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adelaidedrubman · 4 months

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What if the strap could prematurely ejaculate? (Or, Jestiny gets knocked down a peg.) read on ao3.

notes: if i ever accidentally posted something good enough to trick you into following this account, i truly apologize. anyways here’s part two of the john/jestiny failstrap series. set hl&s adjacent and spiritual sequel to mine’s bigger. also new year’s eve themed, i meant to get it posted then but ironically didn’t finish in time. wordcount: 3.8k warnings: explicit sexual content, toxic relationships, emotional manipulation. (neg ’em and peg ’em, the jestiny rook method.) i feel like secondhand embarrassment and cringe dialogue is something of an implicit blanket warning for all my stuff, but. i feel the need to explicitly flag it in this one. that should tell you something. (please also see ao3 end notes or post tags for disclaimers.)

As with all holidays, Jestiny would ideally prefer to spend her New Year’s Eve outdoors.

She would gladly take her midnight kisses whilst guzzling craft beer and watching fish leap from the water over sipping champagne and watching pixelated footage of a ball dropping — if only the temperatures of December bleeding into January in Montana would agree with her preferences.

And sure, a sharp chisel and thick jacket could guarantee she would still be taking home her share of trout from a frozen solid pond. A good set of crampons strapped to her favorite hiking boots was all she needed to scale the highest mountain peaks, even covered in ice. A durable tent and well-insulated sleeping bag meant she could still feel wind-nipped cheeks warmed by the flames of a real campfire no matter the season, instead of settling for the store-bought logs currently crackling in the hearth behind her.

But even a rugged outdoorswoman the likes of Jestiny had to admit the blistering, unforgiving cold of Big Sky Country winter required some activities be strictly indoor-only until the first wildflowers of spring poked up from the hard, frozen earth.

And even with all the proper equipment packed, when it came to the activities that required removing clothing…

“God, I’ve needed this so fucking bad,” John whined against her jaw, pulling her along by the arm as his other hand impatiently finished her work of centering her strap-on properly in its harness. “I want you to fuck me all night long, right into the New Year. I want you to fuck me in every room of this house, until I can’t look anywhere without thinking of you.”

What Jessie didn’t have to admit — at least not out loud — was that the spacious yet cozy faux rustic interior of Seed Ranch, with its pervasive scent of leather, pine, and woodsmoke wafting from the fireplace; the vista of sprawling snow covered mountains offered up by its grand far-stretching windows; the lurking presence of hoards of taxidermy animals around every corner, made it the best substitute she could imagine for the thrill of fucking outdoors.

Yes, it was all blatantly, dreadfully fake — but fake was better than nothing.

“I want you to take me right here on my dining room table,” John continued to lustfully monologue to himself as his thighs hit the edge of the table on his path backward with Jessie in tow, turning from their embrace just long enough to sweep an arm along its length and knock all the stray clutter atop it to the floor. “Don’t hold back. Be rough enough to break it. Just give it to me and don’t stop.” He hopped atop the table to sit, then wrapped legs around Jestiny’s waist to pull her into place. “Then I want you to lay me down in front of the fireplace. Hold me close and take your time with me, give it to me slow until I’m fucking begging. Then drag me upstairs and bend me over the railing. Pound me until I can’t stand, until I cry. Then I want you to carry me into the model plane room and…”

“Yeah, yeah,” she shushed as she pushed him back to his elbows, popping the top off of the bottle of lube clenched in her fist. “I’ll fuck you on every tacky ass piece of furniture in this ugly fucking house.” She forced an extra grumble of irritation to hide the tremor of desire threatening to slip into her words from the sight of him laid back for her with legs spread, brow slick with sweat and the dew of melting snowflakes still clinging to his eyelashes. “I assume you want me to lube it up first, though…”

“Let me,” he cooed, grabbing the bottle from her just as it had begun to drip onto sleek silicone. “I want to do it…”

She shrugged in disinterested agreement, placing her hands behind her head and jutting her hips forward as he poured along the length, palm cradling its underside and sliding along to catch the excess.

“Fuck,” he cursed, biting down on his lip as he began to pump his hand faster along the attachment. “Already so fucking hard for me.”

She crinkled her nose and cocked her head to the side. “What the fuck are you talking about?” she questioned. “It’s a fucking dildo, John — it’s always hard.”

“It’s — It’s a turn of phrase,” he huffed, tightening his grip and jerking towards him so that she near-stumbled into him. “Are you not familiar with the concept of dirty talk? Not everything has to be so damn literal. Use some imagina —”

“And why the hell are you jerking it off?” she demanded, thrusting a hand against his collarbone. “You know I can’t feel that, right?”

“Well, I’ll try to be more realistic, then,” he snapped as he leaned forward and shoved a hand between her legs.

Fingers spring-loaded with lingering fury moved to roughly pull her harness to the side, barely stilling or softening their touch before sliding inside her. His other hand remained stubbornly wrapped around silicone to pump it at a now comically harsh pace, as if to prove just how aware he was there was no delicate flesh and blood to be concerned with suffering beneath his vice grip — beginning the spectacle with a rough shove forward of its base to press against her with a pressure that did incidentally send a rewarding flicker of pleasure through hungry nerve endings.

“Fuck,” he ground out in repetitive correction, his tone wilting midway from a sarcastic hiss to a reverent whimper as he curled his fingers. “Already so fucking wet for me.”

Well, it wasn’t her fault he looked so good flushed and panting, even through the ridiculous theatrics.

“Like you got room to fuckin’ talk,” she scoffed as she reached to quickly coat her fingers with lube, sliding inside him and finding right where they needed to be with a practiced ease that made her cheeks warm with satisfied pride at her own expertise. Her thumb traced a line up his cock to find and leisurely smear the precum dewing at his tip. “Fuckin’ dripping the second I get my fingers in you.”

The surrender in his next whimper was complete, paired with a bucking of his hips to beg for more as he mirrored her steady pumping in the pace of his own fingers, thumb tucking itself beneath her harness to find and stroke her clit properly — all while still uselessly jerking off the dildo resting atop it, of course.

Well. Maybe it was useless, but she had to admit — privately — his hands did look nice doing that.

Even if the curve of his spine restyled itself into a distinctly unnatural, exaggerated arch as he regrettably regained the faculty for words. “God, yes, do you — ah, do you like how it feels inside me?”

Another stupid question. Reaching past the contrived, polished exterior to find the depths at which he was all warm silk fluttering to the touch? Delving inside him to feel the promise of all the power to reduce him to a stuttering, pleading mess pulse beneath a single fingertip?

How could she not be positively intoxicated by it? How could the rush of adrenaline it stirred be contained to anything less than electricity prickling along every inch of skin until the air itself felt charged with the intensity of her desire?

“It feels like an asshole, John,” she deadpanned, dragging her finger to tease shallowly. “Felt one, you’ve pretty much felt them all — and until science finds a way to implant a g-spot in the human finger, I’ll be getting just as little out of it every time.”

She gave a swift upward thrust for one last prod of his prostate in punctuation before she slipped fingers out entirely in the same fluid motion of her shoulders shrugging. “I’m more interested in finally getting to fuck you so good you can’t even talk to ask dumbass questions like that.”

She used the hand sticky with lube to smear a last glob onto the head of her strap as the other cradled his face, smoothing a thumb over his pouting lip as she added, “Just as soon as you ask nice.”

His pout deepened. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb now, baby. You know the drill.” She pushed him to lay with back flat on the table. “Beg me for it.”

“No,” he said testily, lifting his chin to give her a look of pure defiance. “You beg me.”

Her breath caught, for a moment — as if his words sank to snag in her chest before her mind even processed them, lunging back up as sharp barks of laughter the moment it did.

“Alright,” she sighed, breathless, as she dropped her head to rest against his collarbone and reached down to line up her attachment. “That was funny enough I’ll let you get by without the begging, this time.”

Her hips barely canted a single centimeter forward before they were stopped by a rough fist grabbing at the base of her dildo to hold her in place.

“It wasn’t a joke,” John hissed, eyes icing cold with determination, like a pond freezing over. “You’re going to beg to fuck me, or you won’t fuck me at all.”

She allowed her confused blinks to pick up pace into a sarcastic batting of her eyelashes paired with a sweet, dimple framed smile. “John, darling. My most cherished love. Light of my life, fire of my silicone sporting loins. Could you, kindly —” she scrunched her face into a scowl, “tell me what the fuck it is you’re talking about?”

“You’ve done nothing all night but mock and belittle me, and act as if you’re somehow begrudgingly doing me a favor,” he snapped. “Now you’re going to admit you want it as badly as I do,” he said, allowing his tone to melt and soften as he circled a finger around delicate, rosy skin. “If you want this, you have to beg for it.”

Oh, he was serious.

Heat flared in the pit of her stomach at how serious he was.

All the better. She loved a challenge.

“Now is not the fucking time to be a brat, John,” she growled, threading fingers in his hair and tugging in the way that pulled a needy moan to the surface to tremble in his adam’s apple. “Now is the time to be a good boy and spread your legs.”

“Oh, and I will,” he moaned, craning his neck so the pull of his hair was tautened — a dare, a meet and raise of a bet. “I’ll be so good for you, as soon as I hear that magic word.”

This time, the hand around her strap stayed still as he reached down to wrap one around his own cock.

“Say ‘please’ for me, Jessie,” John begged with wide eyes as he began to stroke himself. “I’m already so close — don’t make me cum from touching myself alone. I want you to fuck it from me. I need your strap.”

That bastard. But two could play that game.

“Are you begging me to beg you?” she scoffed as she began rolling her hips in steady rhythm, the tip of her strap just barely bumping against him as she fucked the grip of his hand in a promise of what she could do. “Why would I beg for something I won’t even feel?”

“Because you want to take me, don’t you, Jessie? Don’t you want this ass to be yours?” Fuck, he did not play fair — spreading his legs wider and pushing forward to rub the head against slickened, puckered skin, make it look so easy to slide home and fuck the attitude out of him. The sight alone made the friction of grinding against a held still strap-on swell to an unexpected thrum of ecstasy trickling through her veins. “God, I want it. I want to feel the way you move inside me. I want to belong to you, every part of me. I want to cum for you, only for my Jessie.”

Christ, when did the cheesy, unnatural porn lines start working on her?

“Must not want it t-too bad,” she grunted with a particularly harsh snap of her hips. The electricity in the air had heavied, absolutely saturated it. It fizzled with that strange feeling of being up high during a thunderstorm, everything so strongly charged that hair stood on end. “Since you won’t just let me —”

“Oh, I will, Jessie,” he panted, training his eyes on her impotent thrusts as he stroked himself faster. “I’ll let you do anything you want, as soon as you’re ready to —”

“Just —” She glared, thrust harder as if she could break right through his grip and end the standoff, only managing to increase pressure. “Move your fucking hand, and I’ll —”

“You’ll what?” he teased, squeezing the thighs wrapped around her waist. “Please tell me, won’t you? At least talk me off the way I like, since you’re not going to —”

“You’re not going to get off at all, until I —” Fuck, how was this happening? How could she feel every fiber of authority she possessed suddenly unraveling to slip from her fingers? “Say you’re fucking allowed —”

“I’m so close,” he gasped, tossing his head back and arching towards her — the tip of her strap just barely disappearing as he did. “But feel so empty. Oh, Jessie, won’t you —”

“Can you just —” Her cheeks were scalding as she fumbled to grab his hips and grumbled, “For the — the fucking love of god, could you please just —”

She found herself falling forward before she’d even realized the damned word had fallen from her lips, his hand pulling away the second it was spoken and his legs flexing to pull her in, sliding inside him as her knees smacked against the table.

And every volt of electricity hanging overhead came suddenly crashing down with her as she buried to the hilt as the coaxing of his eager rocking hips — as if lightning finally crackled through the air to ripple down her spine and spread through her body. Spread so forcefully she could taste it in her mouth, feel it tingle along her tongue and shoot down her jaw as the current seemed to hone on the place the base of the strap pressed just right against her clit — suddenly overloading from the sensation, short-circuiting into blissful oblivion.

And it felt as if she really had been struck by lightning — the way her flesh crawled with searing heat, the way her insides turned and convulsed, the way every muscle twitched and trembled in pure surrender to its force.

“Did you, um —” he shifted beneath her, pausing and clearing his throat as if for once in his life he realized what a ridiculous thing he was about to say and managed to think twice before saying it, “did you finish?”

“Did I —” she coughed weakly against his collarbone, wishing it had come out closer to a scoff than it did. “I’m genuinely fuckin’ curious — do you even bother to try to make the shit that comes out of your mouth make sense? Or do you just start flapping your jaws and see what happens?”

She did not wait for an answer before summoning her remaining wisps of strength to wind her hips back, forcing wobbly legs pleading to collapse beneath her to instead power a proper thrust forward.

She yelped, a jolt of pain shooting up through sensitive, overstimulated nerves as the base of the strap pressed against her clit at the full extension of her stroke.

John craned his neck, eyes scanning far too knowingly along the flush of pink sprawling along her cheeks and chest. “We can stop, if it’s —”

“I’m fuckin’ fine!” she barked. “I just —” She coughed, reaching down to slip a thumb beneath rubber ring and wedge under the dildo to put space between its base and her sore clit. “Gotta adjust a bit — you put this thing in at the wrong fuckin’ angle, fucked everything up.” She wriggled her hips back with a final grumble of, “Why you should never trust a man to do a woman’s job.”

She began rocking forward with hand still in place to lighten pressure against nerves pleading for rest — she could do this, she just needed to fake it through a few minutes of recovery period. She just needed to —

“Shit!” she cursed, jittery thumb pressing too hard against the base to push it free from the ring with a taunting pop, staying lodged stubbornly inside her lover as she reeled back. She lurched forward, hurrying to retake her place, looking down to gauge position and hopefully reattach herself before he noticed. “Goddamn…”

“Seriously, are you alright?” John questioned as he pushed himself up to his elbows. “Would you like ten minutes and a glass of orange —”

He was interrupted by a thud as he rose to sit fully upright and meet her face to face, Jestiny’s eyes barely catching to follow the shiny black blur that shot from between his legs to land heavy at her feet.

“Fuck.”

Her clumsy rush (since when was she clumsy? first saying ‘please’ and now this?) to turn and reach for the fallen dildo (was her sleight of hand good enough to reattach it without him noticing? what skills did she still have?) resulted in her kicking it with the heft of her combat boot (was it not a good idea to wear them during sex? who even was she?) before she’d even managed to bend down.

She whipped around, finding hardwood bare save for a slight glistening streak. When she lifted her head to follow the snail trail of lube, she found the strap-on had rolled itself across the greater length of floor — losing little momentum as wood broke into granite.

The slight rise of the granite platform barely impeded it at all, in fact, as it rolled right past the wrought-iron guard that had been haphazardly left ajar by Jestiny as she built the fire, tenderly welcomed into the roaring inferno of the fireplace.

The dead lump of a scream in her throat seemed to creep down to spread its decay, making her insides shrivel into brittle rot. As the stench of burning plastic filled the air, her eyes began to water from the sting of chemical smoke. She wondered if she might actually cry for the first time in her adult life.

“Wha — ! Aah,” A confused, devastated noise caught in the back of Jestiny’s throat, withering there to die at the first crackle of silicone as her prized strap-on went up in flames before her eyes.

The world swirled around her, buffeting at her senses like the cruelest of snowstorms.

Past the whistle and crackle of flame devouring silicone and the whoosh of her own pulse in her ears, Jestiny heard the muffled garble of a television set she hadn’t realized was on blare suddenly loud from the recesses of the ranch, cheers of ‘Happy New Year!‘ over discordant symphony of paper horns blown in celebration conjuring images of ceremonial ball reaching the denouement of its annual journey to the base of its pole into her mind unbidden.

On cue, somewhere in the background, a grandfather clock solemnly chimed to announce the turn of the hour.

And there stood teary-eyed, gaping mouthed Jestiny — some bizarre sex toy Cinderella whose impressive phallus turned back into a puddle of cheap plastic polymer at the stroke of midnight.

“Well,” John’s bemused hum pierced through the cacophony rattling around inside Jessie’s brain as he peered past her to the spectacle of silicone bubbling down to black ooze in his fireplace. “I guess it isn’t always hard.”

“Fuck!” Her shout crumpled back into a weak whimper as plain splintered through her knuckles before she even realized she’d swung to strike the table.

She kept fist loosely clenched and eyes glued to the grain of the table as John turned back towards her.

She caught in her periphery the falling of his sly smile. His brow pinched inward as he looked back and forth between Jessie’s flushed, scrunched face and the empty rubber ring at the front of her crotch, his eyes softening with the most genuine look of sympathy she thought she’d ever seen him wear, a level of earnest compassion she would have thought him incapable of even faking properly.

The kind of condescending pity that made her stomach curdle, made her blood boil hot as a melting strap-on. That she would normally lash out to reject, were she not already so thoroughly defeated and stripped of pride.

“It’s alright,” John whispered softly, reaching over to give a few comforting pats to Jessie’s curled fist before bringing his hand up to cup her jaw and lift her chin, guiding her to look into gentle blue eyes. “It happens to everyone, sometimes.”

“That —” she jabbed a thumb over her shoulder in gesture to the strap-on cremation still blazing strong behind her, drawing in a ragged breath, “has literally never happened to anyone before.”

“Well, it was... innovative,” John innovated the world’s first performatively horny purr that doubled as bland diplomacy to reply in, throwing his arms around her neck in embrace.

“We —” Her voice sounded so uncharacteristically small to her own ears as she stumbled over her words. “We can do other stuff. I can still finish you —”

“That’s alright. It was enough just to feel close to you,” John shushed, nuzzling against her neck. “All I want now is for you to carry me to the fireside and hold me.”

God, it was such obvious, manipulative fawning; such a poorly disguised consolation prize. She should storm out in offense.

In no position to refuse consolation prizes, Jessie slid an arm beneath the bend of his knees, wrapping the other around his middle. She gave a slight grunt as she hoisted his weight, at this point truly just grateful she managed not to drop him on the short walk over to the bearskin rug she lowered him to sprawl atop.

“You —” The impulse to counter with a comment that the firelight made��him look much older from the shadows cast into the creases of his face extinguished itself as quickly as it sparked. “You would look even prettier by the light of a real campfire,” she muttered as she fell limp, allowing John to tangle their limbs as he saw fit. “That’s what we should do next New Year’s Eve. I hate being cooped up inside.”

“You always look so beautiful, bathed in firelight,” John sighed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“And do you envision our rugged adventures would begin with a first-class flight to the southern hemisphere?” he asked with a soft laugh, a hand smoothing along her sides. “I don’t have your outdoorsy expertise, of course, but I’d say it’s hardly pleasant camping weather around here.”

“It’s not so bad, actually,” she sighed pleasantly. “Pitching a tent in the dead of winter,” she continued, absentmindedly threading fingers through his hair. “So long as you —”

She coughed, clearing her throat and hiding her face and its burning cheeks against his chest as she finished the statement. “So long as you have the right equipment.”

She definitely should have just gone fishing.

#nsft #otp: stop bothering these nice folks #oc: deputy jestiny ellen #writies and wordies #hey at least i did manage to post it before january ended. still kinda the new year #i think maybe. they are good for each other #plot twist: SHE gets brat tamed. mostly by her own hubris but still. john dom moments they said i couldn’t do it.#also: jenna would reprimand me if i did not mention pure silicone will not melt like that.#assume jestiny is wearing a cheap blend regardless of how she refers to it #i also took some liberties with ranchsion redesign for this #in the actual game the platform of the hearth is raised and the guard does not have doors so this could not have happened #these are the only unrealistic parts of the fic.

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lunaaofthemoon · 9 months

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— this is a starter for either dm or thread for luna. this does not guarantee a relationship and nsfw scenes will not be held on here but this allows a potential plot to be developed. note that the reblogs for this will be tagged under 'rp' and replied to on luna's reply day.

Wandering through the forest, Luna comes across one of the many paths that humans have trekked through her woods, following it along and making sure that they haven't left anything harmful behind like rubbish for the poor creatures of the land to eat by accident. She often does this, making sure the forest that surrounds her inn is always well looked after and not tainted too heavily by the human life that lurks just outside of the tree line.

She's so busy looking at the ground, she doesn't realise anyone else is near her until she bumps into someone and falls over. Luckily, the ground is soft, the earth a little damp so that her hands and rear are dirty but she's not injured. "I'm sorry!" She says as she stands up, cleaning herself as best as she can before smiling up at the person she bumped into, "I should have been looking at where I was going, are you okay?"

#🌙: starter

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incorrect-play-it-by-ear · 5 months

Note

Hope it’s okay to use this as an anonymous space for this! I have been lurking & have seen the posts and am currently working on a Scott cracking up on off book video for u all :) Q for the fandom tho: do you want to know what Scott’s laughing at or should I set it to a song and you don’t know the context? Ultimately I might decide it’s better one way or another once I really start getting in to editing it so no guarantees but I am curious :) also fyi it’ll probably be forever until it’s out, there’s a lot of content to go through! Thanks <3

HELLO AND HAPPY NEW YEAR TO THE FANDOM!! We couldn’t have asked for better news, you have made me so so happy 😁❤️

I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say, however long it takes you we will receive it with ENORMOUS LOVE 💕 and the decision is your own, whatever you feel works better. That being said though, since you’ve asked for fandom input…

#play it by ear #jess mckenna #zach reino #Scott passarella #off book #off book podcast

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bilightningwhumper · 1 month

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Old Intro (now unpinned)

Finally made a writing sideblog, so hi, hello, nice to meet you all.

Alright, so I've been mostly lurking in the whump tags the past couple years. While it's not new new to me, I'm still learning more of the tagging finese that's going on.

Appreciate any help and also maybe beta readers in future?

---

But anyway, here's the stories I've been working on for my Ao3 (bilightningwriter for my username there):

Shadow of a Sheild*- Marvel omegaverse fanfic is currently centered around mostly my OCs Jamie (Steve Rogers' and Peggy Carter's daughter) and her love interest, Anna; though I'll have more scenes and/or separate simultaneous stories with other OCs (like Jamie's half+step siblings, Will and Becca) as well as other Marvel characters

Summary (current, to be edited):

Jamie Makayla Rogers (formerly Carter) is a girl displaced out of time. Much like her father, she was frozen in ice, but like his mate, she was forced into it. Now in the modern world, Jamie is struggling to communicate with the soldier who left her mother. Captain Steve Rogers. After all, until recently, he didn't even know she existed.

Steve Rogers suddenly has a pup, already almost grown. Avenging the world seems a simpler task than attempting to raise a teenager.

Main tropes/themes/etc:

Superheros

Whump

The New Eden Institution- whump omegaverse fics made to both get comfortable writing for myself again, as well as to mess with AI because I guess Omegaverse screws with it, lol; no greater motivation than being petty

Summary:

New Eden Institution: A Correctional Facility for the Troubled and In Need

Is your child in need of intervention before progressing into adulthood? We're here to help! Your dependent must 18 or older. Unfortunately, we have no program for Betas so far, though we strive to eventually help all troubled children. Guaranteed improvement and healing.

Main tropes/themes/etc:

Dystopia

Whump

Soulmates

Fairytales/Legends/etc

The fairytales I'm working on so far for it are as follows:

Little Mermaid

Red Riding Hood

Swan Lake

Rapunzel

Robin Hood

Beauty and the Beast + Cinderella (merged)

Mangst 2024- TNEI Edition Masterlist

Ao3 New Eden Institution series

Magic High School AU Collection*- Also unnamed; stories so far to be AUed are:

Lady and the Tramp

Swan Lake

Asterisks next to titles that are/will be restricted to users of Ao3 only because AI is ridiculous.

Main characters are all some combination of LGBT+ and/or neurodivergent (and I mean neurodivergent, not just the "nice disorders").

Warnings for these: SA is pretty prevalent in my stories, for personal reasons. Homophobic and transphobic characters (side characters are, not main ones, though some internalized for the main, but they get through it) as well as ableism. I've mostly stuck to what I personally know, so a lot of the main characters are white and not PoC, though I'm working on it, I just don't want to overstep or inadvertently be insensitive.

One thing I avoid is death, like killing off characters, especially the main ones. Big fan of "everybody lives."

That's it for now. I'll add more as I think of it.

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awkwardsaweeb · 1 year

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Acquiescent Inamorato

Pairing: Azul Ashengrotto/ Fem!Reader

Tags: Riding, Swearing, Cream pie, threats, implied murder, gaslighting, choking

Word Count: 5,197

User Tags: @a-million-horny-bunnies and @merakiui Thank you so much for your wonderful help!🖤

Azul was always such a busy man; most hours of his day, if he wasn’t studying dutifully in class, then he locked himself away deep in the confines of his office, toiling away on stacks of paper varying in topic and importance. Today was like most others, except the difference laid within yourself, notably in your disappointment in being stood up, utterly forgotten, and pushed to the back burner by Azuls forgetfulness. Mind having been consumed by meetings and due dates, completely forgetting his promise to walk you to the lounge today to share a meal while he helped you turn over a few pages of material you’ve been having trouble with. You could have forgiven this transgression if it hadn't been for the fact that he’s done this very thing before. A handful of times within the last month, actually.

Quickly, you grew bitter as you were forced to wallow in your frustration. Frustrated that you had a gnawing feeling of insecurity developing deep inside, frustrated at Azul and his ability to budget his time for everything but you, Frustration at how you now have to walk yourself to the lounge in brooding silence when it could have been spent with light chatter and jokes. However, above all of the frustration that's been simmering under your skin, what hurts the most is that all of the above could be surmised in one word.

Neglected.

You’ve missed your awkward little octopus, and up until recently, you’ve really been excited about your little accomplishments to further your relationship. The months it’s taken to simply get to hand holding and soft kisses to his cheeks, reveling in the way his skin flushes. He was a being consumed by anxiety and insecurity, which made you feel a little guilty at the prospect of confronting him. You can almost guarantee that it wasn’t deliberate, probably far from the fact, and would more than likely be taken off guard at your grievance in the freshly blossoming relationship.

So many things to bear in mind when you think about your relationship with Azul, always too willing to lend you a hand yet stayed so busy, such a distinct name and face yet so mysterious, always a bargain to be made but with the unknown certainly of whether the trade was worth the price. All of which is followed by a confident smirk and assuring the unassured that it’s all covered in the fine print.

Despite his soft words and showmanship attitude, you couldn't help the sinking feeling that there was always something lurking around the corners, whispers passing right under your nose. His actions and phrases were always chosen so deliberately as he was eager to charm and subdue. But, of course, it wasn’t as though you hadn’t an inkling about his unscrupulous practice as you were, yourself, once at his mercy. Though, as the time together progressed, you couldn't help the sneaking suspicion that there was more to it than you had initially thought as you occasionally happened upon a carelessly left intimation.

Thudding around and muffled conversations behind closed doors, happening upon Jade carefully reassembling a room that had appeared to have been turned upside down, a slightly disheveled Azul carefully sliding out of the space of his office to greet you in the hallway, ever so attentive to the door as he kept the inside as obstructed as feasibly possible.

You’ve grown to love him, honestly and entirely, despite a bit of consternation having deeply permeated your mind. Perhaps there was another reason as to why he’s been biding his time to further your relationship. What was he afraid of, and by proxy, what were you?

The longer you walked, the longer you had to ruminate, venomous doubt swelling into the open space of your mind. The rhythmic steps of your travel mingled with the odd silence of the open walkway, subsequently filling the remaining area of your thoughts to a fuzzy drawl. Nerves pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, wearing away at the soft skin to the point of experiencing the start of chapping. As you passed, your eyes had subconsciously drawn themselves to the campus bulletin board. Your nerves took a heavy shock, igniting in light tremors as you were confident that you were practically vibrating. Mixed amongst the faded ads and club announcements were a few missing student posters, some of which the worn paper had begun to ripple and fray with age. The hope of finding these students had shriveled up, matching the energy of the time-aged calling card.

A newer poster, in particular, had caught your attention, one of a face you actually knew rather well. A second year that would frequent the lounge. Though the two of you had only spoken a handful of times, he was always cordial with you and offered a polite smile and his time. A few instances were interrupted by Jade announcing Azul was ready to see him. Perhaps you’ll ask him about the student when you see him?

You couldn’t help but wonder if you might find yourself on that wall one day. Despite the friends that you've made, you were still a sitting duck, practically defenseless and at a severe disadvantage without the magical means that everybody else had in spades. Already so lost and edging the potential of never being found.

In no time, you stood in front of the large ornate doors to the lounge, staring down the tinted glass, hands suddenly feeling clammy. Your mouth had dried, the thick feeling of cotton swelling around your tongue and inflating your throat. What if you’re intruding? Maybe he had been late because he had something pressing to attend to?

Choking down your nerves, your chest refilled with earlier irritation just enough to push past the heavy doors. The greeting of chilled air was immediate, washing over your body with the open space and quiet tunes of orchestral tones. The familiar environment almost quelled the heat in your chest, but the honor was, instead, given to the man at the host station. Jade Leech.

He stood formally and ready to attend to you as he finished tugging on his gloves; noting this odd action, you wondered what could have possibly prompted him to remove them. Noticing your stare, he dismissed it without a second thought. “Accidents happen in a restaurant, after all.”. “Where's Azul?” you ask, not wanting to linger around the twin for as long as you can manage. “My my, eager are we?” He jests with you before continuing. “You’ll find him in his office, though for your own sake, I’d recommend stalling a moment to offer him a chance to make himself presentable again.” Immediately, you’re confused; had your earlier ponderings proven correct? What could have possibly happened? When you ask as much, you’re met with the same coy smile, Jade seeming resolute in remaining cryptic for his own enjoyment.

With a sigh, you make your way into the space and hone in on the double doors to the back that contain the hallway that houses the entrance to the kitchen, storage, and, most importantly, Azuls office. Making your way through the aluminum doors and into the dim hallway, you're greeted immediately by the bright fluorescent lighting that blares from your right from the kitchen entrance. Always a brilliant contrast that you have yet to get used to in your many visits. as you passed the doorway, you saw the rags cart right beside it, tucked away in the small space. It has been freshly emptied, with a few napkins and kitchen rags already pooling up to line the bare bottom. What was an unusual sight, though, was the pair of gloves that mingled amongst the rest of the soiled material. A slight chill went up your spine as your hazard glance served only to churn your stomach further; they were spotted in what looked like blood. Were those Jades?

Your thoughts were ripped away from the discarded clothing at the sudden start the storage room gave you. The eerie sounds of shuffling and banging were muffled yet clear as they trickled out from the space beneath the door. Slowly, step by slow step, you made your way up the hall to just in front of the door. Your body had been overcome in a sudden slick of cold sweat, nausea rearing its ugly head as you were once again in the situation that further cemented your suspicions. What the hell was going on behind that door? You could hear a couple of soft grunts between the shuffling, staining your ears as you tried desperately to identify the source. Your fingers began to cramp from the tension and indecisiveness to either pursue your curiosity and open the door or forget you've seen anything and turn tail.

Before you could decide, your choice had been stolen from you by the form of Floyd, having ripped open the door abruptly. Immediately his eyes landed on you as the two of you were locked in a pause, an unsettling ire in his eye and a sharp frown consuming the expanse of his face. His hands gripped either side of the door frame as he leaned forward into your space, his large frame easily stretching across the small hallway and effectively shoeing you against the wall opposite from him. The shadow he casts over you is disconcerting as he effectively shrouds you in his wake, the effects making him appear grimmer than he initially had. You know better than to look away from Floyd, but your curiosity got the best of you as you took your chance.

Hazarding a glance behind him, you could see a smidge into the room; in the flickering amber light of the room, you could make out the basics. A few brooms and mops were leaning haphazardly against the gray walls, the shelves above full of organized miscellaneous cleaning chemicals and paper goods. The out-of-place item, though, would be the large gray plastic trash bin. Under normal circumstances, this would be another boring item mingling with the other standard things in a storage room though this one differed in how it had been sealed. The lid was fixed atop the bin by a copious amount of heavy-duty tape; it appeared that whatever was inside was not intended to see the light of day again.

The outside of the bin had been carelessly wiped down. Though there were no definite marks of anything on the outside, there were still a few residual smears of something that you couldn't quite make out in the poor lighting. Your view had been cut off as Floyd forced himself back into your line of sight, “Hey.” he started, his voice a deep and bitter gruff, “You really outta mind your own damn business Shrimpy.” He leaned impossibly closer, his mouth now level with your ear. “If Azul finds out you’ve been snooping around, he might just let me squeeze you.” He punctuates his sentence with an uncomfortably soft cackle as he steps out into the hallway, clicking the lock before shutting the door hard to make his point further. Sparing you one last glance as he turns to make his way up front, he calls one last time. “ See you around, Shrimpy.”

Moments later, you're left alone in the hallway, and the space feels much smaller than it had a moment ago, almost suffocating. Your mind is racing so quickly that it almost feels numb with how it's turning over your most recent bit of information. How should you proceed? You can't really confirm anything quite yet; despite the churning nausea and chill of your cooling sweat, you decide that the only way to get any semblance of an answer is to continue forward and ask the man himself. His office door is only a few feet away from where you’re standing, and you can clearly read the polished golden plate on the front that says “Office.”

Swallowing down the ball in your throat, you push through on shaky legs, Floyd obviously having done a number on your nerves. Stalling in front of the door for a moment, you clench your fist a few times before giving it a knock. The solid wood resounds through the space despite the tepidness of your delivery. A moment of pause goes by before you get a response. “One moment!” You hear Azul call from the other side. His tone seems a bit bitter, and you can hear the vague mumblings of his form as he makes his way to the door.

With a click of the knob, you find yourself suddenly washed in the cool aquatic light of the room as your boyfriend takes up the entrance. A look of surprise flashes across his face for a brief second before disappearing completely, replaced with a soft smile and kind eyes as he moves aside and gestures for you to enter. “Welcome in, dearest; I hadn’t been expecting you this evening.” immediately, you’re reminded of why you had come over in the first place, as you somehow managed to scrape the bottom of the barrel for any residual upset. Turning on your heel just as he's closing the door, you sling your bag unceremoniously from your shoulder to the floor, forgetting about whatever work you had wanted to cover today.

“Really?” You start, anger bubbling below the surface of your tone, “Because you should have!” Closing the distance between the two of you, you press your finger into his broad chest, an accusing action to match your tone. Immediately his hands come up in a placating manner as the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. “Oh, my little angel fish, please accept my most sincere apologies” He pulls a sympathetic look, one that for the first time convinces you and quells the anger just a smidge. Now that you have a moment to take stock of the situation, you actually get a good look at him. For the most part, he's put together; only the slightest details are misplaced, but only to the trained eye.

He seems tired, a bit of stress just barely crossing his otherwise perfect face, his shirt is just barely pulled too far from his pants as it pools slightly more at his waist, and lastly, a few stray hairs poke freely from his typically pristine hairstyle as if it had been smoothed down with fingers. Turning away just slightly, you look over the room for the first time since you'd entered. Several things are moved across his desk from where they typically are, and some of the furniture has made its way a few feet from its regular place of rest, only made evident by the time-tested indentations in the carpet. Then, looking back at Azul, his hands come back down to rest at his sides, a smooth persona making its way back into place as he places his left hand onto the small of your back guiding you further into the room.

“What happened here today?” you ask, looking up to Azul as you put your concerns on the back burner for now. “First, the bloody gloves in the wastebasket, the out-of-place furniture, and god knows whatever the hell was in that bin that Floyd locked away!” Brushing his hands off of your body, you place your hand on his chest before giving him a soft push backward. “On top of that, you completely forgot about your promise to spend time with me today! This isn’t even the first time!” Crossing your arms, you turn your attention to your shoes, suddenly feeling much more vulnerable than you would have liked. “I just don't get what's going on with you lately,” You choke out, your voice having gone soft with vulnerability.

A beat of silence overtakes the stale air between the two of you; then, suddenly, you feel the soft, warmed material of his gloves gently brushing against the bottom of your jaw as he carefully angles your face upwards, forcing you to meet his gaze. His other hand grabs ahold of yours, bringing it up to his chest as he locks your fingers with his own.

“Sweet little angel fish, I'm so sorry I've made you feel this way. Really I am.” He brings his hand up your jawline to twirl his fingers through a loose strand of your hair before sliding it behind the shell of your ear with a single finger.

“As for the few'' He pauses, “Incidents that you have come across, simply a misunderstanding.” He gives a light shrug before continuing, “sometimes collecting on contracts can be messier than I'd like for it to be. A bit of force is required to fulfill the end of the signer, simple business than the twins are more than happy to take care of for me.” He sighs as he makes his way over to the couch, giving the end a light push back into place. “I had one of those signers today; you see. Unfortunately, due to the volatile nature of the client, our meet-up had slipped my mind.” Finishing the task at hand, he makes to sit on the couch, crossing his legs in the process and finishing the posture by perching his clasped hands over his raised knee. “And the trash can was simply a collection of broken things in the scuffle, having to be discarded in the aftermath, which Floyd so generously handled for me.” He offers you a composed smile for reassurance, convincing enough to make you feel embarrassed for coming to such a brash conclusion. “Is there anything else I can clarify for you, dearest?” he offers.

Immediately you have one last thing to ask for clarity on, this one making your face flush just a little brighter in embarrassment. “Yeah, actually.” You start, for a moment, second-guessing, prodding at him for something so intimate. Then, deciding to just go for it, you take your shot, “I was actually wondering why it seems like you've been so hesitant to move forward with things, you know, between us.” It's hard to maintain eye contact with him, and it would seem he had the same issue as he glanced away, a bit of color tinging his face. “Oh, well,” he looked up, “I wasn’t sure where your boundaries were. Thankfully, these things can always be negotiated if you'd be open to the conversation,” he offers.

A bit of heat starts to make its way under your collar at the prospect of pursuing further intimacy with Azul, becoming more apparent with every step closer to his sitting form. Bringing your hand up to his, you graze the tips of your fingers across the surface of his hand, slowly prying them apart as you retangle your fingers. Then, leaning forward, you bring your free hand up to grip firmly against the back of the couch to rest beside his head, effectively caging him in. As your body hovers over him ever so slightly, you bring your face ever closer to his noticing the tightening of his mouth and a warmer flush beginning to breach the surface of his pale complexion. Clearing his throat before speaking, he starts, “This is certainly more forward than I had given you credit for.” He admonishes lightly as a small chuckle breaks past his lips. “If I didn't know any better, I’d argue that you aren't particularly in the mood for talking.” He says this in jest, but little did he know that he hit it right on the head.

“You really are magic,” you mumble, eyes taking in the sight of the man beneath you, letting go of his hand in favor of sliding it up against his chilled cheek. Bringing your gaze down instead to watch your thumb make its way to his bottom lip, toying with his mouth's impossibly soft pink skin. “ Always knowing just what to say.” You say before slowly leaning in, making contact with him as you deliver the most delicate kiss you could manage. When you pull away, his hand comes up to thread through the hair on the back of your head before speaking “ I suppose I am a man of many talents,” He says, backpacking on your light praise. Pulling you in once more, your lips lock in a much more solid kiss, a hot breath leaving him as you place your hands on his knees as you force them apart from their crossed position. Sliding up the soft ironed fabric of his pants from knees to mid-thigh, effectively smoothing out your seat.

Moving your hands from his pants to his chest, your palms slide up his torso, feeling his firm body below you as they make their way to his neck and secure your fingers. Bringing your knees up to either side of him, The combined weight of you two made you sink deeper into the furniture as the already beaten frame gave a groan of objection. You slide easily onto his lap as your hips lock with his own. The shuddered breath that leaves him brings a sense of pride to your chest, furthering your desire to pull that reaction from him several times over as the undulating waves of heat begin to consume the entire expanse of your body.

Gliding your tongue across his, you prod lightly at the seem before he hesitantly opens up. Immediately you dive in, tongue seeking out his as you twirl the two muscles, teeth lightly scraping against each other. Then, ceasing the dance, you suck, pulling his tongue into your wet cavern as you nibble lightly on the squishy muscle before delivering a harsh suck.

The low desperate moan that leaves the Merman beneath you is gratifying, kicking up the heat between your thighs as you use the leverage around his neck to drag your hips down into his own. His hands fly to your hips, a firm grip befalling their fate in response to your bold move.

Breaking away suddenly, he throws his head back against the couch as an airy moan sounds through the room, a few deep gasps following in succession. “Oh great seven!” he whines “ little fish do you understand what you’re asking for?”. Bringing your face down to be level with his neck, you bare your teeth before scraping them against the sensitive skin, allowing him to adjust to the feeling before opening your maw and clamping down on a sizable amount of the skin before dragging your hips against his once again. Your bite is harsh, feeling the meat beneath each tooth welt and pool up around your teeth as they sink in. A haughty whine leaves him, a subconscious thrust bucking upwards in response. Sealing your lips around the bite, a harsh suck follows as your tongue soothes away any residual pain. Finally, you give your love bite a light kiss as you finish up before pulling back to admire your handy work.

Azul is a mess at your hand, submerged in a hot blush, lips perfectly kissed bruised, and hair a lovely mussed mess. The blossoming splotch of color serves to be a rewarding bit of retribution to your adorable boyfriend.

Gripping his chin in a firm grip, you bring his head forward to meet your gaze, “I understand exactly what I’m asking for,” You start, followed by yet another harsh grind against his crotch. Your skirt has long since pooled up by your hips, your underwear acting as a poor barrier between you and the bold shape of his cock pressed firmly against the fabric of his pants.

“Are you still willing to negotiate?” You hum a light chuckle, followed by a moan of your own at the friction.

Gripping your hips in a firmer hold, he drags you back against his a few more times as he pants out his terms. “F-fuck my little fish,” He starts, “You can take me” A whine and a gasp followed by another drag of your hips. “In return, be mine” one hand comes up and begins to finger at the buttons of your blouse, plucking away one by one. “Be mine and no one else's” He delivers a harsh thrust upwards that makes you clench around nothing. “Be my world, and I will return it back to you tenfold.” His speech is breathless, and at this moment, he is quite possibly the most beautiful person you have yet to lay eyes on.

There's something about a man of Azuls importance and position, gasping under you and promising the world in exchange for being his. His hand has finished its task of unfastening your blouse, breasts falling out for him to view. Sliding his hand up and underneath the thin cup of your bra and holds the fatty mound with great care as he gives it a few appreciative squeezes.

Leaning down one last time, you give him another consuming kiss. Then, as you pull away, you swear you see hearts in his eyes as your hands begin to work against the leather of his belt.

“It’s a deal.”

You unclasp his belt with little grace, unfastening and tugging down his pants with even less. Your underwear is the last remaining barrier between the two of you, an obstacle you begin to resent even more with every passing second that you feel the thick hard heat pressing firmly into the damp fabric below. As you continue to rock against him desperately, it gets substantially harder to hold out on sealing your deal for good, to sign away your freedom to ride him into oblivion. To hear his whiny sweet moans pitch to new octaves and plead for you in that beautiful wonton way that he can.

You stall just a moment longer and reach below your skirt to tug aside the sodden fabric and bring yourself back down to be skin-to-skin with Azul. A gasp whistles through grit teeth at the contact as he delivers a harsher squish to your breast. When you pull your hand free, you notice just how glimmering your fingers are in the aquatic blue sheen of the room. A creeping feeling of embarrassment returned ever so slightly as the condemning evidence of your desperation vividly glossed on the skin of your fingers.

The sudden jolt forward elects a needy moan of your own, the intimate feeling of the head of Azuls cock pushing past the lips of your clit and catching on the pearl as he thrust against you. He has always been a convincing man.

Lifting yourself back up, you grip his length before making eye contact. His hand leaves the space within your shirt to trail back down to brace himself against your hip, the both of you holding your breath as you sink down.

The stretch of Azul is deep and searing as you slowly take him in inch by inch. Then, finally, his grip becomes tighter to the point you're confident that you’ll see discoloration by tomorrow morning. It takes a couple of light thrusts, but he’s bottomed out in seconds. He’s deep, a much more profound feeling than you initially thought that he would have been, and the delectable fullness that accompanies it begins to make your head a little fuzzy.

Taking a moment to adjust, you roll your hips against his once again, only this time you're met by a stirring sensation coupled with the delectable scrape of your clit against his hips. A please scrapes its way from his throat as he submits, having grown relatively comfortable in the role that he’s playing today. Who are you to deny the man who has all but promised you the world on a silver platter?

Bracing your hands against his shoulders, you give a couple of test bounces, slow and deep, adjusting to the delicious intrusion. Soft whines leave Azul as he twitches in response, the contraction of his stomach making him flex inside of you. At this moment, your patience vanishes, or what was left of it, that is. With that revelation, you begin your pace, going immediately into a natural bounce as your hips roll on their own. Azul becomes a blubbering mess in seconds, whining and praising every iota of your being with practically every word he knows. In turn, he’s met by choked-out versions of his name and explicit swears chanted loudly into the ether. With every thrust, you’re pushed closer to the edge, the pitiful attempts of him thrusting from below you only adding to the high of riding this beautifully dangerous man.

Reaching up, you slide your fingers around his tie, twirling the material around your soiled fingers as you yank forward toward yourself as you’ve created a faux leash. If it were possible, his face gets brighter, teetering along the edge of fresh strawberries. One of his hands comes up to brace against the tie as the other remains down where it started, his thrusts upwards becoming increasingly desperate as he pleads to finish, begging you to send the both of you over the edge.

Fuck you’re close of salacious plea from his prattling pushing you closer to the end, the tight ball in your abdomen synching ever tighter. You can see your end in sight unencumbered as you ride Azul with reckless abandon, practically yanking him around with every harsh bounce of your body.

The next thing you know, the knot in your stomach snaps, and a boiling heat shoots up your spine as the tremors of your orgasm consume you. An incredible warmth seeped out, dribbled down your thighs, and pooled onto Azuls hips. The locking twitch of your cunt holds him hostage, clamping down on him in an unrelenting strength as you milk him for all he’s worth. A high-pitched cry of “I love you” Broke past his lips at the height of his orgasm as he relished in the high and the comedown.

Spent and out of breath, you lean forward, pushing your weight against his chest as you drop his tie and settle your head onto his shoulder. His arms circle your body, pulling you protectively against him as he soothes his fingers through your hair, whispering sweet nothings and declarations of love now that you’re his. Well, first, he needs it in writing, but that's not a hard sell at all at this point. It'd be so easy to fall asleep right now, nuzzled into the warmth of your lover, lulled to a gentle rest by the soft touch of his attentive hands and the rich smell of his cologne.

It would be so easy to drift away to his reassurances and praise if it weren't for the two prominent red dots speckling the collar of his shirt. Glancing up, the bite you’d delivered earlier hadn't broken skin, a fact that only leaves your mind to spiral.

The more you think about it, the more you’re consumed by the guilt of suspecting your partner of such a postulation. But then again, you wonder if you’ll see a new missing poster on the bulletin board tomorrow, and if you do, you’ll hope you’ll never make it up there either.

#twisted wonderland #twist wonderland #twist smut #spicy #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland/reader #twist wonderland x reader #twist x reader #azul/reader #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul #twisted wonderland azul #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto/reader #azul smut #azul ashengrotto smut

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saintsenara · 5 months

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For the tag game can you tell us more about First Do No Harm :)

thank you very much, anon! first do no harm is an excellent choice from the work in progress tag game list.

provided you don't mind a bit of harrymort, with a snake-faced voldemort, rather than a hot one, that is.

[although - just as a pre-warning - i don't advise reading any further if you have health anxiety...]

i spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about the worldbuilding around wizarding medicine - and, in particular, how societal attitudes to illness and disability are changed by the fact that, canonically, magic can treat, cure, or render meaningless things which would, in our world, be considered permanent, chronic, life-limiting, or fatal.

[spoiler alert: i hate the fact that the series thinks this, since it pretty much justifies the blood-supremacist position that wizards and muggles are essentially different species... but that's a conversation for another day...]

the exception to the series' rule that wizards are more durable than muggles is its attitude towards brain injury and cognitive disability. the loss of cognitive function - which is implied to have a debilitating, irreversible impact on magical ability - is something the series finds uniquely horrifying. think of the brutal torture of frank and alice longbottom, the mind-altering power of the dementors, the fear of being placed under the imperius curse, and so on.

and i've been playing around a lot recently with how these thoughts could be used in fic - and, especially, how they could be used in a way which wasn't just me reeling off my notes from uni. not least because i don't know where those are.

and, obviously, how they could be tied into my actual favourite thing to write about...

harry potter and lord voldemort being forced to engage with the concept of love.

there is - of course - a very famous trope which medicalises love: hanahaki disease. and my original idea for first do no harm was to write something using this.

of real world diseases, hanahaki most closely resembles tuberculosis [a comparison which has been made in numerous fics, including a lovely bit of tomarry - consumption by @laeveteinn]. and i can understand why something tuberculosis-like grabs fic writers' imagination... after all, tb was considered incredibly glamorous in the victorian era - it makes you fashionably pale! it gives you big shiny eyes! it makes you look fragile and feminine and delicate! it makes you gives you an attractive flush on the cheekbones! it makes you cough blood delicately into a handkerchief! it consumes you from the inside out!

and it kills you.

[and it's getting harder to treat.]

and, sure, it makes a great metaphor for unrequited love. but for unrequited love which is sad, rather than terrifying and unwanted... and this fic is about love which is terrifying and unwanted.

which is where talking about the brain comes in...

when asked to name diseases which frighten them, most people would - and, indeed, should! - say rabies. and i do think there's something to be said for this humble virus - which can be transmitted by a tiny, unnoticeable bite from something as small as a bat; which has guaranteed its target is going to die in horrendous circumstances by the time they've even started to suspect that something's wrong - as a metaphor for love taking root without its host realising, and for how disorienting and overpowering love can be when it gets going.

rabies kills a bit too quickly for my purposes though...

lucky there's something just as horrifying lurking out there. a subset of neurodegenerative diseases known as transmissible spongiform encephalopathies. or prion diseases.

most people have very probably heard of at least one prion disease: bovine spongiform encephalopathy [mad cow disease - i.e. reveal you're a european millennial without saying you're a european millenial]; creutzfeld-jacob disease; kuru [famously transmitted via cannibalism]; and the one which has made me feel vaguely terrified since i first discovered it existed...

fatal familial insomnia. in which the prion-induced degeneration of the brain causes holes to appear in the thalamus - the area of the brain which regulates sleep - until it resembles a sponge.

and the patient can literally never sleep again.

for the rest of their life - usually within eighteen months of the disease's onset - they are held in hypnagogia [pre-sleep limbo, the state between wakefulness and sleeping]. they are disoriented, panicking, hallucinating, forgetful, losing control over their body, losing control over their entire sense of self...

[the face of prion diseases is the astonishing scientist sonia vallabh, who is trying to make as much progress towards a cure for fatal insomnia as she can before it kills her.]

you wouldn't wish it on your worst enemy.

well, maybe you would. if you didn't know that a bit of your worst enemy's soul lived inside your greatest weapon, or that your greatest weapon's blood kept your worst enemy's heart beating, or that they are most vulnerable to each other as their connected minds linger on the threshold of dreaming and waking...

how lucky that - unlike muggles, who just have to die from neurodegenerative diseases - this curse could be lifted from dear old harry and poor old snake-face voldemort if they put in a bit of effort and fall in love with each other...

ah.

shit.

[the title - first do no harm - is a bioethical phrase which is often misattributed as being part of the hippocratic oath. it is also just a generally sound philosophy to have in life. eh, albus?]

#work in progress ask game #asenora fics #first do no harm #tomarrymort #harrymort #harry potter #lord voldemort #me and the brain are in our enemies to lovers era

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khae-writes · 1 year

Text

entwined by fate [ xiao/reader ]

tags: open ending, female reader, soulmate au, the red string

header

There had always been this tiny little string that followed right behind the teal-haired yaksha. It was thin and seemingly fragile, however unbreakable. He had tried to cut it off with mere scissors, use his choice of weapon, and even go as far as using anemo to try and cut it off as it hindered with his battles. The other end of it was too far for his eyes to decipher but he knew it pointed north — Mondstadt, he assumed. And that was incredibly far.

He had no problem crossing scorching deserts and land coated in pure white snow — he wouldn’t , at least. But his duty was to protect Liyue and its people.

It wasn’t as if he could just leave the inn just to traverse through mountains and climb rocks just to see where this tiny pathetic little string leads.

He had come forth with this problem with Rex Lapis, who was no help in any way. He only smiled and vaguely told him with that same amused but also calculative expression he gave to everyone he found the least bit entertaining.

“You’ll meet them eventually.”

Who was ‘them’?

Xiao scoffed that time he heard that — he knew Morax was not underestimating his abilities, nor toying with him and his emotions. But that was honestly a much more anticipated reaction than the cryptic one the former Geo Archon gave then. The Guardian Yaksha could never fathom why he didn’t just say it outright. But he supposes even the most serious people have their own sources of joy and amusement.

“What do you mean I’ll ‘meet them eventually’?”

Zhongli smiled at him. “The one who is truly destined to save you — your soulmate.”

Xiao didn’t understand; he didn’t want to either. So instead of further humoring the taller man, the vigilante yaksha simply stood up from his seat and walked away, leaving Zhongli alone on his table sipping a cup of tea.

---

He counted the hours.

He counted the minutes.

He counted the seconds.

But of course, sometimes, he’d lose count. So he’d start again, and again, and again — this would happen every time a random no-good bandit pops by, or danger lurks near the Wangshu Inn.

As if the world didn’t want to grant him a moment of serenity where he could just sit around and watch the night sky, counting numbers and time until he’d fall into a slumber. Every so often, his mind would drift back to his last interaction with the tall brunette.

If there was anything he picked up from that , it was that the guardian had a feeling it would be a life-changer for him. Rex Lapis never lied to him, and he doubted he even had the capability to do so — so him saying that the person destined to truly save him from this despair with such confidence — it shocked Xiao.

Xiao almost snorts in amusement.

But it had also exhausted him.

This whole thing where he could only do nothing but wait for the other end to come to him instead.

Yet, he had grown tired of waiting; how many months have passed? How many years have passed?

Why was he even waiting?

Did he want to be saved after all?

Morax said this person would save him completely — he couldn’t have been lured in by that sweet talk, right?

It has been a little over a century, Xiao believes so. The string was yet to throb and move — a motion that people around him would’ve expected to have already heard swing around and be held into a straight line; the sign that his ‘savior’ had arrived.

But nothing happened over the century.

A century .

“... this is pointless.” Xiao sighs, pinching the string with his index finger and thumb, bringing it closer to his eyes as he observed it with an analytical gaze, wondering how to separate it from his body without hurting himself and by that, he meant chopping off his arm. There really was no guarantee either whether the string would be cut off or not even after his arm had been cut off.

He sighs, plopping on top of Wangshu Inn’s roof, watching the lanterns light up the sky. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands — he watched them all with a relaxed and contented expression.

A gentle breeze fleets by him, the feeling of the cold wind breezing by his skin tickled him a bit and he liked the feeling of peaceful moments like these — none of his karma to ruin him, no enemy to shed blood of.

Liyue was peaceful; Xiao closed his eyes — although no smile reached his face, he relished in the comfortable silence.

The tug on his pinky finger snaps him to reality. He feels a wave of slight annoyance and he pulls his hand to his chest, as if pettily reminding the string who was alpha — that this mere thread shant keep him caged for some unexplained reason.

A rumbling noise from under the roof he sat on interrupted yet again his doze. He kept his amber optics peeled for any suspicious movement, his spear already on his hand. The weight of the string on his pinky distracted him a bit but it did little to hinder his speed and strength. He jumps down to the ground with a loud thud to encounter the person who he presumed to be out to steal the inn’s money and antique while the owners and visitors were out to watch the lantern festival up close.

Whoever this stranger was that dared to steal at such a solace night — Xiao would be sure to punish them severely.

The noise continued to rustle just behind a bush. His dominant hand suddenly felt much heavier — this time, the weight was overwhelming and the teal-haired man furrows his brows, nearly doubling forward at the sudden gravity. The string no longer limped, Xiao took notice as well.

His heart raced.

The red string — vermillion and cerise — it was in a horizontal position where it connected him to whatever or whoever it was behind these bushes and the call it was singing to him, it was as if it was luring him to the other end.

He neared, he stepped forward.

Xiao pulls apart the shrubs standing in his way, his weapon long gone before standing over a young woman. His amber-colored contacts met (e/c) orbs and for a moment, silence instilled. It was as if time froze.

The red string by his pinky, it led to this (h/c)-haired woman battered on the ground who was patching herself up with gauze and bandages.

Then the thread snapped, floating away to wherever.

The girl gaped at him, a shine glossing over her eyes as she immediately dusts herself when she stands. She leaned over to see him clearly. Xiao takes a tentative step back, cautious as she gives him a wide pearly-white grin.

“You’re my soulmate!”

Xiao felt his heart burst into a flutter of emotions — he couldn’t pinpoint what it was, however.

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dreamingofmuses · 5 months

Text

New Year's Resolutions: RP Edition

Howdy all, Ash here. I've been having a think while with family this week, and I've decided I'm going to implement some new 'resolutions' to try and help make writing in 2024 be way more successful than in 2023. This will include things from the running of blogs to jobs I really want to get finished. I'm putting them under a read-more to keep the dash nice and clean.

I will say, this has taken me an hour to write up, and I'd recommend you doing likewise if you think there's little ways you want to improve.

Overall Running of Blogs

I'm going to experiment a new approach to running the blogs. For this, I'm going to put all active blogs to low-medium activity. In other words, even if I am personally lurking on mobile, I won't be constantly writing things if I'm not able to. (Work is just about to get super busy and I'm anticipating chaos)

A queue/schedule function will be used for all blogs. I intend to dedicate one weekday evening to working without interruption on replies. Taking commutes to the city and family visits into account, this is looking to be a Thursday, which is the only day I am neither travelling to the city nor have a guaranteed family visit. Of course, this may fluctuate, but that's what I'm hoping to work with, assuming those things stay as they are.

However! What all this means is that I am going to tentatively take skullandbowties off hiatus. With that blog being quiet, it should be possible to juggle it better now. Plus, it's officially off-season so the demand for him from new blogs ought to be low. I'm very smart :D

I also plan to update all pinned posts. I am aware some of them are marking a vacation from months ago.

Individual Blog Maintenance

Create "New Here?" posts to add to the pinned posts/info tags. This is going to be a very quick crash course on what to expect from the blog, especially where some characters might diverge from fanon expectations.

FINISH. WILF'S. BIO. It's not actually relevant to anything being written on the blog itself at present, but I really want to flesh out his character and show that he was stuck in stories for years, decades even! The doc has the word count to 4,888 at this precise moment. This is a mix of summary and brainstorm. Since it's getting a 'little' out of hand, I intend to have a 'tldr' at the start that people can read, and then longer versions if they're curious to get the full story. Maybe even have it that they can jump to particular parts but... I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

Likewise, Noah's version of Space needs to be finished. This one is going to be a summary, but it's a case of making sure the pieces are in place sufficiently to have parts match canon Space, but also make it clear that there is a lot of differences between canon and what he went through, with his plot entirely spiralling away for 'Part 2'. This is at 5,794 words, and the ending has yet to be ironed out...

(I am going to stop creating needlessly long-winded projects for myself that realistically add nothing of value to my blogs. These two projects are exhausting...)

Theauthorlives is returning to a very small multimuse. Any muses that aren't ones I genuinely enjoy writing are being fully archived, unless they are muses that get no traction but I want to keep the possibility open. Details of that will be shared when I do this.

Redo some muse icons (not all of them!). Though the selection I have for particular sets is a lot, I still feel like I'm missing some expressions or poses. I would like to remake one batch of icons for three characters, and finish iconning a third. Replies seem to be shifting toward iconless, but I like them for asks or IC commentaries.

OOC/Mun Related stuff

Following matters that have happened both online and IRL, I've decided to take a step back from actively engaging with people. My focus will be people that I have been in good communication with for the last twelve months (as well as people I don't talk to frequently but am on friendly terms with) rather than people I feel I have to 'chase' after. Saying that, I'm going to try and not let past experiences meddle with anything in with new writing partners - whether these are brand new to the community or people I've not had the chance to properly interact with prior to this. Just be aware that I might not be super outgoing at first. (This is where setting limits and boundaries is good practice, everyone! Don't sell yourself short, and don't spread yourself out too thinly!)

Which is where I now say I want to send even more asks! Not just memes or sentence starters, but general questions about headcanons or muse opinions. I want to get people thinking more.

My stance on Discord still stands, in that it's solely for OOC stuff, but I'm not giving it out to everyone. However, I have been in two group servers that have little-to-no connection with writing rp threads in them. I would hope that I can fully regain my sense of comfort using Discord as a whole.

Art related

Despite socially stepping back, I still want to keep some semblance of 'community' where my blogs are active so people don't feel isolated. For instance, I want to do something that encourages invasions of ask boxes. That was good fun to watch as the chaos began to spread, and when people are good-humoured to go along with my silly ideas.

I want to have one huge art-related event at some point this year. I'm not entirely what or how to do it, but I think it would be a great excuse to practice something. Portraits, comics, something like that. I'll have a think. (For those who remember, the water gun event was supposed to have an art conclusion but plans for that fell through.)

I want to try and upload drawn responses to heythereneighbor once a week if I can. Obviously, this is depending on how busy it is.

I'd also like to try doodling more on other blogs? But I'm not sure if this is even something people want to see anymore. People might prefer I focus on writing if I have free time instead of doodles or little comics.

... the writing blog. I need to do stuff with that in general. Whoops.

Finally, I want to do what I can to the best of my abilities on a particular day. I've always told people over the years that real life comes before rp, and I still stand by that. Whether I'm around or not every day isn't the end of the world. The communities I write in are a lot slower paced than they were when I started, which is great! I need to remind myself that I don't need to be writing just because I have a bit of free time.

#(but some of these won't be starting this week because my work week is a little jumbled up)#(one tldr is that I intend to have one day a week for writing that should hopefully be a Thursday #but not Thursday of this week because I'm commuting to work and have personal stuff on as well)#(aaaand now I sleep. Have to catch a bus in the morning.)

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enam3l · 1 year

Note

i’d love to see them as kids 🥺

something fluffy and sweet?

your wish is my command! hope you enjoy bby 🌸

love, lola / the prequel II / always was (5.1k)

Eddie looks out for you in ways you’ve never realised, he’s fought for you since day one. Takes place when both you and Eddie are 15 and have just become sophomores in 1981.

a/n: happy ending eventually, slow burn, will they won't they, a lil angsty but never mean eddie

series masterlist / follow #enam3l love lola for instant updates / my other work

comment for tag list. requests open for prequels.

Now Eddie lived with Wayne it meant you had to endure the bus journey to school alone. Stuck cramped amongst the spoilt gated community assholes who lived near your house. Technically, there was Steve, however you weren't on speaking terms due to the company he had started to keep since joining you at high school this year. The warnings you had attempted to instil in him that it was best to be yourself and not conform, were so far being ignored. So now you had to sit amongst the rabble without Eddie's witty running commentary. Eddie made the most mundane parts of life fun.

Despite the noise, you tried to memorise your speech for a genealogy project you had to present today in biology. One of those unnecessary tasks that don't aid your education, only air out everyone's awkward family history. You were grateful it wasn't a class you shared with Eddie, it was just over a year since his Mom passed. The school didn't need reminding of another thing to weaponise against him.

Whilst you tried to concentrate, out of the corner of your eye you caught a flurry of movement. Looking up you realise Hawkins High's worst has began to congregate around one seat. Their unmistakable jeering echoing through the bus, signifying they'd picked a victim for this morning's journey. Peering over the seats you try to spot who it is but the lurking jocks block the view. Their ringleader is Kyle Carver, a junior infamous to Hawkins and surrounding towns due to being almost guaranteed to go pro in basketball. Aside from his talent, he was also a colossal piece of shit. It's his sneering voice that tips you off as to who him and his friends are harassing.

'Trash will always be trash, Michaels, no matter how hard you try to dress up.'

Jenna Michaels, poor Jenna.

The boys lear at her, tugging at her coat and bag. Jenna was a junior too, you had known her because until this summer she'd lived in Forest Hills trailer park like Wayne and Eddie. Then over summer her Ms. Michaels had married Mr. Arnoult, a very wealthy man from a prominent family within the town. The type of family who runs in the same circles as your Gran and the Carver family. This meant overnight, Jenna went from being one of Hawkins poorest to richest. Upgrading hand me downs to designer clothes and upgrading her old bus route to this one. The new social position and makeover highlighting her as a target more than ever.

Another boy chimes in now, a gross smirk on his acne ridden face.

'Yeah, still trash. No matter who your whore mom fucks.'

That makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It reminds you instantly of the type of insults Eddie received once him and his Mom moved in with you. People desperate to know how this new social standing was achieved. As if it had to be something more sordid than her becoming your Gran's cleaner (but mainly her friend). Without thinking, you start to march down the aisle. Knuckles white as you grip the backs of seats to stay upright. Beyond Kyle you see Steve sat with another asshole called Tommy. Steve frantically miming you to stop whatever you're going to do. He's not the only one, a few others on either side of you are wide eyed and subtly shaking their heads. Too late.

'Here we go, the Duchess of Hawkins has come to stick her nose in,' another jock has spotted your approach.

Kyle whips his head round, eyes rolling when he sees you. For a sophomore, you had already developed quite the name. The Duchess of Hawkins moniker began in middle school, inspired by your Gran's infamy within Hawkins as well as your ancestors being a founding family. It was quite funny, you'll admit. What grated the other spoilt assholes like the Carvers was you didn't want to play the role. Rejecting their offer of joining them therefore, in their eyes, implying you believed you were better than everyone else.

'This doesn't concern you, Y/L/N,' Kyle snarled.

The way Jenna looked at you, her green eyes terrified and brimming with tears, told you it absolutely did concern you. Someone had to stand up to these people.

'You're disturbing my morning, so yes it does concern me. I don't want to hear your nauseating voice and I'm sure Jenna doesn't either,' you snap.

A scoff leaves Jenna's lips. The second it does, she knows it was a mistake. Kyle snaps his head round back at her. His blue eyes filled with rage.

'What's funny, Michaels? The only joke here is you.'

The way he looks her up and down like she's nothing more than dirt makes you feel sick.

'Shut up Kyle, she's done nothing to you,' you try to defend.

'Quiet, Duchess,' Kyle glares at you, flashing his palm in dismissal.

One of his friends then bumps you out the way so you're pushed behind where Jenna sits. Your palms itch with rage at the way they think they own the place. Then Kyle continues his tirade with one final blow.

'How much exactly is Mr. Arnault paying your Mom an hour?'

The bus goes silent at the implication. Your jaw drops. You don't think he can go any lower... and then he does.

'Suppose getting on her knees pays more than cleaning...'

A sob chokes out of Jenna. Not only is the insult a revolting lie, but when Kyle mentions cleaning, he looks at you. He knows that's what Eddie's Mom did. All of it is too far, too cruel. Without thinking the itch in your palm becomes too much. Hurling yourself over the seat, your torso pushes Jenna's head out the way allowing you to reach out. You swing your arm, palm cracking again Kyle's smug face.

The smack of your hand against his cheek rings through the silent bus. A bright pink mark left in return on his porcelain skin.

'You fucking bitch!' He screams.

You scoff.

'No, Carver. You're the little bitch.'

Then you return to your seat, blood rushing. You cast your eyes down, not wanting to see how your peers are gawping at you. If Eddie was here he would've cheered. Kyle's cronies gather around him, all backing him up. Whispering things about you just loud enough for you to hear.

'She's a fucking psycho.'

'Freak just like Munson.'

At least now all attention is diverted from Jenna. When you arrive at school and get off the bus, Jenna waits by the door. As you pass her she smiles.

'Thank you, you didn't have to but thank you,' she whispers before scurrying off.

At the entrance to the school Kyle waits, joined by even more friends now. You know he's waiting for you. With a deep breath you go forward. Their eyes glower at you as you approach. Once you're passing them, the crowd of boys part, revealing Kyle.

'You'll regret that, Y/N. Just wait,' he snickers.

You say nothing and walk into the building. Now the adrenaline has worn off, you just feel sick with nerves. Kyle will make good on that threat. Sometimes you wish you could just shut up and assimilate. Revel in your privilege and be ignorant to everything else but your Gran raised you better than that. Although life does look easier being a nice, pretty, well behaved girl. You'll face the consequences later anyway, right now you have to give this ridiculous genealogy presentation.

Eddie is trying to battle with the sea of notes and drawings for Hellfire that pour out of his locker when running footsteps approach. He slams his locker, attempting to contain the papers. When he spins round he's met with a panting Steve Harrington who looks like he's running from a fire.

'Munson,' he gasps.

Eddie looks around, even though that is his name, he's baffled as to why Steve is speaking to him. They've never particularly got on or cared for each other. He's your friend from before Eddie met you. The only thing they have in common is you.

'Can I help you, Harrington?' Eddie asks puzzled.

'Y/N,' he says with panic. That immediately gets Eddie's attention.

'What about her? Is she okay?!'

Steve presses the heel of his hand to his head, far too stressed for a Monday morning.

'She got into it with Carver again on the bus!'

Eddie just chuckles, 'that's my girl! She'll be fine.'

Steve waves his hands in protest, 'no, no, I think she's really done it now. She freaking slapped him! Hard!'

'Oh fuck...' Eddie groans.

'Yeah, he was pissed. Real pissed. I just wanted to warn you. I gotta go but keep an eye out for her, please?'

Eddie nods sincerely, 'yeah, of course I will. Always. Thanks, I guess, Harrington.'

'Cool. No worries, Munson,' Steve replied as he sped off.

'Shit,' Eddie mutters to himself.

One of his favourite things about you is your bravery. No character he's ever created compares to you in his eyes. You are Eddie's hero, not Ozzy or Tolkien. Your ability to find vulnerable people and look out for them is something he hopes he can do one day. But it doesn't half get you in trouble sometimes. Luckily, people tend not to retaliate like they would with him but it seems you really may have landed yourself in it today. Eddie hates he doesn't get mornings with you anymore. Getting up early was tolerable when it meant a whole thirty minute bus journey sat with you. Another great thing gone with his Mom. He didn't even get to see you before class to wish you luck on your presentation you worked so hard on over the weekend. If he still got that stupid bus he could've backed you up with Carver. Stepped in before he did something to you. Now Eddie really wont be paying attention in school today, too busy watching out for what those assholes will do now.

Unsurprisingly, the presentation was painfully awkward. You're certain it was a task set up so nosy staff could finally work out each student's family dynamic. These projects are fine for most of your peers. No sweat when you have a normal Mom, Dad, a couple of siblings and some grandparents. Unfortunately, that is not what you had. The town has their own theories about your family, none of them ever being confirmed by Gran.

'They don't want to know so they can comfort you. They want to know so they have leverage over you,' she'd remark every time you were faced with an uncomfortable question growing up.

You stood at the front of the class, cheeks turning pink and feet shuffling awkwardly as you spoke. Desperately you kept your eyes fixed on the clock at the back of the room, counting down until you had lunch with Eddie. In as vague terms as possible you explained your family tree. Your Gran, Ruby, descending from an infamous founding family of Hawkins. Her father was a rumoured 'unofficial' government agent working with Hawkins Lab. Eventually she married a man from another well to do family that her father handpicked from his connections. Your Gran loathed your Grandfather, he was spoilt and good for nothing, everything in life handed to him and he still managed to fuck it up. When your Mom (their only child) was ten he was trashed and died in a car wreck. Finally, your Gran felt free until it become apparent your Mom inherited his worst traits. At college, your Mom met a fellow rich party child and they brought out the worst in each other. Accidentally, they had you and for once your Mom made a smart choice and let your Gran raise you. That's where the story ends as far as you’re concerned. Your parents are somewhere, doing something and in return you had a happy childhood with Gran, Eva and Eddie.

Throughout your presentation and the rest of the class you feels stares burning into you. In the back corner sits a gang of jocks your age, all of them Kyle Carver's little minions. Their unsubtle whispers clearly concern you and you're sure the presentation has provided them with ammo to feed straight back to Kyle.

Once again Eddie finds himself late for lunch after being held back after class. Miss O'Donnell reeling something off about day dreaming and doodling instead of learning. Admittedly, she wasn't wrong. Eddie had spent the lesson anxiously tapping his chewed pen, counting down the seconds until he could finally seen you. Unable to catch you since Steve tipped him off earlier, he just needs to make sure no harm has come your way.

When he hadn't been overthinking, he'd found himself sketching new characters for D&D. Somehow when he looked down at the finished drawing, the fearless heroine who Hellfire would follow into battle, staring back at him was you. Behind the burning sword being wielded, the flowing hair and elvish ears were your bright eyes, soft lips and cheeky smile. As in life, the heroine on the page was ready for battle but Eddie so desperately wanted to protect you.

As Eddie sped through the hallways, a sharp turn reveals a huddle of jocks. Instinctively, he jumps back behind the corner. Peeping round he can make out the group. Kyle Carver and a couple of the biggest asshole juniors from the basketball team are deep in conversation with a bunch of guys Eddie recognises from your year. Leaning closer, thankful that lunch time cleared the hallways, Eddie tunes in to their conversation.

'Those rumours were right, man. Her parents totally bailed,' one fellow sophomore informs.

Whose parents? Eddie thinks.

'Shit, dude it was so awkward. Everyone talking about their families and then there's Y/N,' another laughs.

Eddie feels sick, he knew about this project and had been nervous for you as it was. If there's anything the people of Hawkins love, it's gossip. You and your Gran kept family life private and now this project gave people a potential insight into the past. The pair of you had sat round the dining room table at the weekend, you working on the project whilst Eddie did absolutely nothing school related. Even then he voiced his concerns about what people would say yet you'd remained unbothered. But of course, the people of Hawkins had proven him right.

Eddie's knuckles were white as he found himself gripping at the wall in restraint. He watched at Kyle and his minions faces twist into smarmy smiles at the revelation.

'She doesn't even have the excuse of being an orphan like her sidekick Munson,' one of the older boys cracked up.

The hairs on Eddie's neck stood up on end.

'Her parents couldn't even stand the bitch to the point they just abandoned her,' Kyle snarled.

That was it, the line was crossed. They can say whatever they want about Eddie, he's stopped caring. But you? No. None of them were worthy of speaking your name. Blood boiling, Eddie propels himself round the corner. Hand taking a fistful of Kyle's collar in order to slam the older boy against the lockers; the impact causing a clatter.

'Speak of the devil,' Kyle snorted, the other boys laugh in response.

Eddie tightens his grip on the fabric. His rings now pressing into Kyle's throat. Despite the height difference between the lanky basketball player and himself, the anger coursing through Eddie's veins allow him to easily overpower. A snigger from behind catches his attention, eyes darting round to another junior.

'So has the Freak come to protect his psycho girlfriend?'

Something about the use of girlfriend makes his blood pump faster. Pointing a finger from his free hand, Eddie snarls, 'Don't you fucking talk about her like that.'

Kyle snorts now, voice still distorted from where Eddie presses at his Adam's apple.

'Pathetic. Mommy and Daddy don't want anything to do with her so she's left scraping the barrel for trailer trash.'

That tips Eddie over the edge. Your parents don't deserve you. You're so much better than them. Somehow out of their chaos they created something beautiful. Eddie is certain that's your role in life; being the one shining light in the darkness. You're the best thing about Hawkins, you're the best thing in Eddie's life.

'Don't you ever. Ever. Repeat this shit to her, Carver,' Eddie threatens.

'Or wha-'

Kyle's question is cut off as Eddie's fist lands square in his jaw. The landing perfect and impactful due to his grip at Kyle's throat. The blow causes him to tip sideways. Once he regains his balance, his eyes narrow and focus on Eddie. But before he can do anything, Eddie lands another blow. This time closer to his mouth. Now Kyle staggers back, Eddie letting his grip completely go. A wad of bloody spit lands on the ground from Kyle's mouth. Eddie backs away from the scene. The group of jocks stare speechless at what just unfolded before their eyes.

'Stay away from Y/N. You forget what you know about her family or you'll see just what trailer trash can do,' Eddie warns before barreling out of the building.

It takes twenty minutes before Eddie finds himself sat in the principal's office. Naturally, Kyle and his cronies ratted and the school can't have their star player in danger or with a busted face. Of course however, they've failed to mention just why Eddie confronted them. Principal Vaughn paces in front of her desk before him, waiting to hear his excuse.

'So, Mr. Munson, are you even going to bother to justify your assault on Mr. Carver?'

Eddie stays silent, certain if he says exactly why then it will get back to you. The whole purpose of shutting Kyle up was so you never found out they were using your family as ammo to embarrass you. Whatever the consequences of the fight are, they're better than you getting hurt. Principal Vaughn huffs in annoyance. This is the fifth time she's asked to no avail.

'Well, seen as though you cannot be bothered to even make an excuse, Mr. Munson, I'll be forced to call your guardian.'

Now that makes Eddie wince for two reasons. One, the conscious choice of guardian over parent still stings. It's a constant reminder his Mom is gone and that's what everyone thinks when they see him. Two, Wayne will be at work which he's now doing more than ever since taking Eddie under his wing. That fills him with guilt, he hates that he's already a burden to his uncle.

'Okay,' Eddie murmurs.

'Now, I won't pretend that you have it easy, Edward. You have had a tough year. On this occasion, I'm giving you a warning. You're suspended until the end of the week and then next week it's detention every day. Do you understand?' The older woman asks.

Admittedly, this was a kind offer. He's still irritated that the school pretends their star player isn't an asshole so cover his back but Eddie should've received a worse outcome.

'Yes. Thank you, Principal Vaughn.'

It's been an hour and still Wayne has yet to arrive. Eddie is sure he'll just have to get the bus home. Vaughn ignored his protests that his uncle would be at work and couldn't answer. Unbothered that plenty of people in this town have to work to the bone most of the day to barely make ends meet. The boredom is numbing. Every memo board, book spine and poster has been read twice over by Eddie. Anything to distract himself from worrying about you. He just wanted to have lunch with you, hear about your presentation and make sure that his threats had worked and no one had given you bother.

Then there's a comment one of the jocks made that keeps working its way to the forefront of his mind 'has the Freak come to protect his psycho girlfriend.' Girlfriend. Eddie is trying to brush the thought away when he hears the clip of heels approaching the office door. The door creaks open and a voice he'd recognise anywhere speaks up.

'Hello Edward, up to no good are we?'

Eddie turns around to see Gran smirking back at him.

'Hi Rub-' she raises her perfectly arched eyebrow at his use of her first name. 'Hi Gran,' Eddie corrects himself and smiles.

'Come on, let's get out of here,' she beckons and immediately he grabs his belongings and follows suit. He'll ask questions later.

Principal Vaughn is silent as they walk past her. People tend to do what Gran wants or have the good sense to just shut up.

Once they're in the car, Eddie finally caves.

'Thank you so much but... what are you doing here?'

Gran just smiles and winks as she reverses the car.

'I made sure I'm still on your emergency contact list at school. Family isn't defined by blood. I told her I'd always look after you.'

Her. His Mom. Eddie knows Gran was almost as broken as him when she died. But like you, your Gran is one of the few people he knows he can trust with his life. Who will always be a constant. He sits back in his seat and smiles to himself.

Too lost in his own thoughts, Eddie fails to notice where they were going until the car pulls up outside Benny's.

'Huh, what are we doing?' he asks baffled.

'You finished early, we might as well get lunch,' Gran replies nonchalantly.

Eddie raises his eyebrow at her calm attitude.

'Only because I got suspended,' he scoffs.

Opening the door, Gran just shrugs and laughs.

'Still early. Now hurry up, Edward.'

Eddie knew better than to refuse her orders and scrambles out the car. Once inside, Steph, the waitress rushes over to greet Gran. Even Benny sticks his head out of the kitchen hatch and waves.

'Afternoon Ruby, great to see you! Your usual booth is free. Follow me!'

It was in Gran's case, Eddie could see the good side of being infamous in Hawkins. Everybody loved or feared her and therefore respected thee Ruby Y/L/N. The sight of the booth caused a warmth to spread across his chest. It was their booth. Eddie, his Mom, you and Gran. On his second night of being introduced to you, Gran had taken the four of them to Benny's and sat in this very booth. It became tradition ever since, they'd go at least once every two weeks and always sat there without fail. It was on that second night that Eddie dared, for the first time in his eight years, to think him and his Mom might be safe. They were, they had been. His Dad never bothered them again, they never came to any harm. Not even after his Mom died, Gran ensured that. You and her represented safety.

'The usual?' Steph chuckles.

Gran looks at Eddie to check and he nods adamantly.

'The usual it is, thank you Steph.'

There's a moment of silence once the waitress leaves. The only noise is the tap of Gran's neat nails and the occasional jingle of her bracelets on the table top. He knows exactly what's coming.

'So, fess up, Edward. What happened?' She gives him that don't-even-bother-with-bullshit look. Eddie squirms in his seat, attempting to look anywhere but her piercing eyes. He really, really doesn't want to say. Doesn't want Gran to worry about you or even worse, bring the incident up to you.

Gran sighs, 'I'm not stupid, son. I know young Mr. Carver is a...' she pauses searching for a word she feels comfortable saying in front of Eddie. The pauses makes him chuckle.

‘A challenging individual. All the Carvers are. His mother is a thorn in my side on the council and those kids were always awful. So, spill, mister.’

He desperately thinks of ways to worm a way out of telling the truth.

‘It was nothing… he was just being an asshole,’ Eddie mumbles.

His weak answer earns a dramatic eye roll from Gran.

'Please, Edward. I know you wouldn't have done it without a good reason.'

Eddie sighs, resigning to his fate. Heels of his palms pressed to his brow he pleads.

'Ok. But you have to promise... promise not to tell Y/N.'

Gran's eyebrow quirks but she accepts the bargain, nodding for him to continue.

'Kyle and her got into it this morning when I wasn't there,' he looks disheartened at that part, 'she may have slapped him.'

A snort of laughter erupts from Gran at that point, 'the apple doesn't fall to far from the grand-tree, I see.'

He's able to muster a smirk in response.

'Yeah... but then she had the that presentation about her family tree in the morning and I guess Kyle had some little minions in the class. Cos when I was going for lunch I found them talking to him.'

'Oh...' Gran winces.

Eddie feels the anger from earlier, flair up again as he recounts what was said.

'He was laughing about her parents. That they'd left her. He was going to bring it up and use it against her, I just know it,' the frustration is clear in his voice, 'I had to stop him. She doesn't need it used against her. Likes it's her fault. It's their own loss, I jus-'

Gran's warm hand take's Eddie's own, sensing his growing anger. The touch gives him a chance to breathe and calm down. The fury he feels at you being hurt gradually simmering down.

'It's alright, it's alright. I understand.'

'You do?' He whispers, anxious she'd be disappointed. Her hand, still pressed over his now gives a reassuring squeeze.

'Of course. You just wanted to protect Y/N, like you always do... maybe we just work on ways to go about that for next time.'

The calming tone to her voice and the wink she sends his way instantly soothes the anxiety. Eddie nods in agreement, he doesn't like hurting people. It doesn't make him feel good. It just proves people correct in their judgements about him. It reminds him that even if he no longer shares a name with his Dad, they still share DNA.

In perfect timing, their food arrives. Comfortable that the secret is safe, Eddie digs in to his usual burger. Watching him scramble to gorge himself on the food makes Gran wistful for the past. He eats in the same manner he did when they first met; like a boy who didn't know when their next meal was. The ache in Gran's chest at the loss of Eddie's mom Eva was still great, she was certain it would linger until she passed herself. The four had been a perfect unit, you had your best friend and she had hers. She's certain that Eva would be proud in the way Eddie had instinctually defended you. Certain it would be responded with a knowing smirk by Eva.

'We'll really be family one day, Ruby,' she would grin, 'trust me.'

Gran had never quite bought into her insistence that you and Eddie were destined to be more than friends. They're just best friends, raised like siblings, it would be too awkward to ever see each other that way - surely? But the way the two of you had seemed to only grow closer and more protective of the other made Gran wonder sometimes. Then as she saw the blush radiating over Eddie's cheeks at the mention of your name, Gran thought for the first time maybe there was more to Eva's theory than hopeful suspicion.

Back in the car, Gran turns to Eddie to confirm their destination.

'Are you coming back to ours or to Wayne's?'

The question was hopeful, she truly missed Eddie's presence, loud enough to fill the grand house. He squirmed in the seat, cheeks a little pink again.

'I'll go to Wayne's... I need to come up with an excuse for the fight. Y'know Y/N will have a million questions,' he laughs anxiously.

Gran smiles at his returning blush. Hand reaching out to give his knee a comforting squeeze.

'Okay, but your bedroom is still there and ready. Always.'

Eddie's smile in return makes the corners of his eyes crease. He may have lost his Mom but he still felt her kindness live on in Gran. When they pull up outside the trailer, he thanks her once again for saving him. Both know the thank you stands for much more; for believing him always, looking out for him and for keeping the secret. Kissing her cheek, he hops out the car. They both wave as Gran drives away, her expensive car looking alien in the dirty trailer park.

Once inside, Eddie flops down on his crumpled bed. Sheets untucked from another restless night filled with bad dreams. Turning his head his eyes land on the framed photo of the two of you that sits on the beside table. With birthdays only a week apart, you'd always shared a celebration. Not because you had to share with him but because you had insisted on it. It's of the two of you stood outside a restaurant, you're wearing a pretty summer dress and look pretty yourself. Well, Eddie thinks you always look pretty - he isn't blind. But now he allows himself to think about it more, the days events lingering, he's certain that you're beautiful. Eddie likes your fading tan lines and freckles from the summer and how your eyes squint from the glaring sunlight when the picture was taken. Sometimes your eyes change colour in the sun, when he was younger he liked to pretend it was a sign you were an X-Men mutant. There's a whole list of little features like this that he adores.

It strikes him suddenly, that he couldn't point those things out about anyone else - definitely not another girl. He's not sure he could describe anyone else's laugh, smell or list their favourite films and songs by heart without reminding himself first. The sting from when Kyle called you his ‘girlfriend’ still resonates, not because he was insulted or disgusted but because it wasn’t true. For the first time, Eddie realises he would like it to be true, subconsciously he’s allowed himself to pretend it’s true for years. Years he has spent relishing in your attention and the thought that it could be given to someone else… that’s unthinkable. Eddie wants to be yours but he wants you to be his. As if a curtain has dropped, the obvious is finally revealed - Eddie is in love with you and he probably always was.

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