#normally don’t show The Hoard

[stinkrascal]

i’ll probably never do this but ive really wanted to make a sim story based on the events of my dragon age inquisition gameplay in the pov of my inquisitor’s little sister who followed her to haven. like that specific story has infected my brain for weeks and it will not leave now

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Finally Free

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.8k

Warnings: angst, bucky being abused (implicit), auctioned and sold, nightmares

Summary: Bucky was ripped from your arms and taken by Zemo, and you vowed to spend every waking hour trying to get him back. You have tried for over a year, and your time has finally come when Hydra is auctioning off all the super soldiers for profit. This ends with you.

Squares Filled: vibranium (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Bucky is dying. You run as fast as you can to get to him but it’s like you’re on a treadmill. You can run as fast as you can but you’re not going to get to him in time. Bucky is getting beaten by men, taking every single blow as if he deserves it. He reaches out for you and you run faster if it’s possible. One of the men takes a knife and shoves it deep into his chest, piercing his heart.

“BUCKY!” you gasp awake.

You look around the dark room and realize you’re just having another nightmare. The fan spins above you but it’s not enough to cool your sweaty skin. The sheets are dark with sweat, your heart races a million miles a second, and tears roll down your cheeks on another failed day of bringing the love of your life back home.

Everyone hears your screams for Bucky but no one ever brings it up. There’s no need when they can’t do anything about it. They’re trying but it seems like all of your efforts aren't enough. The government wants him back just as much as you do but they can’t get to him in time whenever he does pop up. No, the only way you’re going to save Bucky is if you do it yourself. You have the resources, it’s time to put them to good use.

Since you can’t bear to be at home knowing Bucky isn’t going to be there, you’ve been sleeping at headquarters. It’s not ideal but you refuse to sleep in the bed if Bucky isn’t going to be there. You brush your teeth and run your hands through your hair to make it look less matted before smoothing out the wrinkles in your clothes. You haven’t had time to go back to your place and grab more clothes. Not that it matters anyway. You’re not going to rest until Bucky is back home.

Headquarters is running smoothly with everyone running around working endlessly. Most everyone is working on computers while agents run back and forth with paper files in their hands. Some see you and immediately shy away from your gaze which you can understand. Since Bucky was taken, you've been a shell of the person you were before.

Normally, you’re such a sweet yet confident woman who knows what she wants. You have to have thick skin in your line of business but you don’t let it change you into someone you’re not… Not until Bucky was taken.

“Have you found him yet?” you ask one of your trusted employees.

“Yeah, it looks like they took him to a secure facility in Siberia. According to our motion sensor cameras, they haven’t left.”

“Is there any way in?”

“Not in the way you want. This place is their home base. There is no way of getting in without a hoard of guards up your ass. You’d barely get in ten feet before either being killed or captured.”

“Shit,” you mutter.

“I might have your way in.” You leave Sebastian’s side and walk over to Jeffrey who is on another set of computers. “Through connections of the dark web, I got us invited to an exclusive auction in Egypt. He’ll be there.”

“How do you know?”

Jeffrey shifts in his seat uncomfortably. “They’re auctioning off all the super soldiers.”

Your heart twinges in pain. Bucky is over there right now suffering at the hands of Zemo no doubt.

“You got me in?”

“Already done. All you have to do is show up.”

You turn to address the entire room. “Alright, listen up. I need to know everything about that auction house--all of its exits and entrances, camera placement, and everything about their guards and their schedules. Do not leave anything out.”

Everyone gets to work immediately, and you turn to the big screen which has Bucky’s picture on it.

I’m coming for you, baby.

You and Bucky are the ones who started Winters, a company dedicated to infiltrating organized crime that specializes in black market trafficking whether that be for organs, sex, torture, and everything else under the moon. You two have saved many men, women, and children across the globe. When your business got to be too much, you hired men and women who had skills in order to help the business.

After rescuing people, you send them to your many anonymous safe houses located across the world. They are so off the grid that no one in the black market will ever find them. If they do, there are guards and procedures to deal with outside threats. When the victims are ready to move on, they are free to leave and return if they feel the need to.

While doing this, you have built such a highly respected persona so you can get in just about anywhere and buy just about anything, all without raising concerns.

Bucky was taken from your arms, and you screamed to him that you’d find him no matter how long it took. It’s been a year since that happened but you’re not giving up now. Not when you feel like you’re so close.

Cairo is such a beautiful city that you often enjoy but this is a business trip, not a pleasure one. You’re in your hotel room getting ready for the event, and you swipe your deep red lipstick over your lips. You grab the masquerade mask that only fits half your face, shielding the upper portion of your face so that only your lips are shown. If you want to continue your business, you have to keep your identity a secret. The only thing people know about you is your bright red lips. The mask on your face is solid black but has a lacy exterior to give it more of a mysterious vibe.

You grab the small earpiece that will remain hidden inside, and you’ll use your hair to cover your ear to conceal it even further. Please let Bucky be okay. It took a long time to fix what they broke.

“Jameson, do you copy?”

“Copy.”

“Alexander?”

“Copy.”

“Jeffrey, do you have eyes on the cameras?”

“I have eyes on the sky. Don’t worry. You’ll know about a problem before there is one.”

You continue down the line until you get through everyone confirming that their earpiece is working and online. Once you’re ready, you leave the hotel room and ride the elevator down to the lobby. There is a car waiting for you where Alexander and Jameson are. They’re your trusted bodyguards that Bucky entrusted with your life when he can’t do the job himself.

Alexander opens the door of the town car for you, and you slide in with both of them in tow. The ride to the auction house is short but filled with so much tension. No words are said because there is nothing anyone can say that can make you feel better.

When the car pulls up to the auction house, Alexander and Jameson get out first before you do. You walk to the front door to check in which goes without issue. The next step is the metal detectors, and your bodyguards are forced to leave their weapons behind that they can pick up when they leave. This is a weapon-free event except for the staff. It’s to ensure everything goes as smoothly as possible.

You comply and are let into the main room where the guests are mingling. There are servers passing around champagne flutes as if this is a morning brunch instead of a highly illegal auction. You look at Jameson and he bends slightly so that your mouth is next to his ear.

“Make sure the exits are clear. I don’t want any issues.”

“You got it, boss.”

You grab a champagne flute with no intention of drinking it, and you stay close to the walls so that you can observe everything and everyone.

“If it isn’t the elusive Vixen. A pleasure to meet you.”

You look to the right and see the man responsible for Bucky’s demise. Zemo. Your blood boils inside your body. You want to strangle him for taking Bucky away from you. It’s a good thing your mask covers your eyes entirely otherwise he’d see the deadly glare you’re giving him.

“Keep your cool, Y/N. You’re so close. I know you want revenge but wait until Bucky is back,” Jeffrey says over comms.

He’s right. No good will come from attacking now when you don’t know for sure that Bucky is here. You need to see him for yourself.

“When I heard you were coming, I had to see you for myself,” Zemo continues. “I have something I think you might be interested in.”

“It better be worth it. You know I hate wasting my time.”

“It will be,” he winks. “I hope you have a good time at the auction.”

You and Alexander find your seats just as everyone else does. You’re holding a sign with your number on it so that if you raise it, the auctioneer will know who to put down if you were to win. Zemo walks on stage and introduces himself to everyone before getting started. A very short woman walks on stage and stands next to Zemo, just another super soldier for people to toy with.

“Let me introduce Exhibit A. Don’t let her small stature fool you. She is highly trained to infiltrate and destabilize any network from within. With a kill count of over a thousand, she won’t hesitate to get the job done. Her most significant kill is Osama bin Laden. As you can see, no organization is too complicated for her. Bids start at one million dollars.”

Almost everyone puts their sign up, signaling to Zemo that they’re all interested in buying her. You keep your sign down, only interested in one soldier. As Zemo ups the price, more and more signs go down until there is only one left.

“Sold to Number 57.” The woman is escorted off the stage only for a tall and muscular man to take her place. “Exhibit B…”

As far as you know, there are ten super soldiers that Hydra experimented with when they had Bucky under their control. When their most prized possession was free, they must have made more because Zemo auctions off twenty skilled and highly dangerous super soldiers. Each one that comes on stage brings your heart closer to your stomach when you realize none of them are Bucky. Jeffrey must be able to read your thoughts because his voice chimes in your ear.

“I know he’s here, Y/N. Just keep doing what you’re doing. I have Sebastian and Ricardo scouring the place looking for him. Don’t worry, they won’t get caught. I know how to keep my men hidden.”

You’re so lucky to have someone like Jeffrey on your side. He has never failed you before. When he says he is going to do something, he gets that shit done. Zemo finishes with the twenty-fifth and final soldier before announcing the end of the auction.

“Thank you all for attending. Buyers, please see my associates to arrange transportation for your purchases.”

You get up and place your sign on the seat just like everyone else did. Zemo almost trips coming down the stairs just to get to you.

“I have to say, Zemo, I’m disappointed in your selection.”

“I was saving the best for last. Only the most elite are able to bid on him, with you being first, of course. Follow me.”

You and Alexander follow Zemo to a hidden room in the back where even more guards and twice that of weapons are. This auction is good for more than just super soldiers, but this auction tonight was just to showcase them. To think these people are going to be roaming the Earth tomorrow for nefarious reasons makes your skin crawl, but you suspect Jeffrey has men already taking care of it.

No one is going to be taking home a super soldier but you.

Two men step out of the way and your eyes land on Bucky who has a stoic look on his face. Even though he isn’t saying anything, you can see the emotion in his eyes. He wants to cry. He wants to fight back. Wakanda got rid of the trigger words that were stuck inside his brain, but you have a feeling Zemo has been trying to implement new ones into his mind.

Over your fucking dead body.

“Allow me to introduce the Winter Soldier himself. Was taken by Hydra in the 1940s where he was molded to fit our needs and turned into one of the most dangerous and highly skilled assassins this world has ever seen. With just the right price, he can kill anyone with such precision that no one will ever know he was there, has stamina that lasts days or even weeks depending on how hard you push him, and not to mention this beauty.”

Zemo grabs Bucky’s metal arm and slides the sleeve up to show off the cool metal.

“A pure vibranium arm out of Wakanda itself. That adds extra muscle to all of your needs. I’ll give you to him along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want. Unfortunately, since he is like a shiny new toy, the starting bid is at twenty million dollars.”

“I’ll give you one hundred million.” Zemo looks shocked and drops Bucky’s arm. “I do not want anyone else having him. One of my guards is handling the payment as we speak. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal. I will tell the other bidders that he is no longer on the market.” Zemo nods to one of his henchmen who leaves the room. “I can have transportation arranged in any way that you like.”

You step forward and look at Bucky even though he can’t see your eyes.

“You are going to be my new favorite toy.” Of course, he doesn’t answer. It breaks your heart knowing he wants to cry. That’s a good thing in its own perverted way. They haven’t completely broken him if he wants to cry. “I’d like to take him off your hands if that’s okay. I like to deal with them in my own way, so I won’t be needing your transportation.”

“I understand,” he nods.

Alexander takes the lead and you make sure to place Bucky between you and him so that no one else gets any ideas. Instead of Alexander taking the normal way out, he turns and heads toward Jameson who has cleared the way. Once you’re out of the main room, you feel that you’re free to talk.

“Make sure Zemo doesn’t see a penny of my money,” you say to Jeffrey.

“Don’t worry, he won’t see a single one. You’re still in the blind spots of the cameras, but you’ve got maybe ten minutes before they reboot.”

“I only need five.”

Alexander meets Jameson at the very back who leads the group to the car waiting for you at the back. You open the back door and usher Bucky into the back of the car. Alexander is next but Jameson stays where he is.

“Make sure we’re not followed. Get out as soon as you can.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You get into the car and it speeds off before you can shut the door. Bucky looks around in confusion because he has never been transported in a town car before. It’s usually on ice and in a wooden box.

“Where are we going?” he asks apprehensively. Once you know it’s safe to do so, you take off your mask, revealing yourself to Bucky. “Y/N?”

“I told you I’d come for you, baby. I’m here. You’re safe now.”

Bucky doesn’t care if Alexander is in the back with you, he breaks down in tears. Alexander and Jameson started working for you after Bucky was captured so he doesn’t know who they are. You take off your seatbelt and slide closer to Bucky to hold him close to you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and cries, mostly for his freedom.

“No one is going to hurt you again,” you promise.

Alexander takes out his phone to call Jameson but you don’t listen to a word he says. All you care about is Bucky and how he’s back in your arms.

“I tried so hard to be brave for you,” his voice cracks.

“It’s okay, Bucky. You don’t have to be brave anymore. I will make sure Zemo never finds you again. I’ll erase whatever shit he put in your head a second time. I know how to do it now.”

Bucky pulls back only to press his lips to yours. He is safe because of you. You vow that you won’t have any more nightmares of Bucky dying because he’s not. He’s back home where he’s going to stay for good.

x

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[moneypowerglorymiddleofmiami]

Reader as Persephone's only daughter? And she doesn't get into relationships bc of her mother's past as she was kidnapped by Hades?? Like History repeats itself with Luke being so obsessed with her and the reader doesn't know that she'll just end up like her mother

hello, hello! this one is definitely long overdue. i've been very busy with uni, but this ask was very intriguing!!! thank you for sending, anon ♡ (bonus scene at the end lol)

Luke Castellan wasn’t immediately taken by her the first time she set foot on Camp Half-Blood, that much was certain. She was only a topic of interest because she was Persephone’s daughter, promised yet unexpected all the same. He was far too caught up with claiming his own hoard of kleos to entertain ideas of attraction; however, she became a friend soon enough.

“What are you growing?” He asked her during a spring afternoon years ago, so insignificant that a normal person would forget it entirely.

“I don’t know yet actually.” She responded with pursed lips. Her open palms lingered just above the brown earth, colorful beads dangled from her wrists.

Luke raised an eyebrow.

At his silence, she looked up then waved a packet in front of him. She smiled. “Secret stash from Persephone.”

“Now, I’m not really the boss or anything but I think I’ve been here long enough to know the rules.” He perched his forearm against the bark of a tree, leaning his weight against it. “I don’t think that’s allowed.”

“But you wouldn’t tell on me, would you?” She batted her eyelashes sweetly, jokingly. She turned back to her lump of land. “‘Sides, they're harmless… I think.”

He remained silent and observed as a sprout quickly rose from the depths of her plot. A number of curved leaves on top leaning stems dotted the once empty ground. She rose from her knees, dusting off pellets of grass that hitched onto her clothing.

“That's it?” He asked her, sounding very unimpressed. Was this the extent of her god-gifted abilities?

She narrowed her eyes at him as she stretched. “I don’t give a show for free, Castellan.”

“What do you want in exchange, then?” He asked curiously. He wanted to see— witness what Persephone’s little seedling was capable of flowering.

She thought for a moment then shrugged her shoulders. She walked away from him with a wave. “Grow something of your own then we negotiate the terms.”

A few weeks later, he proudly paraded a plant pot all around camp in search of her. Most of the younger kids looked at him a bit judgmentally when he held it up like he was Rafiki and the little thing was his Simba.

She emerged from the greenhouse after several vexingly loud knocks. She looked down at Luke’s outstretched arms, her lips twitching in amusement at the container filled with inch-long two-leaved sprouts.

“Strawberries?” She pursed her lips. She motioned to the fields of berries sprawling to the left of them. “A bit unoriginal considering…”

“Well, you didn’t tell me I wasn’t allowed to grow strawberries.” He reasoned.

“Touché.” She ceded. She placed a hand over the pot, the sprouts growing exponentially before she took it from Luke's hands. She spent a handful of minutes transferring them into the dirt.

Luke watched silently, interested and intrigued by the alacrity with which she moved.

“Can you look away for a sec?” She spoke suddenly. She turned towards him, all seriousness. “The glaring is pressuring them. They’re a bit self-conscious.”

“Oh.” He looked away immediately, distracting himself instead with the silvers of light that shone through the canopy of branches of a tree not far from him. He listened to her hum as she worked. He couldn't help but return his gaze to her once in a while.

“Done!” She proclaimed excitedly, pulling off her gardening gloves with a satisfied look on her face.

Three strawberry bushes stood before him, taking up residence in what was an empty patch of land mere seconds ago. His lips parted slightly in surprise— it definitely wasn’t uncommon for demi-gods to inherit some of their parents’ powers, but he was startled by how quickly it manifested, especially for botanokinesis.

“Impressed enough?” She crossed her arms with a grin.

“Just the right amount.” He responded casually, returning her smile. He bent down to pick a big ripe berry from the branches.

He bit into it, the juices trickling down his chin. “Sweet.”

He offered the other half to her. She looked down at it skeptically before Luke urged her with a slight little shake from the bundle of leaves at the fruit’s head. She took it into her own hold then lifted it up to her mouth.

𓇢𓆸𓏲𓇬𑁍

In her iteration of the story, Luke wasn’t merely a stand-in for Hades. He wasn’t simply her captor— he was also her pomegranate. His smiles, his looks, his words, his lies, his charm and his wit were all the seeds she foolishly consumed over the years. She yearned desperately for the tart sweetness he offered and unknowingly caused her own captivity.

Bound, bent and broken: this was the fate of Persephone’s only child.

In the darkness of the night, with the hum of Luke’s faint snoring keeping her senses alive despite the late hour, she wondered to herself briefly: was this how her mother felt?

She paused at the thought. Surely, it was a thousand times worse for her mother— a dread and pain so unfathomable that she couldn’t even begin to imagine it. Persephone was innocent; she was tricked and taken advantage of. She, however, was complicit: ignorant at first, but willing to succumb to Luke’s pleas and promises even if she knew the horrors of what he was attempting to do.

“Can’t sleep?” He whispered suddenly, jolting her out of her reverie. His hand moved to rest against her hip, his thumb stroking comforting circles onto her skin.

“Hm,” She hummed absent-mindedly. She turned around to face him, breathing in the scent of sea and sweat that lingered on him— a glaring reminder of what he was getting himself into.

Luke caged his arms around her then pressed a kiss against her temple. "Mine."

"Yours." She responded softly.

He returned to sleep in a matter of seconds, but he held her firmly against him. She couldn’t escape even if she wanted to. She didn’t even want to, anyway.

She closed her eyes. Luke’s presence was her prison, and she was insane enough to willingly stay shackled, albeit metaphorically, regardless of how horrific that sounded.

This was her underworld— her own dauntingly lovely elysium.

BONUS scene from my first draft that i didn't continue writing:

“Well, what’s her master plan then?” She asked. “Why kidnap me?”

“You’re Persephone’s daughter.” He shrugged his shoulders, as if that was enough explanation as to why the leader of a rebellion against the gods wanted to kidnap the spawn of the Goddess of Spring— really, what did he think she was gonna do for him? Grow daffodils and tulips to distract his enemies? It didn’t seem like horticulture proved useful on the battlefield.

“I am not going to grow potatoes and peas for her little revolt, Castellan.” She scoffed.

Of course she knew why she was being held captive. Pretending to be foolish and ignorant never hurt anybody, though. Let him think she was dumbed down enough to bend to his will.

“You’re basically Hades’ daughter.” He continued, essentially bypassing her reply. It was a bit rude, honestly, but the fact that he kidnapped her showed plenty about the state of Luke’s manners.

“Careful what you say, Lukey.” She would’ve wagged her fingers if her wrists weren’t so tightly bound together. “You might just insult another one of the gods.”

Her relationship with her stepfather was… civil yet glacial at best; definitely on brand for him, actually. On her annual winter-break visits to the Underworld, he’d just ignore her for the most part (very understandable, there wasn’t much in common between an eons-old powerful god and a nineteen year old, except the angst probably, but that was a very awkward topic to breach with a father figure). Most of the time, she assumed he just tolerated her because of her mother.

“With you on board, Hades is going to think twice before attacking,” He explained further. He began to pace in front of her. “Your presence might even dissuade him from attacking at all.”

Oh. Oh.

“Sweetheart,” She called him softly with a condescending coo in her tone. “Oh, sweetie. You’re delusional.”

[trashmouth-richie]

[vol i] [vol ii] [vol iii]

Eddie x fem!reader

Summary: Eddie is slowly becoming easier to live with you’re not sure if you’re just used to his disgusting behavior or if he’s truly trying to change. You make a schedule for chores and when/who/what time showers will be taken, chaos ensues on both Eddie and you. Eddie reveals a side of him that reader hasn’t seen/ noticed before.

W/C: 6.4k

A/N: if you were looking for some disgusting! Eddie smut this is the chapter for you babe.

Warnings: NO MINORS! Smut, blow jobs, rough sexual acts, degrading, daddy!kink, vomit, crude language (as if any of my fics don’t have this)

S/O: @agentmarvel @sweetsweetjellybean @boomhauer @mopeymopeymouse @chestylarouxx @banished-big-ope-vibes @carolmunson @newlips for helping me beta read, come up with dialogue, pacing, letting me insert them throughout the fic, helping me breakdown how this disgusting little mf would act in certain situations + everything in between! You guys are the best! If you aren’t already— follow them.

/

You couldn’t deny that things had gotten better with having Eddie as a roommate (not that you would ever express that to him) but living with the overgrown child was slightly very slightly, like a teeny tiny bit, better than it was before.

After living in his disgusting cluster fuck of a room for a week, Eddie finally sat down amongst his heap of mixed dirty and clean clothes and organized it. The disaster made your eye twitch every time you walked past his room in the morning and got a whiff of his stench, reeking of weed and Doritos, you finally convinced him to get it done, and in typical Eddie fashion— it came with a price.

After bargaining for days and nearly pulling your hair out because all he wanted was a single pair of your panties—

“Why? So you can hold them up like that dork in Sixteen Candles to show all your nerd friends?”

“Babe, the ladies I fuck don’t wear panties.”

He finally settled on a six pack of Busch Light, and for you to do his laundry for a week.

“Remember to separate my delicates, sweetheart.”

Fucking pig.

The only thing delicate about Eddie was his ego when you told him his hair was thinning out on top, (it definitely wasn’t, he had more hair than cousin It) but you needed the upper hand, and criticizing his hair was the way to do just that.

His bed frame and the oak dressers he had ordered, finally arrived. Allowing him to put away his never ending collection of band tee’s and holy jeans. Clearing a path for his floor.

“Holy shit, is that the carpet?” You ask, standing in the door frame before your shift at the salon, toothbrush in your hand, minty dollop of toothpaste atop it.

He’s elbow deep in the dresser, foregoing folding anything but instead shoving the clothes haphazardly into the shallow drawers and slamming them shut with his legs, or his hip.

“Wow, Tooty, you’re hilarious,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes, “but since you asked, yes, it does, match the drapes.”

A smile spreads across his lips. Another normal conversation turning into a sexual innuendo. He couldn’t be prouder of the way you walked right into that. Since you told him what happened to Eyeball he really has been holding back his usual gross behavior, but sometimes it was just a slip of the tongue for him. Involuntary action.

You turn to leave but he stops you, crossing the room at record speed and placing a ringed hand on your wrist, the surprising warmth from his hand burning your skin.

“Hey, uh, can I get your opinion quick?”

“I’ve already told you, I don’t think the groupies give a shit what color boxers you wear.”

“Wow, okay— that’s the wrong answer! But I’m talking about this.”

He points to the shelf crammed full of his odd knick knacks. It originally belonged to Nancy, but she had left it behind. Inside of it were a hoard of books. Lord of the Rings, something that looked like manuals for Dungeons & Dragons—of course he’s still playing that— a plethora of Stephen King books, and a full— more than likely sticky— stack of playboys. Go figure.

“What about it?”

“Do you think it looks good here or should I move it under the window?” Eddie asks, hands out wide measuring and comparing in arms length the distance under the window and the width of the book shelf.

You take a step into his room, every square inch of wall was covered in posters, your former bed sheets graffitied with his band, hung on one wall, the opposite held a kitchen knife stabbed through the drywall.

“What are you trying to do, feng shui?”

“Bless you.”

“What?”

He shrugs, “You sneezed, and me, being the pinnacle Christian son that I am, I blessed you, now should I keep this here?”

It took you a minute to comprehend what the hell just happened and why.

“Blessed by Eddie Munson— that’s the biggest oxymoron I’ve ever heard,” you snort, a smile twisted on your lips as you look at the overgrown man child huff about where to put his shelf, shoving your toothbrush into your mouth, “looks fine there.”

-

He did start cleaning up after himself, even offering to vacuum the living room in exchange for you making supper most nights. Begging you to make the lasagna again after he ate almost the entire pan the last time. He even decided to get take out on his one night a week to cook. Thank God because you couldn’t handle one more night of burnt, made-in-the-toaster, grilled cheese or using orange juice as a replacement when the milk was gone for cereal.

You learned the hard way that you needed to buy two separate gallons of milk, after watching Eddie drink straight from the jug, a dripping white mustache formed on his upper lip as he licked it suggestively, “Got milk?” He’d ask before roaring with laughter.

-

The next few weeks with Eddie as your roommate went rather smoothly. With you working at the salon and him working long hours at Boom’s Auto shop, you two came home at almost the same time every night. He would show up covered in grease and reeking of motor oil. His work coveralls, branding a white and red labeled patch with his name on them, had the sleeves cut off, showcasing his muscled arms and the wide array of tattoos prickling up and down them, shoulder to wrist. He wore a sweaty bandana wrapped around his head, rotating between a black or a red one, depending on the day.

You didn’t mind doing his laundry since his pockets were always full of either loose bills or the occasional joint, which you would keep, and smoke later with Robin and Steve, giggling watching the stars as you laid out on blankets in the backyard.

On Saturday nights, he usually played with the band, scoring a gig at the Hideout or working at the bar til closing time, helping Tom bartend a little until Walt got back from vacation. He stumbled in at night knocking over a lamp and almost falling backwards down the basement steps. He’d pass out for a greater half of the next day, waking in the afternoon with a raspy voice and smelling like cheap cologne.

One particular Sunday morning, he stumbled out of his room, wearing black boxer briefs, and a sleepy grin, rubbing his eyes like a little kid.

“Mornin’” he grumbled opening the fridge and diving in for his notorious pickles, tilting it to his lips and drinking straight from the jar.

You shake your head, sitting at the table and sorting through the mail. Your hair in a clip and wearing an oversized crew neck sweater, your mauve fingernails flicking through the envelope flaps, jotting down what’s due and when. “It’s 1 in the afternoon, Eddie.”

He smacks his lips loudly and faces you, fishing a pickle from the jar with his bare hands, “metal has no time limits, Tooty, we play until the bar shuts down.” He makes his way towards you, wearing one sock and chomping on his pickle.

You notice something on his stomach, a new tattoo? Maybe? Riding low on his waist and almost dipping below his underwear. The closer he gets you can make out the writing, a permanent marker phone number from a groupie written on his lower abs.

You point your pen towards his stomach, “gonna get that thing tattooed on, make it official, that Eddie the freak Munson has at least one adoring fan?”

He looks down, a smile pressing on his lips, “aww no need to be sad sweetheart,” he says lowering himself into a chair beside you, “there’s plenty of me to go around, and besides, I thought good little nuns couldn’t fuck, saving themselves for God.. or are you one of the dirty ones, showing your tits for cash so you can gamble?” He winks and laughs as you shove his shoulder trying to throw him out of the chair.

“You’re so gross!”

“And yet, I’m still here.” the Cheshire Cat smile planted on his lips.

Still. You had to admit, no matter how nasty his jokes were or how annoying he could be— having Eddie around wasn’t that bad.

-

“Tooty!” Eddie yells through the bathroom door bouncing from one foot to another, banging on the door with an open palm, “I’m going to piss my pants if you don’t hurry up!”

You had only been in the shower for ten minutes. When you walked past his room this morning with sleepy eyes and a deep yawn, metal music blared from his bedroom along with the annoying beep of his alarm clock, but the prince of filth was fast asleep.

“The schedule that you made says I get the bathroom first on Fridays, which is today!”

The schedule you had designed for Eddie and yourself consisted of 7 vertical columns one for each day of the week, and 5 horizontal columns: showering, laundry day, dishes, cooking, garbage. You had more days in the cooking column than Eddie, just like he had more days in the garbage column than you did. It evened out.

“Wrong— you were supposed to get the bathroom at 7, it’s now past 7:30 so it’s my turn,” you correct, putting a generous amount of body wash on your loofah and foaming it up, white suds cleansing your skin, “not my fault you can’t wake up to your alarm.”

“Christ, seriously just open the door! I’m fuckin’ dancing around out here like a little kid!”

“Can’t hear you,” you sing out to him, laughing silently beneath the spray of water.

You hear the feverish jiggle of the brass handle on the door and heavy footsteps as he stomps away. Oh the joys of victory. You bask in the delight of getting a one up on Eddie. Something that rarely happened in the few weeks he has been living with you. Slathering conditioner in your hair and rinsing, you exit the shower, feeling refreshed and ready to start the day.

Opening the bathroom door you expected Eddie to barrel through you to get to the bathroom, you’re taken aback when you hear faint yelling coming from outside.

“… piss in the front yard of my own house— I will! Go back to trimming your hedges with your toddler sized shorts and mind your own goddamn—,”

“Eddie!”

He’s standing barefoot in the middle of the lawn, his navy boxer briefs the only clothing he has on. Double middle fingers raised in the early morning sky aimed towards your neighbor across the street, Mr. Derry, the neighborhood watch dog. He was an older man, no kids, no wife. Retired. And a grade A pain in the ass.

Eddie turns and looks to you, pink blush creeping over his cheeks, “…business.” Eyes wide in innocence as if he hasn’t done anything wrong.

You’re still in your towel, hair soaking wet down your back, watching as this crazed lunatic you have as a roommate terrorizes the neighborhood, one flash of his dick at a time.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him towards the front door.

“Gracing the common folk of Cherry Lane with my morning wood, yeah take a picture and frame it you fuckin’ perv!”

Yanking harder you get him inside and slam the door. Your cheeks are flushed with embarrassment.

You open your mouth to speak but Eddie has already started explaining.

“Listen, I had to piss bad, like really bad. You could have just unlocked the door but no, Ms. Uptight-independent Tooty with your rules and schedules—” he stops and takes a breath. After your conversation a few weeks ago about the downfall of Eyeball and your own family abandoning you, Eddie had been trying to be more reasonable about things, more cautious about the way he worded things. Not trying to twist the knife lodged into your chest that had been driven there years ago.

“So I made up my own rule! If you’re gonna take forever shaving your legs or…other things…” his eyes cast down your body. The white towel snug against your form, you clutch it tighter around you as his eyes stare through the towel, begging to catch a glimpse of your wet, smooth skin. Water droplets taunting him as they fall down the slick of your hair. He shakes his head to clear his gutter mind. “I’m going to take matters into my own hands, and believe me princess, it was a handful.”

That’s about as dialed back as Eddie could be.

“You can’t just piss in the front yard! This neighborhood is not like the trailer park, that asshole you called a perv—“

“He was! He was looking right at my dick!”

“— once called the cops on Nancy because she parked by his curb when we were having her bridal shower.”

“Wa-wait, Nancy fucking Wheeler got the cops called on her?”

“Yeah, Hop wasn’t too happy to find out what it was for, calling Derry a waste of space.”

Eddie laughs, “Oh I’m not surprised— him and I go way back, remember?”

Of course you did, he busted Eddie too many times driving higher than the Empire State Building while bringing you, Dustin, Will and Mike back to the Wheeler’s. It was almost a running joke between him and Hopper. Eddie would slip him a joint while in the back of his patrol vehicle and away he went, no ticket, no charge, nothing.

“Anyway,” you jeer, pointing a finger into his bare chest, the tip of your nail making a half moon indent into the head of the bloody demon inked on his left pec, “he’s a fucking asshole so don’t piss him off, he’ll make our lives hell.”

“Fine,” Eddie groans, running his hands down his face “but he was gawking!”

You roll your eyes and grab your hair dryer from your room. An adjustment you’ve had to do since Eddie moved in, getting ready partly in your room and in the bathroom. After your hair is dried and styled, you opt for a pair of light wash overall shorts, and a thick strapped, high neck tank top underneath. You finish your makeup by applying a coat of Revlon’s Toast of New York on your lips. Sliding on your knock off Doc Marten sandals, you grab your purse and head for the door.

Eddie’s sitting at the kitchen table, chair pulled out as he laces up his black work boots, body bent over his knee as he jerks his hand side to side, lazily working the laces through the hook eyelets.

“Still getting groceries tomorrow?” He asks, shoving his white cotton covered foot into his other boot, repeating the process. “I added some essentials to the grocery list.” He gestures to the pad and paper with a tilt of his chin.

Scanning the list you laugh, “Dunkaroos are not essential.”

“Don’t you dare cross them off!” Eddie fake shouts, a grin stretching across his lips, showing off his straight teeth.

“I’m off tomorrow and don’t have many clients today— I know it’s your night to cook, but I was thinking of making tater tot casserole for supper, I’ll just have to stop and get some ground beef from Bradley’s before I come home.”

“Oh shit,” Eddie lamented, “I have a gig tonight instead of tomorrow at the Hideout,” he says standing, running his hands down his legs to shake down his coveralls. “It’s probably going to be late, so don’t worry about making anything.”

Ripping the grocery list from the pad and stuffing it into your purse, you think back to how long it has been since you’d seen them play. You went along to support Chrissy and since Eddie was Kev’s longtime best friend and basically your chauffeur, you at least owed it to him to go with. A memory of you head banging and holding Chrissy’s hand tight as you both screamed for Corroded Coffin clouded your mind.

Threading your purse straps through your fingers and casting your eyes downward you have to know, “… you guys still play Lady Evil?”

Eddie grins again, “wouldn’t be a Corroded Coffin gig if we didn’t play some Sabbath, Jeff would probably throw a hissy fit.”

-

Friday evenings were usually busy in the shop. Boom ran a tight ship and paid better than any auto shop in a thirty mile radius. Eddie was lucky to get hired on using his street smarts and the fact that he was the unpaid mechanic of the trailer park for every banged up old sedan that his neighbors had since he was sixteen.

The old radio crackled and fussed as Hank Williams Jr sang about the survival rate of country boys. Boom whistled along with the tune. Running his tanned fingers through his blonde hair, a Mr. Pibb and a ham sandwich in front of him.

“So Eddie,” he says leaning back in his plastic chair, “I heard from the boys that you moved into a house on Cherry Lane. Damn boy, I thought that trailer park ran deep in your blood.”

Eddie throws his empty Mt. Dew can into the trash, missing by a mile. “Ahh Boom, you know I’m the prince of the park. Just stretching my city legs, helping out a friend.”

“Didn’t know you and Eyeball’s sister were close.” Aaron sneered, lighting up a cigarette with a strike of a match against his boot.

Eddie’s light hearted demeanor immediately changed, smile fading and eyebrows pulling together, “what the hell does that mean?”

“Helping out a friend?” Sean spat, his wiry mustache shriveled into a snarl, “what are you Mother Teresa? The only help that bitch needs is a fucking lobotomy.”

“Hey,” Eddie interjects, pointing a greased finger into Sean’s face, “don’t fucking talk about her like that, man.”

Aaron talks around his cigarette, blowing smoke across the table, “It’s true, she’s smokin’ fuckin’ hot but crazier than a shit house rat.”

The pair laugh, choking on smoke and bits of crusty bread.

“Remember what Chad said about her?” Aaron laughed..

“Fuck yeah how did he put that? Don’t marry the girls with the daddy issues, even if they let you put it in their a—”

Eddie slams his fists into Sean’s shirt, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him against the wall, “another word, about her— and I’ll break your fuckin’ nose.”

“You threatenin’ me Munson?” Sean chokes out.

Eddies eyes are crazed as he glares in Sean’s, “never a threat, pencil dick, it’s a promise.”

“Fellas,” Boom hollers, shoving his chair back with an eerie scratch, metal legs scraping on broken tile, “I’ll send ya both home for the day with no pay if y’all don’t knock it the fuck off.”

Eddie shoves Sean into the wall hard once more, releasing his grip on his shirt and adjusting his rings. He cracks his knuckles as he stomps back through the bay doors and out to the Buick he had been working on.

Ducking under the hood his breathing is erratic and his fists are shaking.

He never asked what happened with you and Chad but by the sounds of it, it sure as hell didn’t end on good terms.

It was fine if he teased you, but hearing it from anyone else wasn’t gonna fly with him. Not today, not ever. But something about the way you opened up to him, showed him your vulnerable side, it made him almost protective of you, like he needed to shield you from the ugliest parts of the world.

He never would have thought that Eyeball’s little sister, tough little Tooty, the same girl who punched Billy Hargrove in the face after pinching her ass one night, would make him care so much.

-

“Told ya he’s cool,” Steve slurs over his Bloody Mary, clinking the ice in the glass as he tips it back into his mouth, “he’s like a wild animal, but once you get to know him— he’s just a tattooed teddy bear.”

You, Robin and Steve were out for dinner and drinks at Louie’s, the newer sports bar in Hawkins, sitting under an emerald and white striped umbrella in the hot humid summer air. A monthly ritual you started ages ago when you all worked at Family Video. Only back then you went to Benny’s to get burgers and concrete thick milkshakes, racing to see who could finish first which ultimately ended in Robin getting a stomach ache, every time.

“I could have killed him the first few days,” you say, sipping your Malibu and Diet Coke through two neon straws, “honestly, still debating it.”

Robin steals the pickle spear and celery stick from Steve’s drink, munching away and talking with a mouthful, Steve simply rolls his eyes and reaches for another mozzarella stick, “wait, I thought you guys were getting along better now.”

“They are!” Steve interjects, pointing the mozzarella stick around like he was directing an orchestra, “I asked him myself when I brought my car to Boom’s yesterday for an oil change.”

The thought of your friends asking your roommate, who just so happens to also be their friend, how things were going between you both, made your stomach lurch.

“Well,” Robin began, twirling her pina colada and biting into the yellow flesh of the pineapple , “I’m just glad you aren’t by yourself anymore. It freaked me out knowing you were there alone.”

She wasn’t the only one.

Before Eddie had moved in, Steve gave you his prized nail bat to keep by your bed. So far you haven’t had to use it. And with Eddie in the house, it was stored in your closet.

“Alright, I’ll admit,” you say, taking a long drink, feeling the warmth of the coconut flavored alcohol mix with the Diet Coke bubbles, a frenzy on your tongue, “he’s come a long way,” you admit, dunking a fry into the mayo ketchup concoction, “finally house broke.”

It was the truth, you really didn’t mind him being around.

-

“Shh, gotta be quiet girls, daddy’s gonna take real good care of you, but seriously, you need to shut up.”

The girls laugh, drunk off bottom shelf liquor and Jell-O shots from the Hideout. Three pairs of tangled legs stumble through the front door as Eddie hurriedly works his keys into the lock.

The two of them giggle and hush one another, planting kisses on either side of his neck and stepping out of their shoes. His leather jacket hits the floor, the shirt he was wearing was ripped to shreds from the collar down. Carol’s fingers feverishly tore at his clothing before the three of them even made it to the van.

Foregoing the zipper on the tight leather mini dress she’s wearing, Eddie shoves it down her hips, giving her ass a firm squeeze, toying with the fishnet tights, “these stay on,” he demands, slapping her ass and unzipping his jeans, a parade of cheap lingerie, and leather studded clothing start from the front door and end in Eddie’s bedroom.

Your car wasn’t home which was odd but maybe it was parked in the garage. He wasn't sure where you were but if you were sleeping he didn’t want to wake you up. You had never discussed any boundaries about him bringing someone home, but what kind of rockstar would he be if he turned down hot twins?

They had approached him after the show, twisting their evil tongues into his mouth and groping him as soon as he got backstage.

Jeff was in the back room with his long time girlfriend Ash, they were holding each other tight as he kissed her neck and she squealed into his ear.

The girl who showed up to every gig, Marissa, wearing her signature “here for the drummer” shirt, was currently bent over the bathroom sink, Gareth buried deep inside her.

Even Big D was getting some action, the waitress from Benny’s, Emily, was currently bobbing along on his dick.

All of them were getting lucky, a win for Corroded Coffin. The girls were screaming for them, bras and panties tossed on stage, Gareth sporting multiple pairs around his neck. The old bar flies drunk off beer on tap were singing along to the requested songs.

Cece’s pink floral dress is brought over her head as Eddie sucks her nipple into his mouth, teasing and biting as Carol kneels at his feet and works her palm into his boxers, gasping at the hardened length in her grip.

A monster lies beneath the cotton. Almost as thick as her forearm, her dainty fingers unable to reach fully around his girth. She pumps him slow, releasing his throbbing cock.

His fingers twist into their hair as he shoves Cece down to her knees, joining Carol in the worship of Eddie Munson’s dick. Their greedy mouths take him in, one popping his balls into her mouth the other choking on his fat cock.

Eddie wasn’t gentle when he fucked groupies. He took what he wanted and didn’t leave any room for complaints or questions. Shut off from the gentle loving side sex can bring and only seeing red, it was like he was a mad man. A different person entirely. Truly the horns of satan poked through his forehead and his eyes clouded over revealing a black veil of sin.

Demon eyed.

He was pissed from what happened earlier at work. Fucking insane with rage at Sean and Aaron talking shit about you.

Not you, not Tooty.

His frustration builds as the sound of lungs gasping for air fills his ears.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, “Jesus Christ— don’t you wanna be good for daddy? Open that fuckin’ throat up and take what I give to you.”

He grabs Cece’s hair and thrusts himself in her mouth, ignoring her tears as she gags and swallows him whole. “Are you crying? Poor fucking baby, what a shame, on the bed now.” He grabs her up by the throat and tosses her onto the bed.

He’d kill Chad if he ever saw him again. Still had no idea what he did or why you two broke up but hearing his mantra spill from those asshat’s mouths today was enough to make his skin crawl.

The vulgar shit they were saying. The way they non chalantly said it like they were reciting their McDonald’s order. Fuck that bothered him.

Cock swinging, Eddie pinches Carol’s nipples until she’s standing, he flips her upside down, fucking into her open mouth as he bites her fishnet tights open and spits on her pussy. Tossing her on the bed like discarded trash he slaps both of their asses.

He tries to blur you away from his mind, separate you from his brain for a while to release this pent up anger. But all he can see are the small tears falling from your eyes when you tell him the truth about your family.

The Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day.

Shaking his head he bounds to his bed, trying like hell to focus on his task at hand.

“Are my little whores ready? Think you can handle this without tearing up?”

-

When Steve drops you off you’ve already puked in his car, twice. When he announced that drinks were on him tonight, you may have been double fisting Jack and Cokes with Robin, and taking vodka shots, racing to see who could finish first.

Robin passed out in the back of his car, snuggled up with the cold leather on her cheek.

“Steeb, I’m fine, seriously! Look how good I’m walking.”

“That’s because I’m carrying you.” Steve huffs as he opens the front door.

You’re slurring your words and talking in a volume that could raise the dead, “You’re such a good friend Stephen, why? Why why why are you single?” You hiccup, the remnants of your vomit lingering on your breath, “You need a wife!”

“Tooty, we can talk about my failed love life another day,” Steve grunts, carrying you into the house, stepping over boots and skimpy clothing, “for now let’s get you to the bathroom so you can get cleaned up and maybe puke in the toilet this time!”

“I just wanna go to bed. I’m tired,” you whine, “Stoven bring me to my room, let me go to sleep!”

Ignoring you, Steve brings you to the bathroom and plops you down on the floor, opening the toilet lids just in time for you to blow chunks all over.

“Ooh that one looks like a mozzarella stick.”

“Jesus, I’m never letting you two idiots drink again! I’m always your goddamn babysitter, it’s so annoying.” Steve laughs, riddling your hair. Ever since you stepped foot into Family Video at fifteen, looking for a job, the three of you were inseparable. “You think you’re gonna be okay? I gotta get that other shit head home before she pukes in the backseat, I already have to clean the front.”

“Oh no! I didn’t know you threw up!”

Steve rolls his eyes, dragging his hands down his face.

“See you tomorrow, I’ll call you okay?” His face is pulled into concern, eyebrows raised and pinched together

You salute him and wave, laughing at his mop of hair flopping around as he turns to leave. Struggling for at least ten minutes to get your denim overall shorts unbuckled, cursing and giggling at your own drunken stupor. You finally manage to get them un done shucking them off your legs, leaving your upper body covered by your tank top, the black panties you were wearing still on. Sliding your arms around your back you manage to unhook your bra and thread it through your shirt, tossing it into the shower beside you. Exhausted, you rest your head on the toilet bowl— falling into a dizzy sleep.

-

“Cece, come here!” Carol whispers loudly. She’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom, mouth agape at the sight of the slumped over figure hugging the toilet bowl.

“Holy shit!” She says, emerging from Eddie’s bedroom. “Is that? No fucking way.”

“I didn’t know he was screwing her too!” Carol breathes jealousy spewing from her lips.

“You really think he’d want to fuck that? Look at her! She’s a walking basket case. I heard that her family moved away because she wigged out and tried to kill her own mom.”

“Actually, the rumor is that I killed them all,” you add, raising your sleepy drunk face from the toilet, seeing double and trying not to puke on the spot, you try to stand, using the toilet to support your weight as you push off from it, wobbling horrifically.

“Get the fuck out,” you say, vision dancing as you try to point to the front door, holding onto the sink to stabilize yourself wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, “now.”

“Yeah?” Cece spits, folding her arms across her chest, “you gonna make us? Last I checked we were guests—“

“Not anymore,” Eddie hissed, adjusting the waist of his sweatpants as he looks into the bathroom at your disheveled appearance. Your makeup is smeared from throwing up, you’re half naked and barefoot, clutching onto the sink. Your overalls are covered in puke, and in a heap of vomit on the floor, a purple bra hangs over the edge of the tub. He wedges himself into the bathroom between you and the two girls, covering you with his tall frame from their view. His nostrils are flared and his chest is puffed out, “you heard her, get the fuck out.”

“What the fuck Eddie?!” Carol gripes, looking into his mad eyes.

He glares back, bored with her, “Did you really think you were gonna stay the night?” He prods, “Please, you can’t be that fucking stupid. Get your shit and go.”

“We live across town!” Cece squeaks, face pulled into shock and humiliation.

“Don’t care.”

Carol crosses her arms and glares into his eyes, “It’s late!”

“And?” He asks glaring back, and pushing through them, “Here let me help.”

Eddie takes their purses and shoes, tossing them out the front door into the yard. Pointing to the open door and fuming, he spits, “Out.”

The girls leave screeching ‘fuck you’s’ as they walk down the sidewalk, disappearing into the night.

He turns back to the bathroom, hearing you vomit again, one small glance and he can tell you hit the sink at least, puke splattering all over— the same reaction if you held a spoon under running water.

He turns around and comes back with the cleaner and a roll of paper towels, gagging with each wipe of the sink as he cleans it up.

Your crumbled body is slumped over the toilet again.

“Gonna live? Or should I call the coroner.” He says leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a look of worry on his face.

“ ‘s Robin’s fault,” you mumble, voice echoing in the toilet bowl, “woulda been fine if it wasn’t for the sh—,” you gag thinking of the vodka, “—shots, I’m usually not like this.”

Eddie sits on the side of the tub. You’re wasted and half dressed. He was a lot of things but taking advantage of a drunk girl wasn’t him. He finds your robe hanging in its designated spot, and drapes it across your bare shoulders.

“Sit up a bit,” he instructs. With great effort you sit up, almost falling backwards but Eddie catches you, careful of his hand placements not wanting to graze you in your inebriated state. He helps you sit and you put your arms through the holes of the robe. He reaches gently around your middle to tie it. Putting delicate pressure on your back as he leans you forward towards the toilet. You hum with satisfaction as your face feels the cool plastic of the toilet seat. Fighting the urge to rub your back.

“I’m dying, you can have the house when I’m gone, scatter my ashes in the rose bushes out back.” You say with a whine. Groaning as your stomach churns again, puking up more and more of the mixed alcohol you drank earlier in the night.

“Need some water?” Eddie guesses.

You nod your head, feeling like it weighs a hundred pounds you set it back down.

He leaves and comes back from the kitchen with a glass of water, swirly straw included. Tapping your shoulder he hands you the Disney cup, taking a long pull from the straw, you set the cup down on the linoleum floor.

“Thanks.”

“Agh, you’ll be alright. The porcelain Gods and I are great friends— well we used to be back in high school. I haven’t prayed to them in a while,” he says with a chuckle. Sliding down against the wall behind you, sitting on the cold floor.

“Don’t forget the time you and Kev ate those shrooms and puked all night in the basement of our house.” You mutter, wiping your mouth with your sleeve and flushing the toilet.

That was a night Eddie would never forget, he was only sixteen, and he somehow scored some homemade brownies and shrooms from one of the seniors. Being young and dumb, him and Eyeball each ate three brownies and an entire bag of shrooms. The high was insane, but the aftermath was death. He hasn’t touched shrooms since.

“Shit,” Eddie exclaims, “how old were you? Ten?”

“ ‘leven,” you say, holding your elbows on the toilet seat and your head in your palms, “old enough to know you and Kev didn’t magically get the flu at the same time.”

“Man we were dumb,” he says with a laugh, rubbing his chin with his hand.

“Were?” you say slyly.

“Easy, I’m not the one who can’t hold their liquor, Princess.”

“Oh Jesus please no more mention of it or I will barf—again.”

He stands to leave, laughing and stretching his arms out over his head as a small yawn escapes him. Exhausted from the day's events: work, concert, threesome— ain’t no way he’d be up before noon tomorrow— you either.

“Think I’m gonna go to bed, you going to be okay?”

Sitting up and looking at Eddie for the first time tonight, you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re drunk, but it’s almost as if it’s the very first time you’ve seen him. His amber colored eyes are surrounded by a forest of black eyelashes, his mop of curly hair hanging in them slightly, smooth pink lips, surprisingly full, a sharp jaw with a days worth of stubble, his veiny neck dances as he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing up and down. His shoulders are thick snaking down to muscled forearms, veins protruding from them, his hands are easily double the size of yours, thick fingers adorned with the same chunky stupid rings he’s worn forever. His broad chest stretches across his ribs, nipples pierced since the 80’s. He stands with confidence. His slender waist with the tiniest patch of hair ducking into the gray waistband of his hanes boxer briefs. And the prettiest alabaster skin peeking out from his collection of black tattoos.

Mouth suddenly dry, you stutter, “I—I’m done throwing up, gonna go to my bed.”

You stand on Bambi’s legs, hitting the wall hard with your shoulder. “Jesus Christ,” Eddie laughs and scoops you up making sure he’s holding under your bent knees and around your upper arms. He carries you to your bed, his skin burning hot against your cheek. He lays you down, throwing the blankets over your head for good measure, trying like hell to ignore the flutter in his stomach as you huff and pout pulling your eyebrows inward and frowning as you place your blankets to your liking.

“Get some sleep Tooty.” Eddie says all too softly. Pushing your cute sleepy face from his mind, rocking back on his heels as he starts to leave your room.

“Eddie?” You call after him, your small voice ripping through him like a knife. “Thank you, seriously. For everything.”

Shaking his head back and forth, his wild hair flows like a curtain around him in the dark as he leaves your room, “you owe me,” he says with a small grin, shutting the door behind him.

//

////

/

SEE YOU IN VOLUME: V

[volume: 5]

putting random symbols in hopes that read more will eat this instead of the last paragraph 😩

-

-

[cocogum]

Amalia being Yugo’s first is WILD and here’s why.

When you really think about it, Amalia is technically Yugo’s first lover in the history of the krosmoz.

Just take a moment to think about it for a second. Let it sink in.

According to what we know about Yugo and what he was like in the past, the dude couldn’t stop moving around and never had a day off from his adventures with Adamaï.

That was back when he wasn’t king and had Chibi as the one leading the council of six (unless the story got retconned but it doesn’t change the fact that Yugo was extremely adventurous). Yugo would be spending his days on his original planet discovering and battling beasts regardless if he was unaware that he rinses and repeats every time he gets reborn.

According to the manga, Yugo and Adamaï’s room looked like a giant museum that was filled and piled up with so many things he got from their adventures that it was insane how much they went outside.

So this not only tells us that Yugo was always hyperactive but it also shows how much of a messy guy he is, hoarding around all his stuff. What kind of man has these habits AND has a steady normal relationship? His partner would continuously get frustrated by the amount of times he’s late and unprepared for their dates because he’s so busy doing his own thing.

Besides, even if Yugo did want to get married to someone, who was he going to go to? The only people on his planet are people of the same race as him which are mainly composed of his primordial siblings and his people who there’s a very high chance that they are somewhat related to him and his siblings (Because let’s be honest here. Mina, Chibi, and Qilby must’ve played a huge part in even having subjects in the first place. Why do you think they’re the “primordial ones”? Qilby must’ve just been curious tho lol “iN tHe NaMe Of ScIenCe”)

So no, Yugo couldn’t have gotten into a relationship even if he wanted to.

Amalia was literally his first which is WILD (but good lol) given how many lives he has had.

Also, it’s highly likely that Amalia is the only exception. Yugo’s life is filled with calamities and dangers to defeat. If the literal retired iop god and his daughter don’t have any clue as to why his life is so dangerous but “fun” (Dally told him that he remembers why Yugo’s his best friend BECAUSE of those dangers and Elely asked him how his life can be filled with so many to begin with), then I don’t know how anyone who doesn’t have a fearless spirit can even like staying with Yugo, let alone be in a romantic relationship with him.

And even if there was a fearless person who liked adventuring, the chances of being with Yugo are slim to none. Amalia was a good option because unlike anyone else, she had so many common points with Yugo that it almost felt like she was MADE for him (evidence presented here) like a cute Sadida doll made for a dragon. Or in this case, a cute sadida made for a demigod with dragon blood 💕💕

For crying out loud, she was even the only royal who wanted to go see the world and attempted more than once to leave her kingdom to do so. How many other royals do you see doing that?? They all have abrasive, snobbish personalities who can only think about themselves and reject anything different from them. The only one who used to act so differently from the other rulers was her mother.

Amalia is truly one of a kind.

(It could also be the fact that Amalia just looks extremely different, appearance-wise. The whole Sadida look stands out a lot. They don’t necessarily get confused by other races like forgelancers/iops/sacriers, enutrofs/fecas/foggernauts. The fact that she looks/wears/talks/protects nature might also be another thing that Yugo gave his attention to.)

[sparkle-fiend]

Steve loves Valentine’s Day.

It’s a holiday celebrating love and romance; the whole point is to shower someone with affection (and hopefully get laid at the end of the night). What’s not to like about that?

With girls, Valentine’s was easy. Big box of chocolates, a dozen red roses, dinner at a fancy restaurant (and maybe a little jewelry or something - depending on how much he likes her). A sweet card, for sure.

Now that he’s dating Eddie, Valentine’s Day presents more of a… challenge. 

“Ugh, what am I gonna do Rob? We walked through the greeting card aisle at Melvald’s and he pretended to puke. He doesn’t want flowers or chocolate or anything.”

He knows he’s whining. He’s slumped dramatically in the single office chair in the Family Video breakroom, spinning slowly (like a pathetic little rotisserie chicken, according to Robin). He’s probably got about five more minutes before Robin snaps.

“Why do you have to do anything? You know Valentine’s Day isn’t even a real holiday – it’s just an excuse to get people to spend money on crap they don’t need…”

“Oh my god, stop! You sound just like Eddie. Valentine's isn't about spending money, it's about... showing people that you love them. Making them feel happy and appreciated and special. It’s about celebrating love.”

Robin tilts her head and her face goes a little soft, the way it does when he says something she wasn't expecting (but in a good way, not like when he says something so dumb that her body collapses and she says he's obliterated her will to live). 

"That’s actually surprisingly sweet Steve. Okay….” she sighs and looks up at the ceiling as she thinks. “Maybe... you could try making something? He liked those cookies you baked for movie night." 

“Those cookies were terrible.” Practically inedible. Eddie was the only person that ate more than one. (Which was either a true declaration of love in and of itself, or proof that Eddie will eat literally anything when he's stoned.) 

"I don't know, Eddie is pretty easy to please. You could give him like... a cool rock, and he would probably love it." 

Steve sits upright so fast he nearly overturns the chair. "Robin, you're a genius!!" 

She blinks at him. "Clearly. But also, why exactly?" 

Eddie is like a crow. He's forever picking up little odds and ends - cool rocks, stickers, shiny bits of paper. At Christmas, he collected the bows off of everyone's presents. Sometimes, he incorporates the stuff he finds into little props and models for his D&D games, but other times he just keeps it. He's got a whole drawer devoted to his little 'hoard', as he calls it. 

Steve explains all this to Robin, who just shakes her head in bemusement. "He is so weird," she says fondly. 

"Yeah," Steve agrees. He would have recoiled from that oddity in high school - would have been worried what other people would think. Scared they would judge him for associating with someone like that. 

He doesn’t give a shit, these days. He sees the way Eddie lights up with happiness at the smallest things, so full of excitement and passion, and it just makes him smile. He feels grateful that he gets to bask in that reflected joy, like a flower soaking up the sun.

Valentines is two weeks away, which gives Steve plenty of time to collect a bounty of little treasures. He hits the pawn shop, the thrift store - he even drives out to the weird antique shop about an hour out of town, which looks like a normal house on the outside and is crammed to the rafters with knick-knacks and bric-a-brac when you walk inside. 

He also trawls the quarry, the lake, and the woods behind his house. It's tough, because usually Eddie's little treasures just look like trash to Steve. He's not a very creative person himself, but he tries hard to see the world the way his boyfriend would. 

If that means Steve finds himself debating for over half an hour on which rock is more appealing, well – it will all be worth it in the end.

———

Steve stays over at Eddie's, the night before Valentines. (At this point, he spends more time at the Munson's house than he does at his own.) 

He wakes up early, slipping out of bed with slow, careful movements. As usual, Eddie rolls over with a faint grumble, bundling himself into a burrito of blankets to compensate for the void of warmth left by Steve's absence. 

He moves down the hall, avoiding each creaky board like it's a booby trap in the Temple of Doom, until he reaches the kitchen - which is where Steve breaks routine. He sneaks out the back door and races across the driveway in his boxers, hopping and cursing as the frigid gravel stings his bare feet. 

His carefully cultivated stash of gifts is in the glove compartment of the BMW. He already has a plan for which one will be first, so he grabs it and closes the door (slowly, slowly - the sound of Steve moving around the house is familiar, but a car door slamming in the driveway at this time of morning would wake Eddie for sure). 

The first gift is a blue jay feather he found in the woods, perfect and clean with vivid blue and black stripes. He tucks it carefully under the edge of the ash tray that sits on the porch railing, before slipping back inside to start breakfast.

Thirty minutes later Eddie appears, drawn by the warm smell of coffee and the sound of bacon popping in the pan. 

He drapes himself over Steve's back and murmurs, "G'mornin," sleepily into the shell of his ear, the way he does every morning after Steve spends the night. This time, Steve balances his spatula on the edge of the pan and turns so that he can wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. 

He presses a cheerful kiss to the corner of Eddie's mouth and says, "Happy Valentine’s Day." 

Eddie groans dramatically and throws his head back, the rest of his bodyweight following. If Steve didn't have a firm grip around his waist, he would have toppled over backward; the move turns into an awkward backbend instead. 

"Stevie please, it's too early for that crap. Wait until I've had my coffee at least." 

Steve grins. He releases his hold just long enough for Eddie to yelp and scrabble for balance before catching him and pulling him close again. 

"Jesus Christ," Eddie gasps. 

"Careful," Steve says with a smug grin, laughing when Eddie shoves him in the chest and pulls away.

They eat breakfast together, and then Steve follows Eddie outside for his morning cigarette. 

"Holy shit, look at this!" Eddie turns to Steve with the blue jay feather pinched between his fingers, grinning with delight. He hasn't brushed his hair yet and he's got a smear of bacon grease on his cheek, but he's so beautiful in that moment - so full of joy it shines out of him, like a lighthouse.

Just because he found a feather. Steve smiles back, helplessly besotted. "Pretty cool." 

Eddie twirls the feather between his fingers before tucking it behind his ear. “That’s a sign that today is gonna be a good day.”

Steve presses his mouth to the edge of his coffee cup to hide his expression. “Yeah, I think so too.”

———

Eddie rolls into the Family Video parking lot around 2 in the afternoon to visit before his band practice. He strolls inside and leans against the counter, plonking a silver wrapped Hershey kiss down in front of Steve. 

“Kiss for a kiss?” he says, with a smarmy grin. Steve rolls his eyes, but he checks to make sure they’re alone in the store before swooping forward for a quick peck on the lips.

“I got you something too,” he says.

“Oh?” Eddie raises one eyebrow, managing to look both curious and skeptical. “Please tell me it’s not a cheesy greeting card.”

Steve flips him the bird before reaching into his pocket. He pulls the keychain out and lets it dangle from one finger in front of Eddie’s face.

His boyfriend’s immediate reaction is to wrinkle his nose in disgust. The keychain is a garish red plastic heart, definitely the antithesis of Eddie’s usual metalhead vibe.

But it’s also sparkly. 

Steve’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk as Eddie takes the keychain from him, reluctantly admiring the way light sparks off the flakes of holographic glitter embedded in the plastic. The cheap little thing shimmers like a ruby in the afternoon sun.

“Some kid dropped it. They never came back, so it’s yours if you want it.” (That’s technically true, although Steve has been holding on to it for nearly a month now, waiting for today.)

“Oh, well then.” Eddie stuffs the keychain into his pocket. “Finders keepers, losers weepers!” He sticks his tongue out, eyes wide and exaggerated – then leans across the counter and licks Steve’s nose.

“Gross!” Steve sputters with laughter. He scrubs at his face and looks up just in time to see Eddie wave jauntily on his way out the door, a second Hershey kiss left sitting on the counter in his wake.

———

After Steve's shift is over, he runs home for a quick shower and a change of clothes before meeting Eddie at the diner. 

He did his best to talk his boyfriend into going on a proper date, but the most he could get Eddie to agree to was milkshakes and a movie (my choice Stevie, not some lame romance).

Steve walks into the diner and spots Eddie at the back booth. He saunters over and sets the third present onto the sticky Formica table with a click. It's a small golden gear, nearly paper-thin. 

"Check it out. Found this in the parking lot." 

(That's a lie. Steve carefully picked apart a broken old watch from the thrift shop in order to extract a handful of the little gears.)

"Hey, cool! I bet I could use this in the model I'm working on." Eddie pulls the pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket and drops the gear inside for safe keeping. 

"What's the model for?" Steve asks.

Eddie launches into an animated explanation of the character he's creating for a new Hellfire campaign - a sun-worshiping priest that intends to trick the party into becoming a ritual sacrifice. 

"... and that gear thing would look pretty good on the top of his staff." 

Steve doesn't understand much of what Eddie's saying, but he loves the way his boyfriend talks with his whole body, moving his hands and shoulders and head along with the words. He rests his chin in his hand and lets Eddie ramble until the milkshakes arrive, smiling like a dope the whole time.

Eddie has no concept of time, so Steve is in charge of making sure they finish their milkshakes and leave the diner in time to make it to the movie. As Eddie slides into the passenger seat of the BMW, he says, “Hey – you think we have enough time to stop by the Circle K?”

Steve turns in his seat as he reverses out of the parking lot. "What do you need at the Circle K?" 

"Snacks! You can't go to a movie without provisions Stevie! And don't say we can buy some at the concessions stand, because the prices they charge are ridiculous."

“Well if we stop now, we’ll be late – but I’ve got some Milk Duds and trail mix…” Steve doesn’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late. Eddie pops open the glove compartment in his search for snacks, revealing Steve’s little stash of gifts. 

Eddie frowns in confusion. “What the hell?” He rifles through the pile as Steve groans.

“Shit. You weren’t supposed to see those yet.”

“What is all this?” Eddie picks up a ring, turning it over in his hands. It's a bulky silver biker ring, like the ones Eddie wears every day - only this one is shaped like a bat with tiny ruby eyes. Steve is particularly proud of that one, discovered in a box of assorted rings at the pawn shop.

Steve gnaws at his lip and runs a hand through his hair, ruining all his careful styling. "I know you hate Valentines, but I wanted to do something. Just… to show you how much I love you. So instead of the cards and flowers and stuff, I tried to find little things you might actually like. For your, you know… your 'dragon hoard' or whatever you call it."

"So the keychain and the gear..."

"And the feather."

Eddie's eyebrow twitches. He stares at the contents of the glove compartment; at the water smoothed stone from the lake and the multicolored twist of ribbon, the vivid green marble and the tiny mother of pearl locket. He looks down at the ring still clutched in his hand, and blinks rapidly. 

Steve glances nervously between Eddie and the road, hands tight on the steering wheel. He's disappointed that the surprise has been ruined, but more concerned about Eddie's reaction. He'd expected the other boy to laugh or tease him, not this... whatever this is. 

Finally, Eddie clears his throat roughly and speaks. "Actually, can we just head back to my place? I've got something I wanna show you, and I don't think I can wait through the movie." 

“Uh… sure.”

Steve's brain is buzzing as he takes a left instead of a right at the intersection. He's worked himself into a bit of a panic by the time they pull into the Munson's driveway. "Eddie, I..." 

Eddie interrupts him, practically throwing himself across the center console as he drags Steve into a fierce kiss. By the time Eddie lets him go, Steve is panting. "Wha...?" 

"Wait here," Eddie says with a wild grin. He presses Steve back into the seat for emphasis. "Don't move." 

He takes the steps up the porch two at a time and fumbles with his key to get inside as Steve watches in a daze. He has no idea what's going on. 

After a few minutes, Eddie returns to the door. He's pulled on a t-shirt with a faux tuxedo printed on the front, and he's standing straight backed in the doorway with a towel over his arm, like some kind of maître d’. He waves grandly toward Steve, beckoning him toward the house. 

Steve snorts with laughter as he climbs out of the BMW. “What are you doing?” 

"This way sir," Eddie replies in a terrible attempt at a posh English accent. Steve shakes his head, thoroughly bewildered and increasingly amused. 

He walks past Eddie through the doorway and freezes in surprise.

The living room has been transformed. Eddie set up the gaming table in the middle of the room – set with a crisp white tablecloth, the Munson’s best dishes, and a vase full of red roses sitting in the center of the table, flanked by two candles. More candles twinkle softly from the coffee table, the end tables - even on top of the tv. 

"Eddie..." Steve whispers in awe. "What is this?" 

"Well, ah... I kind of jumped the gun a little. It’s supposed to be a candlelight dinner. If we'd gone to the movie, Wayne would have had time to get all the food set up. But it won’t take long, I already cooked everything. Just gotta heat it up."

Steve’s vision goes watery, smearing the candlelight into one big blur as tears fill his eyes. He blinks hard to clear them. “I thought you hated all this stuff.”

Eddie shrugs and rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Well, yeah I do. But you love it. So I wanted to surprise you.”

Steve grips his boyfriend by the front of his ridiculous t-shirt and pulls him into a bone-cracking hug, before pulling back just far enough to kiss the breath from him. 

In a pause between kisses, Steve rests his forehead against Eddie’s and laughs a little breathlessly. “What made you change your mind about the movie?”

Eddie bites his lips, already swollen from kisses. Steve can’t tear his eyes away.

“I don’t know. When I saw all that stuff you collected for me…” he clears his throat, staring at Steve with wide dark eyes. “I’m… I know I’m weird. I’ve known that my whole life. I never thought I would find anyone that would tolerate me, let alone… celebrate me like that.”

He kisses Steve again, sweet and soft. “I couldn’t sit and wait for two hours after that. I had to get you home and show you how much I love you.”

“I love you too.” Steve smiles against Eddie’s mouth. “You know… I’m not really hungry yet.”

“Oh yeah?”

Steve trails his hands down Eddie’s chest, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and tugging. “Mm-hmm. I think we need to work up an appetite first.”

Eddie laughs in delight. “Sounds like a good idea. You know how much I like dessert before dinner.”

A happy Valentine’s Day indeed.

[dullgecko]

Another goblin headcanon is that goblin hoards have a reputation for a lot of in fighting and strict hierarchy, which is just completely untrue.

While they do have leaders this is normally just the oldest/most experienced in whatever area they’re in charge of and hoards are actually normally very close knit and protective of each other.

One reason for this stereotype is that goblin as a language has a lot of clicks, hisses and growls that to someone who’s not used to it would think that anything said sounds aggressive and threatening.

They also wouldn’t be able to tell the nuisance in goblin body langue e.g angry tail thrashing vs excited happy tail thrashing, big toothy smile vs showing off teeth and ears going back relaxed not really concentrating on anything in particular vs ears going back I’m annoyed and about to attack.

Goblins also tend to use a lot of touch to communicate; gentle biting of friends, whining up to someone when they want something they have (especially younger goblins to older ones), playfully pushing each other and cuddling that honestly looks more like grappling and all this from a uneducated point of view could be seen as fighting.

Add this to people already having a low opinion of goblins and a lot of the ‘studies’ and ‘research’ done on goblins is at best extremely biased and inaccurate and at worst just plain racist, and goblins developed the reputation as savages that will attack even those in their hoard.

I’m also imagining a scene where riz and the bad kids go to the mountains of chaos and either run into or get captured by a goblin hoard. And after a few misunderstandings (they did plan on eating them, apart from riz) they’re happily welcomed and shown all around their section of caves, given food, a place to stay the night if they want etc.

It’s definitely weird for riz to suddenly be surrounded by other goblins after spending his whole life with the only other goblins he really interacted with being his mom and his dad and he does get pretty overwhelmed and emotional at points. But it’s also nice to experience for himself that no matter what people say goblins aren’t just these naturally evil stupid creatures.

Also the rest of the bad kids get climbed on, a lot.

These Goblins don’t often get a chance to interact with other races so are naturally very curious about the bad kids and to them getting up and close to new friends is perfectly fine, plus they’re all so much bigger than them so it makes perfect sense to scale up them to say check out gorgugs goggles or check out the colour of Kristen’s hair etc. xx

Honestly, i love this so much that i want to print it out and eat it. Thankyou.

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

They only even got attacked in the first place because a group of older goblins out for a hunt came across a pack of tall-men carrying what is clearly a CHILD and stepped in to 'save' them.

Noone actually got hurt, despite a lot of weapon brandishing and hissing, mostly because all the bad kids by this point are EXPERTS at reading Riz's body language and it translated perfectly over to the dozen or so goblin adults surrounding them and were smart enough to firstly drop Riz (who had been play-fighting Fig earlier and was at the time being carried around like a sack of potatos under Gorgugs arm until he calmed down because he had entered the silly and biting zone) and secondly put their hands up and drop their weapons.

It had taken Riz a while to talk them down, mostly because (as he explained to his party later) his mum and dad were from the opposite end of the range and had a WILDLY different accent and he had to wrap his head around that first. Think a New Zealander trying to talk to someone from Rural Texas. They can understand eachother, it just takes a bit for you to get used to the accent.

Once Riz explained to them that they were from Elmsville, and that this was his horde, the goblins attitudes changed drastically from 'intimidating and pissed off' to 'friendly and curious'. There wasnt much of a change in their body language, but all the bad kids relaxed immediatly when they clocked the shift (which only added weight to Riz's claim that these were his horde). Especially since Fig could hiss out a passable 'nice to meet you', even if her accent was terrible.

Some of them even put down their weapons to get closer and examine the rest of the bad kids, several of them grabbing and poking at Fig and Fabians forearms when they noticed the bite marks from the earlier play-fighting and Riz showed off his own bite-marks from Fig.

They get the invite to spend the night in the caves, since its already getting dark by this point and a bit too late to set up camp, and they happily accept. Kristen and Adaine have an absoloute ball playing with the goblin kids who come to investigate (they're so SMALL AND CUTE) while Fig and Gorgug get climbed all over by children and teens in equal parts. All of them kept getting offered food that they knew from experiance they proooobably couldnt eat without getting food poisoning, but they had plenty of rations to offer back and Adaine kept pulling candy out of her jacket to the delight of both the kids AND adults.

Fabian gets spared the brunt of the grabbing and poking, but mostly because Riz has taken refuge on his shoulders after a couple hours and was flicking his tail in mild annoyance anytime someone got TOO grabby. He'd fled up onto his favorite perch when, intrigued by the novelty of a NEW and STRANGELY DRESSED goblin teenager, more than one of the hordes teens had flirted a little too aggressivly with Riz for his liking (a boy around Riz's age had grabbed his tail and done SOMETHING Fabian hadnt quite seen, but the next second Riz was scrambling up his back and hissing so he didnt ask).

[viloxity]

I thought of something more fanciful, like for example, a reader girl almost a baby who entered a dungeon forgotten by everyone and there she found Jinwoo, in my delusions he can transform into a kind of chimera dragon (You know with a human body even the torso and the dragon torso hahaha) At first Jinwoo doesn't pay attention to this girl, but she keeps coming to see him, so Jinwoo tells her that if anything she doesn't have anything better to do in this abandoned world.

She tells him "I don't have parents, nor a family, much less does anyone care about my existence... Are you like that too, sir?" And although she only sees her human half hidden in the shadows, she does not see her dragon half (Let's be clear that obviously Jinwoo can transform at will but for me he is a bit lazy for that hahaha. Returning to the topic, she frequents him a lot and he He lets her be, bored more than anything since he doesn't bother leaving his territory, he usually listens to this girl's ramblings and over time he takes a liking to her (although he doesn't say it openly) Then on another day he tells her that Why don't you just stop coming to see him? If you know it's dangerous, but she doesn't care and responds with another question: "Why don't you ever let me see you? I only see your eyes, which are beautiful and changing."

Jinwoo would sigh and would take a while to respond with "Humans don't understand my existence, much less would you, but you're strange... maybe one day I'll let you see me in full."

And everything would stay there but with the passage of time she stops being a girl and at some point she is a teenager, at this point she is the only one who knows this eternal and forgotten dungeon (not so much because she is the only one who remembers and always goes to see him) In the end Jinwoo is seen for the first time when she tells him that she may not come to see him anymore because the way here is dangerous for a civilian, although he is bothered by that and blames the few police in the place.

Laughing without grace, Jinwoo finally agrees to show himself after years in darkness, she would be surprised but she would only tell him how great she looks and that would be enough to make him sigh at how strange she is but not make him love her less. Neither of them knew that Jin-Woo would become obsessed with her when she gradually stopped visiting him because she was busy in her adult life trying to survive in the remains of humanity, which would upset him and make him go out for the first time (I forgot to say it). but it's a strange AU hahaha, it occurred to me, Jinwoo is also a shadow monarch, obviously his physical form is different)

I hope you liked my delusions, anyway, thanks for reading! Another fellow novice fanfic writer greets you (Cough! I've been writing for 7 years, I'm sorry! Hahaha)

MY FIRST ASK WOOHOO!!! and an amazing one at that, I really love your mind! I wanted to wait until I got the second part out but I don’t wanna ignore this since it’s passionate and lovely so here I goooo

exploring AUs involving Jinwoo is great bc there’s soooo much to do with him—especially bc of his power as a shadow monarch. It’s one of the reasons why I decided to do a ‘bad ending’ story in relation to the main story; like what if jinwoo did not want to side with humanity? it’s like the same idea here except he’s a more neutral figure and is unbothered by the world around him, therefore he plays no hand in it…. Except you come barreling into his life. It’ll start a domino effect the moment you speak to him, which he might realize later but it’s too late then. Perhaps he might do subtle things that display his dragon like nature—hoarding—and humanity. If he has a hoard of sorts, he would give you gifts from his prized possession. Normally, he would be angered at the idea of some pathetic lowly human touching his treasure but he feels warm at the idea of providing you with something he cherishes. You would initially protest—probably because it looked expensive—but his growls that nearly ripped the cave apart would zip your lips immediately. Your departure that day would be filled with immense amounts of ‘thank yous’ and he would just give you a begrudging ‘yeah, whatever; get out of my sight.’

After some visits, and when you say the final visit will be your last, there is a new feeling that bristles within him. The way that his claws get sharper, his teeth begin to bare, and his expression contorts confused him—never before in his mundane life did he act in such a way. It was different, deviant, and new—a sensation that excited him more than anything. He would recognize, then, in his own little world how he gave you a comfortable little place in it—a place that is always, always by his side. If he was quick enough, hearing your footsteps echo as you trekked down the mountain, he would give chase whether that be through his dragon form or his shadows. If you had already left as he sorted his thoughts, he would fly to your village himself and find you. You were a priority now; someone who deserved everything and he knew he would be the one to give you the world. No matter the cost, he would have you, and he would keep you.

I hope this did your story justice? Thank you for sharing !!

[the0maski]

Oh look! I escaped containment! Update Entrance | part 2

So normal dungeon size. Would be cool to see what the different floor look like and for what reason the temple had been used in the past. Could there be references to one of them? An old inscription telling one of the Link’s legend?

-

Oh yes the reason Hyrule Warriors isn’t a canon Zelda game…and my personal one-sides beef with Aonuma! The timeline would be so much easier…

Anyway, Hyrule Warriors features some dungeons, but you just run and fight the hoards of monsters.

Love the their shock faces! And then there is Time. Don’t know if the side eye is because Time is the most stoic 3D Link, or because my boy is going through high level stress?

-

Interesting piece of LU lore! Either that or Wars purposely mentions Ganon.

Cause, technically, Cia started the War of Ages. Yes she was under the influence of Ganon, but it was her obsession that also lead to the events in HW.

And that, snuck under Ganon’s snout is not true for all of them.

Time literally played into Ganondorf’s plan in the first half of Oot. (In MM, if you look at Skull kid with the telescope. Majora will always look at you, what means they know where you are)

The same goes for Legend, in a Link between Worlds. Hilda had asked for his help, only so she could have the Triforce of Courage. Meaning that they had to be watching him somehow to make sure everything was going according to plan.

And also, I think that Zant had an eye on Twilight, not sure if from the very beginning or at some point in the game.

-

Yes recurrent items. I wonder if Hyrule has already left something hidden somewhere, for a future hero to find? The hero to follow would be Warriors so, has he any items of Hyrule?

Interesting enough, Twilight’s hero’s clothes are often said belonged to Time, because Ordona made the comment that the green tunic belonged to an ancient hero. But it makes more sense that there actually belonged to Sky, since Time isn’t an official hero in that timeline.

(Some other example of what Hyrule said, would be:

Four’s Gust Jar -> Sky’s Gust bellows

Four’s Mole Mitts -> Sky’s Digging mitts/ Mogma mitts

Four’s Small Shield -> Wind’s Hero’s shield

Four’s Cane of Pacci -> Legend’s Cane of Somaria/ Cane of Byrna

Twilight’s Ball and Chain -> Warrior’s Ball and Chain

Time’s Hero’s Bow -> Twilight’s Hero’s Bow)

-

Twilight saw the opportunity to bite War’s ego and took it! Meanwhile, Four worries about some enemies only found in dungeons, why is he the only one who cares about his brother getting badly hurt?

Wind is clearly screaming inside.

-

Nice call back to when LU hasn’t had a storyline!

This part could be also mean that some of the doodles can be taken as Slice of Life parts, though some of them still hadn’t taken place yet.

-

Hyrule knows that it is important to know the enemy and be prepare. Like that about his character, as much as he likes to goof around and get lost in the world, he knows when to take things serious.

(He might quote this even from his game? His text does read like something an NPC in game would say.)

-

Legend‘s little prank here is a good way to show the captain how it’s feels to be grabbed by a Wallmaster. So no blame to the Vet, this might be even good.

More on part 3

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ S-RANKS AND THEIR INHUMAN TRAITS.

fandom. solo leveling

pairings. beak yoonho, choi jong-in, liu zhigang, sung jin-woo x gn!reader

content warnings. s-ranks are not quite human, written in lower caps, not edited/proofread

word count. 1.1k

notes. first solo leveling fic here on tumblr!! i hope you all like it, some food before i focus on the event fics :)

S-Ranks are not only distinguished by the fact that their mana levels are so high that they can't be measured by any means, but also by taking almost animalistic traits. Those are a result of their own high mana reserves and in which way the mana has manifested in them. Each S-Rank is individual and shows different inhuman traits. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ baek yoonho. 

beak yoonho is an s-rank, who focuses on transformation magic. while he clearly has the power of a tank, his mana manifests in a weird mix of tiger and wolf

having practiced rigorous control of his mana and with that his animalistic instincts, he’s one of the few s-ranks who rarely shows his inhuman traits

and still, his appearance changed the moment he awakened to a s-rank. canine teeth, his pupils turning to slits when his control slips— those small things bleed through his ‘normal’ appearance 

these traits are the most obvious after baek cancels his transformation, mana still pulsing strongly through his body and only slowly turning him back fully human. the tips of his hair stay white, streaked with black, while his eyes continue to glow and usually round pupils remain as thin slits

when he’s like this, mind still hazy and led by instincts, his words are more like growls, deep and snarling, showing his teeth to anyone who dares to touch what’s his

that’s what happens as well. baek normally hides it well, but post-transformation leaves doesn’t exactly clear his mind, instincts influencing his acts and decisions

you know all of this well, after being baek’s partner for years, you got to know all his traits, those he hides so well. sometimes you wish he wouldn’t, you don’t mind seeing him like this, but baek is careful. he would never dare to hurt you, he fears it, fully knowing his claws could easily sink into your delicate flesh, ripping you apart while his mana lusts for blood. 

baek doesn’t show his inhuman traits often, he doesn’t like showing them, because showing them means exposing them to you, someone who could never survive an s-rank.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ choi jong-in.

compared to baek, his long time rival, choi jong-in isn’t the one for hiding his less humane traits, but he doesn’t parade them around either. choi is a dragon through and through, sly and with a knowing glint in his eyes

he loves to hoard things, his apartment filled with trinkets, weapons he collected from all around the world, armor, artifacts— everything and anything, if something interesting catches his eyes, he will drag it to his hoard and no one will stop him

choi is a being of fire. the slumbering embers and roaring fires, calm and passionate, he embodies it and it often shows. running hotter than most s-ranks, choi is a walking heater. he himself isn’t bothered by it, but others can get uncomfortable 

and like any other beast, he has fangs and is proud of them. showing off his impressive teeth isn’t something he doesn’t do often, and yet, when the smoke of his cigarettes curls around him, sometimes you can glimpse a flash of them

despite choi being a professional and known for being one of the ‘nicer’ s-ranks, he can have a nasty temper as well. several times you’ve heard him snarl, teeth gleaming, a low rumble in his throat and the heat in the room steadily rising. he has a good control of himself and knows when it’s getting dangerous, choking his own mana and becoming seemingly completely human again. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ liu zhigang. 

liu zhigang could be compared to a berserker. he is a mighty warrior, one of the strongest s-ranks known and his blood runs hot, his hunger for blood and battle never satisfied

liu is a berserker, always ready for battle, lusting after it, no matter how strong the enemies are

and like any other proper berserker, he loves weapons. be it any blade, swords and spears, he wants them in his possession, even if he will never use them twice. sometimes his interest in a weapon is just enough to properly ‘bloody’ it, mesmerized by the view of splattered guts and flesh of monsters

war is his calling and it shows. his instincts are wired and completely focused on battles, it’s hard for him to just turn those off. he can mute them, and still he often scares other hunters and ordinary humans with his laser focus

he’s a predator and everyone is his victim, no one is safe. this is what most feel, no matter what liu does. when he was still young, inexperienced, nothing more than a small boy in this large world, he was scared. scared to hurt others, if he could never control this bloodlust

but nowadays, this fear is nowhere to be seen. liu is confident in his skin and he fully embraces his whole being, the fierce mana that has changed him forever. when he grins with a fierce glint in his eyes, own blood already boiling, his whole body ready to jump and tear through flesh… it’s then when he truly shows his animalistic, inhuman traits. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ sung jin-woo. 

sung jin-woo has probably the most control of his inhuman traits out of all s-ranks known to earth. and still, he can’t hide them completely, just as he can’t hide his power

there are his fangs, just a bit longer, a bit sharper than normal human teeth. there are his eyes, dark and glowing, his whole body shrouded in shadows— sometimes they cling onto him, sometimes jin-woo becomes a shadow

he’s not feral, bloodthirsty or a slave to his inhuman instincts. he just is someone, something powerful in a human body

a reason why other s-ranks are so careful around him. what kind of power does he have, to completely control his urges, those inhuman traits, while walking among them as if he’s a normal human being. yet he can’t be, not with the mana tightly around him— no matter what rank you are, sung jin-woo is one of the most powerful s-ranks known and everyone can feel that

as can you, not even a hunter, your body devoid of any mana but you can feel it. feel jin-woo’s power, how the shadows cling onto him, how his eyes glint, the mana wisps around him. you can feel it, sometimes see it but rarely, rarely jin-woo shows it. hidden away, in his arms, where darkness takes over him, but you’re not afraid. he keeps you safe, clothed in shadows and mana, while his rumbling chest fills the peaceful silence around you. 

taglist. @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @keqism , @aimixx , @venexus , @themercyverse

if you want to join the taglist, please read this post!

ARKHAM MAID 2023

[sneakyboymerlin]

Worst most tragic quote of any show ever:

“Some men are born to be kings… I was born to serve you, Arthur.”

How everyone else isn’t horribly unsettled by that line of words fuckin’ astounds me.

HE DOESN’T SEE HIMSELF AS A PERSON!

And he tries to twist it into a positive thing!

It’s the fact that he suddenly believes that anyone is born to be lesser or greater than anyone else. The equality he hoped for at the original round table? No sign of that here. He’s been so socially abused that he’s resigned himself to being “less than.” It’s been impressed upon him again and again that he’s predestined to be Arthur’s inferior.

He doesn’t realize anymore that Arthur wasn’t born superior to him, with a grand entitlement to the monarchy’s hoarded wealth. He doesn’t realize that the scraps he has to his own name are disproportionate compensation for the work he does! He doesn’t seem to recognize that leadership should be divorced from concepts of unlimited power and greater wealth, that a leader should not be “above” their subjects, except when it comes to his own power and leadership. Then, he’s stopping people from bowing to him, and speaking to his followers as equals. But when Arthur expects and enforces the rule that he is treated with greater respect than anyone else, treated to greater luxuries, and that his work is ~more important~ so others (like his servants) don’t deserve their share of the wealth, that’s seen as completely normal and uncorrupt. Arthur’s an over-glorified CEO, and Merlin is placed on the lowest tier. And no one sees anything wrong with this political model?

He genuinely believes that he is Arthur’s inferior, morally and spiritually, and that the position he was born into (as a poor farmer, then servant, and “monster”) was intended to reflect that, as some sort of payment for his ~innate flaws~. He believes that Arthur specifically was born king because he is superior, that he was born into his insurmountable political/social power & wealth because he is somehow more deserving of it, when Arthur is just like any other person ever.

And it’s even wilder because he doesn’t think this about Uther or Morgana! It’s like Stockholm Syndrome. And what’s worse is that the narrative glorifies this perspective, doesn’t treat it as the horror that it really is, doesn’t engage with it as an idea that needs to be challenged.

It’s so different from how he approached his destiny in seasons 1-4, it’s arguably just out of character, plain and simple. He used to have some fight in him, he had a sense of self (even if he was lacking in self-worth, which is why he was so susceptible to this). He knew that he deserved to be seen as a person, as capable, as dignified. This negative development in his character, that he believes he doesn’t get to simply exist as a human being, that he only exists to serve the needs of others, while everyone else gets to just be a person without their very existence needing to be justified… it’s disturbing! How do people romanticize this? He’s an immortal martyr. When he can’t die for his cause, he gives up his life.

Merlin is more than a weapon, more than a shield, more than a thing. He wasn’t born to be used! He’s just a person, he deserves to simply be. Everyone does.

I hope he learned to after Arthur and Gaius died.

[beatinginavoid]

The Volcano

Part 4 of 6. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

— — —

Don’t explore the volcano.

The volcano had an interesting and complex cave system formed by magma flows over many, many years. They were said to be beautiful, glistening with crystals of various types. Many spelunkers were drawn to the chance to investigate a whole new cave system that was easily accessible. Others were hunting for profit, wanting to extract the precious stones and minerals.

The area became crowded, people were going missing in the unmapped labyrinth, and safety leapt to the top of the list. Signs, fencing, and other barriers went up in an effort to dissuade people from approaching willy-nilly.

An office was established and exploration expeditions were scheduled, though many ignored the quick and shoddy set up. There were always people that slipped by, only known about when missing reports reached the area.

One newcomer, dressed in vivid, fiery shades of red and orange, was there to explore and to grab some shiny souvenirs. No fence or barrier was going to stop them!

So what happened when they went exploring?

— — —

Chain link barriers? Easy to step over or duck under. Fencing? Easy to cut through. The office and checkpoints were easy to circumvent, even in broad daylight while wearing bright clothing. It’s almost insulting how easy it is to sneak into one of the cave system’s entrances.

There are tiny glints of light speckling the tunnel’s walls, ceiling, and floor. Tiny crystals, or tiny parts of crystals showing – they don’t excite you though. You want ones from deeper in to make the trip truly worthwhile.

Excitement runs through your veins, your heart pushing you onward with every beat.

Sometimes there’s enough room for you to walk, while other times you’re forced to crouch or even crawl, dragging your backpack along with you. Good thing it’s mostly empty.

The magma flows have created interesting textures and patterns and you enjoy running your fingers over them as you progress. The flashlight attached to your helmet makes bursts of rainbows as it flashes around, catching on all of the crystalline surfaces. Every movement forward creates dazzling new displays.

The tunnels were a spelunker’s dream. Despite some tight spots, the way had been easy to traverse for anyone with a modicum of experience. It was fun, it was beautiful. After a good hour or so, you crawl out into a spacious cavern. There are crystals absolutely everywhere, spikes and spires of them forming stalactites and stalagmites all over. Piles and piles of them fill half of the floor space, some of them tickling the ceiling.

This is an absolutely gorgeous treasure trove you giddily giggle with glee over. It’s warm in here, but tolerable. You swing your backpack off and pick out a sizable specimen, stuffing it gently inside. You pick out another, and another. You reach for a fourth when the whole mound trembles, a few from the top tumbling down.

You step back to avoid the sharp edged projectiles.

A rumble resounds throughout the cavern. Is the volcano active? Is this a normal thing?

The whole pile shifted, crystals falling down like rain, and two long, dark, ridged, conical spikes appeared from the summit. You jump back further and gasp, watching as a reptilian head emerges, bright yellow, slitted eyes focusing right on you.

Wisps of smoke waft up from the nostrils and your brain screams dragon!

There is an actual dragon with a treasure hoard living in this volcanic cave system. Judging from that smoke, the stories of fire breathing are true. You don’t want to stick around and find out, so you finally get your legs to work and make a break for the way you had come in.

Something whips out from the side and knocks your feet out from under you. You tumble to the ground and something pulls you back. Fingers attempt to dig in, but the dried, hardened magma has no give to it, and you scream, lungs squeezing and heart pounding.

When you stop, you look around to see a black talon, half a dozen inches long, sunk into the hem of your pants. The dragon is now mostly revealed, and you can see a long, serpentine body, about twelve feet in length, with spikes jutting out from the spine. There were no wings, but the mouthful of fangs was very intimidating.

The dragon steps out of what is left of its crystal mound, and stands directly over you, your frightened gaze meeting its predatory one. It flicks its claw free of your pants and splays its scaly digits over your rib cage, holding you down.

Your heart thumps hard and fast and you begin to pant. The dragon’s skin is far warmer than the air and its heat seeps right through your clothes. With one quick swipe, the dragon rips the clothing off the front of your torso and lightly pins you again. The heat from its scales directly on your skin feels like a severe sunburn, and you gasp.

The beast opens its maw and growls. You can see flickers of flame over its tongue and between the fangs and try to flinch back. Sadly the ground does not yield and swallow you. Will it eat you before you develop blisters?

It moves its foot to pin down one of your arms and breathes onto your sternum, a thin jet of fire leaving its jaws. The heat is nigh unbearable and you scream loudly. When the fire stops, you lay there panting for a moment before you turn to look at the damage.

Your skin is unblemished despite the intense heat and pain. Your chest feels tight, every breath stinging your lungs. All of the organs in your upper torso feel like a piece of bread that just popped up from the toaster; now lightly browned.

You wriggle in a desperate bid to escape, but the dragon uses its other front foot to pin down your other arm. Your heart is beating faster than it ever has before, and you are left gasping and sweating in fright.

It gives a brief roar and breathes fire on your chest again. The heat quickly amps up and you swear you can hear sizzling, though the flames don’t seem to be physically damaging your skin.

Your heart hammers against your ribs, feeling like a burger on a barbecue, and your extremities tingle with warmth as the heated blood is pumped around. Everything starts to hurt as the heat spreads, like intense pins and needles.

The dragon stops the weird cooking ritual and leans in, sniffing your chest. Despite the reptilian face you can clearly see that the beast isn’t exactly pleased. Does it want you medium rare? Well done?

Another sustained burst of flame hits you, and every time your pump contracts there is a sharp ache, like you’ve stuck your heart in a fire. Your blood feels like hot water being poured down your veins and you scream again, fruitlessly writhing beneath the dragon.

It’s cooking your cardiac muscle like a slab of meat and boiling the crimson liquid it pumps around your body. Your skin is still unblemished, but the dragon is roasting you from the inside out.

It is utter agony and you barely have the breath to scream, the heat and your injured heart, desperately sprinting to the best of its ability, are stealing your oxygen. Are there bubbles in your blood? Is your pericardium filling with steam and smoke?

You imagine your lifeblood boiling away to nothing like an unattended pan of water on a stove top. You imagine your heart turning brown and tough, barely able to contract to pump any blood. You wonder which one will happen first.

Dizziness, light-headedness, blurry and fading vision plague you, and you fear what your heart looks like under this assault.

No one knows you’re here. You’ll be just another missing person to add to the statistics.

The dragon stops and sniffs your chest again. It gives a soft, low rumble, resembling a massive, reptilian house cat’s purr. It’s clearly pleased with the progress and you wonder if fangs will sink into you at any moment. But no, it breathes more fire.

Each breath you take is horribly painful, and now you can feel every rushed beat, each pump like pure torture. It feels like lava flowing through you instead of blood. You gasp like a fish out of water, your heart and lungs stealing every molecule of oxygen.

Ba-ow-thump-owba-ow-thump-owba-ow-thump-owba-ow-thump-ow

Your heart is beating and being stabbed at a rapid-fire pace, your lungs feel shrivelled from heat, and your vision is developing black spots as oxygen deprivation sets in. The scent of cooked meat invades your nose and you kick out and writhe in a last ditch, primal attempt to attain freedom.

Choking wheezes leave your throat and the dark spots increase, blacking out over half of your vision. Your lungs aren’t moving at all and your heart is no longer pounding. Each beat feels weaker and weaker, less blood being pumped around by the stiffened, barbecued muscle. You can literally feel your life slipping away.

As the darkness swallows your consciousness, you hope the wretched reptile chokes on your remains. Your heart finally stops as the fire cooks it beyond use. The complete lack of movement in your rib cage is a first, but it is also the very last thing your mind processes as death embraces you.

The dragon’s jaws snap shut, instantly cutting off the jet of fire. Sharp talons rend flesh and muscle. They curl around the top of the sternum and ribs and the dragon snaps off the exposed parts of the rib cage. The unmoving heart and lungs are fully visible. 

A front foot delicately wraps around the heart, dark brown pericardium and all, and gently places it into fanged jaws. Another happy rumble echoes around the crystal filled cavern, and the dragon swallows the cooked organ as if it’s a delicacy. It licks its muzzle.

Don’t explore the volcano.

— — —

I wrote the latter half of this while watching Gordon Ramsey roast people on Kitchen Nightmares. Fitting, don't you think?

I have a couple of anon asks I'll probably get started on, but part 5 may be posted first depending on ease of writing and interest.

🔥🫀

[hanafubukki]

It's true making a scene is a kid's way to gain attention. When I was a child I used to cry a lot and be loud everytime I fell, even if it didn't hurt. I stopped when I understood that I didn't actually cry because it hurt. From what I could observe growing up, it's actually a young child normal way of acting. They would cry, you would go check on them, they would calm down and then going back to run everywhere a few minutes later like they never fell in the first place. I suppose it's some way to feel secure...? Like "Yeah. People are here and will come if something goes wrong, I can continue to enjoy and play carefree" So for Malleus who was basically Rapunzel in his own castle, you bet he would throw tantrum anytime he was even a little upset so the people who cares for him/have time for him would come. Poor boy is lonely since birth. If thowing a tantrum is the price for having someone by your side, everyone would throw them 😭

Summary: Everything is the Senate fault.

- 🦋 Anon, who is adding more asks for you to hoard

[referencing this post]

Hello 🦋Anonie,

The action of crying is used in many ways for children. It’s mainly used as a way to let themselves be known and get attention. Whether it is because they are in pain, surprised, happy, etc.

To them, it’s a safety net as well. They look to their adult figures to get a reference of reaction since they don’t know how to react.

A common occurrence I’ve seen is when a kid falls down and looks at others to see their reaction. If you are shocked or show concern, most of the time, they will cry because they realize maybe something bad happened. If you just brush it off lightly and smile at them, they will go about their day and not cry. (Unless you know, they really are hurt.)

So, I can see Malleus do the same. He’s young and he’s probably confused too. Why can’t Lilia stay? Why can’t his grandmother spend more time with him? Why does Lilia live somewhere else not at the castle?

What can he do?? To get their attention? And it seems that throwing tantrums is the only way to get them to give him attention and affection.

I mean look at Malleus. Something as simple as a head pat makes him so happy. Look at his grin in the groovy. He’s literally so happy about this simple gesture.

It shows not only how touchstarved he might be but also how just simple affections mean so much to him. I can see Malleus throwing tantrums just so he can have them with him. He might get a scolding, but at least they are here with him. At least he’s not alone. And what kid wouldn’t do that?? When familial affection is something we all want and inherently are born with?

I don’t care what the senate excuses are in the future. I don’t care if there’s a “valid” excuse for them to have done such a thing. I understand, to a degree, why what happened had to have happened. But there’s always other methods and other choices. Malleus didn’t need to be alone. They didn’t need to lie about his birth. Lilia didn’t need to be treated such a way. Lilia could have stayed with him. There’s always other routes. Letting pride and views destroy a family? What jackals.

One of the reasons I think that Lilia searched so hard for Levan is because he knew Malleus was lonely, and if he couldn’t be with him like he promised when he hatched him, then at least Levan could and Malleus would have a parent with him.

The need for me to destroy the senate freaking increases rahhhhhh 😤😤😤😤

[xtaketwox]

Push Me Up Against The Wall

Summary: It's been 6 months since Elain's world was turned upside down by Graysen's cheating. Vassa knows just the thing to help Elain move on: Lucien

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3644

Read on AO3

“I don’t know why I let you talk me into this.” Elain tugged at the hem of her dress and Vassa slapped her hand away. 

“Stop that. You look hot.”

Elain sighed. “I never said I didn’t. I know I look good. I’m just,” she gestured vaguely, “not used to showing this much skin.”

Vassa rolled her eyes and pointed to her own dress. By comparison, Elain’s dress was positively modest. “This is showing skin.” She pointed to Elain’s halter top dress, a form fitting black dress that hugged her body like a second skin and ended just above her knees. “This is just normal, Elain.”

“Well, it’s not normal for me,” Elain mumbled, glancing down once again to make sure her breasts were still in place and not hanging out the side of the halter. The neckline dipped in a deep V nearly to her bellybutton. She might not have large breasts, but they were big enough to fall out of her dress if she moved too quickly. She eyed Vassa’s dress, thankful her friend hadn’t insisted that was what she wore. It wasn’t indecent, but it was shorter and sleeveless. 

“You said you wanted to get over Graysen,” Vassa said as she pulled Elain toward the night club where her boyfriend Jurian and his friend were supposedly waiting for them. “The best way to do that is to have some stupid fun.” She smirked over at Elain. “But since I know you’d never do anything actually reckless, I think Lucien is just what you need.”

Elain pulled Vassa to a stop. “Promise me neither you nor Jurian mentioned anything to him.”

Vassa smirked. “Why? It might make things easier for you.”

“Or it might make things completely mortifying.” Elain didn’t bother to hide her panic as she said, “Promise me, Vassa, or I walk away right now.”

Vassa sighed. “Of course not. I didn’t even say anything to Jurian. I just told him to bring Lucien so you wouldn’t feel like a third wheel. Neither man knows I’m trying to get you laid.”

Elain winced. “Do you have to put it like that?”

Vassa shrugged. “It’s the truth. It’s what I’m trying to do. You are way too young and sexy to have been shackled to one boyfriend your entire dating life. The fact you’re still hung up on the douche is just proof you need to spread your wings. And trust me when I say, Lucien is hot.” Vassa looked away, biting the corner of her mouth. 

Elain smacked her arm. “You have a boyfriend!”

Vassa grinned wickedly. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have eyes and urges.” When Elain crossed her arms, Vassa outright laughed. “You’re too easy to tease, Elain. Loosen up. Nothing has to happen if you don’t want it to. I just think you’ll like Lucien and letting someone else see you naked might help you put Graysen behind you.” She raised a brow. “Need I remind you, you’re twenty-five and you’ve been in the same relationship since your freshman year of high school.”

At the reminder, Elain’s heart squeezed. She couldn’t help it. Graysen was an asshole, no doubt about that. The veritable hoard of women he had cheated on her with was enough to label him as such, but it had only been six months since her world had been turned upside down, when an irate husband had alerted Elain to the fact that Graysen was regularly cheating on her. She had been with Graysen for a decade; it wasn’t easy to let go of the idea that she was no longer in a relationship. 

However, Vassa was right. Elain was the one to come to her, after all, to let her know she was ready to move on. She wasn’t quite sure if that was the truth or not, but it was too late to turn back now, and she suspected that if she waited until she felt ready, she would just never move on. 

That thought more than anything is what propelled her to nod now. She wasn’t going to let Graysen ruin her life. She was young and she was going to start acting like it. 

“You’re right. I know you’re right.” She took a deep breath. “I just—”

“Haven’t been with anyone beside’s Graysen.” Vassa patted her shoulder. “I know. Just trust me that this’ll be good for you, even if nothing happens between you two.”

Elain nodded, exhaling. “Ok. Let’s get this over with.”

Vassa rolled her eyes, but hooked her arm though Elain’s and pulled her to the door. The bouncer took one look at them and let them in immediately. “See? We’re hot,” Vassa said in Elain’s ear.

The club was dark and the music was loud, the beat vibrating through Elain’s body. She glanced at the crowd and then quickly away, the sight of so many writhing bodies making her face heat. She shook head, reminding herself that she was not going to be a prude. Not that there was anything wrong with being a prude—truthfully she found that word as judgemental as the word slut—but Graysen had been so weird about making sure she didn’t draw the eye of other men that she still fell into the trap of feeling like being sexy was wrong. 

Vassa shoved her way through the pressing crowd of people toward a table in the back, where Jurian was waiting. Elain took in her surroundings, determined to familiarize herself with club activities so she could stop blushing like a teenager at people doing nothing more than dancing. When they stopped, Elain finally looked toward Jurian and his friend and her heart stopped.

Jurian stood and kissed Vassa’s cheek in greeting, but Elain hardly noticed, her eyes stuck on the most gorgeous man she’d ever met. He stood, well over six feet tall with ruby red hair falling haphazardly down his back, and held out his hand, yelling to be heard over the pounding music.

“I’m Lucien.”

Elain blinked, trying and failing not to stare at Lucien’s lips as they curved into a smile. “Elain,” she said, her voice weak.

“Sorry, what was that?” Lucien leaned closer and his cologne swirled into Elain’s nostrils. God she loved men’s cologne. Graysen had never worn cologne, saying it made him feel girly.

Elain cleared her suddenly parched throat and grabbed the hand she realized he was still holding out. “Sorry,” she yelled, “My name’s Elain.”

Lucien smiled. “Nice to meet you Elain.”

Elain just barely resisted the shiver of awareness that went through her body as his hand slid against hers, sending goosebumps up her arm. She swallowed hard, not even realizing she was still staring at him and their hands weren’t moving.

“We’re going to dance!” Vassa yelled over the music. “You two should come!”

Neither of them looked over at Vassa and Jurian, but Lucien quirked an eyebrow as Vassa leaned into Elain’s ear as she passed and said, “I told you he was hot.”

Elain was glad for the darkness to hide her blush. Lucien tilted his head toward the dancefloor. 

“Should we join them?”

Elain swallowed against the sudden flash of heat at the thought of becoming one of those writhing bodies on the dancefloor and nodded. Lucien took a step forward and Elain tilted her head back as he twisted his hand so it her fingers became laced with his.

“Then lets go dance, Elain.” He spoke the words hardly loud enough for her to hear, but another shiver ran through her body at the heat in his eyes.

“Ok,” she croaked and then turned around to walk to the dancefloor, pulling Lucien behind her as she wondered what on earth was going on with her. She’d never felt like this before; she felt like she was on drugs, her head fuzzy and her heart pounding along with the beat as she stepped on the dancefloor. 

She made to turn, but Lucien stepped up behind her, resting his hands on her hips and his front pressed against her back and began swaying. Elain tried to move but her muscles felt stiff, aware of every place Lucien was touching, the whisper of his shirt against the bare skin of her back, the heat of his hands through the fabric of her dress.

“Loosen up.” 

Elain couldn’t stop the shiver at the words breathed against her ear. She didn’t know how to loosen up when her entire body was on fire from the man behind her. Biting her lip, she did her best to let go of her anxiety and just feel, raising her arms behind her to loop around Lucien’s neck, her fingers scratching into his long, ruby-colored hair. 

She felt more than heard the rumble in his chest as she closed her eyes and let the rhythm of the music lead her. Lucien’s grip on her waist tightened, pulling her hard against him. Her eyes flew open when she felt the hard length of him against her low back. One hand slid forward on her stomach, his long fingers flexing against the fabric of her dress.

“You are so sexy,” he breathed into her ear, making her shiver again. “I’m going to have to remember to send Vassa an edible arrangement to thank her for bringing you tonight.”

Elain laughed in surprise at Lucien’s wit and wondered how he could even think right now. She was more turned on than she had ever been and they weren’t even through the first song. She tightened her grip on his hair and he groaned in her ear, sucking her earlobe in his mouth. Her movements stumbled as both shock and arousal pumped through her veins. She couldn’t help but wonder how something so simple could be so damned sexy. 

Lucien’s hands drifted lower until he was caressing her thighs over the dress and then drifting back up. Technically he wasn’t touching any of Elain’s hot zones, but he might as well have been, a whine leaving her mouth before she could stop it. 

Some part of her tried to remind Elain they were in public but she told that part to shove it. She closed her eyes again and allowed herself to let go of her inhibitions and just feel. One song bled into the next as Lucien continued his ministrations on her body, his erection pressing hard into her back as he groaned in her ear. 

At some point, he used his hands to flip her to face him. She caught his eyes and couldn’t look away as she looped her arms back around his neck, drawing her nails along the base of his scalp as they danced, not caring if they followed the flow of the music. Elain felt powerful seeing the heat in Lucien’s eyes matched her own. She had never felt this sexy before. In comparison, sex with Graysen had been a scheduled affair, something she penciled into her calendar and crossed off her to-do list. She had never felt this spontaneous urge to be crazy, the desire to forget they weren’t alone and fuck Lucien right here on the dance floor. 

Elain licked her lips without thinking and heard Lucien groan before he dipped his head to capture her mouth. She felt electrified from the moment his lips pressed against hers, pressing herself closer and squeezing her arms around his neck. Lucien groaned against her lips, licking the seam of her mouth and plunging his tongue into her mouth when she opened. 

Lucien knew how to kiss. God, did he know how to kiss. Elain felt her knees go weak as he slid his tongue expertly against hers. His hand felt near bruising on her waist as he gripped her, his other hand cupping her cheek and tilting her head where he wanted it as he kissed her over and over. 

Time lost all meaning as they kissed, Elain now feeling drunk as her entire body heated, her clit throbbing against the dizzying kisses. After what felt like at least an hour, Lucien pulled away, breathing heavily as they stood unmoving in the middle of the dancefloor. His eyes were wide as if he too were surprised by the intensity of want between them. He looked between her eyes as if he were trying to decide something before he swallowed and leaned down.

“I want to fuck you so badly, Elain.”

Elain whimpered, glad for the loud music hiding just how much those words affected her. Her knees wobbled slightly as she bit her lip and stared back up at him. Reminding herself that she was young and carefree and that Lucien was vetted by her best friend, she dared herself to be brave.

She leaned up on her tiptoes so that her lips were right next to Lucien’s ear and whispered, “So why don’t you?”

Lucien didn’t even wait for her to drop back to her feet before he turned and pulled her behind him. Elain could hardly keep up with his long strides in her heels, biting her lip against the smile at how desperate she clearly made him. It was a heady feeling, knowing this man found her so sexy that he was power walking her to somewhere he could fuck her in private. He walked toward the bathrooms, walking straight into the men’s room. 

“Get out.” He spoke the words with such authority that the few men in there quickly zipped up and walked out the door. When they left, Lucien turned the lock and backed her against the door, immediately kissing her.

“God, I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you,” he said as he started kissing along her jaw. Elain could only grip his shoulders, one leg rising to hook around his waist as he bit, sucked, and licked his way down her throat. “You are so fucking sexy. How the fuck are you even single?”

Elain’s throat grew tight at the reminder that Graysen hadn’t thought she was sexy enough, hadn’t felt fulfilled by her. Lucien undid the button at the back of her neck, and the halter straps fell down. He pulled back to watch as he slowly slid the straps down to reveal her breasts. He sucked in a breath, his pupils blowing wide as her nipples hardened. 

“Fuck me,” he breathed before he lowered his head to suck one of her nipples into his mouth. Elain’s head fell back as he swirled his tongue, sucking hard as he pinched her other nipple, tilting her hips as the zing of arousal went south. 

Lucien’s other hand went to the hem of her dress, pushing it up as he slid his hand upwards. When he realized she hadn’t worn any underwear he groaned against her skin, sucking harder as he dragged his fingers through her wetness. He popped off her breast, looking down at her as he slid his now wet fingers around her clit. “You’re fucking perfect, Elain.”

Elain wanted to say something, but she was no good at dirty talk. The last time she tried, Graysen had outright laughed and told her she sounded ridiculous. She swallowed, sucking in a deep breath when Lucien slid a finger inside her. 

“I want you, Lucien,” she said, the only thing she could think of to say that wouldn’t sound cheesy.

“You have me,” Lucien said before he kissed her again, his tongue sliding in tandem with his finger and driving her mad. 

She wrenched her mouth away. “No.” Feeling bolder than she ever had, she grabbed the front of his pants. “I want you to fuck me, Lucien. Now.”

Lucien’s eyes widened and the sound that came out of him might have been funny if Elain didn’t know it was because he wanted her so badly. He immediately removed his hands, pushing her dress up so that it was bunched above her hips before he quickly unzipped his pants and shoved both his jeans and his underwear down. Elain’s eyes went wide at the size of his cock but Lucien didn’t give her long to ogle before he grabbed both her legs off the ground, shoving her legs wide, her knees hooked around his arms against her sides, and filled her in one upward stroke.

Elain’s head hit the back of the door, an inelegant groan coming out of her at how full she was. Lucien was so much bigger than Graysen had been. She had assumed Graysen’s dick was average size, but if that was the case, then Lucien’s cock was something all women should hope for. The stretch was nearly painful, the length of him filling her more than she’d ever been before. 

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” Lucien groaned, his head falling back as he started moving. The wet slap of skin echoed around the bathroom, the sound driving Elain even crazier. 

“Hey fuckwads! I have to pee!” Someone banged against the door and instead of panicking, Elain groaned, forgetting that she even had inhibitions at the realization that people could hear them, knew what they were doing. When she walked out of here, everyone would know that she had just been fucked within an inch of her life by the sexiest man at the club. 

Lucien was cursing in her ear, a string of praises on his lips as he reached between them to rub circles around her clit, driving her closer and closer to an orgasm. 

“Does that make you hot?” Lucien asked in her ear. “Knowing they can hear you groaning? They can hear how much I make you scream? Knowing they wish they were me?”

Elain fell apart at that, Lucien capturing her lips as she screamed, her body locking up before she was hit by wave after wave as Lucien fucked her harder and faster, drawing out the sensation until he too groaned loudly into her mouth, his hips stuttering to a stop.

They pulled their lips apart, Elain’s head falling onto Lucien’s shoulder as they both gasped for air, the aftershocks of the best orgasm of her life still coursing through her. When someone pounded on the door again, Elain winced, the inhibitions she had abandoned now coming back. She lightly pushed against Lucien’s shoulders and he carefully set her down, his hands on her waist to steady her when she wobbled. 

Her cheeks grew hot as she pulled down her pulled up the straps of dress while Lucien got a paper towel and began cleaning her up. She bit her lip when he threw the paper towel away and she pulled her skirt back into place. She glanced at the mirror, horrified to see the state of her hair and quickly running her fingers through it.

Lucien, seeming to understand that she needed a moment, or perhaps needing a moment of his own, stood by the doorway while Elain did her best to straighten her appearance, even as she knew she was only delaying having to walk out the door to a line of people who were very aware of what they had just done. 

She jumped when someone banged yet again and then turned to Lucien. There was no getting around it. She was going to have to walk out of there. She swallowed when she saw the look in Lucien’s eyes. He walked toward her as if he were afraid she would bolt, before grabbing her hand and raising it to his lips. 

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, he ask softly, “Are you alright?”

Elain swallowed and nodded. “Yes. Just a little embarrassed.”

Lucien stared for a moment, concern in his eyes. “I’m sorry if I was too pushy.”

Elain quickly shook her head. “No! No. Not at all.” She wished she had a glass of water to sooth her dry throat. “It was good.” She took a deep breath, her face growing hotter. “It was really really good, Lucien. I’ve just—never done something like this before.”

“Would it help if I said, neither have I?”

Elain breathed a laugh. “Yes, actually.”

When someone pounded again and yelled at them to hurry up, Lucien yelled back, “Occupied!”

Elain bit her lip but a nervous giggle still made its way out of her mouth. Lucien smiled back and her heart did a funny little flip. He took a deep breath and then grabbed her other hand and squeezed. 

“How about we both go out of here with our heads held high. And if anyone says anything, I’ll let them know that they can fuck off because I just had the best sex of my life in the bathroom of the club. Sound good?”

The flush on Elain’s face now was from pleasure instead of embarrassment as she bit her lip and nodded. Lucien dropped one of her hands as he turned, tucking her other hand into the crook of his arm before walking them both to the door, unlocking it, and pulling it open. 

“All yours, boys,” he said, smirking at the look on the men’s faces as they walked past. If Elain didn’t know better, she would swear they looked envious.

When they got back to the dancefloor, Vassa and Jurian came over.

“Where were you?” Jurian yelled over the music.

Elain glanced at Lucien as he shrugged his shoulders and said, “We had to go pee.”

“Together?” Vassa asked, her eyebrow raised and the glint in her eyes letting Elain know she knew exactly what she and Lucien had been up to.

Elain shrugged, “Sometimes you need a partner coming with you in the bathroom.”

Jurian threw his head back and laughed as Vassa’s mouth popped open before she bent forward in a laugh. Elain glanced at Lucien, please to see he was also laughing. 

Vassa was right. Getting laid, specifically by Lucien, was exactly what she had needed.

[realitywarpinq]

I think given the right circumstances Gillian and Gyp could’ve been such a power couple. Not any circumstances which could’ve arisen from canon I hastily add, given Gillian has so many walls and performative masks that I don’t think she even begins to figure out who she really is until s5 when she’s with Roy and finally lets go of the idea of getting Tommy back (not that it lasts very long) so she never would have revealed anything remotely genuine to Gyp, especially since, y’know, he invaded her business and basically took both it and her hostage..

It’s just, Gyp of all the gangsters is probably the worst at keeping his own mask in place, he’s on the verge of tears almost all of the time, whether they be from anger, sadness or inadequacy. He’s incredibly insecure, about his background, his intellect, his grasp on power, his place within it all.

They both know what it is to live inside a persona you hope to God the people around you will respect. They exemplify the extremes of the spectrum for how their genders survive in their world; Gyp, loud, through anger and violence and strong-arming, Gillian, quiet, through appeasement and manipulation and influence.

Gyp, rather antithetically to his persona and relative to the other men in his hoard, is quite respectful of women (feminism win! The man who used a woman as a human shield probably would have used anyone regardless of gender the same way in that situation!) and genuinely seems to want to worship Gillian, which is something she’s never experienced before and, honestly, I think she deserves. He doesn’t even take it personally when she ties to drug him (“I don't blame you, Red.I really don't. But the thing of it is, somebody's always got to lose.”) whereas he’s killed men horrifically for far less.

Perhaps if they’d come into each others lives earlier, found themselves in circumstances that lead to them be honest, sharing their real selves (which is an ongoing theme of the show, what you do or don’t say to the right or wrong people and the consequences of this trust or distrust, see also: the fact that if Gillian and Richard had communicated even a bit they would’ve realised they both wanted the same thing: Gyp’s gang out of the cathouse and Tommy safe) they could’ve accepted each other, the only people to do so, and worked something out.

Not in a normal way though. Definitely not. Probably in a “she was his queen, and god help anyone who dared to disrespect his queen” wearing matching couples sweats w pictures of wolves on kinda way.

Gyp kills Nucky for HER not for Masseria. They kill Leander together and live in chaotic harmony where she can do whatever she wants and he says yes you’re sooo right babe. Do you see my vision.

[smilingformoney]

Rickmas 2023: Day 10. Snow Prints | Alex/Reader

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

The cafe was getting full, but you didn’t pay much attention to the busy chatter around you. You were far too focused on what you were doing. You were sat at a table by a window with your sketchbook laid out on the table, various abandoned attempts at drawing the scene outside strewn across the table.

You were so absorbed in what you were doing, in fact, that you almost didn’t hear the voice of the man who’d approached your table.

“Excuse me - do you mind if I sit at the end here? All the tables are full.”

You glanced up and saw a dashingly handsome man with greying hair and glasses, balancing a pot of tea on a tray and carrying a newspaper under his arm.

“Sure, no problem,” you said, moving your strewn artwork aside to make room for him and his paper. “Sorry, I’m kind of hogging the table, aren’t I?” You looked up and glanced around, only just now noticing that the cafe was a lot busier than when you’d arrived, full of shoppers taking a break from the cold air to warm up with a hot drink. Those that had managed to find a table were blocking walkways with their bags of presents, making you feel a little less guilty about hoarding the table.

“Looks like the Christmas shoppers are out,” you commented. You glanced at the man, who had nothing on him but his paper and his tea, which he was now pouring out for himself. “You chose a bad time to come out.”

“Yes, it seems so,” the man agreed with a polite smile. “So did you.”

He glanced down at the drawings strewn across the table.

“You’re an artist!” he said, and he went to turn one of the drawings around towards him, but you pulled it back quickly.

“That’s a rubbish one. I’m trying to practise drawing snowscapes, but I’m struggling to make the snow look like snow.” You pointed to the ‘snow’ in the pencil drawing, which just looked like the normal ground. “See? Rubbish.”

“No, I don’t think so,” said the man, still peering over at the drawing. “You just need to add something to show depth. Footprints, maybe.” He pointed out the window. “See, the snow out there’s not smooth. It’s covered in footprints.”

You looked out of the window thoughtfully. Maybe he was right.

“Footprints. Good idea. Thanks, erm —“

The man stuck his hand out to you. “Alex Hughes.”

“[Y/n] [L/n],” you replied, taking his hand in yours, and in the brief few moments of contact his large, warm hands enveloped yours completely.

“Nice to meet you, Alex Hughes. I’ll remember that name so I can credit you when this ends up on the wall of the Tate Modern.”

Alex laughed, and when he did his whole face lit up, the laughter lines around his eyes making him look even more handsome. He turned his attention to unfolding his newspaper, and you buried your head back in your drawing, trying to incorporate a set of footprints into the scene.

After some time had passed, you sat up straight, examining your handiwork.

“The footprints were a good idea,” you said, mostly to yourself.

Alex looked up from his newspaper and glanced over.

“May I see?” he asked.

You turned the sketchbook around. At the same time, he reached across the table to pull it closer to him, and his hand accidentally knocked against your half-drunk cup of cold coffee, tipping it over and spilling the contents over your drawings and your lap.

You both swore loudly, drawing some attention from nearby shoppers, though none of them stepped in to help. You jumped up, grabbing your sketchbook to try and save it from the river of coffee running down the table, but it was too late.

Alex apologised profusely and grabbed a napkin from his tray to try and mop up the spillage, but it was like trying to dry a river with a kitchen sponge. A staff member appeared with a box of cleaning equipment, and Alex took the proffered handful of blue roll to start trying to pat down the soaked paper.

“[Y/n], I am so sorry,” Alex said for the fifth time. “I’ve completely ruined them —“

“It’s fine, honestly, they were only practice drawings. I’m more worried about this…”

You indicated the dark brown smudge on your nice cream jumper, and Alex sighed with irritation at himself.

“Oh, look what I’ve done! Here —“

He gathered up another handful of blue roll and began dabbing at your jumper, though it didn’t make much difference.

“I’m so sorry, [Y/n], I’m such a clumsy fool.” He threw his hands up in despair when he realised the stain wasn’t coming out of your jumper.

You pulled the jumper over your head to better allow you to examine the stain.

“I’d better get home and get it straight in the wash before it sets in,” you said.

“Here, let me give you something in case you have to get a new one,” Alex started, pulling his wallet from his pocket, but you shook your head.

“No, don’t be silly. Accidents happen.”

“Well, I’ve got to do something. I can’t just ruin your jumper and your drawings and let you go without making it up to you.”

You glanced down at his left hand, which was still holding his wallet and was noticeably without a wedding ring.

“You could buy me a drink,” you said hopefully.

“Well, that’s a given, of course, I’ll get you another drink —“ Alex started, gesturing back at the bar.

“No, I mean, like… an alcoholic drink? At a bar? Later tonight? If… you wanted to, that is.”

Alex froze, looking at you curiously as the meaning of your words set in, and you wondered if you could blame the cold winter air blowing in through the open door for the redness that was no doubt flushing up your cheeks.

“Oh… er, alright, then,” Alex agreed awkwardly. He steeled himself, then added, “How about dinner too?”

You smiled, your eyes lighting up. “Yes, that’d be great. Here, let me give you my number.”

You tore off a corner of the top page of your sketchbook (the part that wasn’t soaked in coffee) and wrote down your number with the pencil you’d been drawing with.

“Call me in a few hours and we can arrange something. I live just outside of town so I can get pretty much anywhere.”

Alex took the piece of paper from you and put it safely in his wallet where it wouldn’t be in danger of another stray coffee spillage. You gathered up your sketchbook, holding it carefully in one hand and your stained jumper in the other.

“Well, er… see you later, then. Thanks for the footprint idea. It worked really well until you turned the snow all brown.”

“Yes. I’ll call you. And sorry again for the…” He pointed at your ruined things, and you just laughed.

“It’s okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

With one last shy smile at him, you left the cafe, hoping you had something nice to wear later. With a smile like that, you’d let Alex Hughes spill any amount of coffee on you just to see him laugh again.