#dnd au chapter 2

[bath-creek-lake]

Wizards Rock

Inspired by @sageoffablesardowin and my own character from the campaign. Please enjoy an Ardowin AU.

Chapter II: The Disappearing Spell

As Bath burbled out her last breath, knocked out cold by the collision, the rock her head rested on began sloughing off bits of rock. The water grew red with blood and murky as the sediment whirled around. The rock took shape, flattened out on top and began to carve itself. Each line of text read a spell, then another, and another. When Bath let out her last breath, so did she let out her last spell. 

Her last vision was a dark shape looming above her, standing beside the water and inching closer. The apron of her skirt tugged her up as this creature bit down into the fabric and pulled her up and back on the bank. She coughed up water and spit and sludge, and hacked and took shallow breaths. Only half awake she held onto life just a little longer. When holding on to life turned into  just plain living, she opened her eyes again. Above her stood a palomino horse, old and grayed, main yellowed and coarse. The mare wore a string around her neck “Wendy” stitched on it.

The elf couldn’t remember much, she knew she was an elf, she knew she was from this town, she knew this creek. And she said it, “Creek.” And she was at the water, so she said it, “At Water.” With very little work, and only an utterance, she casted her last spell for a while. Her name was now Creek Atwater. She tried going home. She didn’t know she had left her book and letter behind. She just walked out into the meadow, she knew the path. 

When she got home her parents were fussing around the house, looking for the letter, though Creek could not have told you that. When they saw her standing in the doorway, drenched, caked in mud, and blood dripping down out of the end of her braid, the two rushed to her side. They carried her to her bed. Pushed aside the stuffed horse and began cleaning her up. Along with her spells, she left much of her memory and everything she had learned in school. 

It took Joan and Alvin a few months to get her back on her feet, but she had always been hardy. She had trouble understanding when her parents spoke to each other. She felt herself left out of conversations, just the hushed elven tones kept her parents' words out of her mind. Her parents got her back in school, got her name changed to Creek Atwater. They wanted to add Farelson to the end, but it was too late for that. When they couldn’t find her book, nor convince her she had one in the first place, she was placed at the beginning of the wizard classes. She was sat next to one of the brighter students, and coincidently next in the alphabet after Atwater, a white haired girl called Jerry Bronco. 

As the days went on, Creek floundered in class and distracted herself by stealing glances at Jerry. She didn’t remember taking these classes before, and her parents spoke of her past life only in Elven,. This left Creek to believe she was a brand new student, and a dumb one at that. She asked her parents to teach her the family tongue, but they refused, seeing her grades were so bad, they didn’t want to add more to her course load. So Creek gave up. 

She started by skipping mathematics, that didn’t matter anyway. Then she would ditch history, who cares about dead people anyway. Then she ditched language arts, she could read and write (somewhat that is) so why bother. Then she skipped practically the whole day. She never missed Wizardry though. 

Jerry Bronco was Raewahld’s premiere wizards prodigy. She didn’t find her niche until highschool so she too was starting at square one, in her classes that is. She was at square fifty by the time Creek had finished writing her name on the top of square one. Jerry would offer to study with Creek, but with her head as it was she would rather stare off into space than really try at all. 

As her grades continued to suck, her parents got more and more short with her. She was “supposed to be a talented wizard” like them. She would hear the whispers and she would be sent to her room to study. For a while she would sit there and stare at the markings she made that were supposed to be spells. She would imagine they made sense, but very quickly she grew impatient. She would end up sneaking out her window to run to the stables. She snuck into the stables most days she skipped school, and began picking up jobs washing up and tending the horses. At night she would just talk to the horses (mostly about Jerry Bronco, some about how she feels like an idiot and how her parents believe she is an absolute failure, but mostly about Jerry). 

Creek knew she loved horses. She had seen one the day she fell in the creek, she had a stuffed horse on her bed. When she went to the stables, she could relax, she could stop trying to think so hard. She could rely on muscle memory and feel each movement, simple and clear. Creek knew how to ride, it felt natural to her. Even though she didn’t know who she used to be, the horses knew. Bath studied the art of mounted spell casting, but Creek, she practiced the art of friendship.

[daneecastle]

Reversed Veil of Worlds

Chapter 2 - page 25 and 26

They are still at it! Happy Valentines Day! Little Koka goes to see if he can stop it but they just keep at it. Rude. Let's hope Crowley can get Rouge to stop. (Don't worry, Rouge will listen, but when?) Also. I have a question for all you wonderful readers. If I opened a discord group for this comic and it involved extra info, contests, all the pages easily to access, behind the scene info from me, and a community for Reverse Omens AU … would you join? I would need help with Admin/mod help.

Beginning - Previous - Next

Disclaimer: Fyi it is Rouge as in Red. Not Rogue as in the DnD class! And Baby angel is Kokabiel (or Koka)

To read future parts of this story, smut, and extras for Reversed Veil of Worlds go to my Patreon (supporting me will help me get them out faster) and Kofi (this has written details about each page).

Previous Pages are on my AO3.

[icyblogs]

flesh and bone

Winter represents many things. The start of a new season. The beginnings to an end. Or the beginnings of a new start. Years finally caught up to you, finally knowing enough to summon a creature able to fulfill things beyond your wildest imagination. So why is it that you're now finding out that everything was orchestrated from the very start? Or: A DND au where a human falls into the clutches of a fiend and his guard dog. (chapter 2!) Patron!Ghost x Fem!Reader x Warlock!Soap WC: 7.2K [AO3] First chapter -> Next Chapter Warnings: dark fic!! dubcon touching, noncon kissing, mentions of death, paranoia, gaslighting, reader has a backstory to make sense for plot, reader is a little silly, johnny being an overall menace, ghost doing ghost things.

Time came and passed, but it was nothing discernable. Consciousness not quite ever being fully up and running the times you did briefly wake up. There were voices- you think- but it was hard to tell. And with the sound came the feeling of phantom hands, fingers trailing over your skin. Limbs being moved, the brief moment of pain being settled with hushed whispers of apologies. It was hard to think, hard to function. Darkness spreads. Sand trickles through the hourglass. The sun rises and falls, the hours turning into days. 

It wasn’t waking up with a gasp, that would be too theatrical. Too novel of an idea, of waking up so sudden and everything being fine and dandy. That you’d be up and raring to go. It was a slow process, one that made every nerve flare up at once- merely the process of peeling your eyelids open enough to have some sort of idea of what had happened to you. Blearily looking around from your limited vantage point, gaze floating around aimlessly, not able to properly focus on anything. The area was dimly lit for one- almost to the point of making it even more difficult to properly take a look at everything. 

An attempt to lift your head from the object below it- soft yet solid- was made before a jolt of lightning seemed to shoot down your spine, curling through your nerve endings and then back again, ending back at the nape of your neck. A choked whimper makes it out through clenched teeth, a grimace painting your features. Your brain feels like mush, surroundings blurring to the point of becoming unrecognizable. Not wanting to move your head, let alone anything above your shoulders in fear of retribution striking down yet again.

The sound of a chair creaking resounds throughout the room, and it was difficult to remember any sense of self preservation, eyes continuing to roll around in a weak attempt to figure out exactly what was going on. It was hard exactly to remember what had happened- you .. were somewhere. The mountains, right? Where were you–

“Took ye long enough.” Too loud though his voice was barely above a normal volume, and your eyes squeeze close as if that would cause the onslaught of noise to dissipate. “Ah ‘m sorry hen, forgot you’d still be a wee bit sensitive.” Hushed this time, and when you mustered the strength- his blue eyes were staring straight back at you. Distant thoughts drift through your subconsciousness. The.. half-elf, right? The blue was darker than you’d remembered: Iolite, sodalite, lapis lazuli in a swirl of an emotion you couldn’t quite catch before his brow furrows in what seemed to be concern. He looked familiar- though.. Different. More rough- more aged; his hair longer in this style, flowing down to the nape of his neck. Scars covered his face, though it was hard to pick which one exactly to focus on: the one by his chin, over his eye, adorning his temple. Your eyes fall half-lidded, struggling to remain in the present.

A frown graces your lips, one he was quick to lean forwards to do something about. Encroaching in your personal space like he owned it, like you were friends, like you anything but strangers. There wasn’t a moment nor opportunity to move as one of his large hands cups the back of your head, careful of the wound near it- his other hand coming up and wiping the crust from your eyes, his fingers almost trembling. His skin was warm, but rough. You could only stare dumbfounded, letting the man move you like a doll as your tongue darts out to wet your chapped lips. He watches the motion unblinkingly, his own lips parting in response, breath catching in his chest.

“Y-You..” A cough, resulting in swallowing a few times to get your bearings. Voice hoarse, like sand coating your tongue. Your mouth opens and then closes, repeating that a few times as you then sniffle. Feeling the familiar burn rise to your eyes, tears further blurring what was already starting to become disconnected from the world, one of his thumbs brushing away the moisture trickling down your skin. Trying to move, but your limbs weren’t necessarily cooperating. Like a puppet with its strings cut off, privy to his hands which seemed to be holding the strings. Everything felt heavy. Lost. Disconnected. “Where..?”

To his credit, his expression didn’t even once waver that you could tell. Eyes fervently bright, betraying his weak attempt at comforting you. His head cocks, leaning forwards and nudging at your face with his nose, a grimace painting your features as he inhales deeply. An elven custom you didn’t know about maybe? “Shh.. Sh.. Yer safe now.” One hand still cupping the back of your head he leans back for a brief moment, procuring a silver chalice. He starts to lift your head and upon seeing the immediate discomfort at the movement, he only coos, hand leaving your cheek. His eyebrows furrow, scanning your face, and then he takes a swig of the liquid.

There was but a brief moment of still air before his lips came crashing against yours. Any thought you might’ve had immediately leaves as sheer panic makes its way through the foggy seams instead. Wiggling like a mouse scrambling to try and not get caught in a trap it hadn’t fully been aware of. And like adhesive, his hand firmly sticks to and cradles the back of your head, his other pressing against your sternum when another attempt to feebly twist away was made. Lukewarm liquid spills down your skin, as he squeezes a bit harder, your lips parting in a garbled gasp as he bullies his way into your mouth, transferring the fluid into your system.

There was a shift in the room as his body hovered over yours. What you now vaguely recognize was actually water going down your throat, similar to his tongue as it seems to ignore your lack of hygiene, trying to steal your breath away, licking your teeth, your gums, trying to consume your essence like a dog getting a bone as a treat- like he was trying desperately to get your soul intertwined with him; to connect you two together. More water spills as the bed shifts slightly against the wall in a rhythmic pattern for but a brief moment, glassy eyes wide as you stare back at his blissful expression as he groans into your mouth.

It was maybe a minute at most but it felt like ages, dizzy and lightheaded as he finally pulled back from you. “See, ‘s all good, isn’t it?” The blue eyed elf cheeks were flushed, the connected string of saliva between the two of you being taken away as his tongue ran from the corner of your lips up to your nose. He then proceeds to rest his forehead against yours, his even breathing combined with your haggard ones in the small space, as if finally recognizing you weren’t responding to what he just did. “Need mor’ water, hen?” You think you were going to be sick, eyes once more rolling to the side to try and peer away from him, feeling weighed down to the bed by more than just his hands.

Disbelief. Panic. Terror. So many emotions washes over your features in an amalgamation of just a whirlwind of ‘what the fuck’. Your head was pounding, the only sound in the room was a consistent pulse, badump badump badump. Unable to stop the steady trickles of teardrops as they fall, and his head tilts slightly against your skin once more, falling forwards as he rubs his temple against yours, his facial hair tickling your cheek. He inhales deeply once more, unabashedly, before letting out what seemed to be a sigh of content.

He speaks your name softly, a hushed whisper. “Why’re ye so quiet?” The tears start to fall faster and you hiccup, facial expression crumpling. He immediately pulls back, eyes scanning your expression, his own filtering into one of confusion and then adjusting itself to an easy going smile. You were definitely going to be sick. “‘S Johnny, remember? None of them tears, ye hear me? There’s nae need for ‘em. You’re safe now, yeah?” 

Johnny? John. Ah. Right, that was his name. How could you have forgotten?

Johnny adjusts his hands, one coming up to cup your cheek, squeezing ever so slightly as you start to speak. “I don’ feel so good-”

“Need a bucket?” Another wave of confusion hits you as you squint up at him, watching as he continues to smile, thumb brushing away one of the many tears despite how they just seem replaced by more twofold.  It was getting harder and harder to tell what was real and what was not- he.. kissed you, right? Shoved his tongue down your throat so why was he acting like nothing had happened? Was it truly a custom you weren’t aware of? You weren’t friends- hell, you barely remember the guy besides he was the one that gave you that dumb list you’ve spent years of your life on. And along with his stupidly blue eyes. And dumb haircut. 

Stomach twisting and churning, gulping hard as your eyebrows pull together. He must’ve known something you didn’t because his hands left you, and in but a brief moment, you were over the side of the bed, emptying nothing but water and stomach acid into the steel of a bucket. Ignoring the searing pain shooting up your spine as you cough out phlegm, gagging as you spill your guts. Your throat felt tight, constrained and small as one of his hands held back your hair the best he could, the other gently rubbing your back- the heat of his palm prominent even through the thick fabric of what you were wearing. “I ken, I ken, it’s hard the first time. Gets better ye know, the more you come into contact with ‘im.” 

You only hack up more bile, sniffling as snot and tears run down your face, finding it hard to breathe as you rasp into the bucket. As if purging the waste and exiling it from your body. Eventually the fit dies down, as does the pain in your neck falling to a dull throb. Noticeable, but not enough to make you want to never move again. He begins to slowly lead you out of bed, easily handling your weight as you stumble around like a newly born faun, trying not to trip over your own feet as he leads you to an ornate bathroom. A light fixture buzzes on- gold, blinding. 

Nothing was really.. Getting explained. Despite your garbled and weak protests, he helps you use the bathroom, not bothering to look away as he helps you clean up. His broad frame crowding you against the countertop as he brushes your teeth, holding your stare as he does so. Smile widening as he makes you squeak, one hand spread across your jugular, the other making your eyes flutter around as he scrubs at your tongue and teeth, choking on the bristles when he goes back too far. 

And when he brings your befuddled form back to what you can now see is a bedroom of sorts- also grand, embellished. Larger than what anything you’ve seen before- than what you felt you deserved: it was easy to think you’re in Castle Waterdeep or Dragonspear Castle. Tucked away and brought to a place far above where a person of your status should be, somewhere that should’ve been inaccessible. During all this you try to talk to the man as he dragged you to one of the wardrobes; the questions you ask never getting a real answer- always something cryptic that you couldn't digest properly. Honestly it felt like riddles, like he was trying to imitate a sphinx- purposefully being cryptic to mess with your head further. 

“I- I can dress.. myself.” He only shushes you like you were some sort of fussy child, as if you didn’t know any better yet. Maneuvering you as he pleases, dressing you in a long, drapey gown, embroidered with gold, layers upon layers. Unashamedly pawing at skin, hands lingering far too long to be considered ‘gentlemanly’, squeezing as he pleases. You were dressed and adorned like some sort of lady of high nobility, extravagant jewelry hanging from your neck, from your wrists- loud and noisy, like a bell going off saying ‘here I am!’ every time you moved.

“You wan’ breakfast, hen?” His voice was a low murmur, nose rubbing against your neck absentmindedly, hands trailing down the long sleeves to your hands, interlacing the fingers together. “Of course ye do, you’ve been out cold fer a week.” He moves your hands to your stomach, chin hooking into place on your shoulder, body towering over yours. The bracelets chime in response. 

This..must’ve been some sort of fever dream.. Right? What was happening? Why was he here with you- so many ‘whys’, and yet no answer seems to be greeting you. Maybe this was the feywild, and you’ve fallen under a charm; perhaps this is just an odd hallucination. Or maybe.. The afterlife? The fugue plane, somewhere within the City of Judgement, waiting to be taken to the Crystal Spire, my soul to be judged and appraised by Kelemvor. 

There was only one reasonable conclusion- one that made sense considering you’d saw him all those years ago after the incident, like a grim reaper ready to claim its prize or like a devil scoping out its next contract- “Are you a Baatezu?” It was a mere mumble, and he huffs out a laugh, tightening his grip on you for a brief moment, before letting go and spinning you towards him. 

“Do I look like a devil to ye?” He muses, eyes filled with amusement. As if the thought of him being from the Nine Hells was humorous. He continues to smile despite your clear hesitance- so warm as it carves lines into his cheeks, his eyes crinkling. It felt so genuine; hospitable and welcoming that you almost had a hard time imagining him being a bad guy. This all must’ve been some big miscommunication right? Something got lost in translation; he.. He’s helped you. There’s a roof over your head, he has kept you alive for the past supposed- he hasn’t necessarily harmed you right? Kissed you sure- but he was just.. Giving you water. Johnny.. is just a bit too touchy for your liking, but harmless, you think- like an overzealous dog with too much energy to go around. 

“Well, maybe- I..” Your neck throbs as you eye him apprehensively, and then the same gaze drifts down to the bracelets donning your wrists, experimentally flexing your fingers, hearing the metals cling against each-other as your wrists move. “..I just.. I’m not dead?” That sparks a laugh out of him, a full bodied one that makes your ears burn with embarrassment, faltering as you start to backtrack. “I- Well- I only meant-” 

“I ken, I ken- I know what ye meant. It’s scary for ye, isn’t tha’ right? A new place. But yer here now, okay?” He interrupts you off gently, reassuring you through your clear apprehension, as he starts to herd your body towards the door. A shepherd leading a lamb, blindly to whatever fate waits them. 

A grandiose hallway greets you, one side being doors, the other sprawling windows: the views simply breathtaking. The scenery is enough to momentarily distract you from the situation- offering a brief moment of solace. Endless rolling hills stretch as far as the eye could see, adorned with a vibrant tapestry of flowers in every hue of the rainbow. The sunlight shines brightly over the landscape; casting a sort of glow over it that makes it seem like one of those places straight out of a fairytale- like something only seen in a book. It was enough to make your steps falter and Johnny accounts for the movement, or lack thereof, slowing to a halt as he too peers out the scenery beyond the panes.

“Oh it’s.. Beautiful.. But where exactly is ‘here’?” 

“I know it is. What’da see hen?” He asks instead- voice hushed as if afraid he’d break the atmosphere, no longer looking outside but at you instead.

Your mouth opens and then closes, and you gesture outwardly with your arm, one of the bangles glinting in the light. Your eyebrows furrow as a sudden realization hits you, wasn’t it almost Midwinter? “Well..  well there’s flowers I-.. in Midwinter. And the sun.. I- Are we even along the Sword Coast? Or..” You try to pick your brain, thinking, unsure. You were in Faerûn, right? Your stomach twists, swallowing down the bile- forcing a smile on your lips. He saved you, you repeat, unsure if you were just trying to convince yourself at this point or not. Making it easier that way- not wanting to confront the truth. “Maybe up at the Dalelands?”

He makes a sort of noncommittal hum, and as you twist your head to look up at him, he nods. His gaze travels to the window once more, almost melancholic, before his jaw clenches and then he looks back at you with a smile, just a little bit tighter than before. “Yeah. Now how ‘bout a wee bit of breakfast, hm?”

More questions add to the ever expanding stack as you walk alongside him. The marble feels borderline warm beneath your bare feet as he leads you down to a pair of doors, and upon entering it was large, with a sprawling table: fit for a small country it seemed. What must’ve been a hundred chairs lined the grand hall. The ceiling soars high above, reminiscent of a cathedral back in the city, adorned with oversized chandeliers that seem to dwarf any you’ve seen before. The crystals catch the light from the rose window, creating a mesmerizing display of refracted colors that seem to dance along the wooden surfaces. It looked like a place for Gods to dine in- or a king or queen; not you. You used to be of nobility, sure, but that lifestyle had died and the title with it all those years ago. Practically living as a commoner for the past five years rather than someone of high class, and well, you certainly didn’t belong here, despite being dressed in the part to be. Out of touch and way out of your element. 

Johnny escorts you to the table, making a point to sit you down next to the chair at the end of the table. The elf sort of hesitates, eyes glancing at the floor next to the chair before making his place known across from you. He makes some sort of gesture- and mute, placid faces approach- seemingly out of the dark recesses of the room as they start to work around the table efficiently. No words were exchanged, solely focused on the singular task at hand- not even stopping when you’d ask what was being served. 

“Naw bonnie, you’ll like it- made sure they knew to get all yer favorites.” Johnny starts to eat, devouring the meal with such gusto as if he hadn’t had a morsel in days- his words not fully registering in your mind. But as soon as they do it’s all you hear. They play like a broken record, causing you to stiffen, the room spinning as your gaze travels down to your plate. Lo and behold- there it all was all laid out before you. Your gaze travels from item to item- a sense of unease creeping up on you- everything you loved is there, down to the little honeycakes your mother used to make, decorated with powdered sugar and frosting swirled on top.  

Your hands firmly clasp one over the other, biting down on your lip harshly, the wound on the back of your neck beginning to tingle. “I’m not hungry.” 

“Of course ye are.” He remarks dismissively, mouth full of food. “Just open yer bonnie mouth and eat. Unless ye need me tae feed you?” 

It might have been a joke- but his heavy gaze was anything but funny. Swallowing thickly, you shake your head. Hunger does gnaw at your stomach, but at this point you think you might be sick again. “Are we in the feywild?” His fork drops, and you hold your gaze on the table before raising it to meet his. His eyes seemed darker- the shadows more prominent, but maybe it was just a trick of the light. 

“Naw why’re you continuing on and on and on. I told ye-” Johnny’s eyebrows furrow as he scowls, like he was reprimanding an unruly pet, looking annoyed in every sense of the word. “-Ye were safe now, and yet you’re tryin’ tae make it seem like ah’m the bad guy here. Dae ye wan’ to make ‘im mad? Cause’ ye won’ like ‘im for a welcoming party. I’ve been so nice to ye. I’m the one here-” His voice was growing louder, starting to look angry more than sad- looking one moment away from going across the table. Blue eyes wide, nails digging into the wood grooves of the table, scratching little crescent shaped indents into them. “Ah’m the one whose gone through all the trouble cause i’d knew ye’d be perfect and now all ‘m seeing is an ungrateful little-”

He recoils slightly, as if suddenly choked and he coughs, face contorting in dismay. His complexion drains of color, betraying his unease and he gulps hard. You shift uncomfortably, a grimace of your own painting your features- too much happening at once to properly digest what was being said. Only the fact that you needed to get out and leave. He tilts his head, muttering something in a language- Elvish, you think, before he picks up his fork, stabbing a piece of meat with more force than necessary. “Naw, ‘m sorry bonnie, didn’t mean to scare ye.” He apologizes, gaze meeting yours with a pitiful attempt at reassurance, though his smile seems strained. Trying to calm you down, if you were to take a guess. But his teeth were just a bit too sharp- eyes too wild, reminding you that at the end of the day he was a stranger, one that was easily set off at the slightest bit of provocation it seemed. Admitting it to yourself was only inevitable despite how you were trying to make excuses: you could banter back and forth endlessly, but he abducted you. ..You think. The logistics aren’t fully there. Saved you from certain death sure- thinking back to the fuzzy memories on the mountain, the ritual that yielded no results. But if feigning cooperation for now meant finding an opportunity to go back home then so be it.

“It’s alright.” You utter, though the sentiment was far from genuine. Yet his face seemed to light up at the words, seemingly oblivious to your lack of sincerity. Accepting it at face value. You reluctantly pick up the fork, his keen gaze fixed upon you as you force yourself to take a bite of the food. “Oh this is delightful.” You lie, a weak attempt to mend the fractured atmosphere. The falsehood tastes as bitter and lifeless as the food in your mouth.

He beams, looking like the incarnate of the sun- seeming to light up the room. “Ah’m glad you think so. Had the chefs making food every day, till’ you woke up. Took yer sweet time though huh? Like our own precious sleeping beauty you were- a bonnie thing.” He winks when he meets your gaze again, and you gulp hard- cheeks hurting from how hard you were trying to keep your smile afloat. And like a ship in a storm, its hull damaged- filling with water, trying to make it to shore. It’s only a matter of time before it sinks.

This time though- you weren’t stupid; you caught the word. The fork mindlessly pushing around food comes to a pause, poking at the bear. “Hey how’d you find me anyway? There was a blizzard.”

“Donnae matter, does it? Yer here now, safe.” He reaches out with another plate of the honeycakes, and you eye the sickly sweet glaze cascading down onto the plate. And vaguely you’re brought back to the present- feeling a bit like a fly caught in a vat of syrup or amber. Stuck. 

“I want a real answer.”

“And I gave ye one- now what’s the problem hen? I haven’t mistreated ye have I?” His tone sharpens, and you unwittingly deepen your own predicament. Digging your grave- shoveling out another foot of dirt every time you open your mouth- maybe he’ll do you the courtesy of taking you to where your family was buried when he kills you. Your throat constricts, watching as his grip around the plate tightens. 

“That’s not the point. I- I want to go home.”

In a sudden, jerky movement he rises out of his chair, and you hastily follow suit, stumbling over the hem of your dress, eyes wide. Your jewelry clanking loudly as he maneuvers around the table, looking like bull with far too much energy- “Naw, what did I jus’ say?” He snarls, advancing with two strides forwards for every one step back you make. His words tumble out almost incoherently, hands gesturing erratically as he closes in on you, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. Spittle flying and landing on your cheek in his fervor. “This whole place was designed with ye in mind- and ye want to go home? To where huh? Where is yer home- tell me hen.” 

Your mouth opens and then closes, words stammering, taking a hesitant step back and he only follows, encroaching in your space. His hands linger near you, but refrains from grabbing you- instead choosing to grip the chair next to him. “I want you tae tell me where’d ye go.” He finally breathes out, chest falling and rising with huff, nostrils flaring as he stares down at you. A long bang resounds through the room as his fist hits the table- and at your startled reaction his lips stretch into a grin at your silence- swallowing thickly as your eyes dart around like a stuck rabbit. “Tha’s right, ye don’ know do yah bonnie? Las’ five years you’ve been following tha’ little list down right to the last T, getting far far awae from that shithole you called home.” 

Your pulse seems to falter, arteries constricting, the flow of blood in your veins slowing to a near standstill, as if coagulating with fear, and ultimately slowing to a halt. Every nerve in your body tingles with dread, every sound feeling amplified. The air feels heavy, suffocating, as if pressing down on your chest, making it hard to draw in a full breath. It only made sense that he knew about it, I mean he was the one that gave the list to you- but the implication of how he’s been watching you– you struggle to steady your trembling limbs and calm the racing thoughts in your mind. The unbridled urge to run arises.

 “I- I don’t-”

“You don’t- You don’t what? Ye don’ know what ahm talkin’ about hen? Tha’ what yer trying tae tell me?” He mocks, head tilting- taking advantage of the way you stumble for something to say. He leans further into your personal bubble, leering down at you. 

“Stay back.” You manage in a shaky gasp stumbling backwards as you hold your hands out in front of you. 

“What’s the problem?” His laugh seems to echo around the room, and he follows you, blue eyes wide and unblinking- “It’s fate. This is where ye were meant to be- Here with us-”

“Stay away from me!” There was another word spoken- one foreign to your lips but not to his- and his eyes widened, unable to do anything in time as embers spark in the air. A rush of something equally foreign and unnerving washes over you as it leaves your tongue, like a sudden wave crashing upon a shore. The feeling was indescribable- the sense of connection thrumming through your very being; as if awakening something long dormant in you- untapped potential. Something hot- embers?- begins to manifest, a sense of otherworldly energy fills the air, crackling with a palpable intensity. A surge of heat wells up inside of you, building up to a crescendo as thin sheets of flame bursts out of your fingertips, and he barely has a second to drop before the torrent of searing heat engulfs everything above him. The heat is intense, blistering hot, and the smell of singed air fills your nostrils. Burnt meat and honey was there- charred, smokey, slightly sweet.

You can only stare dumbfounded- looking down at your hands and then at the aftermath, stumbling back. You throw a hand to your mouth, still warm from the unexpected surge of power- stomach rolling with unease. What? How did you- How was this possible– Johnny looks equally surprised- his face flushed, tilting his head back to look at the burnt wood and then back at your stunned form. His eyes fall half-lidded, making a movement to rise, expression twisting into something you can’t quite put your finger on, lips tugging into a grin. You don’t wait to try and decipher what he was thinking, instinctively turning and fleeing- heart pounding in your chest.

Gathering up your dress to the best of your ability- you turn pivot on your heel and sprint away, the clatter of your jewelry like a warning bell with each frantic step. It felt like the jewelry were more cursed collars and shackles the more you think of it, each jangle announcing your presence to anyone who might be listening. You burst out of the dining room, tearing down the hallway from which you came- desperate for escape, gasping for breath as panic tightens its grip around your throat. Sentences come to mind- each one stirring conflicting feelings.

‘The ritual would give you great power.’

‘It would provide you strength.’

‘Protection for yourself.’

You continue to flee as fast as your unsteady legs can carry you, though your pace hardly qualifies as swift, your wobbly strides barely enough to keep you upright. The hallway seems to warp and narrow before your eyes, blurring with each frantic blink. “Bonnie!” His voice echoes out loudly behind you and you only hobble along faster. Like a faun trying to outrun a predator, each step a scramble for safety. 

The sound of his pursuit fades gradually until it suddenly ceases, leaving you to wonder as you steal a glance backwards, only to see Johnny faltering in his step- expression looking almost reverent. Dare you say almost excited- dazed, and then your attention snaps back to the present as you collide with something unexpectedly soft- a wall that shouldn’t have been there. And you don’t remember there being anything necessarily obstructing in the hallway. 

The impact leaves you stunned- a buzzing in your head becoming known before swiftly dissipating as if it was never there. Your eyes drift up, up, up- and towering above you is the tallest, broadest man you’ve ever encountered. Crossing eyes with death itself- you find yourself entranced. It was fitting, with a skull over his face- skin pale as a ghost- terrifying. They say eyes are the window to the soul. So what kind of soul would it be when the eyes you were staring at were a deep abyss- as tainted as his seemed to be? Dark pools of tiger’s eye, mali garnet, topaz, amber- dravite tourmaline. Clouded and hardened by something you couldn’t quite understand- and you recoil, all but shoving yourself off of the imposing figure. His hands twitch in response, tilting his head down at you.

“I- ‘m sorry.” You almost instinctively skitter back a few feet, jewelry jingling noisily in the tense silence. 

“Johnny causin’ you trouble?” Though sounding much more human compared to before, the gruff familiarity of his voice is not lost on you and you’re brought back to a cold mountain- a warm touch, a promise. Your neck burns, eyes squeezing shut before you hesitantly raise them back to the broad expanse of his chest. You force yourself to give some sort of indication that you heard him, trembling before the being in front of you- shaking your head curtly- hands scrunching up your dress in a tight grip.

His dark eyes look down at you, and not even looking up at him, the weight of his stare was heavy.. you’ve never felt so small in your life, unable to muster the courage nor the willpower to look him in the face again. Not wanting to see death personified glaring back at you. It wasn’t too often you’ve pondered your existence in life but in this monster’s presence you’ve found yourself contemplating it more often than not. And with that, it was painstakingly easy to realize how absolutely inferior you were to him.

Throughout your life, you at least knew of your place in the world you lived. A human, where you wish you could’ve had the chance to be born as a half-orc, at least then you’d be strong. Or an aasimar, maybe then you’d be able to live up properly to others expectations and be worthy of something- take up an oath and be a paladin or a cleric, being able to properly protect those closest to you. No.. you know you are. Though making up a large majority of the population, it was easy to forget that sometimes. You.. were you. Plain. Unordinary. You don’t hear of humans winning in wars or becoming rulers. You don’t hear tales of humans doing all this- no. You hear tales of dragons soaring through the skies. Of a whole life surrounded by beings who were just.. Ascended from bloodlines so much more interesting than yours. Hell, this is why you’ve spent years of your life looking for something to give you that power. To make you special. And now that you had it.. It was weird. 

So it honestly wasn’t too hard to describe how you thought he was looking at you; how you thought he viewed you. What you imagined his expression to look like, had you actually looked back at him: Like an executioner with one hand on the lever to drop the floor beneath you, to have the rope tighten around your neck. Like a butcher as their cleaver comes swinging down towards a cow’s neck, ready to provide a merciful death or prolonging its misery. A falcon ready to swoop down for its next meal. Or a boot as it comes down on an ant whether or not to squash it out of existence. Like a wolf ready to shut its maws around you and shake until you’ve gone limp in its grasp. Compliant. Lifeless. 

But instead your gaze was planted firmly on the pristine marble, bottom lip quivering as you blink slowly, vision blurring and turning the sharp edges fuzzy. Cotton filling your ears, sounds becoming muffled, save for the steady rapidfire pulse resounding through your head. This was the protection that was promised- this was the life that you wanted right? So what was this overwhelming pressure being in his presence? This was who you summoned- you think. Ultimately, it felt like broken promises, shattered ideals- forced to live in what reality you had conjured up for yourself. No- you could tell now that this is what you had called for- what you had asked for was a fiend- no an eldritch being, maybe a God? God might be too pure of a word for him- the devil was more akin to what you’d imagine him being. There was no mistaking it; there was no wolf in sheep’s clothing. No, he knew what he was. He was confident in it even. A predator. 

It felt like the space was closing in, the long hallway forcing the pair of you to be in close proximity- a sort of draw, a leash if you would. Taking another step back was a thought, a good one really- except for the fact that the shadows seemed to slink forwards, grasping at the soles of your feet, rising up your calves and grounding you in place, chaining you down. The mere idea of trying to move away from him was a mistake in itself.

There was a momentary lapse in time as this happened, and then immediately your breath catches in your throat as the back of your neck burns as if ignited. Sending jolts of pure energy into your flesh, dark magic swirling around the air that your untrained eyes couldn’t see, but your body could certainly feel the effects of. The power that exudes off his very being. Knees crumpling to the ground beneath you, not given the right to stand, to even be at some sort of the same level as him. Flesh crawling, skin rippling- that morning’s breakfast threatening to come up, tasting the acidic taste on your tongue- bitter and pungent.

Cold sweat drips down your temple as you rasp for air at his feet, falling to all fours as each breath feels like it might be the last. Tremors run down your spine, shaking as you urge your muscles to move to no avail. Society talks of fight or flight, but always seems to forget the most common one: freeze. “Pl— ease.” Trying to get out the words; trying to beg, trying to get him to understand, not even knowing if he’d even care to give what you had to say a moment of his time. Of his consideration. Asking to be let go, to leave- for mercy- it was difficult to place what you had wanted in that moment. You were just a human and he was something beyond your comprehension.

 You didn’t realize he had dropped to a crouch, cold fingers brushing over the raised skin with a deep rumble: a hum, it was hard to decipher. You flinch anyway. His nail traces over the freshly acquired wound, drawing a low whimper out of your throat as he just kept petting and prodding- as if wanting the pain to be a reminder. 

A pause.

Maybe two.

“Settle, little bird.” Another choked sob rips out of your throat- wet and sticky with phlegm, eyes squeezing shut as his hand- calloused, large- dips down, cupping your jaw and raising you to meet his eyes, though you refuse to open them. He didn’t sound angry, at least not outright. It somehow felt worse to hear a lilt of disappointment brushes along his tone, and it causes more tears to fall. Upon the realization that you weren’t going to open your eyes, his hand moves to your cheeks, squishing them together and making your mouth into a little ‘o’ shape. “Gave you a chance and you’d rather run than stay ‘ere under my protection.” His grip tightens, and this time you don’t dare to open your eyes, afraid to see the beast mere inches from you. His breath fans across your face- surprisingly warm. “Do I have to provide a reminder that you’re mine, hm? Is that it? Have you already forgotten who was providing you a new life?”  

“N-No-” His grip tightens further, cutting you off what you had to say. It’s a familiar sensation, one that’s become far too common lately. 

“Wasn’t a question.” His low voice rumbles, and you whimper- footsteps approaching that you now recognize as Johnny’s. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, prodding at the space he had created- and you grit your teeth, a defiant response that causes him to click his tongue at your actions. Your neck sparks with more pain before you unhinge your jaw and the sensation fades. He hums thoughtfully. “It’s alright though, you didn’t know any better, Johnny wasn’t treating you right huh?”

“That’s naw true sir- she’s just upset cause she wants tae go home-” 

“I wasn’t asking you.” The pad of his thumb rubs along your teeth, and he removes his fingers, grasping your chin and jerking your head upwards. There was a sort of whine behind you, and you gulp hard. “You were just scared weren’t ya? You wanted the devil you summoned to be the first thing you saw when you woke up?” His words, though blunt, strike a nerve that makes you cringe- nose scrunching up as more tears fall. “It’s all right now- pretty little bird is just confused and lost. Isn’t tha’ right?” 

His words cause you to peer open your eyes hesitantly, dark pools staring down at you. Your gaze drops to the hand holding your head, which then trails up to a pale arm, decorated with what seemed to be swirling black ink- symbols and hieroglyphs of things you didn’t quite recognize. You sniffle, shrugging unsurely- and he coos, fingers lifting up one of the many necklaces, looking down at one of the shining jewels with a smile on his scarred lips. He lifts the gem so it is within eyesight; green glittering in the light. Emerald.

He lets it fall back against your skin, a deep sigh leaving his lips- “I should’ve been there when you woke up, ‘s all my fault really.” The warm light from the outside seems to grow even warmer, the colors in the hallway shifting to shades of red- darker and darker. “Wouldn't have let you leave that room if i’d known you be such a fussy girl.” 

“No- That’s- that’s not–” Your facial expression crumples, hands jutting out in front of you- repeating the same word from before. Only this time.. No embers shootout- nothing. Not even a hint of well, anything happens. Johnny takes a step closer, hovering. Waiting.

The man- the devil- chuckles- a low rumble. “You think i’d let you use my own magic against me? Don’t be daft- did being up in the cold make you lose all sense?” He breathes in deeply, guiding you up to your feet- and your eyes catch to the outside, choking back a sob at the vastly different change of scenery. The sky was a crimson, an artificial moon casting an eerie glow over the ground below. What seemed like flowers had morphed into some sort of city- a labyrinthine structure sprawling beneath from how high up you were. In the distance seemed to be volcanoes- billowing smoke, threatening to erupt, and you feel your legs start to give beneath you- as you let out a garbled gasp, eyes wide. He only steadies you, wrapping an arm around your back and pulling you to his chest. “You just need a reminder that you’re gonna be loved now, isn’t that right? That this is where you’re gonna be from now on. It’s okay, Johnny and I will give you one, yes?” One of his fingers tugs at the corner of your lip, coaxing a smile, “Smile. You’re home now.”

[apomaro-mellow]

ST Fics Masterpost Updated 5/3/24

Walking in On Your Parents ONESHOT

Turkey Day ONESHOT

Supernatural Steddie Part 1 AO3 alt (has more parts)

Steve Disappears in the Upside Down: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 COMPLETED

Wingman Nancy: Original Post Pilot post Part 1 Official Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 COMPLETED

Steve being jealous of a guitar  spicy extra COMPLETED

Older kids and walkie-talkies ONESHOT

Welcome to Hawkins: Primer Main Body (AO3)

Newly Wed Game: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 COMPLETED

Dustin’s Nature Doc Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (COMPLETED)

Soul Eater ficlet ONESHOT

Steve plays Dnd in secret ONESHOT

Incubus!Steve x Vampire!Eddie ONESHOT

Argyle Babysits ONESHOT

Eddie and his Puppybats Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (COMPLETED)

Ronance Working together Part 1 ONESHOT

Demon!Steve smut ONESHOT Extra

Steve thinks their son takes after Eddie ONESHOT

Steddie vampires ONESHOT

Vampire!Eddie wants Steve ONESHOT

Rock and Rule AU Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Eddie being jealous of himself ONESHOT

Steve being the grim reaper of sex ONESHOT

Tommy watches Part 1 Part 2 COMPLETED

Eddie being alive ONESHOT

Steve seducing Kas!Eddie ONESHOT

Night at the Museum AU ONESHOT

Thumbelina AU Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 COMPLETED

Eddie and Kas body sharing Part 1 Part 2 Part 3A Fluffy Part 3B Smutty  Part 4 Part 5 COMPLETED

Wayne shows the baby photos ONESHOT

X-men au scene

King Eddie and Prince Steve Part A Part B Part C Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Reverse Little Mermaid Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Cindereddie Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Steve falling for Eddie's goofiness ONESHOT

Steddathan Fake Dating (Steve/Eddie/Jonathan)  Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 COMPLETED

Eddie drinking Steve’s blood ONESHOT

Steddie goes to Action Park ONESHOT

Short abo scene

5 times Eddie singled out Steve at a concert ONESHOT

The Bright Side (sitcom au) E01 E02 E03 E04 E05 E06 AO3 alt E07 E08

Steddie singing when they part ways ONESHOT

Mafia short scenes Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Steve and Eddie break out into song while giving Lucas advice

Steve seduces Eddie to catch some zzzs

Time loop scene

2 Eddies, 1 Steve ONESHOT

Noir detective Eddie on the case of who cut Steve’s hair ONESHOT

Stobin working as burger joint carhops ONESHOT

Steve being an offering to the village god ONESHOT Extra

Steve sacrificed in a cult Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 COMPLETED

Eddie’s search for the treasure between Steve’s legs ONESHOT

Steddie dimension hopping Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Dialogue Prompts Prompt 1 Prompt 2 Prompt 3 Prompt 4 Prompt 5A Prompt 5B Prompt 6 Prompt 7 Prompt 8 Prompt 9 Prompt 10 Prompt 11 Prompt 12 Prompt 13

Eddie’s guitar turns into a human Version A ONESHOT

Eddie’s guitar turns into a human Version B Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 COMPLETED

Eddie steals a diamond for Steve ONESHOT

Infinity Train AU Ep 1 Ep 2 Ep 3

Barbarella!Steve Part 1 AO3 Steddie chapter

Steve’s Doppelgangers Part 1 AO3

Eddie gets his tonsils removed ONESHOT

Steve’s parents play matchmaker Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 COMPLETED

Wrong Number au Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 COMPLETED

Random word blurb

Fruity Four Sense8 ficlet

Ask Meme Prompts Prompt 1 Pining co-workers ficlet Tattoo shop ficlet  Artist!Steve Eddie gives some milk Mermaid/Pirate Baby Ollie Loneliness Steve sets up a scavenger hunt  Fantasy outcast sanctuary Grimm/ST crossover Steve had a puppy Bad barista Wayne makes the vest Frat Boy Steve Kiss Prompt

Passenger princess Steve ficlet

Stargyle ficlet

Pregnancy fluff a/b/o

Every Baby Needs a Daddy (sugar baby au) Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 COMPLETED

Pre S4 Rivals (Gift Fic) ONESHOT

Steddie parents think their kid might be fighting monsters ONESHOT

Forest Guardian WIP

Steddie Bingo 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 -

Hot for Teacher(s) AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Trans Eddie smut ONESHOT

Steve goes on a trip and Eddie misses him ONESHOT

Steddie make love in a church before their wedding ONESHOT

Family Planning (a/b/o flour baby au) Part 1

[minecraftbookshelf]

Marriage of State AU: Masterpost

My WIP Empires S1 AU featuring a completely different timeline, some canon problems are not issues but we've given them all new ones to make up for it.

At this point the arranged marriages are more of a minor plot point because I have gotten lost in the worldbuilding of fantasy geopolitics, religion, and agricultural commerce, but the name stuck long enough that we're just rolling with it.

Standard Disclaimer that this is about the Minecraft DnD Characters, not the creators who play them.

This series is also on my AO3

You can find all the posts for this au in the #marriage of state au tag, which is the first one on this post, for your convenience.

Index of links below the cut

Xornoth's POV Trigger Warning

Fic

In the Hall of the Ocean Queen Arc:

In the Age of Icons Arc:

Mistakes Are Made [AO3] [Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3]

Into Ash Arc:

Character Oneshots:

Art

The Ocean Queen The Codfather: Version One // Version Two The Mad King of Mezalea The Elven King of Rivendell The Copper King Shrub Berry the Gnome The Prince of Rivendell The Lost Emperor The Farmer Queen The King of Mythland The Great Wizard The Count of the Grimlands The Faerie Queen

Joel Takes A Nap

This Amazing Joel Detail by @heliostheperson

Important Posts

Where It All Started

Character Design Posts: Lizzie || Jimmy || Joel || Xornoth || Pixlriffs || Shrub Berry || Scott || Joey || Pearl || Mythical J Sausage || GeminiTay || Fwhip || Katherine

Tags

Marriage of State AU (new to old) // Marriage of State AU (old to new)

Character Tags: Fwhip || GeminiTay || Joey || Katherine || Lizzie || Sausage || Pearl || Pixlriffs || Shrub Berry || Scott || Joel || Jimmy || Xornoth

Empire Tags: The Grimlands || The Crystal Cliffs || The Lost Empire || The Overgrown || The Ocean Empire || Mythland || Gilded Helianthia || Pixandria || The Undergrove || Rivendell || Mezalea || The Cod Swamp || Mangrovia

Grouping Tags: Seablings || Rivendell Siblings || Roseblings || Ocean Alliance || WRA || ShadowBeans (I refuse) || Flower Husbands || Jornoth || Nature Wives || Ensemble || Gods & Monsters || Hermits & Friends || OCs (all two of them with their .05 seconds of screen-time)

MoS AU Fic

MoS AU Asks

MoS AU Fic Snippets and Previews

MoS AU World-building

MoS AU Art

I also tag all asks with the url of the asker and HERE is a cheat code to search for posts filtering for more than one tag (only usable on a browser)

[scoops-aboy86]

I've had a terrible day, comment to ease my turmoil?

Oh, and towards the end of this chapter, “Luck can’t fix stupid” is just Eddie being hard on himself. He is a good boy who is trying his best. 

Part 1, part 1.5, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 of the love spell no go au

By morning, Eddie wakes to find that he’s rolled over in the night and Steve has burrowed into his arms. Hair that smells of Eddie’s shampoo tickles at his nose, and Steve is warm. A tingling under Eddie’s fingertips where they’re draped across Steve’s back tell him that his healing spells are still working—maybe that’s why Steve is sleeping so peacefully that it’s already dawn. 

Nancy was supposed to have woken Steve for his guard shift, probably hours ago. Huh.

Eddie wants to melt into this and soak it up, just in case he never gets another chance, but… there’s too much going on right now to get caught up in whatever this might be. Better to take a page from Steve’s book and let it be, hold his tongue and wait until they’re not dealing with an interdimensional catastrophe. 

Careful not to wake the (beautiful, brave, captivating) boy in his arms, he extracts himself carefully from the bed. He can’t resist leaving a soft kiss on Steve’s temple before he goes, though, his heart clenching and expanding and basically exploding in his chest when Steve shifts with a sigh and presses his full body into the space Eddie just vacated, seeking the lost body heat and breathing deeply against Eddie’s pillow. Fuck. Fuuuuuuck.

Instead of crawling right back into bed like he wants to, Eddie slinks out of the room and down the short hallway to the living room, eyes averted from the fleshy gash in the ceiling. Nancy is standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed as she stares up at it—but her eyes are clear, and she refocuses on Eddie as soon as he clears his throat. 

“So, uh,” he croaks, throat still rough from sleep. “Watch system kinda broke down, didn’t it?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Nancy replies, too quick not to be at least a little defensive. 

Eddie peers past her to Robin, who is asleep face-down on the couch with his uncle’s scratchy wool blanket draped over her. “Not saying I blame you there, Wheeler, but. Did you try?”

After a pause, Nancy lets out a breath that seems to come from all the way down to her toes, stiff shoulders slumping just a little and world weary in a way that no teenager should have to sound. “No.”

He flashes her a brittle smile, because yeah, he gets it. The only reason he’d managed any shut-eye was probably thanks to Steve’s reassuringly steady breathing at his back. “Fair enough. Instant coffee?”

There’s only the slightest twitch of distaste in her expression (he’s betting the Wheelers can afford actual coffee beans and shit) before she nods. “Coffee would be great.”

Which kind of makes him feel like a waiter, but he did offer. Eddie puts his back firmly to the gate and pokes around the kitchen for a pot to fill with water, pours it into four different mugs once it’s come to a boil, and dutifully stirs in the shitty off-brand Folgers. 

He sips his own somberly, pensive. All his life, it’s been drilled into him that magic is to be kept secret, cast in the shadows and never so flashy that it would draw too much outside attention. That’s what had gotten his dad locked up. 

But this group already knows about magic, even if they only refer to it as such using dnd metaphors that are actually more accurate than they think. Hell, maybe psychic powers are just a different method of spell casting—that’s deeper into magic theory than he usually ventures to go, though, so whatever. Not important right now. The point is… they could all die. It’s a very real possibility, especially for Max, and Eddie’s seen how that goes twice now. If there’s anything he can do to help, he has to try. 

Which means… he has to tell them. 

After Nancy recounts what Vecna showed her, after they formulate a plan that makes Eddie’s stomach clench and roll with dread, Eddie opens his mouth and says, “Guys, I have to tell you something.”

They sit patiently if a little incredulously through his explanation. A little more credulously once he gives a demonstration, turning an apple from the Mayfield’s kitchen blue, then, purple, then neon orange, then back to red and slicing it down the middle into an even seven pieces without so much as touching it. 

Dustin speaks up first, because of course he does—interrogating him about what offensive and defensive spells he knows, leading with examples that Eddie recognizes almost word for word from the Monster Manual. Lucas joins in after a minute, the boys’ enthusiasm snowballing until suddenly they’re drafting a list of things they want to see if Eddie can do. 

It’s Steve who ends up putting a stop to that, snapping. “Hey shitheads, he’s not a show pony and he’s not going to do tricks just to satisfy your scientific whatever, alright? You wouldn’t do that to Eleven, we’re not doing it to Eddie.”

“Scientific method, Steve,” Dustin grumbles, but relents. Eddie shoots a grateful look to Steve over the kid’s shoulder, and the smile he gets in return makes his heart do a flip. 

“I can’t do big shit like Vecna,” he cautions everyone, now that he can get a word in edgewise again. “But I can do smaller stuff. Protection charms on clothes, spells to make sure we don’t miss what we’re aiming for, that kind of thing. I can help, I’m just… not your point guy. I’m no Supergirl.”

Max snorts at the Supergirl part, but speaks up with a grave, “As the person sticking out my neck for this crazy plan, not missing sounds nice.”

That seems to clinch it. And next up, they need to stock up on weapons, so…

It was waking up to a cuddly Steve Harrington that did it, Eddie swears. That, and adrenaline from staring down the barrel of the balls-to-the-wall insane plan the group has concocted, because Eddie is surrounded by fucking heroes aparently. He doesn’t feel very heroic. 

Because he says things like “It’s not exactly a car, Steve” with a devilish smirk, and not asking but telling Steve that he’s driving the stolen RV, the words big boy tumbling out like his mouth has a fucking mind of its own. And each of those times, Steve blinks back at him with something in those hazel eyes, which Eddie is trying so hard to tell himself he doesn’t know how to read, but he wants. 

There isn’t time to do anything about it, though. When the RV’s rightful owners start banging on the door, adrenaline sends Steve leapfrogging into the driver’s seat and Eddie scrambling to get away from the windows so he won’t be spotted. They roar out of the trailer park with the kids whooping in the back, caught up in the adventure of it. 

Eddie feels like everything is going wrong and about to get worse, but he’s felt that way ever since Chrissy died so that’s nothing new. At least Steve stays in the RV instead of going into the War Zone, even if it takes Robin pointing out that the entire high school had seen them talking at Eddie’s locker on Friday and some probably noticed them sitting together at the game—because yeah, Lucas had told them what Jason Carver had done to Gareth, and Eddie doesn’t want anyone else hurt because some vigilante jock thinks they might be harboring him. 

“Sorry,” Eddie tells him after the others are gone. When Steve gives him a blank look, he adds, “That you’re a known associate of The Freak.” He nods towards the back of the RV where the two boys are wrapped up in a conversation of their own. “It’s bad enough that Lucas and Dustin are in the crosshairs, but they at least signed up for Hellfire.”

Steve frowns. “You’re my friend, Eddie, I don’t care who knows that. It shouldn’t even matter.”

“Dude, all of this shouldn’t be happening, but it is. It does matter. A hell of a fucking lot.” Eddie braces his elbows on his knees and drops his head into his hands. “Fuck.”

After a moment, a hand presses tentatively between his shoulder blades, shifting reassuringly up and down. It’s a big hand. Eddie is almost disappointed that he’s too upset to fully appreciate the contact. 

As it is, he groans into his hands and shrugs the touch off. “Steve, I should… I have to tell you something.” And you might not want to keep touching me after you hear it, he doesn’t say out loud. 

“What is it?”

Eddie lifts his head with a flick of his hair and a quick flail of his hands. “That was—I just cast a little privacy spell, if you were wondering. So the kids can’t eavesdrop.”

“Okay,” Steve says slowly. “Do you do that a lot? Just do magic like that? Because, you move your hands around a lot…”

He can’t help but smirk a little at that. “Not as much as you’d think. It’s a good cover if I have to, though.”

Steve’s eyes are wide and curious, his irises a honeyed brown tinged with spots of green. “Have you ever used magic on me?”

Aaand there it is. Eddie looks down at his hands, now clasped across bare his knees where time and wear have reduced the denim to strings. “Yep.” 

“Like what?”

So Eddie tells him about the love spell. 

Magic, considering everything else Steve has seen over the past few years and especially the past few days, isn’t much of a stretch to accept. That trick with the apple had helped, but for the most part he’s learned to just push through the confusion and listen to whoever sounds the most certain about it. 

And Eddie sounds pretty certain that he’s ruined Steve’s life. 

But that’s… not right. His life doesn’t feel ruined. He has Dustin and Robin. Yeah, he keeps ending up in life or death situations, but that gives him a sense of a purpose and might have happened anyway, because it’s not like Eddie’s one spell back when they were underclassmen created Hawkins Lab or Henry Creel out of thin air. 

A big part of Steve is elated, actually. Eddie likes him. Or liked him, enough to try and secure his heart with magic. Maybe that elation is from the spell, but honestly? The world might end tonight and any of them might die trying to stop it, so he’ll take any good feeling he can get regardless of where it’s coming from. 

When he tells Eddie as much, the guy looks about ready to cry. 

Before he can protest, Steve says, “I know you think you made me feel this way and that it’s like—” he frowns, unable to remember the way Eddie had put it “—violating my self-asomething-or-other, but fuck that. Your uncle said it wouldn’t have worked if I could never have liked you on my own, right? And I… In high school, people just hung around and I could never figure out why. Magic is as good an explanation as any, I guess. But with you, I had to work to get you to be my friend. I had to earn it. The more I got to know you the more I knew you’re a great guy, so by the time we were friends it felt like I’d really accomplished something, you know? You’re really nice, once you get past the prickly attitude—”

“Prickly?” Eddie mutters, quiet like he wants to interrupt but still feels a little too guilty to quite dare. Steve gets it; he knows how guilt can be, especially when it’s guilt for a stupid reason. 

“—And you’re smart, way smarter than me. The teachers who failed you are either full of shit or bad at their jobs, probably both. You’re so creative it blows me away, keeping track of all that Dungeons and Dragons stuff and making up entire worlds and all the people that go in them. And you have a great smile, with dimples and everything, and your hands are… And the way you watch me sometimes, like I’m the only person in the room even if we’re in a crowd, it feels really good.”

Eddie is getting more red by the second, a flush starting in his cheeks and threatening to go all the way to his chest at the compliments. Which, okay, Steve knows he’s gushing, but he’s been bottling all this up for a while and he’s not used to that. When it comes to love he’s usually an all-in kind of guy, and holding back had led to a quiet but snotty breakdown in Robin’s arms the night before. 

… Damn, he’s going to have to admit that she was right about Eddie being into guys (into him), though. 

“Steve,” Eddie says, and he sounds longing. Music to Steve’s ears. 

“I wanted the championship game to be a date,” Steve blurts. Because he’s already mentioned Eddie’s dimples and his hands, might as well go all in. 

Eddie’s blush intensifies, the start of that dimpled grin Steve loves so much on his face. “I… I did too.”

“So… after the game, when you went off with Chrissy…”

“That was just business,” Eddie says quickly, and Steve ducks his head to try and hide the relieved grin. “I mean, I wanted to help her, but I’m, uh. It’s always been just guys for me.”

“It’s both for me,” Steve tells him, glancing up through his eyelashes. He notices the way Eddie’s hand twitches, wanting to reach out but unsure, so he reaches over and tentatively lays his fingers over Eddie’s ringed ones. “Is that… okay?”

Eddie bites his lip, and just as tentatively twines their fingers together. “Y-yeah, I think so. This is—Shit, yeah.” 

“Would it make you feel better if… I don’t know, is there a way to turn the spell off?”

“Not really, magic doesn’t—” Eddie starts, but then stops, frowns. “Uh. My uncle did teach me something to undo magic once, but it’s a whole… thing. Like pulling a ripcord on a parachute, and, yeah, you stop falling as fast, but it jerks you around first. And it would ‘turn off’ every spell I’ve ever cast.” 

Before Steve has a chance to react to that, they’re interrupted by the rest of the group crashing back into the RV. Steve is up and barely even registers the remnants of Eddie’s privacy spell clinging to his face like invisible cobwebs. He spots Jason Carver out of the corner of his eye just before pulling out of the parking lot and, fuck. 

The rest of the day is too busy and tense to speak to Eddie alone, and Steve has a creeping worry (which he tries to ignore) that maybe Robin is right; maybe they aren’t going to be okay this time. 

Eddie doesn’t get to have nice things. Like an unbroken family, or a high school diploma, or Steve Harrington. 

He knows this. It’s deeply embedded in the reason he chickens out at the last minute, shaping his possible last words to Steve into, “Make him pay.” In that moment where their eyes had met he’d felt every loose thread, every unspoken thing between them weighing on him like a ton of bricks, and he regrets everything. Even though there hadn’t been time. He wonders if Steve regrets not saying whatever was on his mind back at the trailer, while the water was running… And from the way Steve looks back at him before nodding and turning to go, Eddie thinks he can hear the hollowness in it. 

Steve has similar hollowness, Eddie knows. Parents whose attention has always seemed to ghost right over him ever since Barbara Holland, leaving Steve to drift all alone in that big house until he felt like a phantom. They know these things about each other; they’ve talked about it all while high (everything except the Eddie wanting Steve part… and, apparently, an entire alternate universe full of monsters). And Steve gets it, even though Eddie wishes he didn’t. Wishes Steve’s life could be easy streets and clear sailing (ha, ahoy) so that Eddie wouldn’t have to feel so seen, stripped bare of all his armor. 

Even his battle vest is still in Steve’s possession, hidden under the thick army jacket. 

And it’s ironic, really, that Steve thinks he’s the stupid one but Eddie forgot about the goddamn air vents in the trailer. There isn’t really a spell to protect against that; luck can’t fix stupid.

So he does the best he can think of, if it can be called thinking at this point: flings a stealth spell at Dustin so the bats will be more likely to forget about him, cuts the sheet-rope, and bolts out the door. He grabs a bike and pedals as hard as he can, just trying to get away, and in the blankness of his panicking-in-overdrive mind an idea begins to form. 

When one of the bats gets caught in the spokes and Eddie goes down, he’s up almost immediately and spitting the words Wayne taught him when he was still small—before his uncle got custody but after his mom started getting sick, when Eddie’s dad had first started getting reckless. 

The swarm of flying monsters descends on him while he’s still screaming the spell. After the last syllable, bleeding and knocked around by the attack, the ripcord pulls and Eddie is slammed into darkness.

Tag list (comment to be added): @hotluncheddie @8em-em-em8 @anaibis @connected-dots @lawrencebshoggoth

Part 9, part 10, part 11

[ghost-maya]

Words: 16,014

Chapters: 2/2

Rating: Teen & Up

Relationships: Zoro/Sanji

Part 2 of my very meta One Piece fic, where the OPLA characters are playing a DND campaign in a modern AU, is now up! (Post for part 1 here)

Click "keep reading" for the first part of Chapter 2:

“Do I really have to act like I’m in a relationship with that guy next session…?” Sanji slowly spun his empty mug around in a circle. He’d gone over to Usopp’s to work on his recipes while his friend studied, but couldn’t concentrate.   “You were the one who decided to seduce him, dude,” Usopp chimed in, unhelpfully.  Sanji thumped his head on the table. “Don’t remind me. I’m telling you, I’m cursed! Can’t even phase him either… he’s like… fuck! I hate him.” Hated how flustered he got. Hated how it was actually somewhat enjoyable.  “The fans are eating it up though. You can’t just drop it now!”  Sanji looked up at that. “Since when did we have fans?” 

[imaginesofeverykind]

Witches Brew ~ Chapter 2

Summary: To practice magic is to slight God with the devil's embrace. It is evil, sin, consuming and the price one pays is never worth what one seeks. Yet people, in times of desperation often turn to desperate measures, in Aegon’s case, medicinal remedy is not an option. No healer can undo what has been done. But the Hag tucked away behind reeds, water topped with algae and the voracious bog may be able to. For a price.

Warnings: Catholic-Centric monotheism demonised, language, 18+ Minors DNI

Tags: DnD Fusion AU, Targaryens are just noblefolk, more vagueness

Word Count: 5k

Chapter Song: Harbinger - Kiki Rockwell

Yurisa and Ornmir aren't in a DND pantheon I just made them up for the purpose of the fic!

Series Masterlist

The power of words came from the ability to heed what is said, the Holy word of God revered by many and feared by others denounces the practices that don’t abide his word. Yet, your words — the words of a heretic, a pagan, a ‘devil worshiper’ — haunted the brothers, resounding in disembodied whispers cruelly reminding them of the events that transpired in wake of a seemingly ordinary day.

Neither spoke of what happened, in fear that speaking it outloud would make it a reality. It almost felt as though they shared a deranged and highly realistic dream that stubbornly did not disappear into the back of their consciousness when they were awake. A nightmare they were forced to reckon with when their Lord Father fell mysteriously ill, an infection that appeared seemingly from nowhere had him bedridden for a tenday.

His left eye had begun to fester and rot away.

Troublesome as the sudden ailment came, it all but made the brothers’ blood run cold when they soon realized the eye that had begun its necrosis would have been the same side on Aemond’s if he lost it that day. He did lose it that evening. And then a miracle — dark blood magic — brought it back. This had been the price. The saying ‘Eye for an Eye’ appeared to be most taunting in this instance.

Cycles of the moon that once meant nothing but something to measure time with became a looming presence for Aegon. A beacon of light in the night he looked onto with resentment and disgust where it once bore witness to his acts of sin and debauchery. Each phase a creeping reminder that he must return back to the decrepit hut, a threat he considered hollow until he felt the pull of the moon the closer to full it became.

The swamp surprisingly looked more harrowing during the day, perhaps it were because under the shield of darkness the night brings, many creatures were hidden away. The afternoon sun seared through the treetops, warming the marshy waters and in doing so lifted a pungent odour, souring the deeper into the bog it got. Sulfur fumes so strong it was hard to believe the sounds of nature indicated life thrived blithely, undisturbed in the thick mud pits, reedy bushes or trees when it so easily brought tears to Aegon’s eyes and made his lungs burn.

Fungus, abnormally larger than the toadstools that littered the edge of the Kings Road sat in halo’s of spores it created. Demanding reproduction and relentlessly over taking the grounds of which they grew, the damage a single spore can do to an entire ecosystem of plant life once it infected a single limb of a plant.

Nature was hideous and beautiful, harrowing and wonderous, unforgiving yet forgiving all at once. Amongst it all, as if tying the cacophony of life, death and all that sat in between nature oscillating and constant; A blissful humming. So subtle it was almost easy to miss the gentle caress in the area getting stronger, coaxing more fervently as it neared the epicentre of the swamp. 

The Elder Tree and the Hut entwined in its roots.

“Hello little lordling,” You appear behind him, but Aegon doesn’t jump. Almost as if he were expecting you to be exactly there. The same presence that plagues his thoughts, you could tell how restless he had become over since you last met. A smile pulls at your lips, tauntingly smug, “the moon is not full and yet here you are. Five moons early.”

He regards you slowly, though out of fear or caution you can’t quite tell until he speaks, “my father has fallen ill.” There is no sadness in his voice, no guilt, no indication that he is upset by what you’ve done to ensure his brother became whole again. 

You drag your feet toward him with a tilted head as you stare into his eyes of Violet, curling a hand around his jaw to look at him with far more scrutiny, your fingernails like thorns into his skin. Part of you is disappointed, the younger brother seemed to be a far more amusing moon servant with his boiled temperament, but when you look into Aegon, you see someone far less self involved — self serving perhaps but not one who uses a holy shield to look down on those who refute one God. 

He is as much a sinner as you were but for different reasons.

“That is the price, to meddle with the forces of nature.” You muse, taking away the hand that clawed into his soft cheeks, crescent moon indentations mark where your fingers had previously sat. Head tilted once again, you inspect his rugged appearance, the dark circles under his eyes and how stringy his hair looked. Leagues different in comparison to how he had looked the last time he had enlightened you with his presence. The moon gives and the moon takes, just like magic, just like nature.

”I didn’t come here to hear riddles, hag.” His lips downturn into, what you could only assume was, a frightful grimace with his brows casting downward. Haggard in appearance wasn’t the only change you could note, where he had last been in the clothes of a nobleman now he was wearing commonfolk garb. Though you are inclined to believe this is his choice to do so and not an artifact of disowning from the Lord and Lady of Oldtown.

“I’ve jokes if you would rather,” you smile tauntingly, though he looked less than amused on account of his eye twitching with an ire you had only previously seen with his brother. It must be the Moon. Though you don’t concede in your jest,“forgive me, I was under the impression you were the fun brother.”

He snapped, grabbing the scruff of your cardigan and pulling you up off your feet with a strength that seemed to surprise even him briefly, “there is nothing fun about what you did to me.” His eyes were wild, animalistic like he might just snap a little further over the threshold of man and monster. This anger appeared foreign on him, you could tell. The creases worn into his face like ridges in a tree were that of someone forlorn and closely recognised misery as a friend, not someone who was quick to anger and enmity. His ire was not of desperation as you had seen once before, it was an artificial plague of your making by bestowing him the curse of the moon in your actions of removing it from his brother. 

As if reading his thoughts you shake your head, “I cannot undo what has been done.” You have said this many times to many different people who seek you out, an echo of the woman who raised you, as she would say the same to similarly lost souls. This time it filled you with feelings distant to you but not entirely unheard of, it stirred a deep sorrow that you could not understand the origin or why. 

“Why not?” His grip loosened, a crack in his voice indicated that he will not lose himself to the beast that lives inside his very being now.

“What is taken, must be returned. Your brother's eye was returned to him, but only because it was taken from someone else,” his father, you don’t need to say as he is sure enough to understand on his own, “the curse bequeathed to your brother removed, but only because it was parted onto someone else.” You, Aegon. Your eyes watch his with great interest, his pupils begin to shrink and the violet in them return, and a faint whisper that barely passes as a thought but still registers in your mind are three simple words that shake you to the core: I’m so sorry.

***

Blood curses on their own are incredibly hostile in nature, to meddle magically with the very rivers that bring a soul life, is to be inherently evil. You recall the night of your eleventh winter, the moon at its highest and forever etched into your memory was that it was red. A Blood Moon. Auntie, (as you referred to the woman who raise you as despite her being anything but) would regale you with stories of the various cities she had visited, the travels she would get up to and despite the discrepancies in her timelines you would always listen with a grin on your face and wide eyed.

While the Moon was the symbol of the wolves, the goddess commanded her soldiers and servants when it was at its fullest. A Blood Moon was the symbol of petrifyingly beautiful harbingers of death, lustful creatures seeking blood to keep their souls appeased and their hunger satiated. Though, to your recollection, you weren’t sure what a moon decorated in a blue hue meant and who served the Moon when she turned blue.

The bones of your beloved childhood pet ferret laid out before you indicated troubling signs for the evening's full moon, it warned of uncertainty and danger. “Gods be good,” you whisper and gather the bones of the late Yurisa, you had named her after the Goddess of Winter aptly because of the fur as white as snow. The Goddess of Winter was known to be cruel and calculating, worshippers often regarding her as the Mistress of Atrophy, for when she brought her touch upon the land, it withered beneath her.

To you, Yurisa was merely a name to call your furry companion. 

Now you are well and truly alone. No Auntie left to gently guide you through the mystical arts or teach you kindness and compassion. No more Yurisa to cuddle up with when loneliness crept up like a misfortune or to scuttle around your feet when you went foraging for ingredients. It seemed as though you were destined to be alone, abandoned by a mother, abandoned by another and left alone when death crept up and seized the soul from your small companion.

Perhaps that may have been the reason your thoughts lingered to mournful and sorrowful when lamenting on the impromptu visit for the lordling Aegon days prior. The same reason that voice whispered to offer mercy the night the brothers arrived. Though, you could lament no further out of frustration of not getting any answers and by happenstance due to Aegon’s arrival.

His footsteps were weary, despite being at the hut for a third time, though the weight with each carefully placed step had an adjustment to its cadence that piqued your interest. Blood curses with transformative properties were cruel and unusual on the body and the mind, the ebbings of change often appearing in those infected a few days before and after the Full Moon. It was already taking a toll on him. 

You opened the door at the moment he raised his fist to knock, startling him slightly though you don’t notice behind how disheveled and unwell he looked, “little lordling.”  

Through his tired eyes rimmed with red from exhaustion, he narrowed them, “stop calling me that.”

“Would you prefer Moon Servant? Wolf Pup?” You are hardly smiling or even joking for that matter, as you stepped aside and waved him through.

”Just Aegon is fine,” he grumbled, compared to last time his anger was at a low level — still foreign on him but low nonetheless. His face was more sunken in, hollowing at the cheeks and under eyes as if he were more skeleton than flesh. One of many unfortunate side effects he was about to endure and he was none the wiser about how awful it was about to get for him.

By the hearth you boil water and whisk around your cupboards for the right ingredients when the question in your mind suddenly fell past your lips, “how are you feeling?” It felt like a mistake to ask such a question, as it often is only asked when endearing someone, “the pain, I mean. Fevers? Anything out of the ordinary?” You quickly add, while fussing about the pot of boiling water and various ingredients swirling in a maroon brine.

”I feel…” He had to think about it, eyes lifted to inspect the ceiling while thinking, “I feel like I’ve been hung, drawn and quartered. Though I s’pose that is meant to be normal right, witch?” His tone laced in a particular type of venom, calling you a witch as if it were derogatory but it was nothing except a label of what you are. Sorceress, Enchantress, Hag, Witch — they all meant the same thing; Heretic.

You remind yourself that as far as he was aware, he was not here of his own free will which was far removed from the truth. The lapse in your wrath the night you had crossed paths with him had you wavering conviction and offering mercy. That mercy being that he would not have to face the Moon’s Curse alone and could do it in a place that concealed him far from the eyes of the many zealots within the walls of Oldtown.

Extending a clawed hand out, you gesture for him, “show me your fingernails.”

”Why?”

”If I wished ill fortune on you or even death, I’d have done it by now, no? Show me your fingernails.” You grew impatient.

He reluctantly holds out a hand for you to grab. Unexpectedly, they were red raw around the nail but not because of the impending transformation, this was purely habitual, a very human trait that indicated he was nervous and anxious often. The nails themselves though, were beginning to blacken at the nail bed and were more hardened than what was normal.

Holding one of his hands steady, you manifest a small jar of medicinal salve and begin to lightly swipe it over the affected areas. It wasn’t going to lessen the pain of his impending transformation, but it would help stave off infection. You feel his gaze on you, not hard or weary, rather just inspecting carefully as you silently tend to his fingers.

”Erm — I’ve had joint aches and mood swings. I haven’t eaten either.” He admits shrewdly, the violet in his eyes washing away from colour in his iris slowly. It felt rather ludicrous, hearing his ailments like he was a patient and you were a healer. Though to a degree you may have been just that, even if the circumstances were very different. 

You don’t answer him, merely nodding and turning back to your boiling concoction, opting to add a touch more Docrut ash before scooping a cup full of brine into an aged bowl. It is not grand nor lavish like what Aegon may be used to, but you didn’t care, offering it to him, “drink. It will help with the pain.”

Lifting the bowl to his lips, he grimaced with flared nostrils and took a gulp only to immediately splutter it back out and cough it all over you. Unsure if he was being overdramatic or he simply wished to indignify you for his shortcomings, nevertheless, you wiped your face of his spit silently.

”That tastes like piss,” he gagged, covering his face and mouth as though it would shield him from the steaming brew in his hands.

”I never said it would taste nice,” you smile with slight amusement, “though if you forgo what is helpful simply because of its taste, I can assure you, you will regret it come morning.” He was an interesting individual, thrust into a circumstance out of his control and yet finding ways to nitpick it like the true highborn soul he was. 

“Perhaps if you hold your nose and drink it won’t taste so bitter,” you offer, remembering when as a child how much you despised the mushroom bark stew Auntie made. She would tell you the same thing, because out in the Swamp you either ate what was given to you or went hungry. Choice was not a luxury you grew up having.

He seemed taken aback by how childish you sounded, or, you thought, it was because you had said something that wasn’t inherently monsterous in his eyes. So you decide to bite a little, a smile curling at your lips, “what? Even us Hags have to eat disgusting things despite ourselves… I’ll drink some with you, if it helps.” 

You scoop yourself a bowl, holding it up as if mocking a ‘cheers’ and bringing it to your lips. He wasn’t wrong at all, it smelt awful, eye wateringly awful and as pungent as the acrid scent of the swamp outside. Gods, don’t think about the swamp water. Yet, with a pinch of the nose to seal your nostrils shut, you tilt the bowl up and begin to drink. Eyes flicking over to Aegon who is dutifully following despite the exaggerated expression of disgust.

”See,” you cough and wince as the brew burned your throat and assaulted the senses, “it wasn’t so —,” an onslaught of coughs prevent you from finishing the sentence, though when you came too it wasn’t the fact that he had finished his bowl that came as a surprise. It was the simple and disturbingly pleasant fact that he was actually laughing - at you, yes - but laughing nonetheless. 

The feeling of delight, something as plain as hearing him laugh sent troubling waves of nausea within you. Stop that, you insisted to yourself for thinking too long on such a factor but unfortunately for you it seemed to imbue you with a sense of being. 

“I’m pleased to know it isn’t poison at least,” he jests half heartedly, setting the bowl down on the table beside him. His moment of weakness, laughter, subsided and his walls were back up, though as you look out the window you are reminded that he will very much be a very different kind of man soon, and even more come the morning.

There was still some time left before a long night began, a question that had been plaguing you since that night a month ago and had never found a suitable answer by speculating, “why did your brother get attacked that night? The Lycanthropes in the swamp… They are usually docile because of Ornmir.”

He looked over at you, brow raised in confusion that was met with your annoyed sigh, “right of course — The Swamp Spirit, she has domain over this area, nurtures the land and watches over the creatures.” You explain as if it were the most obvious answer, but recognise you were being unfair on someone who most likely had no idea there was a spirit of the swamp.

There’s a moment of slight humour back in his eyes, a scornful snort exhales from his nose as he laughs dryly, “I suppose then this fabled ‘spirit’ is responsible for the attacks on the nearby village then? A beast descends on a village to kill their livestock, that feels rather opposite to being watched over and docile, like you said?”

”hm,” you hum momentarily, letting his words settle, “perhaps it’s God’s will then?” You weren’t mocking him specifically, rather his family and those who sought to eradicate the magic in the world. The surrounding village’s littered on the outskirts of the swamp were often benevolent in the few times you had passed through to get seeds or fruit, yet the cathedral spires of Oldtown were a beacon that infected many people with prejudice and it reached as far as the closest Village.

Ornmir’s domain was relatively benign despite the creatures that reside, so it did strike you as odd that something had been thought to attack the villages, just like it struck you as odd that an attack happened to Aegon and his brother. Though, your question would remain unanswered for a while longer with the light fading to blackness settling outside of the hut’s windows.

It was always darker in the marsh long before the Sun had fully set, which was natural given the thick cover provided by trees taller than Oldtown's giant Cathedral. Though nightfall would turn within mere minutes, and with that, Aegon would be more monster than man. With great haste you beckon him outside of your hut and take him behind the Elder Tree. A lantern in one hand to illuminate the way and an old dagger in the other.

The humming that vibrated throughout the swamp seemed to permeate from the very roots of the Elder Tree; it was the largest and most intricate looking tree in comparison, even shrouded in darkness. Around it, the ground littered with moss and deceptively hidden soft mud that would encase your foot had you taken a wrong step.

You close your eyes and listen softly, to the wind and its direction, to the symphony of creatures and bugs that coexist within the heart of the marshy swamplands, the humming that never ceased. The moon was on the rise. You felt it, like a presence that made the hair on the back of your neck stand, like a feeling deep within the pit of your stomach. Many serve the Moon, but all life somehow feels its pull.

“Aegon,” you address with a softer tone than necessary, “this may very well be the worst thing you will ever go through. It’s excruciating. It’s difficult. You will begin to recede back, as though no longer in control because you won’t be in control yet will feel, see, taste everything. You’re a shattered soul belonging to two now. A man and a beast.” 

A Primal beast that will exist on urges that would make men weep at the thought.

”We are going to have quite the night together I believe,” you smile wearily, bringing the obsidian dagger to the palm of your hand and cutting deeply into it. He grimaced at the sight of crimson dribbling down your forearm, but in the macabre lighting of the lone lantern and a cluster of fireflies you watch his eyes wash away all violet colouring.

Black consuming even the whites of his eyes, you gave him a playful smile, one that certainly wasn’t appropriate for the situation at hand and darted off through the swamp

***

Lycanthropy is one of the few curses that shattered both body and soul, and contrary to what is believed that the only instance of change occurs under the full moon, the blight is a month long ailment. To have bones, tendons and muscle rip, warp and rearrange to a completely different structure was harrowing enough to watch, though scholars tend to only source that this happened one night per month. 

Mending bones and muscle was no easy feat, nor was it something that could be done in a mere day. Especially under someone’s first transformation. Aegon had slept for a day and a half before awakening to what you could only assume was the worst pain ever to be put through. 

He complained, immensely, but you took that as a sign of him feeling better than anything to be annoyed about. Two days after the full moon his fingernails had finally regressed to their normal sizing, and both his hair and eyes had a semblance of life brought back into them. 

You had forgotten how nice it was simply having another person around, not even just to talk too, but another presence that made the hut feel less lonely. Though, you remind yourself that much like your Mother, Auntie and Yurisa — loneliness appeared to be your curse to bear.

”I promise this tastes better than it looks,” you hand over a bowl of seemingly beige modge podge that looks less than enticing and more like vomit. Aegon immediately grimaced but seemed to have caught himself and shook it off, probably in hopes that you didn’t notice. But you did.

His eyes widened in surprise when he shoveled a tentative mouthful of the unappealing looking soup, “this is delicious, what’s in it?” 

Snake and Eel. Against your better judgment you decide to refrain from telling him, lest he lose his appetite, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” A sly smile pulling at the corner of your lips as you tend to the daily chores around your abode. His watchful gaze never felt intrusive or rude, it was your understanding that he merely enjoyed people watching though he hadn’t said it, it was your own reticent observation that led to that deduction.

“You are strange, witch.” Without a hint of malice in his voice, it may have been the first compliment you received from him, one that you gladly took on. Invigorating you in a way that was unexpected and worrisome. Auntie had warned you that you had a tendency to grow attached too easily, a facet that rang true for all the creatures you helped mend themselves when they were injured or the travelers that passed through that you assisted her with helping them. 

“Strange is good,” you smile earnestly at him, and though your mind was yelling for you not too, your mouth opened on its own accord, “Bramble… Auntie called me Bramble because that's where she found me.” Though you refused to elaborate when he gave you an inquisitive glance. The memory of Auntie was somewhat sacred, that was something you wished to keep to yourself above all.

”An even stranger name…” he murmured, as though in his thoughts and you weren’t supposed to hear that. 

The remainder of the morning went as such, light chatter that felt more akin to a strategic game of droughts learning a small thing about the other as the morning progressed. He was a first born of four, wildly incapable of the pressures and responsibility of a first born, liked to drink his body weight in Ale and Fine Wine and was horrid at day to day tasks as you came to learn when he attempted to help you with something as mundane as hanging freshly washed linen out.

”Good lord what the fuck is that?” His exasperated tone caused you to turn, his eyes fixated in the distance and a finger pointed at the flying abomination in the air near a cluster of identical looking creatures. Features that looked not of this world, making it appear as though it was the gruesome victim of alchemistic cross breeding, beady eyes and a rat like face of a bat but its body looked like a giant mosquito.

You looked at it, unfazed and turned back to what you were doing, “Stirges, awful creatures…” While the flying monstrosity didn’t worry you, its presence did unsettle you greatly, having not seen a nest of them so close by before. Something strange was happening and it had started from before the night of the lycanthrope attack. You wished to know what events occurred that caused such a chain reaction. An attack on a human, an attack on the village and now an incursion of horrible blights that aren’t native to the lands.

“Aegon,” you slowly lifted your head to meet his gaze which was already fixed on you, “why were you in the swamp the night your brother was attacked?” It felt as though you asked this question several times before and never got a real answer out of him or the conversation naturally diverted elsewhere. 

While he was mostly open about his admissions already, you could sense him hesitate to answer this question. Perhaps he was gifted at deflecting and that was why you hadn’t received an answer for your question yet. Though the trepidation was not for lack of honesty or a need to conceal the truth, his eyes glassy and a slight tremble in his lip indicated guilt more than anything.

“Whatever is eating away at you, is not my concern. The reason is all I care for. Something isn’t right.” You hum, the nagging feeling eating away your insides like a looming sense of dread that was hard to pinpoint and it alarmed you grately that it took this long to figure out something strange was afoot. The humming of the Swamp droned gently, undisturbed and constant and yet there was a disturbance, over by the reedy shallows where the Stirges set their nest up. It was as though they came undetected, unseen.

He sighed, drawing your gaze to him, a look of shame and guilt marred his face, “I want not for ownership of the land, nor title or to become a Lord… but such is duty,” he was resentful and cutthroat, as if the word duty was an unholy word to be spit out. “Yet my father forces upon me what I push away — it’s my fault Aemond was hurt, he should never have been out there.”

Aemond, you repeat in your head, finally putting a name to the younger brother you healed a month ago.

“The village, Watercroft, asked my father to rid them of the beast that started killing their livestock and I was supposed to lead the hunting party. I would not do as he said, I cannot,” he looked away, gritted teeth as he spoke about his father like poison to the tongue. You couldn’t blame him, since you’ve lived in the Swamps his father has ruled Oldtown and whilst the locals revered him for peace, you had vehemently disagreed.

“So I drank, complained and let Aemond take the lead — he’s the one who deserves the power, the title, everything. And we’ve heard stories about beasts within the swamplands from travelers and locals, but this was different. A monstrous scourge that devoured six of our men whole before I sobered up enough to realize what was going on. Aemond.. he… he grabbed me and we ran… right into a den of Direwolves.”

You shake your head correcting him, “not Direwolves.” 

“Right.” He agreed quietly.

His story, while jagged and a mess to make sense of slowly began to click into place for you. It was unsettling at best and at worst borderline apocalyptic for the ecosystem within the Swamp and all the land around. There was only one beast in the Swamp capable of doing what he had described and that was Ornmir herself, in her natural corporeal form as a Swamp Drake. But this revelation only offered more questions than answers, the biggest one more alarming than any other speculation you had gone through prior to this.

Why was the spirit of the Swamp so angry?

~~~~~

Tag List: @karlachs-soldier @serving-targaryen-realness @deltamoon666 @bogbutteronmycroissant

If you want to be tagged let me know :DDD

[hairstevington]

Freaky Friday (Steddie's Version)

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Summary: Dustin is fed up when his two friends, Eddie and Steve, hate each other for stupid reasons. The universe decides to bring them together by having them switch bodies until they get over themselves. Link to Ao3

Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5

Word Count: 7K, more chapters to come

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, slow(ish??) burn, canon universe (more or less) set before season 4, Dustin gets bullied at the beginning which is a bit sad but it's brief, body swap, angst, revenge, POV switching, Steddie both love Dustin so much, honestly just tons of fun lmao

A/N: A while back I made this post where I had a Steddie AU idea I never really got out of my head and then I started writing it and now I can't stop lmao. FYI this starts in third person Dustin POV but switches to Steve/Eddie midway! Please enjoy, I'll have it up on Ao3 soon probably like I do with everything else :)

Dustin had enough of this shit. 

He had been bummed that Steve graduated from Hawkins high the year before Dustin entered the ninth grade. Having Steve there would have been a buffer for Dustin, who - although he rarely admitted it - actually didn’t like being unpopular. As much as he hated being the victim of bullying, he hated the thought of changing himself even more - which is why he refused to. 

He showed up to his first day of high school in his Weird Al shirt, because he would be damned to give an inaccurate impression of himself. He knew that after graduation, he’d turn out better than all the other assholes at the school anyway. He was smarter than them, he was better than them. He could get through four years of their bullshit until he proved that. 

Although…Having Steve around would have made it a lot easier. 

But, whatever. Steve had graduated. Dustin still called him all the time, and they hung out every so often, but Dustin knew that nineteen year olds didn’t have a lot in common with fourteen year olds, at least not enough to hang out regularly. They were like brothers, more than anything, and they were in a weird spot. 

Thankfully, through some grace of God, Dustin met Eddie. 

It was bound to happen, considering Dustin had wanted to join the Hellfire Club anyway. He’s already informed the rest of the group - Mike and Lucas - so that the three of them could still play DnD together. Lucas had seemed hesitant, but that was to be expected. Things were changing. 

He missed Will. Will would have loved Hellfire, had he not been in California. 

Dustin met Eddie Munson at lunch - his first lunch in high school. The food Hawkins High served was mildly disturbing and likely lacked any nutritional value, so Dustin was grateful that his mother had kept up the tradition of packing him a lunch special for his first day. She even included chocolate pudding, since it was his favorite. 

Mike and Lucas weren’t going to be at lunch on the first day, because Lucas wanted to check out the basketball team, and Mike wanted to see if he could call El - she wasn’t starting school until the following week. This meant that Dustin was alone in the cafeteria, and he wasn’t entirely prepared to face the brutal sting of rejection, so he didn’t want to just pick a random table and try to make friends. He already had friends, they just weren’t there. 

He stopped in his tracks and scanned the room, pondering his next move. There was no way he’d sit with the jocks or the cheerleaders, and the rest of the tables were unrecognizable in terms of what cliques they represented. This was nothing like he’d seen in movies - he didn’t even really know who the popular ones were versus the unpopular ones. 

He must have been standing there for a bit too long, because suddenly he was nudged hard in the shoulder. 

“Move it, loser,” a guy twice his size said. “You’re in everybody’s way.”

“S-sorry,” Dustin apologized. He took a few steps backward, deciding to just start walking and see what happens, but then he bumped into someone else. 

“Jesus, kid,” another voice said. “You’re like a pinball.” 

Dustin looked up to see a tall, rather intimidating man with long, curly brown hair. He was dressed in denim and leather, the Hellfire logo splayed across his chest. He looked way too old to be a high school student, but way too scary to be a faculty member. 

Not scary in a dangerous way - Dustin had experienced enough real danger that most normal things didn’t faze him - but scary in a way where Dustin felt the person standing in front of him had some kind of power in the school. A reputation, at least, whether it be good or bad. 

“Welcome back, Freak,” another random student remarked at him as they walked past. Dustin watched as the enigmatic metalhead flipped the student off with zero hesitation.

Ah, so it was for sure a bad reputation. Noted. 

“So, I’m the school freak,” he said, theatrically bowing as he introduced myself. “Eddie. Eddie Munson. And you are…”

“Dustin Henderson,” he answered without a second thought.

“I was going to say -” Eddie continued, “- you are….wearing a Weird Al shirt. Bold move for your first day, Dustin Henderson.”

“How did you know it was my first day?” Dustin asked, grateful to be having some sort of civil conversation, even if he had no idea where it was going. 

“Just a hunch,” Eddie replied with a shrug. Dustin looked back at Eddie’s shirt. 

“You're in Hellfire?” he asked. Eddie grinned, then pointed at a table where a bunch of people were wearing the same shirts. 

“Hellfire is my pride and joy. We play a game called Dungeons and Dragons, have you heard of it?” Before Dustin could confirm, Eddie kept talking. “Of course you’ve heard of it, look at you. You’re one of us, I know it.” Eddie gestured for Dustin to follow him to the Hellfire table, which he gladly did. 

“Eddie, who’s this?” a member seated at the table asked when they approached. 

“This, Gareth, is Dustin, and he’s sitting with us today.” Eddie pointed at an available seat, then looped around to his own. Dustin noticed a textbook in front of Gareth and chimed in. 

“You’re taking chemistry?” he asked. Gareth nodded. “That’s cool. I love chemistry. I went to this awesome summer camp called Camp Know Where -”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Eddie interrupted. “Did you just say you love chemistry? What kind of kid actually enjoys that shit? Are you a masochist? I failed that class twice.” Eddie’s rambling was entertaining, to say the least. 

“Isn’t Camp Know Where that science program where all the geniuses go?” another person at the table asked.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie exclaimed dramatically. “Okay, Dustin Henderson. I will protect you, since you so desperately need the protection. In return, you will join Hellfire, and occasionally help me with homework because you’re obviously smarter than half the people in this school. Deal?”

“Only half?” Dustin joked - although, it wasn’t really a joke. Dustin knew for a fact he was smarter than at least 75% of the school. “Fine, I accept these terms. Can my friends Mike and Lucas join too?” Eddie rolled his eyes and sighed.

“You’re killing me,” he said. “Yeah, yeah. Bring all the Freshies in, I guess. No one will come near you if you stick with us, but you’ll avoid being stuffed in lockers at least.” That seemed like a good enough deal to Dustin, for now. “Alright, kid. Welcome to Hellfire.”

-

Dustin recounted this entire interaction with Steve the moment he’d gotten home from school. 

“Eugh, Hellfire?” Steve said over the phone, acting disgusted. “That club’s for nerds.”

“Earth to Steve, I am a nerd,” Dustin deadpanned. “And Eddie said -”

“Oh god, not Munson,” Steve groaned. “That guy’s trouble, I swear. Seriously, you should get out of this while you can.”

“And go where?” Dustin retorted, starting to get agitated. “It’s not like I can float through school like you did by joining all the sports teams. I’m gonna be made fun of either way, and you know it.” Steve was silent on the line for a bit, knowing that Dustin was right. 

“I wish I could be there to watch over you, ya know,” he said at last. 

“Yeah, I wish you could too, but I have Eddie at least.”

Eddie. Ugh. Steve hated that guy. He was always doing something weird and dramatic to try to get a reaction from people. 

“Yeah, okay. But I’ll kick his ass if he tries anything, alright?” Dustin laughed. 

“Sure you will, Buddy.” 

-

Mike and Lucas were far more terrified of Eddie than Dustin was. He knew why - Eddie had shown a bit of kindness that first day, but he wasn’t usually like that. Eddie was the kind of guy who loved attention, and he knew the best way for him to get it was through negative attention. He consistently made an ass of himself. 

Dustin enjoyed it. Mike and Lucas didn’t not enjoy it, but they still felt like he was unhinged. Maybe he was. Dustin didn’t think about it that much. 

Him and Eddie had bonded pretty quickly, especially since Dustin would hang around after lunch or club meetings to talk about homework. Eddie had a lot of questions, and he was kind of a horrible student. This was especially evident when Dustin discovered he was a third year senior, which explained why the guy looked so goddamn old. 

“Damn,” Dustin said once he found out. “You’re even older than Steve. Wait - you might know Steve actually. He graduated last year. Steve Harrington?”

Eddie Munson did an actual spit take with his soda. Dustin had only ever seen that in movies.

“No shit,” Eddie responded. “You know that asshole?”

“He’s not an asshole,” Dustin replied immediately, quick to defend his friend. “He’s awesome.”

Dustin opened his mouth to continue, but it was hard to explain why Steve was awesome when he had to leave Upside Down stuff out of it. He totally saved us from a bunch of Demodogs, and one time he got tortured for information underground by evil Russians. Dustin considered mentioning the time Steve protected the kids from Billy - that was unrelated to the secret world the group had been privy to - but, considering Hargrove’s death, it felt in bad taste to bring up now.

“So you’re trying to tell me that you’re friends with the guy?” Eddie asked suspiciously. “Why? I mean, why would he be friends with a kid so much younger than him?”

“Why are you?” Dustin retorted. Eddie chuckled. 

“Touche. But I know why I’m friends with a bunch of kids, why is he?”

“It’s complicated,” Dustin replied with a shrug. “But Steve’s pulled through for me a lot. He’s cool. You should give him a chance.”

“Give him a chance? I don’t ever see him. Are you trying to have us all hang out for a slumber party or something?” Dustin shook his head and was about to respond, but Eddie was on a roll (as usual). “Listen, Henderson. You’re cool and all, and I’m glad you joined our little clan here. But you wouldn’t want to hang out with me outside of this hellhole we call school, and I certainly wouldn’t want to hang out with Steve goddamn Harrington.”

There was a definitive finality to his statement that let Dustin know there was no point in arguing. But it did leave him wondering what exactly had happened to cause them to dislike each other so much.

-

Dustin blew through his first few weeks of school like this. He’d visit Steve and mention Eddie, and Steve would complain about how Eddie was a bad influence and would probably get arrested before graduation, if he ever did graduate. Any time Dustin brought up Steve in Hellfire, Eddie would groan and complain about the forced conformity and bullshit societal infrastructure at the high school that separated the good from the bad and blah blah blah. Dustin probably had that speech damn near memorized. Eddie seemed to hate the jocks, and for decent enough reason - the jocks hated him. And Dustin knew that Steve was kind of a dick in high school, but he’d changed now. 

So, yeah. He’d had enough. He just thought that if maybe he could get the two of them in the same room, they’d start to understand why Dustin liked each of them so much. They were both good guys who were protective of him, and he wanted them to get along, dammit!

Steve always went to the basketball games to support Lucas and the rest of the team, which was nice. On nights where the games coincided with Hellfire, Steve would drive Dustin home after. 

On one of these nights, Dustin hatched a bit of a plan. Usually, Hellfire got out before the game was over, so Dustin would meet Steve outside of the gym. This time, Dustin intentionally stayed late to help Eddie clean up and talk his ear off about his upcoming biology report. Eddie seemed to be in decent enough spirits, fresh off another successful campaign, and Steve was in a good mood because he now had a job again with Robin. It gave him money to take women out on dates, which he did often. 

As Dustin chatted with Eddie, there was a pounding on the door. 

“Hey, Dipshit!” Steve called from the other side. “Are you in there? Did Munson kill you or something?” Dustin grimaced as he gaged Eddie’s reaction to the comment, but thankfully Eddie seemed amused more than anything. 

“Sure did,” Eddie shouted back with a grin. “Bite me, Harrington.” Dustin rolled his eyes. 

“I’m fine, Steve!” he yelled. “Come in!” 

“You’re inviting him into my sacred space?” Eddie asked with feigned offense. 

“Your sacred space?” Dustin mocked. “You mean the drama club room? Based on the shit I’ve heard, it’s the least sacred spot on school property.” Eddie was laughing as Steve opened the door and came in. 

“You guys making fun of me?” he asked, his chest puffed out in his silly Steve way. Dustin didn’t find Steve or Eddie that intimidating, because he saw right through their tough guy act. They were both goofballs. 

“Always,” Eddie replied, returning to his cleaning tasks. “So, you’re Dustin’s ride home huh? How’d you guys become friends in the first place?” Steve hesitated, facing the same issue Dustin had when he’d been asked the same thing. Thankfully, he’d had more time to prepare since then. 

“Steve used to date Mike’s sister,” Dustin stated plainly. Steve opened his mouth to object to the sharing of that information, but then Dustin added - “And then I annoyed him into being my friend.” 

“That’s not really -” Steve grimaced, then realized that was the best version of the story either of them could provide. “Yeah, okay. The kid really worms his way into your heart.”

“I know, right?” Eddie replied absentmindedly. Dustin was thrilled to see them agree on something. It was a moment where he hoped they’d realize they could actually get along. “I remember when you dated Nancy Wheeler. I’m surprised it didn’t work out, since you were so perfect for each other.”

Okay, so maybe they wouldn’t get along. The way Eddie had said the word perfect almost seemed like an insult. To Eddie, it was. Dustin noticed Steve tensing and felt the need to mediate. 

“Anyway,” he said, searching for something, anything, to redirect the conversation. He wasn’t sure when he was gonna get them in the same room again, so he couldn’t just leave. “How was the game, Steve?” Eddie rolled his eyes when Steve lit up again. 

“We lost,” he answered. Dustin noticed Eddie hiding a smirk under one of his ringed hands. “It’s a shame they keep Lucas on the bench, although he’s a Freshman so it makes sense I guess. I mean, that’s how it always has been.” 

“You mean to tell me,” Eddie interjected. Oh boy. “- that a high school sports team values a players popularity over their talent?” He scoffed. “Probably why you got so much airtime, right Harrington?”

Oh Jesus Christ this is bad. This is going badly. Steve was clearly offended by that comment, and rightfully so. 

“Eddie, can you just - be nice?” Dustin pleaded. 

“Since when am I nice?” Eddie shot back, picking the last of his papers up and stuffing them in his bag. 

“You’re nice to me,” Dustin pointed out. 

“Yeah, because I like you,” Eddie replied, “-and as I’ve said to you multiple times, I don’t like him.” Eddie gestured vaguely in Steve’s direction. 

“What did I ever even do to you, Munson?” Steve questioned, finally deciding to stand up for himself. “Seriously man, you’re being a dick.” 

“I know what you think of me,” Eddie answered plainly. “I’m just calling it like I see it.” 

“Okay, well this has been sufficiently awkward and horrible,” Dustin sighed, finally giving up. “I was wrong, you two are hopeless. Eddie, Steve’s right. You’re being a dick.” That accusation actually did seem to have an effect on Eddie, even though he tried not to let it show. “Steve, let’s go home.”

On the walk to the car, Steve had already seemed to brush the whole interaction off. 

“I told you that guy’s no good,” he said. “Thanks for defending me, by the way.” 

“I promise he’s not usually like that,” Dustin assured him. But, come to think of it, that kind of was how Eddie usually spoke to people, especially the popular kids. But Dustin was in Hellfire, he was one of them, as Eddie said, and he treated the freaks far differently and with more respect. 

His two cool older guy friends were bound to hate each other, he realized. No getting around it, no point in trying to change it.

_______________________________________

Eddie had gone to Family Video countless times over the years, because what else were people supposed to do in Hawkins, Indiana? It was cheaper and involved less people than going to the movies, and it was something to entertain him while he was home. 

Imagine his surprise when he walked into the store one day and saw none other than Steve Harrington behind the counter. 

The green vest Steve was forced to wear was a lot more masculine than the get-up he’d worn at Scoops Ahoy over the Summer. Eddie had the pleasure of seeing him a few times at the mall in his little short shorts and stupid hat, and it was an image he sorely missed. Seeing King Steve pathetically dressed and striking out with women post-graduation? Delicious. 

He’d only let himself visit once, although he may have done it again had the mall not burned down. But alas, Steve’s sailor outfit days were short-lived, and now he was back to being the same old boring jock he always had been - just now, he didn’t even play sports. 

Eddie may have been in his third go-around of senior year, but at least he wasn’t pretending he was someone he wasn’t. He embraced his freak nature, and had grown comfortable in it. Life hadn’t been kind enough to him to give him the option of the niceties people like Steve took advantage of. 

“Hey, man,” Steve greeted him as he entered the door. He was so nonchalant about it, like he didn’t even care about Eddie’s presence. Eddie didn’t care too much about Steve being there, except he did. There was a fire in Eddie's dislike for Steve that seemed one sided. Steve being almost indifferent made Eddie hate him even more. “Let me know if I can help you find anything.” Eddie ignored Steve’s surprisingly sincere customer service and went directly to the row of movies he always went to. He scanned the selection - it looked about the same as it had the last ten times he’d reviewed it - then picked one of his favorites and brought it to the counter. 

Steve didn’t say anything more than that as he went through the rental process. It was all over in less than two minutes, and Eddie was mildly disappointed in the lack of drama. If Steve wasn’t an asshole, then what? Was Eddie the asshole all along?

Yeah. Yeah, he absolutely was.

He was on his way out when he stopped, then spun on his heels to face Steve at the counter again. 

“Listen, man,” he began. Steve looked up from the pile of VHS tapes he was sorting, seemingly unbothered by any of this. “I’m sorry about, uh - about the other night.”

“Thanks,” Steve responded with a nod. Eddie could never really just leave things alone, though. 

“Dustin was right,” he continued. 

“The little shit usually is.” Steve had returned his gaze to the movies in front of him. 

“Yeah,” Eddie chuckled, a bit too forcefully in an attempt to ease the tension. “I’ll see you around, then.”

“See ya,” Steve responded. Eddie pouted, not satisfied with how that went, and he wasn’t sure why. But whatever. He was gonna go home, get high, and watch the movie. A good night was ahead. 

He paused at the door when the phone rang, pretending to get distracted by a cardboard cutout near the window. 

“Family Video,” Steve said on the phone. “Woah, shit. Dustin, calm down. Where are you?” This got Eddie’s attention, and he raced back to the counter. “Okay, I’ll figure something out.” 

“What’s up with Henderson?” Eddie asked, his concern growing. 

“I guess some guys are picking on him. He called from the side of the road on a pay phone near the power plant.”

“Jesus, what did they do to him? Is he okay?”

“He’s great, that’s why he called,” Steve shot back sarcastically. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I don’t know if I can just leave my shift since I just started this job like three days ago. Shit.”

“I’ll go,” Eddie offered. “The plant is right by my place anyway. Don’t sweat it.” Steve eyed Eddie suspiciously, then nodded.

“Okay, I guess. Just - can you call here once you know he’s safe?”

“Sure thing, Harrington.” It was a brief, genuine moment between the two of them, both desperate to protect the tiny child they each adored so much. 

And with that, Eddie bolted out of Family Video, to his van, and towards the plant. 

Dustin had apparently been chased down and recaptured after he called Steve, because Eddie found him tied to a pole a bit further down the street. 

“Eddie!” he yelled once they locked eyes. “Get me out of this shit!” 

Dustin was doing his damndest to break free from the binds, but it was no use. Eddie took his pocket knife out from where he always kept them tucked in his jeans and got to work, successfully freeing the little twerp once he stopped squirming. 

“Who did this? Where are they?” Eddie felt the heat rising in his chest, up his neck, and to his cheeks. “How’d they even get a hold of you? Why are you all the way over here? What -”

“Jesus, Eddie,” Dustin interrupted him. “It doesn’t matter. I just wanna go home.”

Eddie looked Dustin up and down and noticed a bruise forming on his jaw. 

“Come on, my trailer is right there,” Eddie said, pointing in the vague direction of Forest Hills. “Let’s get you cleaned up first.” 

_______________________________________

Steve tried to wait idly by while he entrusted a guy like Eddie to go rescue Dustin. He tried to do the responsible thing for once and stay at his stupid job so he could keep said job. He tried not to think about how Eddie could have been behind this whole thing, for all he knew. Some sick twisted mind game. He tried not to think about any of that. 

He lasted two minutes before he called Robin and begged her to fill in. She accepted after a few minutes of persuasion - after all, Steve didn’t ask her for things very often, and he always drove her around, so she kinda owed him. It took her about fifteen agonizing minutes to get there, and just as she walked in the door, the phone rang. 

“Family video,” he greeted, hoping a familiar voice would be on the other end. 

“Steve, it’s me,” Dustin’s voice called through the phone. “I’m at Eddie’s. I’m okay.”

“Where does he live?” Steve asked, still hellbent on leaving. 

“At the trailer park. You don’t have to -”

Steve dropped the phone and ran out the door, not even bothering to hang it back up on the receiver. He headed to Forest Hills, and was thankfully able to locate Eddie’s trailer pretty quickly due to the beat-up red van parked in front of it. He stumbled out of his own car as soon as it stopped, nearly forgetting to take his keys from the ignition. Maybe it was silly for him to worry about Dustin so much, but after what they’d been through together, Steve had learned to treat everything as life or death. 

The door pushed open from the stress of his knock alone, so he let himself in. 

Eddie’s place was small, messy, and smelled of smoke. But, it was clear the place was a home. Steve’s house was a hundred times bigger and somehow contained less. 

“Dustin?” Steve called as he walked deeper into the living room. “Eddie?”

“Bathroom!” Steve followed the voice down the hall to where Eddie was tending to a bruise forming on Dustin’s jaw. 

“Who did this? Where are they?” Eddie chuckled, and Steve almost lashed out because of it, but then Eddie explained. 

“That’s exactly what I said when I found him, Harrington.” Steve took note of the care that Eddie was actually putting into his first aid. It was surprisingly gentle. “Good luck getting him to rat the bastards out.”

“I told you, it doesn’t matter,” Dustin groaned. 

“Whoever it was, we can take ‘em,” Steve insisted. He noticed Eddie smirk at the inclusion of them both taking the bullies down.

“You idiots!” Dustin snapped, standing up from where he was sitting on the lip of the bathtub. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want you to ‘take ‘em.’ It was embarrassing enough to have them pick on me, I don’t need you guys to go down there and humiliate me even more.”

“We’re just trying to protect you, man,” Eddie replied. 

“I don’t need protection!” Dustin shouted, causing Eddie and Steve to back up. “My bike isn’t far. I’m going home. Eddie, thanks for cutting me down. Steve, thanks for leaving work when I asked you to. You’re both really good friends, and I appreciate it. I just want to go home.” 

It broke Steve’s heart to know that Dustin was getting picked on. He just wanted to help, but he understood the whole pride thing. Steve had fought many uphill battles in the past in the name of saving face. Ironically, his face was usually what took the brunt of the consequences. 

“You sure you’re gonna be -” Eddie began to ask the question before Steve was able to, but stopped himself when Dustin shot a glare at them both. “Right, okay. Can you just call when you get home okay?”

“Me too,” Steve added. 

“Okay, mom and dad,” Dustin replied, rolling his eyes. “Or, Steve could stay here ten minutes and then I’d only have to make one call. Unless you guys will murder each other by then.”

“Jury’s out,” Eddie muttered. Steve felt like it was a joke, but also Eddie gave off psycho killer vibes, so anything was possible. “Sure, Harrington. You can stay here until he gets home.”

Steve wanted to think of a witty comeback, but his head was empty. He could stay, and then he figured he should get back to work. 

“Fine,” he agreed. “But the moment you walk through your door, got it?”

“Yes, dad,” Dustin deadpanned. 

“I thought I was dad,” Eddie cut in. 

“You think I’m mom?” 

“Ten minutes, no murders,” Dustin reminded them before heading out the door. There was a beat of silence before Steve and Eddie turned to each other once again. 

“So, we’re definitely gonna go to that plant and kick some ass, right?” Eddie asked, his tone completely devoid of its usual teasing. Steve smirked. 

“Finally, we’re on the same page,�� he replied. 

Ten minutes later, Dustin called as promised. Seconds after the call disconnected, Steve and Eddie made a beeline for the front door. 

-

It was getting dark, even though it was a bit too early for the sun to set. Clouds were forming in the sky, a bleak omen of the impending storm that neither Eddie nor Steve had prepared for. 

They walked to the plant in silence, because what was there to be said? They were going to tolerate each other to defeat the common enemy. 

A group of misfits were in fact still camped out under one of the towers. They were all smoking and laughing and spouting nonsensical vitriol about the student body - kids like Dustin, as well as the women of the school. If Eddie and Steve weren’t heated already, the few comments they’d overheard sent them over the edge. 

“Hey!” Steve shouted, cutting one of the guys off. Five pairs of eyes flickered over to the pair, who’d realized once they were in the situation that they were vastly outnumbered. 

“Steve Harrington?” One of the boys questioned. “What are you doing over here?”

“And with Munson?” Another added. “I never thought I’d see the two of you together.”

“Neither did I,” Steve and Eddie said in unison. They glanced at each other, awkwardly acknowledging that they’d said the same thing at the same time, then hastily moved on. 

“Is this about the boy?” The leader of the group was probably a Junior, and shorter than both Eddie and Steve, but he had enough audacity to make up for it. 

“Found him tied to a pole,” Eddie reminded them through gritted teeth. This was news to Steve, who’s blood boiled at the thought. A few years prior, Tommy and Carol used to do shit like that. Maybe not to that extent, but it was all the same. 

“Why do you care so much about that dumbass anyway?” The leader (was his name Chad?) asked. 

“He’s totally harmless,” Steve said.

“Us on the other hand…” Eddie interjected. 

“Oh yeah,” Steve agreed. “I’ve been known to throw a punch, and Eddie over here  is actually insane, I’m pretty sure.”

“Aw, thanks man,” Eddie grinned devilishly, smacking Steve on the back. “Our point being, you stay away from Henderson and we won’t break anything, okay?”

Thunder cracked in the distance, followed by a flash of lightning. 

“Yeah, okay,” Chad mocked. “We’re not scared of you.” Eddie and Steve looked at each other, shrugged, then both trudged forward. Eddie took Chad while Steve went for the one who appeared to be second in command. They each pushed them against the metal pillars, gripping them by the collar of their shirts, and drawing their other hand back into a fist. 

“How about now?” Eddie asked with darkness in his eyes. 

“Let’s get out of here,” one of the others in the group said, and within moments the other three bullies scampered away into the night. 

“Some loyal friends you got there,” Eddie teased. Steve was getting agitated at how many stupid quips Eddie had. Was he supposed to be all quippy too? Was that the secret to winning one of these goddamn things?

Thunder rumbled again, this time much louder than before. Rain started to fall hard against their skin, distracting them enough for the two pathetic bullies to slip from their gasps and follow their friends out of sight. 

“Shit,” Steve groaned, realizing that they’d just made a fool of themselves. “Not only did we not hurt them, but they’re definitely going to tell people about it, and then -”

“Is that seriously what you’re worried about right now?” Eddie interrupted, the rage in him still burning. “Your reputation? Claaassic Steve Harrington, always thinking about himself.”

“That’s not what I was saying, asshole,” Steve responded. “Dustin’s going to find out, and then -”

“So what if he does?” Eddie asked. Steve was sick and tired of being interrupted. “If they mess with him again, then -”

“Could you let me finish a goddamn sentence? Holy shit,” Steve exclaimed, thoroughly irritated. The rain was falling steadily now, the drops heavy as they hit him. His hair was already starting to feel weighed down to his scalp. Perfect. Just perfect. “Dustin told us not to do anything, and then we did, okay? So what do you think that little shrimp’s gonna do when he finds out, huh?”

“He’ll handle it, Harrington,” Eddie shot back. “He’s a big boy.”

“Oh, come on!” Steve groaned. “Don’t give me that bullshit when ten minutes ago you dropped everything to rescue him like he was some lost puppy.”

“Because he was tied to a pole!” Eddie responded. 

“That would have been helpful to know before we headed out here, by the way.” Steve put his hands on his hips and planted his feet in the mud. It was way too late to worry about his appearance, now. 

“Oh, Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie sighed, taking a step towards Steve. “You’re just as awful as I thought you were.”

“Oh, really?” Steve said, taking another step forward to meet Eddie. “Back atcha.”

“Fuck off.”

“Fuck off.”

There was another loud crack of thunder as both of them shoved the other at the same time, causing them both to stumble backwards until they each hit one of the metal pillars extending down from the plant. 

A flash of light. A quick, searing pain. Then, they each dropped to their knees and fell into the mud. 

-

It felt like a sudden hangover, and a bad one. Eddie opened his eyes and cringed at the feeling of mud under his fingernails and up his arms. 

For a moment, he’d forgotten how he ended up on the ground. It felt like he was somewhere different, and he wasn’t sure why. He sat up, extremely disoriented, and then focused on a similar crumpled heap across from him. It took a second for Eddie to make out Steve’s features in the dark, but then his head angled upwards, their eyes met, and everything got a whole lot more complicated. 

“Steve…” Eddie began, speaking slowly. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Why the hell do you look like me, man?”

The man across from him had the same features Eddie had come to know in his own reflection - the same style, same hair, same everything, but no - that didn’t make any sense. 

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” the man replied. The man, who answered to Steve, but couldn’t possibly be. No, Eddie was dreaming. He’d done some hallucinogenic and forgot and now he was tripping. That had to be the case. 

They both stood up, mirroring each other, and for a moment Eddie thought that maybe that’s all this was. Some trick of the light. Maybe, there was a mirror at the power plant for some reason, and he was just staring at himself. Sure, the other guy responded to him, but he couldn’t think about that.

He waved at himself, but the guy across from him didn’t wave back. There went the mirror theory. 

It was still raining, but it had lightened up quite a bit. The two men took a few tentative steps towards each other, their eyes adjusting. 

“So, this is…I mean, we are…” Eddie fumbled over words that didn’t make sense. 

“What kind of weird cult shit did you do to me?” Steve accused, his voice rising. “Did you drug me? Sacrifice me to the devil or something?”

“Dude, are you fucking serious right now?” Eddie groaned, throwing his head back. “I didn’t do shit.”

“Then what happened?” Steve snapped. “How did we - Like, you’re seeing this too, right?”

“Yeah, I’m seeing it.” Eddie finally took a moment to look down, noticing a vastly different wardrobe than the one he remembered putting on. 

Including a green vest. 

“Holy shit,” Steve said. It was weird hearing his voice with Steve’s words. 

The idea of saying it out loud - dude, we switched bodies - seemed too batshit insane to consider. So, naturally, Eddie did what he knew best. 

“No. Nope. Not happening.” he shook his head and took off towards his trailer. 

“Hey. Hey!” Eddie’s own voice echoed behind him, followed by footsteps that got louder and louder as Eddie desperately tried to get away. He didn’t even look back until he was safely in his trailer again, the feeling of home making him feel slightly more at ease. “Dude, we gotta figure this out.” Steve followed him in, of course. 

“Why? Why do we have to? Why can’t I just shower and go to sleep and hopefully wake up from this nightmare?”

“Because I don’t think we’re gonna wake up,” Steve said with a shrug. “And because if you shower right now you’re gonna see my dick, and so I think we should, like, talk first.” Eddie barked out a bitter laugh.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Harrington. Would you feel better if I bought you dinner first?” He continued to walk down the hall to his bathroom, where first aid supplies were still strewn about, and that’s when he caught himself in the mirror.

Sure enough, Steve Harrington stared back at him. He looked a little worse for wear with his hair wet and disheveled and streaks of mud on his face, but no amount of dirt could change the pretty boy Steve was and always would be. He nearly spat at the image. Eddie’s familiar figure joined him in the bathroom, where they stood shoulder to shoulder and stared at themselves for an absurd amount of time. It was the closest they’d ever been to each other for more than a few fleeting seconds, but they were too stunned to do anything about their proximity. 

“Okay, so…” Steve said, watching Eddie’s mouth move as he said it.

“I’m you,” Eddie responded, finishing the thought. 

“And I’m you,” Steve finished. Their eyes stayed focused on their reflections for a while longer. How long exactly, it was tough to say. 

“So, what the fuck do we do now, then?” Eddie asked, finally breaking his gaze to look at Steve - er, himself, he guessed. 

What did they do now? That was certainly the question. 

____________________________

Steve had gotten used to weird shit happening to him, but this was a whole new world of weird. 

“I guess…” Steve searched for a plan, but he had no semblance of one. His head was completely empty. Probably because I’m using Eddie’s head, he thought to himself. “I should call Robin and tell her I’m not coming back to work.”

“You mean I should call Robin, since I am you now apparently.” Steve scoffed.

“You’re not me, alright? You just look like me, for some reason,” he argued. “Maybe we should call Dustin.”

“Yeah, because he’s soooo happy with us right now,” Eddie responded. “What do we say when he asks us what happened? We did the thing he told us not to do, and now we’re facing the consequences.”

“Consequences?” Steve repeated. “No, no. On any other day, in any other town, we would have done what we did and nothing would have happened. This isn’t a consequence, this is just my goddamn luck.”

“You’re acting like this is just any regular day for you,” Eddie complained. “Do you body swap with your enemies often?” Steve shot him a glare. The actual answer of, no but I’ve had a bunch of other weird shit happen, was on the tip of his tongue. If only Eddie knew what was really going on in Hawkins. Steve thought Eddie probably had his head up his own ass too much to notice, anyway. “Fine. I’ll call Robin.”

“Don’t say anything I wouldn’t, okay?” Steve warned, suddenly terrified at the power Eddie had to do some damage if he wanted to. 

“Don’t worry, I know exactly what to say.” Eddie went to his phone and dialed the number to the video store. “Hi, Robin. It’s me, your coworker, Steeeeve Harrington.” 

Great start. Jesus. 

“Dude,” Steve whined, nudging Eddie’s shoulder. “I don’t sound like that.”

“Yeah, I’m still at Eddie’s,” he continued on the phone. “Dustin’s okay. Can you finish my shift?” Huh. After the playfully performative introduction, Eddie seemed to actually act normal on the phone. “Great, thanks a bunch.” Just when Steve thought they were in the clear, Eddie tagged on a final line. “See ya later, Sweetheart,” followed by a bunch of kissing noises. 

Steve wrestled the phone from ‘Steve’ and slammed it against the receiver. 

“What the hell was that?”

“That -” Eddie said with a grin, “- was fun.” Steve’s eyes narrowed as anger began coursing through his veins. Anger, mixed with fear. Fear of this guy he hated, who now had full control of his life. 

“If you mess with my life, Munson, I swear to god -”

“What?” Eddie cut him off, barely fazed. “What are you gonna do? Get me back? Harrington, I’ve got nothing to lose. I’m already the school freak, nobody gives a shit what I do.” 

He had a fair point. Steve scrambled to think of a way, any way, he could get under Eddie’s skin the way Eddie was under his. 

“You have Hellfire,” he blurted out. Steve knew from Dustin just how much Eddie loved that stupid club. Based on Eddie’s reaction, Steve had made the right call. “I could tank it,” he continued. “Give up your title as dungeon manager or whatever.”

“Dungeon Master,” Eddie corrected him through gritted teeth. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would,” Steve insisted. “If you mess with me, I’ll mess right back.”

They stared at each other, knowing that each of them were serious. 

“Fine,” Eddie agreed. “I will play nice.” He stuck his hand out in front of him for Steve to shake. Steve hesitantly did so, not sure if he believed a word out of Eddie’s mouth. 

He was right to be mistrusting. Eddie had the fingers of his other hand crossed behind his back.

_____________________________________

[the-whumpening]

Tigerverse | Masterpost

Context Post

All fics involving Ash, his party, and Ozmund. These fics often feature intense whump, so please read content warnings carefully.

Ash's party originated from a Dungeons and Dragons game I'm a part of, and I have permission from those involved to write about their characters. The Caged Tiger was written specifically to explain what happened to Ash while I was playing a different character for a while. The canon here is a little complicated, so I'll try to keep it as simple as possible:

The Caged Tiger: 100% canon, both here on the blog and in the DnD game. The bonus chapter is not game canon, but canon to the blog.

The Pet Tiger: 100% NOT canon. An AU of The Caged Tiger.

The Freed Tiger: Mostly not canon to the DnD game. Call it "blog canon" for now. In future chapters, I intend to reunite it with the game canon (or as close as possible without dumping extra unnecessary exposition).

Extras: All of the extra fics so far are from the original game canon except for Part 6. That part is also not blog canon, so it's labeled "not canon." Anything new will be labeled accordingly.

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The Caged Tiger | Original (DnD Canon) Story | around 9k words total | Finished Contains: captivity, torture, gaslighting and mental abuse, dehumanization, medical/lab rat whumpee, violence and gore Ash, a were-tiger barbarian, is captured by a powerful wizard with a grudge against him. He just has to hold out until his friends rescue him, right? It won't be too long . . . right? Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 (Final) | Bonus [Ash's Rescue] (not canon) Read on Ao3

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The Freed Tiger | Recovery Arc (Blog Canon) | currently around 8.3k words | Ongoing Contains: recovery whump, descriptions of past whump, emotional/mental distress, flashbacks and hallucinations Ash has finally been rescued by his friends and is returning home. But how free is he really, with Ozmund's conditioning still permeating his every thought? Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | ... | Read on Ao3

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The Pet Tiger | NSFWhump AU | currently about 14k words | Ongoing Contains: dehumanization, pet whump, intimate whumper, explicit noncon/dubcon (in later chapters), emotional abuse, captivity, humiliation Ash expected anger from Ozmund; he expected to be killed, frankly. But Ozmund had other ideas in mind. If he couldn't have Evius, he'd just have to have the next best thing. Prologue/Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | ... Read on Ao3

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Extras | Other fics from before Ash's capture or in a different canon | Parts marked with * contain sexual content.

DnD Canon Extras:

Dating Uma: Part 1 | Part 2* | Part 6* (not canon) Relationship with Evius: Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5*

Blog Canon Extras:

TBD

Read on Ao3

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[cookierunauprompts]

https://www.tumblr.com/cookierunauprompts/741012613726633984/great-now-i-cant-help-but-think-of-one-dnd-au?source=share same anon!

Yes kingdoms and cookies! Aaaaaaalso I think white lily and dark enchantress would be separate in this because of well...spoilers below and marked where spoilers are. but idea basically is like for the specific prompt if you want it...well got two prompts and idk which one you'd wanna do first so I'll list them both (also forgot to mention...imagine it being a big dnd club and the characters who arent in that specific part of the campaign like in the beast yeast chapter, when the other ancients arent with pure vanilla, they are gathered around the table to watch and eat snacks and basically be giving advice....oooor for the cookies who decided to watch to try to be the devil on someone's shoulder "hey, you should try blank!"):

Potential prompt 1: the session where y/n is like "ok guys! Today, shadow milk will be joining us and he already got his character sheet...and he wrote himself as...very crazy, which isn't surprising since he is crazy himself! Sooooo this should be fun!"

Potential prompt 2: the session of the final battle...the prologue to the campaign aaaaand maybe when golden cheese rolls her nat one...curious who would laugh buuuut I bet gingerbrave at the table might be like "OH MY WITCHES, GOLDEN CHEESE IM SO SORRY!!!"

Keep reading if you want spoilers:

Ok, I warned ya!

The fact that later on in the story, it is revealed that somehow white lily cookie and dark enchantress cookie are two separate people...surprising, I know!

Requested Prompts #37 - ✦

" Alright everyone, that brings us to the end of the Dark Flour War." You say, glancing around the table at the cookies gathered. A collective sigh of relief swept through them, it had been a rough session, that was for sure. " Now then," You say, clasping your hands together. " I'd like you all to roll for the status of your kingdoms, just a plain d20, aight?" " But what about me?" White Lily Cookie speaks up, ah, right, technically she didn't have a kingdom of her own. Then again, the two of you did have something planned. " Uh... Roll for your own safety." You advised, and you could soon hear the clatter of dice upon the table. " Natural Twenty! Woohoo!" You could hear Hollyberry Cookie cheer, and you gave her a small applause for what was her first and only nat20 of the session. She'd gotten close with some 19's, but no twenties. " Alright, that leaves the Hollyberry Kingdom with pretty mild, yet very fixable damages. Very few died to the flames of the war, and it's overall decent." You explain, referencing your small chart that you had prepped for a moment before looking back up. " Who wants to say their roll next?" " I will." Dark Cacao spoke up, taking a moment to glance down at his roll. " ...Fourteen. Is that good?" " It's good enough," You begin, checking your chart. " There are some decent damages, nothing too broken though considering your kingdom's defenses, and some casualties. But overall the Dark Cacao Kingdom should be able to bounce back." Dark Cacao gave a nod of approval, meanwhile Pure Vanilla Cookie was next to speak. " I got a ten, how well off is the Vanilla Kingdom?" He asked, you could just sense the nervousness in his voice. Though all of you knew that it wouldn't be doing any good considering that the final battle took place there. " Hm... Well, after the war; The Vanilla Kingdom is mostly destroyed and abandoned... Though a lot of the citizens were able to escape via airship." You explain, catching sight of Pure Vanilla's expression melting into some form of relief. Even though it was just a game of Kingdoms and Cookies, it couldn't help but feel real to a degree. That's just how good of a dungeon master you are! " Um.. I got a five." White Lily then speaks up, and you already know your response. " Comatose in a glass coffin over at the Faerie Kingdom." You say almost immediately before turning your attention to Golden Cheese Cookie, who was staring at her dice rather intensely. " Golden Cheese Cookie? How about you?" Golden Cheese Cookie didn't respond, simply just staring down at her dice, what she rolled, dumbfoundedly. The staring continued for a moment before Golden Cheese slumped on the table, head in her hands. " ... natural one." She whispered as quiet as a mouse. " I'm sorry, what did you say?" You asked, not having quite heard her. " I got a natural one..." Golden Cheese admitted, and now you felt sorry for what you were about to tell her. " Oh, I'm very sorry for your loss." You begin, " The Golden Cheese Kingdom... For as far as you know, is completely destroyed. It's people, your friends there, your treasures. All of them... are gone." Golden Cheese Cookie looked devastated beyond words, meanwhile Dark Cacao Cookie offered some comfort in the for of a few pats on the back. Due to the fact that he was the closest to Golden Cheese in their positions on the table.

[total-serene560]

Fic Summary: A movie night, a DnD campaign, a Halloween party, an unhappy compromise, a rejection, and a letter. Mike and Will spend senior year trying to navigate the past, the future, and a growing tension between them that threatens to upend their friendship.

(A post-ST2 AU)

Ch.2 Snippet:

Mike breathes out, and Will starts to get up as he says, “Hey, let me drive you.” “No, it’s okay,” Will insists. “It’s raining like crazy out there,” Mike says. “I don’t…” Will trails off, he doesn’t know how to get out of this situation, “It’s fine, Mike.” “Seriously, just- please?” Will stares at the floor, shaking his head, “Don’t you have to go home?” “No,” Mike says, “Dinner’s not 'til seven.” “Oh,” Will says, and then he realizes he’s not gonna be able to avoid being alone with him any longer, so he looks over at Mike, who has his hand gripped tightly around the strap of his ratty old backpack as he stands there with his jaw clenched, looking all for the world like he just offered to defuse a bomb, and he nods, “Okay.” “Okay,” Mike says, like he’s bracing himself, “Okay."

New chapter is out! This time we get Will's POV!

tagging: @foodiewithdahoodie @sparks-olivarpente @maru-chu @greenfiend @booksandpaperss @magentamee @doriandrifting @itsacleanmachine (if you wanna be added or removed from the tag list lmk!)

[xoxoladyaz]

Steddie Bigbang #177: Infernally Yours is HERE!

Finally, after months of work I am SO HAPPY to start publishing my contribution to @steddiebang, a post-Season 3 AU in which Hopper doesn't go to Russia, the Byers family stays in Hawkins, and Steve Harrington finally agrees to play DnD with Hellfire. Chapters 1 and 2 are up today, chapters 3 and 4 will go up on the 9th, and the last two chapters (and the epilogue) will be posted on the 16th.

Here's the link to the story on Ao3 and a preview below :) I can't wait to see what you all think!

Listen. Steve Harrington knew that he had some sins to pay for, okay? He was kind of a stuck-up shit for most of high school and while he didn’t go out of his way to, like, ruin anybody’s day – cough, cough, Tommy Hagan – he also didn’t really reach out to anyone who needed help either. He’d led on a lot of girls before Nance, too, and if judging by the fact that the only girls he dated these days wanted a good time and not a long time, well, he had some work to do on the whole “relationship” and “finding everlasting love” front. But he’s done the work to be better! Granted, a lot of the work consisted of him getting beaten up and/or tortured by other people while protecting a group of unthankful little shitheads, but it’s still progress. And, not to brag, but he got Robin Buckley as a best friend out of the whole thing, so really, Steve Harrington’s not doing so bad on the whole “redemption” thing, thank you.

So why, why does the universe continue to torment him?

“ – and that’s when Lorcan Fairwood used Horde Breaker to fire into the pack of gnolls, dealing five points of damage to Kazar, the gnoll pack leader, and then Eddie said - ”

“Dingus,” Robin hissed, knocking her elbow into Steve’s and dislodging him from his thoughts. “Get Dingus Junior to knock-it-off with this dork talk before I knock him into the recent returns.”

Groaning, Steve rubbed his palms against his dry eyes and braced for impact. “We got it, Henderson, Munson’s the best thing to ever happen to Dorks and Demons - ”

“ – Dungeons and Dragons, Steve, I know that you know that’s what it’s called - ”

“ – and as much as I like hanging out with you, dude, these multi-hour play-by-plays aren’t convincing me that this nerd shit is, like, fun or whatever,” he finished with a sigh. Robin shot him an exasperated but grateful look and then slid her newest stack of freshly rewound returns his way.

“Shelving time, doinkus.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve rolled his eyes and reached for the stack.

Dustin snorted and kicked at the front of his desk, which, the attitude on this kid, seriously. “Guess Eddie was right.” 

Steve froze. What the hell does that mean?

“What the hell does that mean?”

Dustin snorted again before spinning to face Steve, his hands falling to his hips. “Eddie said says that jocks only care about other jocks. And jock stuff.”

“Hey, okay, first of all, there’s only one of us that’s actually saved your life multiple times and it’s not Eddie Munson, so jot that down,” Steve snapped, dropping the tapes back onto the counter (and ignoring Robin’s yelp as they tumbled everywhere). “And second, just because we don’t have the same interests doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, man. That’s a shit thing to say.”

Henderson folded inward, his eyes dropping towards the ground and voice losing its normal intensity. “Sorry, Steve.”

“And third – look, Henderson,” Steve sighed at Dustin’s drooping. (Look, he was a little shithead with the biggest ego in every room, but he was Steve’s little shithead and he hated to see him upset – even when it was his own fault.) “Maybe it isn’t like, totally boring in the moment or whatever, but getting a two-hour play by play after your game every Saturday isn’t doing a whole lot to convince me, man.”

“Well,” Dustin perked up slightly and cleared his throat, “we’re always looking for new members - ”

“Nope, no way.”

“Steve,” Henderson’s whining was out in full force now, “it would be so much fun! You wouldn’t even have to do that much work; I could help you get started and - ���

“No.”

“ – seriously, I can make you a character sheet so fast, and our party could really use another fighter anyways - ”

“No, Henderson!”

“ – besides, we haven’t gotten to hang out with you as much now that school started, and you know that Will’s having a hard time because everyone keeps calling him ‘Zombie Boy’ and he would be so excited to have you playing with us - ”

Shit, he’s pulling out the Zombie Boy card. Shit, shit, shit.

“Henderson - ”

“ – and, you know, I totally believe you and everything but Mike is pretty convinced that you’re still an asshole, especially with everything Eddie’s said, and this could be your chance to prove him wrong!” Dustin finished emphatically, his chest puffing with exertion.

Steve shot an exasperated look over the top of the Horror section towards Robin, who was pouting in mock-agreement with Dustin.

Traitor.

Sighing, Steve shoved Friday the 13th onto the shelf and dropped his gaze towards Dustin. “One game.”

Dustin let out a loud whoop, hopping in place and punching wildly at the air. “YES!”

“Just one game, Henderson, that’s it.”

“I’LL TAKE IT!” Letting out an even louder victory cry, Dustin raced for the door. “I’m going to get working on your character sheet right now – Wednesday, 3:30 in the drama room,” Dustin said, whirling around to point at Steve. “You’ll be there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there.”

“YES! Don’t worry Steve, you won’t regret this!” Dustin beamed and then he was out the door, disappearing into the October sun.

[captinkirc]

i wanna fucking tear you apart PT. 2 (demon!eddie munson x steve harrington)  18+ only

Summary: Eddie and Steve find themselves being babysat and watched like a hawk while Dustin devolves into conspiracy mode, trying to figure out how exactly Eddie is back from the dead. Steve was going to die of blue balls. It was official.

Word Count: 8.7k

[content warnings: swearing, demon/incubus!eddie, hurt/comfort, gay sex, choking, hand/ring!kink, slight gay crisis, praise!kink, Monsterfucker!Steve, overstimulation, feminization and breeding!kink -- I know, a real doozy here]

Notes: ya'll! there was so much demand for another chapter of this AU, and by god, you've got nearly 9k more to enjoy. I went through my DND handbooks to do some research on incubus', and mostly based Eddie's new look on the art, even if it's more of a stereotypical demon look. Have fun!

PT. 1 PT. 3

-----------------

Steve knew he didn’t really have a touchpoint on normal behavior for “your friend/fuckbuddy that came back from the dead in an alternate universe hell” but he definitely knew something was not quite right.

They hadn’t really had an opportunity to talk about what happened the night of Eddie’s return. Steve, suddenly feeling wrung out and exhausted, had fallen asleep halfway through Eddie redressing him and helping — well, more like dragging — him up the stairs to his bedroom. Then, Steve had woken, feeling slightly cold with dread in the pit of his stomach, to find himself alone in bed and his phone ringing off the hook.

It turned out that Eddie had just escaped into the backyard to smoke, and Steve couldn't deny the relief that settled over him. Clad in a pair of Steve's own sweatpants and t-shirt that stretched tight across his chest, he dexterously twirled a box of cigarettes in his hand as he closed the glass sliding door behind him.

In his ear, Dustin acting was as bratty as usual, more demanding than asking for a ride over to the Wheeler house to visit the Byers’ makeshift headquarters. Instead of fully paying attention to what Dustin was saying, Steve caught Eddie’s eye as he snuck back inside, watching as Eddie realized who was on the other side of the phone.

They would need a group reunion sooner rather than later. 

Steve caught the way his throat bobbed, eyes shifting towards the floor. 

With a dismissive ‘yeah, alright man, be there soon,’ Steve hung the phone back on the receiver and shifted to lean back against the kitchen counter, turning his eyes back to Eddie. Eddie was watching him carefully, still lingering at the back door. They stood in silence for a moment in a standoff to see who would speak first. The clock ticked loudly through the kitchen. 

“Do you uh…wanna come with me? See everyone?” Steve barely disguised his knee-jerk cringe, watching as Eddie shrank in on himself. He shuffled closer, settling against the counter opposite him and tucked one hand around his own waist, the other fiddling with the ends of a lock of hair and pulling it across his face. 

“You think that’s a good idea?” Eddie asked quietly. Steve sighed, trying to tilt his head down for a better look at his face, hidden behind a curtain of curls. 

“They’re gonna have to find out eventually, man,” he answered softly.

“I just…” Eddie trailed off, taking a deep breath and unfolding his arms. He clasped his hands around the edge of the counter behind him, fingers drumming anxiously. Steve wanted to cross the short distance suddenly, gather the man up and forget the whole thing to begin with. Call Dustin, tell him he felt sick, fell down the stairs, whatever. Instead, he waited patiently, chewing on his lip.

“I don’t know, Steve.”

Slowly, Steve crossed the short distance and settled next the Eddie, reaching out gently to trail his fingers along his wrist and halting the nervous tapping.

“Listen,” Steve sighed, “you don’t have to explain anything right now, alright? I may not be the smartest around but… I know — I can tell that you seem different. We can all wait until you're ready, even if we’re all dying with curiosity. But Dustin, Mike, Robin…they would wanna see you regardless.” 

Eddie looked curiously over at him, a shy smile curling his lip. He leaned in to nudge him with his shoulder, and Steve laughed softly, nudging him back. They settled closer together, arms and shoulders flush against each other. Eddie turned his wrist, catching Steve’s fingers in his — Steve quietly hoped that he couldn’t hear the rapid thumping his heart was making in his ears.

“And…you don’t care that I’m different now?” 

He looked closer over at Eddie, reaching out with his free hand to tug on a lock of his curls. Steve smiled teasingly as Eddie swatted at his hand playfully, his smile growing broad.

“No, I mean…you’re the Eddie Munson. Isn’t that your whole goal?” He joked, his heart flipping in his chest when Eddie laughed brightly.

“Pshh, yah got me there, pretty boy.” Steve wanted desperately to run his thumb over that sharp canine, up the curve of his cheek, the crinkle at the corner of his eye; he swallowed the lump in his throat and looked back to the floor instead, eyes trained on their clasped hands. They lapsed into silence.

He should go before he decided not to leave altogether. 

The idea was sounding more and more appealing with every passing second. Steve sighed, untangling their hands, taking a moment to trail his fingers over the cool metal shapes of Eddie’s rings before retreating towards the stairs.

“You don't have to, okay? It can wait. Henderson’s gonna have my head if I’m not there soon though, so uh, I’m gonna go get ready if you wanna think on it.” Eddie gave him a rapid nod in response, and Steve took that as his cue to escape up to his bedroom. 

Steve took a moment to catch his breath, still feeling the tingle of Eddie’s fingers wrapped in his own, the warmth left behind along his arm — he groaned, leaning back against the door and rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars. 

“Christ, get ahold of yourself man,” he muttered to himself.

Steve had had plenty of girlfriends, almost flings, had many bouts of a nervous stomach and words catching in his throat, especially with Nancy. But even then, it hadn't quite felt like this. Steve liked girls, he knew he liked girls. Always had. Liked their long hair, big eyes, easy smiles…

Ringed fingers and frizzy curls and a teasing grin…

Steve groaned. 

Maybe he liked boys too…or perhaps just one boy in particular.

He yanked his shirt over his head, tossing it in the direction of the hamper, shuffling his pants down as well. In the mirror, he caught sight of the bruises and teeth marks littering his skin — his throat, shoulders, hips, thighs…Steve shivered, sucking in a shaky breath as he tore his eyes off of his reflection. Even with his neck still bruised from demobats, he was going to have a hard time explaining those away. 

Steve quickly redressed, spraying on more cologne than usual and fidgeting with the collar of his polo. 

Definitely not going to be able to hide them. 

With a quick glance, Steve found his wallet and keys set out neatly on his dresser, his duffel bag, previously abandoned by the front door last night, sat tucked against the foot of his bed — fondness surged up in his throat. Eddie must have gone down after helping Steve into bed, placing his things where he’d find them, cleaning him up, looking after him. The idea of someone taking that kind of care and attention for him —

Steve snatched his wallet and keys and shoved them into his pockets, rushing back down the stairs.

Eddie looked up from where he lingered by the door as Steve bounded down the stairs. He’d redressed while Steve was gone, now wrapped in his classic jeans and leather jacket, but Steve couldn't help but flush when he saw him still wearing his shirt underneath it.

“You comin’?” Steve nudged as he bent down to shove his feet into his sneakers. Eddie’s hand curled around his elbow, helping him keep balance as he tied his laces.

“I think so, yeah. Gotta corral my lost sheep, don’t I?” Steve smiled, straightening up to clap Eddie on the back. He was briefly thankful that he wouldn't have to hold onto this secret for long, especially when Dustin was mourning him as well. They headed out the front door, Steve taking a cursory glance around to make sure no one was walking by before ushering Eddie out towards the car.

The ride over to Henderson’s house was unnaturally quiet. Steve didn’t try to break it, especially after looking over at Eddie, hunched down in his seat and out of view and chewing anxiously on his fingernails. He reached over the center console, wrapping a hand around Eddie’s knee and stopping its nervous bouncing, smiling to himself as he felt Eddie’s warm fingers curl around his own.

He squeezed gently, hoping it was reassuring enough, before reaching back for the stick-shift.

In what felt like hours, they pulled up the long driveway of the Henderson house, Steve barely having put the car in park before Dustin was bounding out the door to meet him. 

“Hey, hey, hold up Henderson!” He scrambled to climb out and meet him halfway, nearly falling flat on his face when his arm ended up tangled in his seatbelt. He righted himself, and grasped Dustin’s arm and pulled him a short distance away from the car — Steve glanced back at the car, narrowly catching Eddie peering back at them from his seat.

“What the hell, Steve? We’re gonna be late since you took so long getting here, doing you hair no doubt — it doesn't even look right, wait, what is wrong with your neck —”

“Oh shut up, listen, this is important okay?” Dustin rolled his eyes, but quieted anyway, looking up at Steve expectantly. He took a deep, steadying breath, settling his hands on his hips.

"I don’t really know how to explain this," Steve began, "and I don't know how you're going to react." He took in one more deep inhale, glancing back towards the car. His nerves were suddenly spiking — why hadn’t he thought about what he was gonna say just a little bit more before jumping into this? Dustin looked up at him, watching expectantly.

Better just to come out with it.

“Uh…Eddie’s here. In the car. He came by my place last night all bloody and — ” Dustin moved faster than Steve was convinced he had ever seen him move before towards the car. Steve scrambled after him, catching up as the passenger side door swung open; Dustin staring dumbly where he stood as Eddie ducked out.

Eddie shoved his hands into his jean pockets, trying his best to look casual and unbothered, but Steve could tell from the tight line of his shoulders that he was waiting for escape. At least from Dustin staring like that, nearly open mouth in shock. Steve was about to step forward and attempt to ease the tension, until Eddie broke the ice.

“Hey there, Henderson.”

Dustin launched the remaining distance, slamming into Eddie and crushing him into a hug. Steve sighed with relief as Eddie returned it. He could barely hear Dustin’s voice from where his face was pressed into Eddie’s shoulder, but when it came out, it was smaller and softer than anything Steve had ever heard out of him. 

Steve was suddenly reminded of how young the kid was when this all started. It was easy to forget that underneath it all, he was still a kid.

“You were dead…I saw you…” Eddie visibly cringed, but clasped his hand around the back of Dustin’s head and held him close. Steve watched the kid’s shoulders shake slightly, watched Eddie squeeze him even tighter in response. Eddie sighed, pressing his cheek into the fabric of Dustin’s hat.

“I know, man,” Eddie whispered, “listen I’m… you shouldn’t have had to be there for that —”

“How are you alive? Did Vecna — wait, did the Demobats — Demobat rabies? Are you like, part Demobat now?” 

Both Steve and Eddie laughed at that; though Steve didn’t notice the tenseness behind Eddie’s voice. Dustin pulled back, looking up at Eddie and inspecting him closer, rambling a mile a minute until Eddie shoved a hand in the kid’s face and teasingly pushed him back. 

“Alright, alright, enough with the Spanish Inquisition, man. I’m just glad to be back.” Steve and Eddie’s eyes met over the top of Dustin’s head, and Eddie’s very obviously trailed down to the obvious bite marks along his throat.

Yeah, very glad to be back. 

Steve swallowed, trying to tamp down on the inappropriate memories fluttering to the surface. Great timing, Steve. 

Steve took that as a moment to nudge back into the conversation, break his eyes away from Eddie’s and circle back around the car to jump in the drivers seat. 

“We should probably get going, Henderson, you were the one complaining about being late.” 

“Well now I know it was for something more important than your hair — ”

“Oh shut up already, get in the car before I leave you here.”

—————————————

Their reunion with the rest of the group consisted mostly of people scrambling to hug him and shocked laughter, practically exploding when he walked in the door. Plenty of new introductions were made — Will, Jonathan, El, and Argyle (who Steve was still trying to find out who on Earth he was) — and Lucas, Mike and Nancy both looked equal parts horrified and elated to see Eddie. Even Nancy hugged him, which Steve had not expected in the slightest. 

The urgency finally settled, and once again the topic of ‘what happened’ was brought up. Eddie gave what Steve could tell was a halfhearted explanation — ‘I woke up as if nothing had happened, saw that giant gate opened up — the Upside Down must have done something — all I can remember is waking up hungry and tired and got the hell out of there.’ Dustin was in full blown theory mode, trying to piece together his own explanations and answers.

“It could honestly be the Demobats! You were ate up pretty good,” Steve cringed at the memory, “maybe you’re a vampire now, all the Demobat venom or something? You healed like in what, three days!” Mike, Will and El jumped in on the conversation, and Steve could tell that Eddie was having a full blown crisis.

Steve tapped Eddie on the shoulder, tilting his head towards the kitchen when he looked up. Eddie let out a sigh of relief, and Steve helped him up from his chair as they made their escape. They settled in silence, mimicking their positions from earlier that morning. Eddie shuffled up into Steve’s side, fingers fiddling with the band of Steve’s watch absentmindedly. 

“You okay?”

“Mmm,” Eddie hummed, “fine, considering. Though I guess I shouldn't get too comfortable, Dustin will probably want to shove a stake through me soon to test his hypothesis.” Steve chuckled, letting Eddie twist their fingers together again.

“I dunno, it’s sounding pretty convincing. You were biting the shit out of me last night.”

“I couldn’t resist,” Eddie teased, leaning over to slide his teeth along the side of Steve’s neck, “want all your blood for myself, Stevie. Gonna make you my vampire queen.” A shiver ripped down Steve’s spine and he flushed, and tried unsuccessfully to cover his responding gasp with a huff. By the way Eddie leered at him, his attempt at exasperation wasn’t convincing in the slightest. 

“You like the sound of that, Harrington?” Eddie rounded on him, clasping his hands against the counter on either side of his hips. 

The sudden shift, tension and heat settling in the air, made Steve’s head spin as Eddie slid closer. His own hands settled on Eddie’s hips without thinking twice, and Eddie looked far too pleased with that realization. 

“Oh!”

Steve snapped out of the fog, looking over Eddie’s shoulder to see Will standing in the doorframe of the kitchen, frozen like a deer in the headlights. The pair jumped apart, Eddie turning to thoroughly inspect the pattern of the countertops and leaving Steve with damage control.

“Will, sorry. Eddie uh…needed some air.” Will didn’t look convinced, but seemed just as desperate to escape the situation as they did — the kid’s face was rapidly turning red as he stared at Steve.

“Did you need something?” Steve prodded.

“No!” Will jolted, “No, I mean um, yes, Dustin was just looking for you.” With that, Will turned on his heel and practically ran from the kitchen, leaving Steve to feel as if he’d just missed out on a major piece of information. Suddenly, he could hear Eddie snickering behind him — he looked back to see Eddie bent over the counter, trying to smother his laughter into his hand.

“What're you laughing at?” Steve jabbed his finger into Eddie’s side, grinning when he wiggled away.

“Looks like I’ve got competition now!” Eddie teased — Steve rolled his eyes, turning to follow after Will. Maybe it was best to escape whatever energy was building again before it bubbled out of control. He called back into the kitchen as he left, smiling as Eddie’s boisterous laugh followed after him.

“Don’t test me, I just might let Dustin stake you after all!”

“Oh you wound me, darling!”

—————————————

“Maybe it’d be best not to be…alone with him too much! I’m just saying if he’s a… a vampire or something, he might go after you!”

“Dude, that’s nuts. Even if he was — which this is not me agreeing that he is — he’s not gonna attack me or something — ”

“Well, we don’t know that! You don’t know that!”

“I thought you liked Eddie? He’s your friend!”

“He is! But maybe we should take group shifts with you! Just till we know for sure! Like me or Robin or Mike, we could all stay with you and Eddie and make sure that nothing happens —” 

“That is so unnecessary!”

Dustin had dragged Steve out onto the front porch, a frenzied look in his eyes as he explained his new theory that the Demobats had indeed altered Eddie’s DNA, and he was now masquerading as a vampire like the ones in his nerdy role-play game. While Steve could admit to himself that Eddie was obviously different, this sounded…a little too much. Did it really matter? What difference would it make if he was some sort of vampire, demon, whatever? They’d managed much worse just fine. At least he was here. He didn’t want to look to close at those thoughts, not yet at least. 

Couldn't he just…enjoy this? Without putting it under the microscope just yet? 

“I’m just saying, it’s better to be safe! It could be like a slumber party!”

Steve groaned in frustration. There were many instances in their friendship of Dustin dragging Steve along for the ride, demanding his help and worming his way into his business out of no where. At this point, this was also feeling like it would be one of those moments. 

“Fine. Fine! Jesus Christ, you’re gonna make me crazy!”

—————————————

Weeks. Weeks went by of Steve practically not being able to take a piss by himself. In his own house! If it were under different circumstances, he might have appreciated having more people around the house, keeping him company while his parents disappeared for months on end to god knows where. But this was getting to be way too much.

Looking at Eddie, he could tell he was thinking the same thing.

Weeks of stolen moments between the pair weren’t doing any favors for the developing…whatever this was…between them. Eddie had been moved into an extra bedroom across the house, so they couldn't even have time together at night. Every day dragged on with work, volunteering, and stolen, fleeting moments between the two. Eddie, cornering Steve in the hallway, pressing him against the wall to kiss him hard and insistent — only to hear Robin and Nancy call them back to the board game spread on the dining table. Steve, slotting a thigh between Eddie’s legs as they made out in the kitchen — and quickly interrupted by Dustin coming in from the pool. Filthy words whispered in Steve’s ear as they sat in the dark living room, attention supposed to be turned on the movie on the TV screen. 

Steve was beginning to lose it. 

On top of all this, Eddie really wasn’t looking like himself. His already paled skin was looking even more so, dark rings blooming around his eyes, he was smoking through his cigarette packs and weed even quicker, and his temper seemed to turn at the drop of a hat. Steve had even flinched, watching Eddie break one of the kitchen cabinets off its hinges after it had swung closed on him one too many times. 

Maybe there was something to this whole theory Dustin had. He really couldn’t find it in himself to care that much, either way.

Which, in turn made Dustin even more insistent on someone staying to keep an eye on him. 

Steve was going to die of blue balls. It was official.

Thankfully, their luck would turn soon. Robin had come back from volunteering at the relief shelter with Steve for the day, having brought back pizza and preparing to pull a movie from their overwhelming bag of overdue movies, when Steve’s phone began ringing off the hook. Steve had just collapsed face first into the sofa, bones aching and feet sore — he groaned into the cushion and waved his hand about — someone else could answer the phone. Send it to voicemail, for all he cared.

The sky could be falling and he would not be getting up from the sofa.

Robin must have gone to answer it — he could hear her voice softly from the other room. A weight dipped the cushion by his feet, warm hands rearranging his legs to drape over their lap. 

“Long day, pretty boy?” Strong, sure fingers pulled his sneakers off, letting them fall to the floor with dull thuds. Steve grumbled as they pulled at his socks, peeling them off as well — Eddie’s warm hands settled around his aching feet, thumbs massaging into the muscles carefully.

Steve let out an affirmative groan that suddenly twisted into a sharp moan as Eddie’s fingers dug into the particularly sore arch of his foot — instantly, the air in the room felt like it had been sucked out. Steve’s breath felt lodged in the back of his throat. Eddie’s hands froze.

“Hey guys, sorry — that was Vickie! I told her I’d be here tonight but she wants to hang out, are you all okay if I leave? She's coming to pick me up, I told her I could walk over to her place no problem but she insisted on it which like, whew, okay! Definitely didn’t want to walk over but I would have if —”

“Sounds good to me,” Eddie interrupted smoothly, “Steve’s probably gonna pass out soon anyway.” 

He’s gonna make sure of it.

Robin laughed somewhere above him, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to look — instead, he shoved his reddening face even further into the cushion. Robin continued to ramble on, Eddie, surprisingly, jumping into easy conversation — Steve on the other hand, could not have followed the conversation if his life depended on it. Especially when Eddie’s hands wrapped loosely around his ankles, his thumbs rubbing against the delicate bone there.

Steve heard a car honk outside, and peeked out to see Robin tripping over herself to run for the door. Steve’s heart jumped into his throat, thumping violently. 

“Bye guys! Don’t kill each other please or Dustin will have my head!”

The door slammed shut behind her, the lock settling into place with a small click. Silence settled in the living room.

“And then there were two,” Eddie murmured. One of his hands slid up the back of Steve’s leg, wrapping around the meat of his thigh and squeezing it tight. After the teasing and the tension building, Steve could already feel his dick jumping to life in his jeans — especially after suddenly remembering the last time he and Eddie were alone on this couch.

Steve shivered.

“You okay, baby?”

Steve nodded into the cushion, not trusting his voice enough to respond. 

“Yeah, baby? You gonna come up here and look at me?”

Steve carefully rolled onto his back. He would have been more embarrassed for already being as riled up as he was if Eddie hadn’t looked like he was right there with him. Eddie stared down at him, his eyes already intense and dark and scrutinizing his every movement. Steve squirmed, heat rising up his chest and cheeks.

“Oh, perfect. Look at you, pretty boy. Laid out like a present.”

‘Eddie…c’mon…” Steve blushed. Eddie’s eyes flashed dangerously as he shifted up onto his knees, looming imposingly over him. 

“Finally alone, Stevie. I was beginning to think it’d never happen.”

“I’m gonna murder Dustin myself,”Steve groaned, his dick giving another traitorous twitch as Eddie crawled up over him till they were eye to eye. Eddie leant down, kissing him sweetly — Steve hummed against his lips, reaching out to wrap his arms around Eddie’s shoulders.

“I missed you, baby.” Eddie whispered. 

“I missed you too.”

Eddie hummed approvingly. Steve gasped as his mouth trailed a hot path across his cheek and over his chin; nearly jumping out of his skin when warm hands snuck under his t-shirt.

The room was suddenly stiflingly hot, and Steve’s head was swimming. 

“Please, Eddie…”

While he wasn’t really sure what he was asking for, Eddie would know. 

Eddie would take great care of him. 

“I know baby, I know. Want me to fuck you into this couch again, hmm? Stretch you out right here so you can think about it every single movie night, get all flustered?”

Eddie shoved his way between Steve’s thighs, pressing in tight and grinding their hips together. They both gasped at the pressure; Steve clambered to hold him tighter and rock up into him as Eddie doubled down. The blood was rushing to Steve’s brain, desperation seeping in. He jolted upright, shoving Eddie back and frantically pulling off his t-shirt, tossing it across the room and reaching for Eddie’s. Eddie went easily, looking somewhat bewildered, and let Steve nearly rip his shirt at the seams trying to get it off.

His fingers were shaking as they went for Eddie’s belt — Eddie tried to help, both of them tugging and fumbling over each other’s pants until they devolved into half-dressed frotting, panting into each other’s mouths. Steve felt like he might burn alive, feeling Eddie reach between them and shove his hand into Steve’s boxers. Eddie’s hot hand wrapped around his dick, swiping over the sensitive head.

“Yesss…” Steve hissed, tilting his head back against the cushions. Eddie took the opportunity, biting along the curve of Steve’s jaw and down his throat — Steve shivered, feeling the sharp points drag against his skin. 

“You taste so good, princess,” Eddie’s tongue slid along the prominent tendon in Steve’s throat, and he couldn't help but whimper, “so, so good.” Steve didn’t hear the word as much as he felt it — the low growl reverberated through him, shaking him down to his bones. He keened, hooking a thigh up over Eddie’s hip to pull him closer.

“Need to leave more marks on you, baby, can’t even see the old ones anymore.” 

‘Please…”

“Yeah? You like that, baby? Want me to bruise you up? Fuuuckk, I’ll give it to you princess, not gonna be walking when I’m done with you.”

“Yes —”

“Good boy, fuck, you’ll just take whatever I give you, won’t you? My little slut, all desperate and needy for me — ”

“Yes! Please, Eddie.”

The tight grip Eddie had on Steve’s hips turned a touch too tight and sharp — Steve yelped, but before he could register what had happened, Eddie was already halfway across the room, a horrified look flashing across his face. Steve’s head spun at the sudden shift — he sat up, trying his best to get his wobbling legs to hold as he got to his feet. Eddie paced through the living room, taking deep, shuddering breaths.

“Eddie? What’s wrong?” 

“I just…” he took a moment to steady himself, “…overwhelmed. Don’t want to be too hard on you.” Steve’s brow furrowed. Hard on him? After last time, it seemed pretty obvious that Steve had liked, if not throughly enjoyed Eddie’s rough handling. Liked the way Eddie manhandled him, held him where he wanted him, marked him up. What was the problem now, all a sudden? 

“Man, I don’t care — ” 

“You should! I could seriously hurt you — ”

“Hurt me? Eddie, c’mon, how on — ”

“This!” Eddie spun on his heel to face Steve. He held his hands out — and Steve watched, bewildered, as those ringed, wide hands began to morph in front of his very eyes. Skin turning an ashy black, palms spreading wider, larger, fingers elongating, nails stretching into sharp, curved claws.

Ah, that’s what had poked him.

Steve watched as the ashy black tone shifted up his forearms, almost like his skin was burning to a crisp before his eyes. Huh. Maybe there really was something to Dustin’s theory. Steve stepped up close to Eddie, slowly, giving him the opportunity to escape as he reached out to curl his fingers around Eddie’s wrist. His pulse hammered under Steve’s touch.

“Is that all?”

Eddie stared at him, baffled. 

“Is that all?”

“I’m not scared of you, if that’s what you think. We’ve dealt with a lot worse than a vampire, demon, hybrid, whatever —” Eddie let out a half-delirious laugh, gesticulating wildly at him with his other hand. 

“How are you so — the dude you’re fucking is a sex demon and you don’t even blink an eye?”

‘Sex demon? That would make a lot of sense,’ Steve thought to himself. Eddie knew what he needed, just how to push and pull, knew how take such good care of him…suddenly a lot of things made a lot more sense. What else would he be able to do? Steve shivered. 

“Eddie, it’s still you.”

Eddie looked skeptically at him, then down at Steve’s fingers wrapped around his wrist. Steve looked as well, his stomach giving a lurch at the sheer size difference between them now. He sighed, seeing the resolute look in Steve’s eyes. 

“There is more.” 

“Yeah?” A pulse of desire shot down Steve’s spine, and he looked back up at Eddie to see him already staring back at him, eyes dark and unwaveringly focused. Like water shifting before his eyes, Eddie’s form changed — Steve held his breath, waiting for it to settle.

The first thing Steve noticed were the horns — long, sleek, sharp-pointed curves of blood red bone that disappeared into his curls. His face looked strikingly normal, besides his eyes, which were nearly glowing   red. The sharp teeth that Steve had become accustomed to were even sharper, longer — Steve bit his lip, thinking about what they might feel like now against his skin.

Suddenly, Eddie was taller than him; Steve realized he had to tilt his head to look up into his eyes now. His shoulders and chest were wide, broad, with a pair of large, red wings spread out behind him — strikingly similar to the Demobats, he thought to himself. The contrast of colors made the paleness of his skin even more prominent, highlighting his high cheekbones and dark lips.

‘Beautiful,’ Steve thought to himself, reaching up to run his fingers along the curve of one of his horns. Eddie curled his hand loosely around Steve’s wrist as he cupped his face, closing his eyes and leaning his cheek into Steve’s palm.

“You’re not scared of me?” Eddie whispered, turning his face to press a kiss into his palm, his teeth barely brushing against skin.

“Never.” 

‘It’s kinda sexy, to be honest.’

“Sexy?”

Steve flushed, jolting as he felt something wrap around his thigh — he looked down to see a long, slender tail curving around his leg, seemingly at will. When he looked back up, Eddie was grinning at him, teeth on full display. Predatory-esque, almost. Eddie curled a large hand around his waist, pulling Steve flush against him.

Steve’s head spun at the shift. 

“You like that I’m bigger and stronger than you now? Can take care of you just how you want, isn't that right baby?”

“Yes…” Steve breathed. The mere suggestion of it had Steve’s dick once again stirring to life — perhaps it was a side affect of being the sole focus of Eddie’s attention. He’d never been raring to go this quick, not even when he was much younger and inexperienced. A thick thigh slotted itself between Steve’s and he gasped, his hips automatically bucking into the friction.

“I’m gonna ruin you, princess. You hear me?” All Steve could do was nod fervently, his own eyes wide and cheeks burning. 

“Will you kiss me?” Steve asked softly, and it was mere seconds before Eddie was gripping his jaw tight in one clawed hand, rounding on him to kiss him — hot, persistent, dominating. Steve moaned into it, feeling the points of Eddie’s claws press against his cheek. He reached out, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and was suddenly being lifted, squeaking against Eddie’s lips as his feet went out from under him. 

“I’m having you in a bed this time, pretty boy.”

Oh.

Steve was pretty sure his brain short-circuited. 

Steve clutched to him and caught Eddie’s lips again as he wrapped his thighs around Eddie’s hips. He hauled Steve around like he didn’t weigh anything; carrying him up the stairs, pausing to slam him into the hallway wall to kiss along his bare shoulder, bite along his throat — Steve barely registered Eddie’s new wings sending a few pictures rattling to the floor and table scattering aside in the rush. 

Steve panted into Eddie’s mouth, suddenly noticing that Eddie’s tongue seemed…longer than normal. 

Oh god.

Finally, Steve was tossed onto his bed, the frame rattling against the wall with the force of it. He pushed himself up onto his elbows as Eddie settled over him, crawling across the mattress in an almost catlike manner — he leered down at him before turning his attention to Steve’s half-undone jeans and boxers, nearly ripping the fabric as he pulled them down over his hips. Once again, Steve lifted his hips to help Eddie pull them down his thighs.

“Good boy,” He rumbled into Steve’s ear. “Such a good boy for me.” Eddie kissed down his throat, the low vibration rattling in Steve’s bones, settling through his stomach. He could feel his heart hammering between them as Eddie pressed close, the skin on skin contact sending hot shocks down his spine. 

Steve’s arms went around Eddie’s wide shoulders, now that they were so close, he couldn't bear the idea of any space between them now. His legs came up, hooking around Eddie’s waist — feeling very much like they belonged there. Steve bucked his hips up, gasping as he felt the hot, long line of Eddie’s cock pressing against the back of his thigh.

“Oh my god,” Steve panted, his voice coming out strangled and hoarse, “Please, Eddie.”

“I’ll give it to you baby, don’t worry. I’ll fill you up just how you want, gotta open you up first though —”

“Hurry,” he demanded. The tension of the past few weeks was bearing down on him full force, desperation taking over. Every stolen make-out session, the grinding against countertops and walls, breathing hot and heavy into each other’s mouths… he vaguely registered Eddie groan above him, all of his focus honed in on mouthing over his Adam’s apple as it bobbed. He couldn’t handle any more teasing. 

He literally might die if he didn’t get Eddie’s cock in him as soon as possible.

Eddie reared back, rushing to tug his own jeans and underwear off and kick them to the floor.

“Roll over,” Eddie growled, already grabbing at his hips and starting to manhandle Steve onto his stomach — Steve gasped at the sudden pressure as his dick pressed into the comforter, and the new press of his claws digging into the soft curve of his ass. Before he could gather his mind enough to question what he was doing, he was spreading him open, hot breath fanning against his skin. 

“Oh fuck-” It was official, Steve was never, never, going to be satisfied by anything else. Eddie’s tongue — hot, wet, obscenely long — swept over his hole, and Steve could swear he was seeing stars. He dug his fingers into the comforter, going boneless, moaning helplessly as Eddie held him in place.

Steve let himself lay back and enjoy — panting out little moans as the world melted away around him. He sank into it, letting the warmth spread through him as his brain went quiet, trusting completely that Eddie would take care of him, knew exactly what he needed, what he wanted. 

He was yanked back through the haze almost immediately as Eddie’s tongue pressed against his entrance and pushed. Steve jolted, a moan punching out of his throat. Eddie’s tongue was thicker than he expected, stretching him open with an obscene squelch — the messy sound sent a flash of heat to his face as he pressed it into the bed.

Steve could feel his cock dripping steadily now, now that he was laying limp in a growing wet spot on the comforter. One of Eddie’s hands slid up Steve’s back; over the curve of his ass, the small of his back, up his spine, splaying soothing heat through his muscles. He shivered, feeling those claws trail along his back, scratching light marks into his skin. Instead of settling back at his hip, Steve felt those claws shrink back just moments before two fingers pressed into him, nearly forcing a howl out of him.

Eddie kept up the steady pace, fucking him open on his tongue, but with the added, sudden stretch of two fingers, it was all Steve could do just to focus on not coming immediately as he rutted his dick into the bed. 

He couldn't help himself.

Thankfully, Eddie gave him some relief. He pulled back, looking extremely satisfied with himself as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Steve looked over his shoulder at him, his eyes hazy, heart thudding in his throat. Their eyes met, Eddie’s bright eyes burning red, watching his every move with a nearly obsessive focus. Steve shuddered, breathing heavy through his mouth.

“Oh, look at you baby,” Eddie cooed. “You like that? Liked me getting you all wet?” Eddie settled heavy along Steve's back, pressing soothing kisses along his shoulders. Steve trembled beneath him, suddenly overwhelmed by the towering presence he made — wings spread wide over his broad shoulders; all he could see or feel was Eddie’s heat as his fingers swept over his hole, coming away slick with saliva.

“Yeah you do, you're dripping for me baby, look at that. I was gonna be gentle with you Stevie, but I guess that’s not what you want is it?”

Steve whimpered, his eyes catching the way they glistened in the low light. 

“Such a little slut, aren’t you baby. So desperate, your tight little cunt’s so wet around my fingers…” Those fingers dipped into him again, a third sliding in and spreading him wide. Steve clutched at the bedding, the air getting caught in his throat when he tried to open his mouth to speak. 

“Please, Eddie —”

“Shh, sweetheart, you just lay there, just like that, okay? Be a good boy.” A warm hand settled soothingly along his spine, tail curling around his thigh again and squeezing, and Steve melted as Eddie’s fingers continued their singleminded mission. Once again, they found that bundle of nerves and pressed, unyielding, rubbing in tight circles that made Steve choke on a sob as he cried out Eddie’s name. 

Eddie had the nerve to laugh, soft and teasing, sounding far too satisfied with himself.

“Too much, baby? Want me to stop?” 

“No!” Steve nearly shrieked, reaching back to grasp tight at Eddie’s wrist, even though he knew it’d be in vain if Eddie really wanted to get away. He caught the teasing tilt to Eddie’s mouth through his watery eyes, the smug grin settling into place.

“No? So you don’t want me to stop? Only want my fingers tonight?” 

“No!  Eddie — I — ” Eddie interrupted him with a sharp thrust of his fingers, and Steve keened, loud and high into the air. He tried to squirm away from the onslaught, the pressure coiling tight in the pit of his stomach— but Eddie’s tail wrapped tight around Steve’s waist, holding him in place.

“Poor baby, you’re so close, aren’t you?” Eddie crooned, leaning down to push Steve’s hair back tenderly from his sweaty, flushed face.

“Yes, yes yes, please, Eddie —”

“Taking my fingers so well, Gonna take my dick just as well, huh baby? You’re just gagging for it, aren't you?” Steve wasn’t sure if he wanted to beg, scream at him, strangle him — it was becoming more and more apparent that Eddie loved riling him up just as much here as he did in every other part of their lives. Eddie smoothed his free hand down Steve’s heaving side, the juxtaposition of tenderness with the sharp scrape of his claws against his ribs making Steve shiver. 

“Such a good fucking boy, I’m gonna fill you up so good. Gonna fucking breed you, baby, I’m gonna come so nice and deep inside you and stuff you full. You want that, sweetheart?”

God help him, the man wanted him dead.

His reaction must have been obvious on his face, and thank god, because he wasn't sure if he could speak yet — a sly, devious grin began taking shape as Eddie slid his fingers out of him and settled back on his knees. Steve blearily looked back at him. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it sooner; of course, along with the rest of his changes, his dick would change too. Of course it would, idiot.

Eddie definitely wanted him dead.

Longer, thicker, curved upward — Steve’s breath was coming out in soft, shallow pants in anticipation as he rocked his hips down into the wet fabric beneath him. Eddie slid off of the bed, wide wings tucked in tight behind him as he sidled over to Steve’s bedside table to rattle around — he returned with his bottle of lube, settling back between Steve’s thighs. 

A clawed hand spread Steve’s ass again and he whined as a shockingly cool drizzle of lube slid down the cleft of his ass, two dulled fingers slipping after it to push it into his abused hole. 

“You want it baby? Want me to fuck you bare? Fill your little ass up?” When Steve only whimpered in response, Eddie’s hand was suddenly wrapped around his throat and pulling him up, bowing his back into a concerning arch. Steve’s hands went out in an attempt to steady himself. 

Eddie’s mouth pressed hot against Steve’s ear, sharp teeth teasing the curve of it.

“Use your voice, pretty boy, or you get nothing.”

Steve moaned, mouth hanging open, the loud, shameless sound bouncing around the room. Drool slipped out of the corner of his mouth, sliding down his chin.

“Yes — yes,” he choked out, feeling Eddie’s mouth twist into a grin, “give it to me — please, Eddie — ”

"Good fucking boy, my good fucking boy,” Eddie cooed, leaning in to follow the trail of his saliva with his tongue, giving it all back to Steve with a sloppy kiss. Vaguely, Steve could taste blood in his mouth, salt and metal filling his senses. Eddie licked into Steve’s mouth, teeth nicking his skin as he sucked at his lips and his tongue, before gently settling Steve back onto the mattress and pulling his hips up into his lap. Steve automatically arched into it, letting his thighs spread as he balanced on his elbows into the mattress. 

If the rumbling, deep groan was anything to go by, Eddie definitely liked it. Pride bloomed in Steve’s chest. 

Suddenly, Eddie was pushing into him, punching the air from his lungs. Steve moaned, fingers clawing into the bedding at the full stretch and burn; he blearily thought to himself that he’d never get used to it. The unyielding press, hands pressing finger shaped bruises into his hips, Eddie’s mouth, hot and panting  as he kissed and bit along the back of his neck — he shuddered, reaching back to grope at one of Eddie’s hands, relief flooding him when he twisted their fingers together.

“Shiiittt,” he whined, gasping out as Eddie’s hipbones settled against his ass. 

“Look at that, look at you taking all of it so good,” Eddie groaned approvingly, “all stretched out and full of me. Gonna have you like this every chance I get, baby.” Eddie’s tail curled around Steve’s waist, squeezing lightly, almost protectively. 

“You feel so good around my cock, Steve, fuck,” Steve’s responding moan came out strangled as Eddie pulled back, almost all the way out, and slammed back into him — pushing in deep, all the way to the base in one hard thrust. He quickly set a brutal pace, and it was all Steve could do to hold on, mind reeling as his arms collapsed under him and sending him face first into the bedding. 

“Fuck- fuck !” Steve could help it when his hips jerked forward as Eddie’s hand curled around his dick, he looked down between them to see that darkened skin and claws against his skin and groaned, biting back a moan as he came hard — the orgasm hitting him like a train. Eddie let out a bewildered laugh behind him; Steve vaguely registered Eddie speaking to him, but couldn't focus on anything besides the aftershocks running down his spine. 

He panted into the bedding, spotty points of light flitting across his vision. 

Eddie fucked him through it, his hands sliding up Steve’s back to press him even harder into the mattress as he squirmed. He kept fucking him open, through the sensitivity, cooing and kissing him sweetly, whispering filthy praise to him gently. Steve could feel himself rallying, dick twitching to life again quick enough to make his head spin when Eddie doubled down on him, his powerful thighs slapping against Steve's.

“You can give me one more, right you pretty boy? Just one more and I’ll put a load in your pretty little cunt, just like you want, let everyone know you’re mine.” Steve couldn’t help the long, high whine that tore out of his throat. 

Fuck, where did he learn to talk like that? Steve was definitely learning things about himself tonight.

“Yeah, fuck, that's it,” Eddie snarled. 

Steve cried out Eddie’s name as he started fucking into him again with renewed energy, deep and steady; all Steve could do was lay there and take it. His head was floating in post-orgasmic bliss, fingers clenching and unclenching in the bedding — focusing on the touchpoints of Eddie’s hands wrapped around his hips, tail wrapped around his thigh, and hot breath at the back of his neck. Steve twisted his head, sighing as Eddie captured his lips; they panted against each other’s mouths, kissing sloppily as they tried to catch their breath. 

Eddie’s hand snaked between him and the bed, wrapping around Steve’s sensitive dick and stroking him in time with his thrusts; Steve squirmed, his hips unable to decide between fucking forward into his fist, or back in time to meet his thrusts. Either way, Steve was rapidly tumbling towards the finish line, and it sounded like Eddie was there with him as well.

“Fuck, you’re perfect, just for me, all mine, aren't you angel? Gonna mark you up, fill you up, everyone will know who you belong to — gonna fill you up till you're dripping, gonna keep you forever, c’mon pretty baby, come for me again, I know you can do it—”

"Don't stop, don't stop,— please, fuck, come in me —”

Steve clenched tight around Eddie’s cock — already writhing, right on the edge of too sensitive and overstimulated almost as soon as another orgasm ripped through him.

He kissed him hard as he fucked him through it; Steve’s legs shook beneath him as he sobbed and keened. There was no way he could come back from this, ever even think of trying this with anyone else, not when Eddie made every touch light his body up with pleasure like this. Eddie could have asked him for anything at that point; his car, the secrets of his hair routine, a trip to the moon, Steve would have given him the moon if he asked. He was floating, shuddering, halfway out of his brain as Eddie followed after him.

“So fuckin’ good, baby, fuuuck — ” Eddie cut himself off with a strangled snarl, his hips snapping hard, staccato thrusts — he gave one final, powerful thrust, leaning down and holding Steve’s hips in place as he went still. Once again, teeth latched into Steve’s shoulder, sharp points of pain shooting down his spine. Even his tail squeezed tight around Steve’s waist; he could already feel the bruise forming under his skin. He whimpered —  even in his dazed, fucked out state, Steve felt him twitching inside him, and the embarrassingly hot drip of cum already starting to leak out of him. He blushed, his heart ramming in his chest as he struggled for air.

Eddie barely had pulled out before collapsing down on Steve, halfway splayed across him as he planted sloppy kisses on his neck as he pet reverently down Steve’s sweaty back. They laid there for a moment, the sound of their heavy breathing filling the quiet air. Steve finally managed the strength to turn his head towards him, sighing as Eddie kissed him gently, fingers reaching up to push his sweaty hair out of his eyes. 

“Feeling okay, sweetheart? Was that too much? I was acting like a bit of a brute there at the end,” Eddie murmured, dark eyes catching the skin he had just pierced before kissing him again. Steve pressed his forehead against Eddie’s when he pulled back, closing his eyes, hardly able to keep them open any longer as he rubbed his thumb into the curve of Steve’s cheek.

“Mmhm, I’m great, that was mindblowing.”

“Mindblowing?” Eddie teased lightly, “I’ll get that put in the record books then.” Steve laughed, moving to shift closer until Eddie stopped him, helping him settle back onto his stomach.

“Hold on baby, lemme get you cleaned up.” Eddie jumped to his feet — Steve looked blearily over to watch him as he bent to grab a shirt from the floor, startled to see his wings, tail, and horns had disappeared. Steve absentmindedly realized he already missed them. 

Eddie must have noticed the look when he turned back. 

“Easier to sleep next to you like this, nothing pokey in the way.” Steve hummed intelligently in response, only slightly wrinkling his nose as he realized Eddie was using his own t-shirt as a makeshift washcloth. Eddie spread his ass in one hand, and Steve watched him from over his shoulder as his reddened eyes stared down at him, likely down at the mess Steve could feel dripping out of his abused hole. 

“Damn, that’s hot as fuck.” Steve groaned, shoving his face back into the bed —  Eddie laughed brightly, and began carefully wiping the combined mess off of him, cooing softly when Steve cringed or whimpered. When he deemed him clean enough, he blindly tossed the shirt in the direction of the hamper and settled down next to Steve, gathering him up in his arms and yanking the comforter up and over them. 

Steve settled against his chest, shoving his face into the curve of Eddie’s throat and breathing him in deep. Silence fell over the room, and Steve began to drift off as Eddie’s fingers ran soothing patterns along his back and arms, humming softly to him as he tilted his head down to press kisses into Steve’s sweaty temple. Steve fiddled with the ends of his hair, huffing at pieces that tickled at his nose.

Steve felt his eyes drooping as he tried in vain to stay awake, just to hold onto the quiet moment for just a little bit longer. 

“Dustin’s gonna kill me in the morning.” Eddie blurted out, startling Steve from his almost sleep. His barely conscious mind was doing somersaults to connect the dots in his head — Steve groaned, slapping at Eddie’s chest halfheartedly.

“Let me get some sleep and I might think about saving you from his wrath.”

“Might?!”

[subject-2-change]

Help me choose what fanfic I should work on next time I'm feeling The Urge™ but don't want to get caught in decision paralysis.

Context:

1) "A Working Title" already has an outline, and some edited character sheets to go with it, but nothing has been written yet.

2) "EEEE" has a few chapters out already and I'm half way through the next one. It kinda has an outline bcause it is retelling of events in game that already happened.

3) "BBEG" is a one shot (thought maybe part of a series). It is the shortest and silliest.

4) I mostly make AMVs, not write fanfic. I have several in the works. Though I can't promise The Urge™ would apply to editing.

[subdee]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @hxhhasmysoul, thanks munen for always thinking of me even though I haven't written anything for like... a year.

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

27

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

153,197

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Hunter x Hunter and Final Fantasy VII (original 1997 game) are the main ones, and then there are a few others that are either old or that time I wrote historical RPF for yuletide.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

(All five are T-rated  Hunter x Hunter fics.)

1)Freecs Adventure Travel Co.- I think this is because it’s tagged ‘slowburn’ and recced on a list with other slowburn fics…  I have this drafted out to the end, it has one more chapter left (and it’s not really a slowburn, aha).  A post canon Killugon reunion fic + Alluka. 

2) Paper Ties – This is a short oneshot about Killua/Alluka/Kalluto originally written for a secret santa exchange.  The writing’s just okay, but a lot of people have this bookmarked and I think it’s probably because they like my explanation for why Kalluto knows nen at the start of HxH, but Killua doesn’t.

3) On a Cold and Snowy Night- A Killugon There Was Only One Bed oneshot originally written for a valentine’s day exchange.  I think people just really like this trope. 

4) There's a Light That Never Goes Out  - It’s another post canon Killugon reunion fic, this time without Alluka (or she’s mentioned, but offscreen).  Listen, HxH fans love reunion fics! 

5) Dungeon x Hunter – a finished multichapter AU where Killua, Gon, Leorio and Kurapika are college friends who play Dungeons and Dragons together.  Inspired by something a friend said forever ago about how Kurapika is like the ultimate DnD rules lawyer min-maxing all his stats. 

...Actually except for On a Cold and Snowy Night, what these all have in common is that they’re among the first things I wrote after I rejoined the fandom.  So I think there’s just a network effect here where people are finding them via bookmarks. 

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I always reply right away, I spend the day after I post anything refreshing my inbox basically. 

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Either my FFVI Barret backstory fic Corel Days or the one I wrote for FFVII Halloween with prompt: Annihilation.  Those both had the Major Character Death tag on them and like… no one clicks on them.  Haha.  They’re sad because of the character death but also sad because they’re about climate change and fans just aren’t generally here for that level of downer.      

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of my fics end either happily or ambiguously besides those two, but I’d call Dungeon x Hunter my most “nothing bad happened” story where there’s not really much conflict, and when there is conflict it’s resolved quickly. 

8. Do you get hate on fic?

Never, and I don’t really get spam comments either… maybe once or twice I’ve gotten requests to write a particular pairing but like 99% of the comments I get are really lovely positive ones from other writers. 

9. Do you write smut?

 I haven’t because I’m lazy and smut is hard to write….There’s a fade to black sex scene in my Frederick the Great Space AU and actually, an implied sex scene in my forever ago Libertines AU where Carl Barat turns into a cat, but that’s the closest I’ve ever come.  Most of what I write is rated T. 

10. Do you write crossovers?

I have written crossovers!   It was a long time ago, and they were mostly short what-ifs, like, what if Arthur Dent met Light Yagami?   I think it’s more fun to imagine the crossovers in your head than to actually write them, they don’t usually have plots but it’s fun to imagine how the characters would interact.    

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t think so?  I’m not really that popular. 

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Actually yes, I think?   Someone translated a Death Note fic a long time ago.  It’s not on Ao3 though. 

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, actually!  My Libertines AU where Carl Barat turns into a cat was co-written by the lovely 0_clay_0 who was my favorite writer in the fandom at the time.   So that was pretty great.  She lives in Germany and I went to visit her once, any of you guys out there wondering what the appeal of writing RPF is, it’s that you can meet amazing people who live all around the world if you’re both really passionate about the same thing. 

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Probably Killugon, but I’m getting nostalgic for the Pete/Carl fic as I write this post, haha.  I think the writing in that fandom (Libertiens RPF) was the best of any fandom I’ve ever been in, by a long shot…  Ranma/Akane (Ranma ½) also has a strong nostalgic pull for me. 

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

I’m gonna finish Freecs Adventure Travel Co, I swear!!!!!   That’s my only posted (to AO3) WIP… most of what I post are oneshots because I know my own limits. 

16. What are your writing strengths?

Varying my sentence lengths.   Also filling in backstory and gaps in the canon, and writing 'densely' so there's multiple ideas per paragraph.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Anything that requires effort: plotting, dialog, action scenes, sex scenes… Most of what I write doesn’t require me to think that hard about what I’m doing.   

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

If it was in-character I would do it.  There’s a certain kind of reader that would enjoy the challenge of having to look up the translation, some people like it when you make them make an effort.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

It was Naruto... now THAT is a WIP I’m never going to finish LOL.  

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I’ve said this before, but it’s my Pariging Coffee Shop AU.   I like how Ging’s character came out, he’s not really the same Ging from canon but it works.  And it’s kinda funny?  I’m always writing close to canon but I like reading AUs more, so I'm happy I finally wrote one that's fun for me to re-read.

I'm supposed to tag 20 people for this... here goes! @fury-brand @rosemochi @cateringisalie @nautilusopus @voidcat-senket @recents @ladycrescentvenus @mysterypond @dimensionten @clood @cafeaulater @storybookprincess @dodici12 @cocoa-bop @rabbitprint @kiwizoom @autumnxsunflower @ishouldgetatumbler @fireolin @minimoonstar