it a kitten lick he looked up at you with a grin before he dove back in your legs going over his shoulders. 

Your back arched slightly at the feel of his tongue circling your clit. Hands reaching down to push through his hair as he ate you out holding him firmly in place. You felt the coil inside you start to tighten, your hands in his hair pulling slightly at the roots of his curls. He moaned into you the vibration just pushing you closer to the ledge then you already were. “Oh god, Eddie.”

He smirked. That smug bastard smirked. You could feel it. Glancing down at him you saw him looking up at you through his lashes, his big brown eyes were black, the pupils blown with lust. A puff of air left your lungs when he licked a long strip across you and you had to close your eyes again as the pleasure of his mouth just crept through you. Then you felt his finger as he swirled it around your entrance and slowly pushed inside, the width of it stretching you out slightly before adding a second finger. “You okay baby?”

Your back arched again as you moaned. “Uh huh.”

“Uh huh?” He mocked a little with a laugh as he moved his fingers at a steady pace. You were almost there but not quite. “You taste so good. Did you know that?”

“If you say… shit… if you say I taste like strawberries…fuck… I will scream.” You huffed the feeling of his fingers inside you was enough to make you crazy. You moaned loudly when he found that spot that made you see stars. “Eddie.. Oh my god!”

“There she is..” Eddie said with a grin as he went back in for another taste. His fingers filling you up and his tongue dancing over your little bud was just what you needed to make that coil inside you snap. 

“Ah!” Your walls clamped down on him as you came. White exploded behind your eyelids as you twitched under his skilled hands. He gave another little lick to your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you letting you ride that high for as long as you could before he started to bring you back down. “Fuck.”

“Jesus Christ you are a dream, Y/N.” Eddie said as he pulled his fingers gently from you, a whine leaving your lips at the empty feeling. “I know, sweetheart, I know. Don’t worry. I got something that will help.”

You looked at him as you watched him stand back up his fingers in his mouth to clean your slick from them. He knew you were watching, the little smirk was your only clue. With a tiny pop his fingers left his plush lips as he moved to the nightstand and opened the drawer digging around for a moment before he found what he was looking for. Placing the foil packet between his teeth he closed the drawer and started on his belt, the handcuff buckle teasing you as he pulled it open. 

Slowly, too slowly for your liking, he undid his jeans and pulled them down taking his red plaid boxers with them. His cock sprang forward, the red tip dripping as it slapped against his lower stomach. It made you gasp as your eyes were drawn to it and he chuckled again. 

You sat up then moving so you were on your hands and knees crawling towards the edge of the bed, your hand reaching out to take his dick in your hand, he didn't stop you. Looking up at him you see him smile as he takes the little packet from between his teeth. “Go on baby.”

Grinning back, you gave the reddish tip a sweet little peck before you took the length of him into your mouth as far as you could, almost making yourself gag before you pulled back so you could properly bob your head. Using your tongue to swipe over the vein in his shaft. The groan he let out was sinful and it only made you want to take him farther. You felt his hand curl around the back of your head, not pushing just holding you, his fingers tangling in your hair. 

"God your mouth feels so good." He whined as his hips bucked a little pushing himself into your throat making you gag again. His head was thrown back on his shoulders as he enjoyed you sucking on him. Your cheeks hollowed as you paid attention to the mushroom top of his cock. It didn't take long before he had to pull away from you, breathing hard. "I'm not… not going to last if you don't stop, baby."

You pouted at him as his hand gripped your hair tightly, making you gasp, but he didn't make any motions to pull. Not that you would have minded but the weight of his hand in your hair made your thighs clench together.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry." Eddie gasped out. "But I was about to ruin… everything and I really want to fuck you."

“What are you waiting for?” You asked as you licked your lips staring up at him. “I wanna hear your pretty sounds too.” 

“You’re killing me.” He groaned as he ripped the foil condom wrapper with his teeth tossing it to the side once he had removed the contents. "Scoot up and lay on your back for me baby." 

You did as you were told and sat on your heels for a second before laying back down, using your elbows to push yourself farther up the bed giving him enough room to join you. You bit your lip as you watched him roll the condom over his thick length and stroked himself as he kicked his pants and boxers off so he could climb into the bed with you. He was between your stocking clad thighs in a matter of seconds, his hands bracing himself on the sheets by your head as he leaned down kissing the valley between your breasts. You felt him press against your folds as he moved his hips to collect any slick he could before he reached down and placed himself at your entrance. You nodded at him when he looked up at you. Your hands found his hair again as he pushed himself inside you. 

Together you and Eddie moaned as you clenched around him before he could completely bottom out. He felt so good, so heavy inside you. A few little thrusts from him and a roll of your hips later he was fully sheathed in you and you had never felt so full. Your nails are scratching the skin on his back.

His eyes flitted around your face making sure there were no signs of discomfort but he found none, he gave you a few moments to get adjusted to him as he placed his forehead to yours. Eddie didn’t know when it happened but the quick roll in the hay he wanted with you earlier had turned into an intimate moment in time. It wasn’t what he had planned but he wasn’t going to lie to himself and say he didn’t want this. 

Lifting your head up you bumped his nose with yours before you pecked his lips. “Move. Please move.”

Nodding Eddie started to move. His hips withdrawing from yours before pushing all the way back in, his cock sliding through your warm slick pussy. He watched as your head was thrown back exposing the underside of your jaw and most of your neck. He had too, it would be an injustice if he didn’t, his hips never stopped moving as he leaned forward to kiss, lick, and bite at your neck leaving little hickeys in his wake. Through his explorations he found that one spot under your ear and he felt you practically melt as a moan escaped your lips. “That feel good, baby?”

“God yes,” You whimpered as you rolled your hips in time with his thrusts helping the two of you get closer and closer to the ledge. Your head lulled to the side as more moans and whimpers left you both and you cracked your eyes open to stare at nothing as Eddie continued his motions, his lips never leaving the other side of your neck. Glinting in the light of the lamp on the nightstand your eyes zeroed in on a pair of metal handcuffs that were dangling from the bars of Eddie’s bed frame. Your breath hitched and you felt yourself clench around him, your fingers tightening their hold on his back. He was kinky. If you asked, would he do that with you? 

“Hmm?” Eddie grunted as he looked at you when he felt you tighten around him, his hips faltering a bit when he saw you distracted. “What’s got your attention, sweetheart?”

Looking to the spot you are staring at he saw the cuffs swaying slightly and looked down at you again. Were you into that? The thought made his heart beat faster in his chest. Just the idea of tying you down and fucking you was enough to make him come right then. But he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. “Should I put those away?”

“No.” You whispered as you shook your head and looked away from the cuffs, back into his chocolate brown eyes. “Could you… I’m not…”

“What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me and I'll do it...” 

“Be rough with me?” You asked quietly, looking away from him, bracing yourself for him to reject your request. It’s happened in the past. Why would tonight be different?

“Is that what you want?” Eddie asked as he cupped your jaw with his hand forcing your face up to look at him. “Want me to be rough?”

You nodded as you looked into his eyes again, your heart pounding so loud you swore he could hear it.

“Use your words, sweetheart. I gotta hear you say it.” 

“Yes,” You choked out. “Yes, that’s what I want.”

He smiled then, a pure unadulterated shit eating grin. “Okay.”

You felt a thrill run through you then heat rolling all the way down to your toes. The look in his eye was enough to make you wetter than the ocean. “Really?”

“Hell yeah.” He nodded. You both groaned a bit as he pulled out of you just to slam back in. His pace was fast and harsh as he moved his hips again making you gasp and moan loudly at the feeling of him pounding into you, his hips never faltering as he moved. You loved it. It was exactly what you wanted, your eyes practically rolling in your head as he did. You gasped again as he grabbed your wrists and brought them above your head, keeping them pushed into the sheets with one hand as the other cupped your jaw again. Tapping the side of your cheek. “Eyes on me sweet thing.”

“Ah,” You muttered as you opened your eyes to look at him, when had you even closed them? 

“There we go,” Eddie whispered as he leaned down to kiss you, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth to nibble on it. You felt the pick on his necklace land in the hollow of your throat.

You hummed as the coil started to tighten again, pressure just building inside you. The hand holding your jaw caressed down your chin to your throat, lightly gripping it as his hips continued their punishing pace the entire time. You were so wet, it sounded obscene. You had to fight to keep your eyes on him. “Oh god, Eddie.”

“That's what I like to hear. Good girl." He grunted as he felt you clench around him again. Of all the names he had called you tonight, that was the one that got you. “You like that? Like when I call you a good girl?���

“Y-yes,” You moaned as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to snapping. “God… yes. Eddie. I’m so close… please.. please.”

“You sound so pretty when you beg. But not yet baby,” He muttered as he pulled out of you, making you cry out at the loss of your second orgasm. He just smirked at you, his hand leaving your throat and slapping the side of your thigh, not hard but enough to get his point across. “Get on your hands and knees, baby.”

Quickly you moved into position, your body trembling from the denial. At this point you would do anything he asked you too just to feel him inside of you again. “Please..”

“I gotcha,” Eddie said as he lined himself up and pushed back into you, both of you moaning as he did, his hands were gripping your hips so hard that you were sure there would be bruises tomorrow. Thankfully he started to move again, giving you both the pleasure you were looking for. The sounds of his hips meeting the flesh of your ass was a perfect companion to the drum beat from whatever song they were listening to downstairs. 

Your hands gripped his sheets as you rocked back to meet his thrusts. “Ahh… oh… God Eddie.”

“You feel so good baby.” Edde groaned as he felt himself get closer to that edge while he pounded into you as hard and fast as you wanted. This was going to be done way sooner than he wanted but the idea of you coming on his dick was too much to pass up. He reached up then, threading his hand through your hair, gripping it just tight enough to make you moan loudly and pulled you up by it so you were pressed against his chest, you could feel his nipple piercings against your back. You reached your hands behind you and grabbed at his thighs as he thrust up into you. Eddie leaned his head down to suck at the skin on your neck leaving a large mark there for everyone to see. “Fuck… Squeezing me.. so tight. You’re close huh? I can feel it.”

“Uh huh,” You nodded as you laid your head back against his shoulder, the coil inside you burning now that you were so close to just snapping. Another gasp left you as he cupped the hand that had been in your hair around your throat. Not squeezing much, just enough to make your head slightly fuzzy, while his other hand reached down your front to play with your clit. That little nudge did you in. “Gonna come… Eddie… Eddie...”

“Go on sweetheart," Eddie grunted as you clenched down around him making his thrusts stagger as he felt you flutter around him, your cries of relief carrying him to his own release. You felt him jerk inside you as he moaned into the side of your neck. "Good girl… shit… good fucking girl."

Your body twitched with aftershocks of your orgasm as you both fell to the sheets still connected, taking his hand from your throat he laid it on your stomach holding you to him as he maneuvered you both to lay on your sides. Both of you breathing heavily as you tried to come down from your highs. Laying there on your side, taking in big breaths of air, you opened your eyes as you looked over your shoulder at him as he leaned back from your neck to catch his own breath. 

“You okay?” He muttered as he leaned up on his elbow and looked down at you. 

Nodding, you closed your eyes again. “Fuck yeah. Yeah, I'm good. You?”

“I'm good.” He laughed as he pulled out of you slowly causing you both to hiss. Rolling you onto your back he pushed the hair from your face and kissed you again. “Stay right there. Don’t move.”

“I don’t think I can.” You mutter back as you close your eyes, placing your arm over your face to block out any light. You heard him chuckle as he moved off the bed, the bed shaking as his weight lifted off of it. There was rustling as he went around the room and then the sound of a tap being turned on. You didn’t realize that you had started to fall asleep until you felt a warm washcloth start to clean between your thighs, you jumped, startled and moved your arm to look at Eddie.

“Sorry sweetheart,” Eddie said as he finished his cleaning and chucked the towel into the kitchen sink to deal with later. He turned back to you, his hands rubbing your upper thighs easing you back into a comfortable headspace. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“It’s fine.” You smiled as you sat up on your elbows. “I should use the bathroom anyway.”

Eddie holds out his hands for you and you take his offered help, slowly you slide off the bed and head to the bathroom not caring a single wit that you were naked except for the stockings you still had on your legs, you had completely forgotten about them. Taking care of business, you clean yourself up a little more, and wash your hands. Looking in the mirror you inspect your makeup and hair, fixing a few problem spots. Which was most of it honestly. That man ruined you.

You should probably get dressed and leave, you didn’t think Eddie would want you to stick around. Your experience has proven that to be true time and time again. Sighing, you steel your nerves and head back out, crouching down to pick up your bra and dress.

“Leaving already?” Eddie asked from where he sat on his bed, his elbows on his knees, red plaid boxers now back in place, and a black bundle in his hands. 

You looked up at him with your items of clothing in your hands and you smiled a little. “It’s late. Thought I should get out of your hair.”

He looked up at you with a smirk remembering when you pulled his locks. “I kinda like you in my hair.”

Standing up you smiled at him as he got off the bed walking towards you and took your clothes from you, passing you the cloth he had in his hands. He watched as you opened the cloth to see an Iron Maiden shirt. 

“Stay?”

“Okay.” You nodded

That’s how you ended up here on the very first morning of a brand new year, laying next to him, in his bed, wearing his shirt. Biting your lip you looked over at him again as he slept. He was just as beautiful in the morning light as he was last night in the dimness of the bar or in the light of the lamp that sat on his bedside table. Stretching your arms above your head again you took a moment to look at the small watch that sat on your left wrist. It was almost ten in the morning! You sat up a bit in panic. You had to get to the bakery! You were sure your employees had it covered but you didn’t want them to have to run the place all the time! Just cause you were the boss didn’t mean you had to be a slacker! 

slowly you slipped from the bed pulling the covers off you as you went, making sure to not wake Eddie, and you moved around the room collecting your clothes and headed to the bathroom. You took your time, trying to be as quiet as a mouse and by the time you were done you looked presentable again. Your dress from last night wasn’t wrinkled thanks to Eddie, he had enough thought to put the item of clothing over the back of a chair instead of crumpled on the floor. Folding the shirt he let you borrow you left it on the counter in the bathroom by his laundry basket and exited the bathroom. Grabbing your heels from their spots on the floor, you gave Eddie one more glance seeing that he had turned over to lay on his back, one arm was thrown over head while the other rested on his stomach, his curly hair laying on the pillow like spilt ink. He looked so peaceful, handsome. A small smile graced your lips as you watched him for a moment, but you quickly shook the thought from your head. You needed to stop being a creep and go, you had work to do. Careful not to wake him from his slumber you walked over to him and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek before you headed towards the studio door, delicately unlocking it, and slipping out into the hallway with your heels in your hand. 

Silently as you could you closed the door and moved around the landing and towards the stairs taking them down into the empty bar area. A chuckle got your attention as you hit the floor and you looked over to your left, towards one of the two sitting areas by the stage, to see your cousin sitting on one of the couches, your purse and coat next to him, a mug of coffee in his hand.

“Morning.” He smiled, throwing you a cheeky knowing look as he took a drink. “Have a good night?”

“Shut up.” You laughed as you slipped your heels back on. Moving to the couch you grabbed your coat and pulled it on as well. “I have to go to work. Don’t forget about that taste testing you promised to do for me. Come by soon and we’ll schedule it.”

“Yeah, no problem.” 

“I’ll see you later.” You said as you ruffled his hair a bit and grabbed your purse before heading towards the door of the bar. 

“Maybe I’ll bring Eddie...” Steve said as he watched you stop for a moment as you grabbed the door knob. 

“If he wants to come...” You looked over your shoulder at him with a smile as you opened the door. “I wouldn’t hate it.”

Shaking his head, Steve stood up and moved towards the window watching as you got in your car, started the engine, and headed out of the lot back onto the street headed towards Hawkins. Chuckling, he took a sip of his coffee and headed back upstairs to watch some TV until the day's deliveries got there or Eddie woke up. Whichever happened first.

Twenty to thirty minutes later you pulled into the parking lot of the bakery, smiling to yourself as you stepped out of your car and walked towards the back door of your shop. The kitchen was warm and buzzing with activity as you moved inside, closing the door quickly behind you to keep the cold air out. “Morning ladies!” 

“Well, good morning!” Tiffany said as she looked you over, her hands filled with an electric mixer and a bowl of what looks like frosting about to have the color mixed in. “Had a fun night, I see!”

Ada peeked her head around the small wall that held the ovens and wolf whistled at you. “I would ask how much fun but your face tells all!” 

Tiffany buzzed the mixer at you a few times with a smirk on her face. “Waterproof mascara is a godsend!”

“You gonna tell us who the lucky guy was?” Ada asked as she put her hands on her thin hips. “Or girl? We don’t judge in this kitchen!”

“Stop it!” You laughed as you took your coat off and hung it on an open peg before heading towards the stairs to the upper floor. Your heels clicked on the steps as you ascended and once you were at your front door you yelled down the stairs. “Let me clean up and I’ll be right down to help!”

“Take your time!” Tiffany yelled with a giggle. Rolling your eyes you opened your front door and tossed your purse on the couch and kicked off your heels. All you had on your mind was a shower.. And Eddie. Biting your lip you walked into your room and into the bathroom to turn on the hot water. Today was the first day of a new year and it was going to be a great year if you had anything to say about it. 

Tag List:

@theonlyh3artbreaker @eddiesprincess86

[datastate]

augh. i’m on mobile now so i can’t write out my every detailed thought (though i will probably a longer post on this later with basic descriptions for other people’s refs + for me to reflect on when/if i can draw them out), but the gist of a few of the main scenes in my mind:

- kai: very few personal items that are not clothes or gifts. never buys more food than need be, and always sets up his living space to be something that can easily be repacked and moved elsewhere. if it weren’t for his bedroom and the chidouins’ vase of flowers in the kitchen, you wouldn’t realize anyone even lived in this apartment.

- sara: the chidouins have photos of family hanging up in a lot of places, and mr. chidouin displays a photobook next to his safe on the shelving. their walls are made of dark red wood, having a warm & rich (literal and figurative) feel to it... usual upkeep thanks to kai, but they have a bit of traditional fabric as the table setting + in blankets, and then custom furniture... sara lives at the furthest end of the house, & her window is barred off... but her father gifted her a telescope. and has a desk in her room to focus in evenings so her parents can relax w tv or talking. mr. chidouin has an office on the other end of the house, reinforced soundproofing in these walls. sara has a jewelry box and small music box she keeps in the jewelry box’s drawer.. ahh and so much more.. so much more.  i will leave that for later.

- reko: an apartment that’s generally clean (bc she has friends over often), jackets strewn around near the door (she doesn’t wanna stick her jackets in with her normal clothes, and doesn’t have any other closet really) & her shoes haphazardly shoved into the shoe cabinet (except her boots). with posters plastered up in her room, almost always has a candle set on top of her dresser that’s lit. a camera at her bedside, with cool knives in her drawer. has a slightly elevated bed, with instruments tucked in the section beneath & hidden by her sheets falling over the side of the bed. so on... mostly smaller, random things hanging around to indicate she’s here. she has random notebooks she often forgets she leaves out with sketches/notes/lyrics/people's numbers, it's a fun surprise for later! (read: a friend finds it and asks her what the tagalog means and she is like hm. something management won't like. lemme rewrite this chorus and we can try it)

- shin: family has cats... they mostly stay in his room, & with general cleanliness, he rarely reuses clothes and has his laundry hamper at the end of his bed that the cats climb up to sleep with him at night. family keeps a photobook, but has no photos actually hanging around. shin’s bed is against the wall furthest from the window, which has a (now sunbleached) blanket thrown over it instead of a proper curtain because they went so long without actually getting one that’d keep the sun from peering in and waking him up despite staying up until 4am and wanting to sleep in. whole computer + desk + high quality speakers in his room with a specified drawer of labeled hard drives. very clean; despite wavering energy, he sanitizes & replaces his sheets at least once every two weeks.

- keiji: went into this a bit earlier, but yeah... unorganized place. dishes on his kitchen counters instead of cupboards, which just contributes to ingredients being in the living room of all places; has a chair in his room w clothes that aren’t dirty enough to warrant cleaning yet; tools he idly messes with & mail he has to read just tend to pile up wherever he tried settling down to work with it... mostly struggles to manage repetitive menial things on his own.

- kanna: so so many flower & other plants :] has a large tree just outside her window that she used to fantasize of crawling out of her window and climbing down. names plants, though kugie struggles to keep up. has a lot of sketches of plants scattered around because kugie keeps forgetting to buy a folder for her to put them in so they aren’t all over their dresser & the floor, but keeps her plant pattern-pressing book on her at almost all times, otherwise it’s in their shared bedside drawer. kanna is the one who likes changing sheets & finds putting on bedsheets enriching... theey have a full body mirror that the kizuchis’ grandfather made that kanna stuck so many stickers on when she was younger. kugie keeps her backpack next to her bed, in-between the table drawer; kanna has hers hanging on the foot of her bed..

+ more later...ahhi’m. so asleep. goodnigh

[devilishpeaches]

room

Ribba paused washing dishes as the dusk light painting the kitchen walls was quite abruptly blotted out by a shadow.  

  “did I leave my stuff here?” the shadow rasped. “what?”ribba snorted. Circumventing the conversation about her lovely boyfreind using the door a bit more, she just pointed to the odd semi room attached to the living area. The same room, she hasn’t let keith or tenebris in since she started renovating it. Too big to be a closet, only large enough for maybe a fold-up bed and a small shelf maybe. She trailed after him as he made for the doorknob.  “any specific reason you're creeping behind me?” spotting his guaitar, he seemed to miss the curl of mischief in the hum she gave him. While he carefully grabbed the neck his eyes idly skimmed the room, only to stop short. Foam sound-proofing lined the walls of the space. The paint was a neutral color but you couldn’t really tell which because of the lamp that cast a sheen that was a few tints off from black light. Setting any metal or light colors aglow. Eerie, but kind of soothing.  

“what do ya think bandit?” ribba chirped, her sundress the color of ectoplasm under the lamp.  

He gave the room another once-over, “ why not a couch, instead of the bed? Wouldn’t it make more sense to put all this in my place, not yours?” ribba coiled a lock of hair around her finger, thinking.  

   “a couch wouldn’t really work for what I had in mind?”

     “ you didn’t have a home studio in mind?” he asked, taking a chance to slouch onto the mattress with a ‘whoosh!’. Plucking out a few cords as he waited for her response.  

 “yes and no”she giggled as he sent her a look. Ribba pointed to the ceiling. Two set of eyes  glance up. A beat.

“the fuck do you need hooks for, ribba?”

“for you" and keith too, maybe.

 “i don’t need em’”

  “course you do.” her voice thickened, dripping in amusement. “where else would the ropes go? You gotta hang from something.”

  “calling me a damn chimp?”

“naw, a present,” she finally took a seat, body heat coating tenebris’ left side. “ knots and pretty bows, hanging about,” a hand hovered level to her pelvis “Yeigh high. Fucking height”  

Twang! A discordant note. Ribba’s expression tilted into smug territory at her boyfreind’s startled face. The deeper hue dusting his cheeks was very fetching in this light.

“can your ceiling even handle that?”he snarked lowly, eyes slanting off to a corner.

 “don’t know. Very willing to find out.”her voice barely above a whisper at this point.”you want to help me?”his face still a tad flushed, he pinned her with jagged grin.  

Tenebris pouted at his bound wrists. “Thought we were testing the ceiling?”  

   “we will. Not today, but we definitely will” ribba sat back down, after rifling in a trunk off to the side. She cuffed one his ankles into spreader bar she brought over. Her boyfriend made a petulant huff. “Change your mind, sweetness?" he didn’t answer, throwing his legs wide when ribba tried to work his other foot into the cuff. He only got a raised eyebrow in return. “don’t wanna see if we can reach the neighbors through these walls? I'd love to hear your voice. “  

  “don’t try to bait me" his tone tried to stay agitated but wavered at the touch sliding up his inner thigh. another hand titled his chin up to meet her gaze, still playful but a slight ripple of incredulity.

      “i got ahead of myself telling you that. To be real, I'm still feeling all this out" a sheepish lilt in her words. Ribba’s grip squeezed slightly, gentle but searching.  

       Tenebris snorted.” you say that, like I'm not.” he relaxed into the touch despite himself, her bashful laugh drifting along his skin

(not sure if ill continue this, ten might be a bit ooc)

[cambria-writes]

It is Sunday my dudes! Since I update AO3 on Sundays I figured I might do that here too. No idea if it’s been more or less than a week since last time but here you go. Thank you so much to everyone who left messages, replies and likes! And special thanks to @anothermunsonsimp​ for absolutely indulging and encouraging me, and to my BFF and BF for letting me talk their ears off for hours about fan theories and ADND 1st ed. pairing: eddie munsonx reader rating: PG13 for now, each chapter rated individually warnings: more guns, minor injuries, hella swearing, mention of (assumed) character death but only for like a second, Chrissy gets game-over’d sorry word count: 3,322

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𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊: 𝔊𝔞𝔱𝔢

You gave your phone number to the lot of them; Dustin, Mike, Steve and Robin. In return, you got their phone numbers as well, save for Mike’s. Not exactly like calling him in Hawkins would do much good if he wasn’t going to be around. The kids left for their club after that, and made sure they knew to let Eddie know you’d be waiting for him back at his place. You appreciate that they didn’t ask any questions, despite the fact that they had about a thousand of them written all across their faces.

“Anything happens,” Steve had said, putting a hand on your shoulder. “You call to let either of us know.”

Gripping the steering wheel of your car, you let your head fall forward at a red light. There’s a part of you that’s thrilled, sure; this is the most excitement you’d probably ever get in your life, living in a small town like Hawkins. But the knowledge of exactly how bad everything has been is equally terrifying. You didn’t bother asking, but it’s obvious that the lot of them have had way too many near-death encounters.

And then there’s Chief Hopper.

You nearly jump out of your skin when a car honks behind you. You hadn’t noticed the light had turned green. You floor it, making your way to the edge of town, toward the quarry. You need space to think, and barring the fact that the Fake Will Byers Body was found there, it seems to be the safest place to go.

Once you’re parked, you pull the walkman from your back seat, shoulder your duffel bag and make your way to the edge of the cliff overlooking the water. As you walk, you speed through half the tape to make it to The Killing Moon. That feels like it suits your mood well enough.

When you sit down, letting your legs hang over the edge of the cliff, you pull the pistol from the back of your waistband and hold it in both your hands.

From what you gathered from the extremely confusing conversation with the others, it doesn’t seem like a tiny handgun like this is going to be terribly useful if you end up plane shifting again. You kind of wish you’d brought the shotgun with you, though you know it makes more sense to have left it under your bed. There would be a lot of questions you’d have a hell of a hard time answering if someone spotted a god damn Winchester on your back seat.

You lean back to lie down, letting the Beretta rest on your chest and wonder if maybe you should try and find a way to rig, like, a flamethrower?

“God that sounds stupid,” you mutter to yourself, raising your arm to cover your eyes against the fading daylight.

What can you do if you end up in the Upside Down again? The only kind of fire you consistently have on you is a lighter, and you’re pretty sure that won’t do you much good against monsters with crazy speed and faces that open up like fleshy venus fly traps.

You let your fingers run along the barrel of your gun and try to decide what to do. The only real thing you feel would be useful is target practice, but you’re also not sure you want to risk someone hearing gunfire nearby and calling the cops. That, also, would require a lot of explaining you’re not sure you can convincingly manage.

By the time Ocean Rain starts playing, you still have no idea what to do with yourself and it’s got you on edge. You have no idea if you’ll ever end up in the Upside Down again, when the next nightmare is going to be, and if you should be trying to do anything right now. Whatever’s happening can’t be that bad, right? No one’s dead. That’s what you hold onto, for now.

Even if you can still feel the ghost of the vine wrapped around your ankle, you tell yourself that you didn’t die. You barely even got hurt. You don’t even know if you would have gotten hurt if you’d let it... well, yeah, being dragged down the stairs probably would’ve.

When the song ends, you feel around for your walkman and rewind the tape back to the beginning of The Killing Moon. For now, you can probably afford to kill time and chance a nap, while the afternoon sun still gives you some semblance of peace of mind. Then you can swing by your place, grab the shotgun, stash it in the trunk, and make your way to Munson’s place.

With that ghost of a plan in mind, you close your eyes and try to catch up on some of the sleep you’ve been missing out on.

Something’s off when you pull into Forest Hills. The hairs at the back of your neck are standing straight, and you can’t shake the feeling like there’s a hand always an inch away, ready to grab you. The dark of night was never really as scary as it is tonight.

And then you hear the clock chiming again.

You’ve just stepped out of your car when you notice that the front porch light is flickering. A quick look confirms that the lights inside are going crazy, too. You can barely remember Steve mentioning something about Christmas lights and the nightmare with hands coming out of the wall at the Byers’ place when you hear Eddie shouting from inside.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You use the wobbly railing to pull yourself to the door and jump over the steps altogether and burst through the door. When you race in, you can still hear him shouting.

“Chrissy, wake up now! Chrissy!”

“Ed, what the fuck is going on?!” You ask, finding him shaking the cheerleader with the shoulders.

She’s completely checked out, eyes milky white.

“Oh fuck, oh no,” you whine, rushing over and shoving Munson aside and grabbing the girl by the shoulders yourself. “What happened?!”

“I don’t know!” He shouts back, trying to drown out the sound of the flickering light bulbs. “She wanted to make a deal and when I came back here she was–”

You both look at your hands rising on Chrissy’s shoulders, and then down at her levitating feet.

“What the fuck–”

“Get out,” you say, turning on Eddie. “Get out, get out!“ You shout, shoving at his shoulder and trying to get him to move.

“We can’t just leave her here!”

“The fuck we can’t!“

You’re blessedly halfway to the front door when you hear a loud thud. When Eddie screams, you turn around to see him knocked to the ground  and there she is: Chrissy Cunningham is somehow stuck to the ceiling, her face still impassive, eyes open wide and unblinking. You only manage to watch one of her arms snap before you put as much force as you can into dragging Munson out the damn door.

“Come on, we gotta get out of here!“ You shout, stumbling down the front steps. You don’t have enough time to right yourself before Eddie slips down and crashes into you. Yell at him to get in your car, and when you manage to stand, you pull the Beretta from your waist band.

“Why do you have a gun?!“

“Shut up and get in the fucking car, Munson!“

You don’t turn your back on the trailer and backstep to the driver’s side. You blindly reach for your keys and flick the safety off the gun with your other hand. Eddie shoves the car door open for you, and in a handful of seconds you twist the key in the ignition and peel out of the lot.

“What the fuck, what the fuck!“

Your hands are shaking and you’re clenching your teeth so hard your jaw aches. Henderson what fucking right, you fucking jinxed it, god damn it.

“What the fuck was that–”

“I don’t know, Eddie! Would you shut up for a second, I need to think!”

The only sound in the car is the engine and both of your heavy breathing. The first thing that comes to mind is to call Harrington, so you do your best to drive at a socially acceptable speed straight for your house. You’ll call him and go from there.

“We’re going to my place,” you announce, as evenly as you can manage. “I’ll call Harrington, he’ll–”

“Harrington? Steve Harrington? Have you lost your god damn mind?”

“Let me finish!“ You slam the steering wheel with your free hand, take a deep breath, and hand over the gun by the barrel. ”Turn the safety on. I’m gonna call Harrington, we’ll meet up with Robin and Henderson and we’ll figure shit out.“

“Henders-what the hell is going on? What the fuck do they have to do with this?” You spare Eddie a quick look; he’s left the gun in his lap and has both hands pulling at his hair with his head as close to his knees as he can manage.

“Honest to god you wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” you manage to say, through your teeth. With a hand on the wheel, you bounce your fist on your free leg. “I’m gonna have to ask you to just trust me on this.”

“I just saw a cheerleader fucking levitate and you’re asking me to trust you?“ He asks, with all the incredulity that, yeah, he’s entirely entitled to have, actually.

“Yeah, Munson,” you reply, taking a second to look at him head on. “I’m asking you to fucking trust me on this one.”

When you make it to your place, you don’t really park so much as you haphazardly get your car in the driveway. Tell Eddie, when you pop the trunk open, to grab the shotgun while you unlock the front door. Head straight for the phone and pull out the piece of paper with Harrington’s number and almost scream when you have to dial it a third time.

“Come on, asshole, pick up the phone,” you mutter, tapping your foot impatiently on the floor. It goes to voicemail after the eighth ring. “Fuck!” you shout, slam the phone back on its cradle and reach for another piece of paper in your pocket. Check the time on the clock real quick and decide that Henderson probably won’t mind you calling at this time.

“Hello? Hend–”

“Hi Mrs Henderson I’m really sorry to call this late but I really need to talktoyourson,” you rush out, resting your head against the wall while Dustin’s mother shakily agrees. You hear her call for him in the background.

“Hel–”

“You were right, I fucking jinxed it!“ You scream into the phone. You hear your front door shut and the tell-tale sound of the deadbolt locking.

“Woah, hey, back up there, what happened?”

You slap Eddie in the shoulder when he tries to talk to you and motion at him to sit down at the table a few feet away while you tell Henderson what happened. Somewhere along the way you start crying, but do your best to keep talking.

“Shit,” Dustin whispers, and you can hear him ask his mother to grab a bag for him. “You’re both at your place right now yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, using your free hand to wipe at your face.

“Perfect, okay, great,” he says, distracted, and you hear several things being thrown around. “I’ll go get Steve and we’ll go to you okay? Is Eddie okay?”

You take a second to look over to Munson. His hands are clasped tightly in front of him, elbows on his knees and head hanging between his arms. The gun and shotgun both sit on the table in front of him.

“No,” you eventually say, turning back to the wall. “I don’t think either of us are anything adjacent to ‘okay’. Just be quick about it, man.”

You rattle off your address and promise to sit tight and agree to only open the door if you hear the agreed-upon knocking pattern. It feels a bit stupid and a bit too much, but you can’t deny the mild sense of comfort it brings you.

Eddie stands up and follows you into the kitchen, where you make yourself busy pulling two mugs out of the cupboard and grabbing the tin of coffee.

“Now are you going to tell me what the hell that was about?” he asks, throwing his hands in the air.

Pour water into the coffee maker. Fold a filter and pop it in. Try to steady your hands. Scoop grounds in.

“Hello?“

“Look,” you grind out, jabbing the power button on the stupid coffee maker and gripping the edge of the counter with white knuckles. “I don’t fucking know, okay? I just managed to talk about this shit with Harrington and the rest of your merry band of misfits this afternoon and they have no idea what’s going on either.”

“Again,” Eddie says, sounding progressively more exasperated. And entirely done with your shit. “What the hell does Steve Harrington have to do with any of this?!”

“Remember when the Byers kid went missing a few years ago?”

Eddie shuts up for a few seconds, and you don’t need to turn around to know that he’s looking at you like you just grew a second head.

“Wha–”

“He was taken to this–and you have to shut up and listen to me,” you caution, turning around and shoving a finger to his chest. “He was taken to this, like, parallel dimension by a demogorgon. And then they–no!” You slap at Eddie’s chest when he opens his mouth. “Shut up! Then they found this girl in the woods with fucking superpowers who could move shit with her mind and found out she opened this, this kind of gate or whatever to that parallel dimension.”

You take a second to breathe and run both hands down your face.

“Whatever happened to Chrissy has something to do with that. Harrington’s been there every time shit’s gone south. The Wheeler kids too, Henderson, the Sinclair kid. They’ve all fought this shit before.”

Eddie doesn’t speak again. Leans back against the sink and slides down to the floor. You don’t bother breaking the silence, just pour out the coffee when it’s done percolating and settle in next to him, holding a mug out. He doesn’t look at you but shakes his head.

“You’re gonna need the boost, man,” you say quietly, taking a sip from your mug. It scalds your tongue. Eddie eventually takes the mug and takes a sip, though he makes a face at the bitterness of it.

“You think she’s...” He starts asking, after a bit, but lets the question trail off. You have a hard time swallowing past the lump in your throat.

“Probably,” you croak, pulling your legs up to your chest and letting your mug rest on your knees. “They didn’t make it sound like this shit is prone to leaving any survivors.”

“Shit,“ Eddie whispers, and his voice is hoarse.

You close your eyes and keep sipping at your cup of coffee, trying to focus on the sound of the clock ticking to keep yourself moderately present. You chug the rest of it when you’re halfway done and stand to put your empty mug in the sink.

“Woah, woah wait where are you going?”

“I’m getting the other guns from the safe in the basement,” you say quietly, taking a deep breath and rolling your shoulders.

“You have more?”

You shrug him off because explaining is a pain in the ass right now and head for the basement door. The safe is still open, as you left it. You fit the Beretta in your waistband, grab the Winchester in one hand and as many boxes of bullets and shells as you can comfortably hold against your chest before making your way back upstairs.

You hear the patterned knock on the door just after kicking the basement door shut behind you. You can hear Henderson shouting from outside when he starts pounding on the door with his fist.

“Fucking relax, I’m coming, jesus!” You call, unlocking the deadbolt and pulling the chain out before opening the door. “Please tell me you have any kind of useful information.”

Henderson immediately makes his way to the dining room table, like he’s been here a thousand times before, and throws a heavy bag on the table. Harrington follows behind, looking all the world like he just got woken up, if his less-than-deliberately messy hair is anything to go by. You don’t pity him when you punch him in the shoulder.

“Hey, what the hell was that for?!”

“You told me to call you if anything happened and didn’t answer your damn phone, you asshole!”

“Yeah well I didn’t exactly expect for something to happen tonight!” He shouts back, rubbing at his arm and moving to sit down next to Henderson. You huff and slam the door shut, taking care to lock everything back up.

Dustin slams a handheld down on the table and effectively shuts everyone up. Looks at you and waves his hand at Eddie.

“How much does he know?”

“Just that you guys have done this before,” You start slowly, making your way back to the table. Motion to everyone to sit down, though Henderson stays standing. “Didn’t really have the time or patience to go through everything.”

“Steve, can you..?” Henderson asks, pulling the antenna on the handheld and wandering off. You can hear him checking if Mike’s still up.

“Is this the part when I find out why you’re not actually a massive douchebag?” Eddie asks, both hands on the table, fidgeting nervously with his rings.

Steve sighs, running a hand down his face and leaning back in the chair. But he launches into a shortened summary of what you were given earlier that day. Will’s disappearance, the Upside Down, the mind flayer, how Joyce Byers is in the know. Talks about Eleven and the other “psychic kids”, how she had and then lost her powers during the last fight at Starcourt.  

“It’s not like we were sure everything was done last time, but...” Steve trails off, looking down at the table. “Without Will here and Eleven without her powers, we didn’t exactly have a Bullshit Radar.”

“Wait,” Eddie says, looking at me for a second, before looking back at Steve. He’s been on the edge of his seat for the past few minutes. “Does that mean she’s one of the psychic kids?”

“Hello, I’m right here–”

“Probably not,” Steve answers anyways. “Hell if I know. You said you only started having weird stuff happen to you when El opened the first gate right?” You nod to confirm. “Right. I don’t know, maybe she’s got a weird connection to the Upside Down like Will does.”

“Yeah but,” I cut in, scooting closer to the table. “Will was actually stuck there for like, what? A week? And he got caught by that big shadow thing. I’ve only been there once–probably–for less than an hour.”

Steve throws his hands up and lets them fall back down on the table. “Dude, I don’t know. It’s not like we ever know anything until it tries to eat our face.”

“Mike’s on his way over,” Dustin announces, walking over to stand by Eddie, and places a hand on his shoulder. “Lucas is gonna go see if he can grab Max before coming over.”

Leaning your elbows on the table, you put your head in your hands. Sincerely starting to wonder why Harrington even told you to call him when anything happened if they were going to be flying into this nearly as blind as you. You’re about to ask something when Henderson speaks up again.

“Think your parents are gonna mind a long distance call on their phone bill?”

text divider by natasharomanovf

[lestatlioncunt]

crave for vesper 👀

47. crave characters: vesper moxley, daniel moxley words: 1.973 warnings: nothing at all, just a chill piece this time

“Ew. So, this is your house?” Daniel’s expectations over the look of his new home were crushed down as soon as he set foot into the apartment: just one big room welcoming a kitchen, a bed, a couch and a television and a lot of junk – his words – scattered around the place. He truly wished that a bathroom was hiding behind that one single door present in the whole house.

“Sorry if I’m not living in the fucking royal palace.” Vesper mocked the harsh comment her humble refuge received. It wasn’t much but it was honest living. Kind of. Although, having a roof over your head is still far more desirable than sleeping in a sordid alley as he did in the last few weeks.

“I just thought you made good eddies, y’know? Being famous and all.” He set off to explore the surroundings: the place wasn’t exactly in its best shape, his sister left a lot of items and clothes lounging around on the floor or on whatever disponible surface was there and surely – much to his displeasure – forgot to clean in the last four or five days.

“I’m seedy-underground-boxer famous.” Vesper reasoned as she dropped on the floor that one and only bag Daniel had with him, filled with what little he decided to take with him after fleeing from their mother’s house. “You saw the place where I work. Did you really think I could get rich in there?”

He simply shrugged, not even sparing a bored look to her, as his focus shifted on analysing every little trinket adorning the shelves. “The guy at the bar called me pretty boy, though. That’s nice.” He picked up a turtle shaped sculpture and knocked twice on its shell, expecting some kind of reaction or sound out of it. The dull sound coming from the surface left him disappointed.

Vesper squinted at the comment and made a mental note to tell the guy in question to never speak again to her brother or else, but kept the notion to herself; it wasn’t her business after all but a little warning wouldn’t hurt, right?

“You’re gonna sleep here for now.” She changed topic. Picking up a few shirts hanging on the couch, she made space to let the new addition to the family find a little spot for himself.

“What?” Daniel turned in her direction, still holding the turtle in his hands. Eyes open wide and a frown on his face. “On the couch?” He looked almost outraged, like she just made the most insulting proposition he ever heard of. Vesper simply nodded and throwed her belongings on her bed, Daniel’s new resting spot finally ready. “My sisters back with mom would let me sleep on their bed sometimes when we spent the night together…” He trailed off. The intent was clearly aimed to spark some kind of jealousy over the mention of his second family, the one he so effortlessly left behind to search for Vesper. He pretended to examine other little objects scattered around as he placed the animal sculpture back to its place, yet his eyes where sneakily looking for any kind of reaction.

If only Vesper was that easy to fool.

“Fine, you can go back to them. That would mean less trouble for me.” She suggested while picking up again the bag on the floor and dropping it on the couch. Daniel’s lips curled in dissatisfaction at the failure and accepted his fate. “Comme on fait son lit, on se couche.” The words rolled out of her mouth so naturally, like she spoke the language for all her life.

“What the fuck does that mean.” Daniel’s eyebrows shot up as his gaze fixed on Vesper, confusion written all over his face.

“What, your mother didn’t teach you French?” He shook his head. “Curious.” So that was something only her and her mother shared? She ignored the notion; mulling over it had no sense now. “Anyway, what does your majesty craves for dinner?” She asked while getting closer to the small fridge and examine if something at all was being stored in there.

He hummed, pondering his answer as he slipped his hand in one of the boxing gloves he just found. “Chicken cutlet. And fries. Yes, that would be great right now.” His tone halfway through solemnity and mockery as he pretended to throw a few punches with the glove on.

“Sure.” Vesper matched that same attitude that her brother just offered her and she crunched down, her eyes admiring the spectacle of a half-empty fridge. “The best I can do is half sushi box I kinda stole from a place in Japantown and ramen noodles to heat up.”

“Oh sushi.” Slipping off the glove, his eyes light up at the proposal. “That’s great, I love sushi.” Vesper let out a relieved breath, satisfying his palate didn’t take that much effort at least; she picked up what little her kitchen was storing and began working on their modest dinner.

Daniel was still rummaging through her stuff, the action was indeed upsetting her but only slightly, not enough to force her to speak up and scold him; she now had to persuade herself to accept someone else using her stuff, her house, once again. An inexplicable wave of relief washed over her yet she preferred to ignore it, her full attention was required for the noodles now. She simply took the leftovers and proceeded to heat them up in a microwave, like that was the most difficult procedure she had to get done.

“Do you like reading?” Her brother suddenly spoke up again.

“I wouldn’t say that’s my biggest passion.” She shrugged and opened the sushi box she so preciously stored and checked if it was still good to eat.

“Then why the book?” Daniel was turning the pages of the tome in his hands, the title on the cover was almost scraped away completely. A few pages had some sketches or words noted down.

Vesper spared a glance to his direction, trying to comprehend what he was talking about: as soon as her eyes registered what he was holding in his hands, her gaze turned sterner.

“That’s not mine. Actually, I should’ve left that back in the old apartment.” She crossed her arms and turned back on her task: watching the noodles turn around and around. “You can have it, if you want. I’ll probably just throw it away if you aren’t interested too.”

Daniel gave no verbal answer but decided that old cluster of paper was now his, something about it picked his interest and he had to investigate further on it. He pushed it against his chest and chose to store it among his other – few – belongings before his sister had the chance to throw it away as she said. As he got closer to the couch, he noticed a worn leather jacket hanging on the armrest, too big for him and just a little too large for Vesper too. Curiosity got the best of him and, as his eyes sparkled with interest once again, he decided to try it on.

“Hey, who’s the owner of this jacket?” Vesper spared a glance at Daniel, surely not expecting him to wear the clothing he was asking about. He wiggled his arms up and down, hands barely showing as the size was probably twice his – the sight made her smile instinctively.

“That’s dad’s.” Tone calm and controlled; fondness slowly crawled out of her words as she continued. “It was his favourite, he would never take it off.”

Daniel stopped moving and gazed at the jacket that suddenly held so much meaning: wearing it felt weird, too big for him, like something else was missing and yet warm, like an embrace he never got the chance to experience. The question bubbled up in his mind naturally: would he like me?

“How was he like?” He asked, instead. His other question would irremediably remain unanswered forever. Unfair, a part of him thought, it’s not like he was asking if his father would’ve loved him, just liked. That’s not much to ask.

Vesper sighed, memories of the good times where few and scattered but better than nothing at all. “He wasn’t perfect.” She began, eyebrows furrowing. Recalling his worst moments had no sense, wouldn’t make neither of them feel better. “Sometimes he was a real piece of work, but at least he tried…tried to be something better. Not like…” A pause congested with rage and resentment followed, as if she was trying to collect all the fury she buried somewhere deep down. “Her.”

Daniel nodded; he knew she referred to their mother. What a predicament the two siblings found themselves in, one never had a mother and the other a father – not one he would call dad and mean it at least.

“He was kinda funny too.” Vesper suddenly continued, as if she sensed the heaviness of her brother’s thoughts. “And made fun of everyone too. Always found a way to step into trouble. Reminds me of you.” She glanced at him sideways, just to see his reaction, as she plopped the now hot noodles into two way too large bowls. “Sometimes he would cook pasta for dinner and not a clean plate would be in sight, so he would drop it into these kinds of bowls we usually used for salad. Sometimes vinegar was still there too.” Daniel let a shiver run through his body, like he just tasted that vinegar flavoured pasta. Vesper grinned at him and placed one bowl in front of him, a witty expression on her face hinting that maybe this one too had vinegar in it. Somewhere, deep into her heart, something stirred and screamed, longing for a question she knew had no sense to make. She didn’t want me in her life and I don’t want her in mine. She glanced again at the jacket: “He never got up on the ring without that thing on, y’know?” Tilting her chin, she signalled the worn-out jacket. “And I did the same. I guess it felt like a good luck charm. Maybe…” The ramen was rotating in the ceramic as she moved it around with the chopsticks in regular motions, eyes fixed on it. “If you want you can have it for yourself, I think it’s time I manage on my own without it.”

Daniel nodded as he slurped some of his noodles loudly. “Cool…but do I look dumb with it?” He moved his left arm, clearly mentioning the fact the jacket was way too big for him. Both scoffed out a laugh as they looked at each other playfully.

“Yeah, you look like a total gonk with it but I guess you’re used to that kind of look.” He made a mocking sound and replied with a clear ‘no you’ before gobbling down his dinner.

“Hey so, what’s the deal with him being super famous and all. Did you ever see him fight?” Words came out half muffled as he chewed on a sushi roll.

“Nah he was a legend around twenty-twenty or something. The memories I have of him fighting are from his shitty boxing days.” She puffed out her chest proudly. “I was way better than him already when ten.” Her gaze left her brother and started wandering around the room, jumping from one object to the other. “I think I have some old recording of his big times. Wanna see them?”

Daniel immediately jumped on his feet and nodded vigorously, the jacket making him smaller and even shorter than normal. He looked positively dumb, Vesper thought while getting up.

“Can’t wait to see dad beating the shit out of some randos.” He grabbed his plate and sprinted to the couch, already getting comfortable on it. “That’s like, a movie night or whatever.”

[fallouttrait]

Okay I finally made another no cc home and while the outside looks kind of horrendous I do have a good explanation for this!!! This is my best attempt at recreating a house I have driven by before. It doesn't look like a home because it that is what it looks like in real life. It doesn't sit with other houses either it stands alone at a crossroads and honestly looks like it was something else at one point. I can however tell that people definitely live there and there are a couple differences in the shape and windows. I have more windows than the Irl home itself because some of the placements are actually a semi-outdoor area with chains for windows (so pretty, right?) Other than that, I have no idea what the inside looks like so this is my own imagination running wild as too what the houses interior may looks like. Enough of me rambling though, let me get to the important details!

Origin ID: Fallouttrait

Packs used: Seasons, Get together, Cats & Dogs, Dream Home Decorator, Paranormal, Tiny Living, Nifty Knitting, Laundry Day, Decor to the Max, & Little Camper's Kit. (No CC was used!)

House has two bedrooms and two bathrooms along with other necessities. Other rambles about the house details will be below the keep reading.

So, about the house itself I kind of got really inspired by the color blue for some reason so that is kind of what the palette is focused on. As soon as you walk in through the front doors there is an area to hang your coat and your mud boots. There're little hallway tables with decor to brighten up the space and you are immediately greeted by the dining table and the small bar. Now you can go through one of the two doors, one being a small bathroom and the other leading into the "garage" which I have turned into a laundry room to be more sim friendly. The other two rooms of the first floor are the living room and the kitchen! Building with rounded walls is so hard I wish they optimized it a bit more before releasing them. Now if you look around hard enough there are pet beds and food bowls! I think there's enough space for cats and small dogs I even used some of the space I closed off as hidden passages for any future furry/feline friends that might stay in this house so that they even have their own personal space.

If you head upstairs there is a small lounge area for reading and just hanging out and of course we have our two bedrooms, I imagine a single mom and her daughter living here. I decorated the daughter's bedroom for a child, but you can easily change that to teen or whatever you like. There is one final bathroom with a tub and litter box and then you can go outside onto the balcony for either chess or some painting. I know this is probably an odd house, but I do really like it a lot and I promise I will release a more normal house next time!!!

[inatelescopelens]

amsterdam 16th december

This morning I woke for the first time in my shoebo—that is the name the hotel affectionately gives to my size of room, which is just large enough to comfortably contain its desk, cabinet and single bed. With the curtains drawn it is dark inside even when the sun has risen, and no natural light penetrates the small tiled washroom adjoining it. As usual I’ve somehow managed to litter the contents of half my suitcase across the wood-board floor in the space of a day, so I hang the do not disturb sign from the door handle on my way out. For four euros at the hotel they will leave a small paper bag of breakfast—muesli bar, bit of fruit—on a hook outside your room, waiting for you when you get up.

We only had to round one corner and cross the canal to reach our first destination of the day’s itinerary in Dam Square, where the Royal Palace of the Netherlands sat catching the first rays of sunshine in a near-silent city centre. This was a much quieter state than I remembered Amsterdam’s tourist heart being in the height of summer, but the buildings were the same—I remembered sitting around in just about the same spot waiting in the same way for the palace to open its doors at ten o’clock for visitors. The only people besides ourselves hovering before the entrance were a few other over-enthusiastic sightseers and an excursion group of high school students whose attention was not very focused. We collected our audioguides and headed into the public rooms to start our tour.

It was all familiar to me from the last time I’d been—the palace’s history as a pre-Napoleonic era royalty town hall, the relics of Dutch trade in the form of half-accurate marble maps in the floor, the halls of ornate statue motifs. What had changed was the palace’s sense of its own golden age, an age not rendered so golden for the benefit of tourists anymore and unmasked by the post-colonial. Because the buried Dutch plundering of the world emerges not only through the columns of monkeys and exotic fish and other appropriated things, but by the presence of the stone in the first place—the obscene wealth, and how it was made. Every symbolic statue contributed its own meaning to the mythos; I liked the decrepit skeleton of Time best, or bare-breasted Artemis, standing over her quarry of fish, freshly hunted for a nautical society.

Between the palace and lunch we visited a few other places on my list, beginning with Begijnhof, a tiny historic religious community for women walled off in the heart of tourist Amsterdam. Its former inhabitants were not nuns but they were known for their little chapel and their good deeds—today, still only women live within the houses surrounding the green square. As a visitor one can have a look around the garden and inside the chapel, while the rest is reserved for present-day residents. This was one of our first looks into the religious past of Amsterdam, a history of revolt and reformation and other things more recent, and more terrible.

After a quick walk around the American Book Centre, probably the most impressive and extensive English-language bookstore I have ever visited, we bought fresh sandwiches from a local chain food store and sat over the canal to eat. Mine was on brown bread, which they do much better here in Europe than they do at home, with jackfruit, avocado and vegan sriracha mayo. It tasted like being on Brunswick St or within the wilds of a Collingwood hipster cafe, exactly what I have always meant about Amsterdam being so like Melbourne in some ways. Also as in Melbourne the young people in this city love queuing up for super-trend food opportunities. I found I was already pointing out to Mum one of the latest viral cafes or restaurants on every second corner. So we left the busier part of town and went east, by the narrow bridge and the Netherlands branch of the Hermitage, facing the wide grey Amstel canal. 

We walked past the National Holocaust Names Memorial on our way. 

Part of this trip for me, particularly now in Amsterdam, has been trying to do things I missed out on before, go places I haven’t been. The De Plantage neighbourhood is an island of green surrounded by canals and streetscape, here we visited the Hortus Botanicus, a doll-sized botanic garden with greenhouses and its own cafe. We went from freezing European winter to the heat and humidity of the tropics in seconds as we entered glass halls containing reconstructed rainforests and collections of palm trees. Precarious iron spiral staircases led up to bridges suspended at ceiling height. The smaller greenhouses were home to colonies of butterflies, the creatures left lethargic by the wintery day. We saw a robin redbreast in the bushes outside as though we had stumbled into a secret garden—the key to the gate had been the digital ticket on my phone.

The exterior gardens were just as interesting as the greenhouses, though distinctly colder, and some parts were buried in a layer of frost. Others had varying ground covers of orange and brown and vivid green, under trees and shrubs in turn gone bare or still weighed down by their leaves. It was the wilder sort of garden, left to pursue its own interests, except for in the parts of the park restored to a version of its seventeenth-century existence as a repository of medical plants. In parts of the hedge-lined semicircle garden were pools home to aquatic plants—these were frozen over, as was the large pond, with a layer of ice so thick it looked like it had formed over many days. Even in the late autumn chill the Hortus was a beautiful place and the frost had far from devastated its charm; I think it added to it.

As we walked back towards our hotel, cutting through the centre of town rather than trailing through the outer streets, we noticed how much the city’s tourist community had grown in the space of a day. Plane loads of the populist young English had arrived for the weekend, and passing through bits of the Red Lights District we saw some of the crasser types already wandering about on their way to poor life decisions. We stopped to look inside the oldest building in Amsterdam, the Oude Kerk. This church, boldly facing the dormant walls of adult entertainment, was cavernous within. It was stripped of former glory during the Reformation, left bare but for a few patches of paint on the roof that the angry mobs had been unable to reach. The bleak interior plays host to art exhibitions in the modern day and we spent some time exploring the current installation—a collection of sculptures, Garden of Scars, by artist Ibrahim Mahama. Under our feet were hundreds of tombstones. They made up the entire worn-down floor.

Tonight we were kindly invited by our Amsterdam friends Camilla and Rob to come to their house to have dinner and to hang out with their son Oscar, who was only a small baby when we saw him last. Having picked up a bottle from a local wine shop, we boarded the tram at Leidseplein and travelled down through De Pijp to reach their home. It reminded me so much of staying with them in a spare bedroom three years ago and Camilla made us a really delicious dinner of vegetarian lasagna and fruit crumble for dessert. We made plans to meet again on Sunday, before Mum and I had to leave for London once more. I realised how much I had missed them and this city where I first really came to know them in a different era for us both—we left not too late and took the tram home again, deposited less than five minutes from our door where the boorish Friday night throng could not reach us.

[occasionalsurveys]

What’s your favourite place to get pizza?

Lately its been at this sports bar we like going to

Did you ever get detention in school? What for?

No, I was too much of a goody-goody lol

Do you believe in horoscopes?

No but they're still fun to read

When you were growing up, did you share a bedroom with anyone?

I shared a bedroom with my younger brother until maybe 10?

Have you ever worn a wig?

I know I have for Halloween but I forgot what I was, it was when I was a kid

Do you have any trips coming up?

Yes! We're going to St. Petersburg tomorrow for a WWE NXT event. Then in Dec, we're spending NYE weekend in Tampa (going to WWE SmackDown on Fri 12/30, doing a NYE Cruise on Sat 12/31 to ring in 2023 then TB Bucs vs Carolina Panthers game on Sun 1/1!

This is the first time we're taking vacation together in a long time (all other PTO/vacation days were spent with family or visiting friends) so this time alone is very much needed.

If you could take lessons/classes for anything, what would you do?

Japanese classes. I took some before and they were super helpful!

When was the last time you had an eye exam?

July

Have you ever eaten Indonesian food?

I dont think so

Do you have any spaces to park a car at your home?

I just park in the driveway

What accents do you really struggle to understand?

I'm usually pretty good with understanding them

Do you have a Bachelor’s degree?

No, just an Associates

What’s the first thing you see when you look to your left?

My water bottle

Do you have a big sweet tooth?

No, more salt-tooth

Have you ever been mistaken for a celebrity?

No

Do you plan to do much or go anywhere for the upcoming weekend?

I have tomorrow off and my Husband and I got tickets for WWE NXT in St. Petersburg so we're going up there tomorrow afternoon. On Saturday (since we'll already be up that way), we'll be going to the Sarasota Renaissance Festival

Right now, are you hot, cold or just right?

A little cold

What’s your regional term for swimwear? I’m Aussie so I call them swimmers :)

Swimsuit

Have you had caffeine today?

Yes, I had a cup of coffee this morning

Do you own any textbooks? Are you currently studying from them?

Yes I do - Japanese and Korean study books (I dont study Korean anymore but I'm still going through my Japanese one - Genki). I also own a couple of Series 7 and Series 66 books that I was studying from before I took those exams (worst exams I've ever taken but somehow I passed both!)

What were the last earrings you wore? Where did you get them?

They were leaf looking ones made out of leather. I borrowed them from my Sister-In-Law when we went to the Renaissance Festival in my homestate when we visited a few months ago. Whenever we go, we always dress up in Medieval attire! Its a lot of fun!

Are you waiting for anything right now?

Yes, to be done with work so i can start my 3 day weekend!! Only 5.5 hours to go....

Do you know how to drive a stick-shift/manual transmission car?

No >< my Dad tried so hard to teach me but I just could not get the hang of it. I wish I continued learning though

What sort of music have you been listening to lately?

None really. I've been listening to SeinCast on my way to work in the mornings (awesome Seinfeld poscast!) Then on my drive home, I listen to the Dave and Mahoney show (they play Rock music occasionally)

Where is your crush/lover right now? Make a guess if you don’t know.

Hes probably in bed, hes feeling sick :(

When was the last time you had blood taken?

Its been a very long time

Have you ever watched the original Japanese version of Iron Chef?

No

Do you hate it when taxis and ride share drivers ask you a lot of questions?

I dont take taxis or rideshares.

What scent is your body wash or soap?

I'm not sure, its my shampoo that doesnt have a distinctive smell. I mean it smells good but nothing I can really pinpoint

When did you move into the house you currently live in?

We moved into my in-laws house Oct 2020 and it was supposed to be a short-lived thing until we could buy our own house - and FINALLY they started building it so we'll be moving into it Feb/March 2023. We were not supposed to be living with them this long and it has been super difficult for us BUT we're very thankful because its allowed us to save up for a pretty good down-payment.

[homespun-stories]

Our Kaftan Years

As summer finally broke into autumn here in Denmark, I found myself performing the one reliably consistent ritual in my life: getting out my winter knits from storage and packing away my flimsy summer skirts. I have a love-hate relationship with this ritual, so I usually find my way through it by pouring a large glass of wine and popping on some Lizzo to set the scene for what I try and convince myself is a rigorous practice in gratitude.

To do it properly, of course, you have to take every single item of clothing out of your closet and storage boxes before you decide what to hang, what to mend, what to rehome and what to pack away. I am deeply constrained by space, as my closet is about as big as one you’d expect to find in a 90 square meter apartment which is home to two weary adults, one chaotic toddler and an extremely large and self-entitled house cat - which is to say, it’s not very big at all. Once everything is piled up on the bed, I usually have a small existential crisis, as the task seems large and impossible and impossibly large because it’s not just clothes, is it? It’s my whole bloody identity. I might be choosing outfits that are appropriate for the season, but I’m also thinking about who I’m going to be for the next six months. That’s a lot of heavy lifting for a wet Wednesday evening in October.

It’s at this point my husband will wander into the bedroom and make some light hearted observation about “doing a Home Edit” because - god love him - he will just wear the same pair of jeans for 12 months of the year, before beating a path back to the sofa when he sees my rictus grin in response. I make the cardinal sin of trying things on that I haven’t worn for a year which only serves as a miserable reminder of the general trajectory of things (fashion, generally; my body, specifically), and leaves me hot and bothered and ready to set the whole lot alight and be done with it.

As the task plods on and I handover between vests and dresses and linens, and their corresponding cousins of base layers, trousers and woolen knits, I time travel. Back to the fleeting months just gone, and of summers past; back to the moments lived and the moments intended. Clothes are a fantastic reminder of who you set out to be when you first placed those items in your closet, and who you became from the ones you actually wore. Veterans of decluttering, especially clothes, will tell you that you have to be ruthless in the attack. There’s no time for whimsy about that skirt you last wore in the Before Times when you were child free and living off booze and sex as you hustled your way through your early 20s, that is never, bar some divine intervention, ever going to fit you again. Plus you bought it for a tenner when you were hungover one lunchtime and it’s made of so much synthetic fabric that it’s basically plastic and it’s the embodiment of everything that’s wrong with the fast fashion industry and culture in the mid-2000s. So, yeah, get rid.

But also, give yourself a minute to remember the young woman who wore that and had a blast. Because she had no idea, back then, she’d eventually be holding the same skirt in her own home in Copenhagen with her husband sprawled out with the New Yorker and her daughter sleeping soundly next door, even though she dared dreamed of these things.

******

A week or so before The Great Outfit Handover, the three of us went back to the UK to see some friends and family. It included a short trip to Edinburgh to attend a milestone birthday party for a long-loved friend, Kate, which was an inevitable nostalgia-fest given that it was where I’d first met her, whilst studying there at University two decades previously. There’s nothing like wandering around your old student haunts with a toddler in tow to make you feel like a wizened old fool, pointing out the pubs, clubs and house parties you regularly stumbled into or out of, during a glassy-eyed ‘history’ tour.

By the time we all converged for festivities, we were buzzing with memories of people and places and spaces and things that had shaped our onward trajectories. More often than not, many of the stories that made us cackle into our wine glasses that evening centred on the entirely inappropriate or ridiculous things we had worn: the shredded ballet pumps for a hike up Arthur’s Seat; the layers of pashmina we mummified ourselves in during lectures; the second hand ball gowns from legendary thrift-store Armstrongs for our graduation party; the tireless pursuit of elaborate costumes for any excuse to throw or attend a themed party. One of our friends that evening revealed that she was wearing a red mini-dress she had bought whilst we were undergraduate students - we all oo’ed and ahh’ed at the fact it still fit her, both practically and existentially.

There was something about the recall of outfits that cracked open new vantage points into times long gone. I can vividly remember the sequined slippers I wore in the lashing rain as I trudged back from the library after my first set of lectures, or the beloved hip-hugging Diesel jeans I ate only salsa and rice for two weeks so I could afford. I can remember, like it was yesterday, the moment Kate burst into my Disney themed 20th birthday party dressed as Buzz Lightyear, in a costume onesie quite literally intended for a 10 year old. When we talked about our clothes, we were talking about ourselves, in some of the most authentic and open ways possible.

One of my favourite photos of Kate and I is from 2007, when I gatecrashed a Highlands camping trip after my scalding break up from a love affair that had burned too bright and too fast and left me gasping for air. On the flight up from London to Edinburgh, as I wept into my room temperature Chardonnay in a plastic cup, she let me know she’d packed “something special” to set the tone for our hiking weekend. Whilst I admit I had a fleeting vision of being hauled out of arrivals by some diligent drug-sniffing hound, it turned out to be her old Girl Guide uniforms, lovingly packed between her raingear and thermal layers. And she was right: we set up camp dressed as Brownies and Guides, bent double with laughter and so incapacitated with hysterics we couldn’t assemble the tents. When I look at that photo now, I see two young women bedecked in Girl Guiding memorabilia, giving the earnest three-fingered Brownie Honour salute, like an “F-you” to the world. I will always remember the way that Kate stopped me losing all sense of myself in the wake of that ridiculous heartbreak, by intentionally dressing my memories up in joy and laughter instead.

*****

Back at the party, we danced for hours to music of our formative years, feet aching from the effort but hearts ringing out. In a knowing nod to the flimsy footwear of our youth, I’d popped on a pair of ballet pumps. “And now these are our Kaftan Years”, Kate retorted with a throaty laugh, gesturing at her perfect, oversized shift dress. I couldn’t hug her close enough when it was finally time to say goodbye.

And so I paused, during my closet edit, when I pulled out a beautiful blush-coloured silk kaftan, ready to chuck it on the ‘pack away’ pile. It was handmade years ago by a staggeringly talented friend who ran her own design studio in south London. I fingered the worn seams and the faded label, and pulled the silken length through my hands. It is decidedly not appropriate clothing for a Danish winter, and yet I found myself hanging it back in the closet. In that moment, the balance between space and reason tipped in favour of the splash of pink that will remind me each morning, when I throw open the closet door, that the way we do anything is the way we do everything. Including the many glorious moments to come in my Kaftan Years.

[trickylights]

An aversion to children

I mean it literally. Last night I bartended at the “best high school bar in New Orleans” and I realized how old I am and how much fucking time I wasted bartending in New York. Did I make friends, yes. Did I make good memories, sometimes. Did I black out often, yes. My brain will never be the same, but the longer I abstain from booze the better the chance will be that I can regain some of my cognitive abilities.

Anyway, today I go shopping to try and find some cool clothes for Colorado. Even going there feels odd to me and I don’t feel like I belong. Once again I feel displaced. I have felt displaced for years. Maybe that started happening after Katrina. After I lost dad’s house, then dad. then Grammi’s house in Katrina, I went to Grandpa’s house in Covington and never felt quite comfortable. I then went to USM and lived in a dorm, went to Elon and lived in another dorm, then in Sheridan with a bunch of frat fuckers, then I lived in O’Kelly which felt like home at times. Even though I never felt like I kept up with the jokes. Moving on

I moved to New York City shortly after and lived in Washington Heights. Crowded and cramped and never hung any art whatsoever but still managed to sleep with some really hot girls in that bed. Then I lived with Alex Clayton in the LES and then on the UWS. Both times the space never really feeling like mine. THEN we broke up and I moved to Brooklyn and that would be maybe the first time in a long time I felt somewhat comfortable. But even then I STILL did not hang art and still really did not design anything around my living space. I bought a rug and sure I also got a nice dresser but still I painted my room a color I hated and just kept it and never tried to improve upon it. Also I had a shitty desk and just overall bad taste in furniture. I spent most of my money on take out and drugs and alcohol but never furniture or clothing.

After the coronavirus I then came back here to live once again at Grandpa’s and never really set anything up in a way that made me feel like I belonged there. After he died I went to Jersey and finally had my own space but STILL, I did not set it up properly. Something else always got in my way. Video games, chess, drinking, you name it and I allow it to distract me. I had to leave because of my mental health. The decline was slow but starting to snowball.

Then I moved to Jan’s and once again I had no place. 4 rooms upstairs and she tried to put me in Addi’s room. But first I set up in her old office and I was told to get out. THEN I moved into Morgan’s room but long story short I never ever felt comfortable there. Not once.

Always displaced. Never comfortable, never happy.

Moving in with Alex wasn’t a mistake but it didn’t work. Now I finally have a chance to do it right this time. I just need to fucking commit to making a space that I will love to call my own. I need to try. I need to stay off of my vices and start being an artist, the thing I’ve always really wanted.

Since I’ve stopped drinking and smoking weed I have noticed a consistency that wasn’t there before. I believe this new place can finally be my chance to start gaining momentum in my life. I need to set it up IMMEDIATELY when I get there and do not falter.

This may be our last chance.