#pov Furby be like

[symbiote-siblings]

“Tara!”

“Ow- fuck- you bastard!”

‘YAP YAP!’

“AUGH- FUCKING HELL- AH!”

“Furby! YEAH BEAT HIS ASS!”

“Stop STANDING there and get this RAT OFF ME- GAH! THE DAMN EYE- FUCK!”

~whimper~

“SHIT- FURBY!”

…

Mrrrp… gnnn…

“LET HER GO-“

~sneeze~ eeaugh…

“So much trouble… a pity.

But it’ll be worth it.”

…

With a waking sneeze, the small dog’s large eyes burst open. She lay flat on her stomach, covered by rubble. She blinked a few times before sneezing again, a sneeze that shook her entire body upright again, rubble and dust flying upward and away as she stood. Furby cleared her throat with a snarl and shook more violently than necessary to get the rest of that grey rubble off. And her fur poofed back outward and crazier than before.

The small dog smelled something off. Blood. And she licked at her lip, turning her head in circles to try and find the source of it. Only to be stuck on a forever circle because the wound was on her ear and she is failing to realize it. It only took a few seconds before she gave up on trying to find the source of the blood and looked outward.

This wasn’t the stinky city… well… it was… just stinkier than she remembered. Pavement cracked and raised, buildings smoking, destroyed property, rubble and fire. Citizens were injured and had to pull themselves to a flat surface. Emergency services struggled to reach some patients and survivors. And when Furby took another sniff.

It stank.

Stank of what? This wasn’t city stink. That was blood stink. And body stink. But not grimy juvenile human stink. It was rotting stink. Rotting body stink.

She didn’t like that stink.

Where was she?

Where was her weird brother? And those weird gooey things?

Her ears flattened to her head as she turned her head to the side, then the other, turning in a full circle both ways on the cracked street, surrounded by a broken urban land.

They weren’t there.

Furby lowered her head, making strangled whimpers, legs shaking.

Furby didn’t like that.

But Furby doesn’t give up so easily, oh no. Furby is ferocious.

Sort of.

…

Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap-

Furby trotted as fast as she could on the broken pavements, serving through crowds and biting ankles of those who got in her way-

taptaptaptaptap-

And would run faster and out of reach when they tried to lunge for her.

However, tiny legs only get you so far.

By the time she arrived near her destination, the sun was slowly starting to set. Bright lights and news casts were screened all over the city and pictured the horrid images of the rampage caused by that weird stinky many legged hairless but not very hairless because he had a bit of hair old human.

She sneezed with disapproval.

…

Sneaking into apartment complexes was rather easy.

By the time she knew it, she was in the room of that weird stinky human with tons of lil spiders but they weren’t spiders they were fake spiders… fpiders.

And she sat on the desk. In front of the computer. And began typing random things to the weird communication center. She thinks. She wasn’t so sure. She wasn’t sure what a communication center was either. All she knows is that if you poke poke poke at this weird keypad thing, you get help. Most of the time. Or just anger.

Maybe help is coming? She wasn’t so sure. She wasn’t sure if they understood nor is she sure if she could understand them. Meh.

Another plan then.

She inhaled slowly, puffing her chest outward…

‘YAP YAP GRRRR YA YA YA- GRRMMMM GEAAAAAAHH MMMMMM EAUGH-‘

This yelling continues even when there’s an old man she recognized when she was left here to fend against the spider cat, eyes wide as he burst through the door.

“AYE! Θεέ μου βοήθησέ με, γιατί είναι ο διάβολος στο κατώφλι μου?!”

…

[pricegouge]

horny knee-tattoo offerring...

ive had insomnia all this week and its super frustrating, bc you're tired but cant turn your brain off enough to sleep and its hard to physically tire yourself out at 4am yknow? maybe reader's 141 boy (any or all of em, its ur world babe) wakes up in the middle of the night and sees how frustrated and miserable their partner is, tossing and turning, doomscrolling, counting down the dwindling hours till their work alarm is due to go off, and they take it upon themself to fuck their partner to sleep. not just one round, no, orgasm after orgasm, squirting over the sheets, crying from tired frustration and then relief, till they fall asleep stuffed full around a cock. their boy(s) carefully get them all cleaned up and tucked back in the sheets dead asleep <3

i hope ur tattoo goes well! whatcha gettin 👀

Hii 💛

I went with Price cause I'm a simp

(also I'm getting Mothra)

cw: reader has a pussy which is referred to with fem terms, but no gendered pronouns for them. daddy kink (sorry). squirting. implied (non negotiated) somno. John's POV.

He's not expecting the glow of artificial light permeating the room when he opens his eyes in the dead of night, though by now he supposes he really should be.

You've been struggling to sleep for weeks now, the unhelpful sleep aids and your own frustration creating a bad feedback loop which left you tossing and turning into the early hours of morning when you would usually slink off downstairs to try your luck on the couch, leaving your side of the bed cold and empty.

It simply wouldn't do.

"Trouble sleeping, sweetheart?" His voice is rough with his own grogginess, sawing through the still of the night with enough force make you jolt, nerves shot with exhaustion.

"Yeah. Am I keeping you awake?"

He grabs after you when you begin to shift out of bed without even waiting for an answer. "Not at all. You stay right here." He pulls you closer to him, illustrating exactly what he means by tucking you in against his chest, his hand heavy where it cradles your skull. You sigh as if in contentment, but your body remains stiff and tense against him. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No," you grumble, just as much upset about it as he is. "Thanks though."

"Thoughts racing or just not tired?"

You shrug, shoulder jostling the arm he has slung over you. Your voice is watery when you respond. "Little bit of both I guess."

"Hey," John starts, immediately alert, pulling you impossibly closer. "What's wrong?"

You bury a sniffle in his chest, tension shifting rapidly to obvious frustration. "Nothing," you whine, obviously lying. "I'm just so fucking tired but it's like I'm not tired at all, you know? Like my brain's just decided we don't need it anymore even though body feels like a Furby with the battery running out, right? But there's nothing I can do; no matter what I try I'm still stuck laying here - wide the fuck awake and -!"

"Okay," John starts, easing you back onto the bed before you start rambling about more obscure nineties toys he's barely ever heard of. "Okay, let's just -." He pauses, at a loss, but then he looks down at you in the dim light of your forgotten phone and he sees your puffy face, the tear streaks, your hair a mess, tangled in sheets from all your tossing and your turning and he knows immediately how best to help you.

"I know something we can try, sweetheart."

"You do?" As if in contrast to your confused tone, your hands grip his forearms instinctively, eyes wide and hopeful as he lowered himself down over you, weight near crushing. He doesn't bother responding beyond a pleased rumble when your hands slip up over his biceps, kissing your fingertips when they curl over his shoulders. You're still so tense beneath him, but he's sleep-soft and heavy enough to smother you, thinks he can overwhelm you easy enough. Just has to ply you the right way.

The kisses your eyelids first, lips tracing the etch marks of your tears. He kisses the corner of your mouth, pulling back teasingly when he feels your lips part under his.

"John," you whine, and he can't help the huff of laughter which collects between you, humid and dense on your skin.

"Need me?"

"Yes."

He loves how eager you can get, the way you pull him down until he lays flat on top of you, the way you accept his tongue with a pleased groan. Your legs fall open beneath him and he grinds against you lazily, a tight contrast to your neediness, though he indulges you with the deep kisses he knows you crave.

When his lips trail down your neck, you thread your finger through his short cropped hair, your nails scratching against the tightness of his scalp and it eases that last little bit of lingering tension in him, makes him sink that last little bit into you. He's heavy, languid, forcing you to still yourself and meet his pace, rewarding you with a particularly dirty grind when you do.

He trails kisses down your chest, stopping to teethe lightly on your nipple as he slips down the bed. You jolt, undoing all his work, but he just chuckles, content to unwind you again and again if needed.

You're slick enough for a finger when he gets your bottoms off, but he makes you wait for that too, licks over your lips with fat, teasing stripes that have your legs falling open around him, blooming like a flower in invitation. He still doesn't give in, ignoring your clit in favor of pressing his teeth oh so gently into your fat mound and rubbing his beard into your soft inner thigh. It'll leave a rash, he knows, get you all huffy about it in the morning.

He'll kiss it better then, too.

"John, please," you whine and he smirks, pressed close enough to the crease of your thigh you can probably feel his incisors against your hip flexor.

"What was that?"

A pause. He can practically hear your breath catch in your throat.

"Need daddy to help?"

"Please," you sob, frustration bubbling up again.

"Shh," he breathes, lets his breath fan across your exposed clit when he thumbs the hood back. He should make you ask properly, but he hasn't forgotten this is about you. "I got you, sweetheart."

For all his patience before, John dives into your cunt like his last bloody meal. He's sloppy, spit and slick collecting on his chin as he licks into you, breath hot and humid, leaving him in heavy pants that have him groaning with your taste. You fingers find his hair again, pull him and he obliges happily, showing your cute little clit the love it needs as he finally sinks two fingers into you, moaning at the way you clench around him. He's efficient, a man with a purpose, and he makes you cum within minutes, your breathy whines sounding suspiciously like a low chant of 'daddy.'

You moan when he kisses you after, no finesse. Just a hot slide of slick tongues where he shares your taste with you, keeping you distracted as he lines himself up.

It's never an easy task. John's a big man, his cock nothing but proportional. It never matters how many times he has you, or how pliant he get you beneath him, the first press into you is always slow, measured in your breaths which he uses to his advantage.

His words are soothing in your ear, lips pressed flush against your temple as he tells you how good you are for him, how much he loves the feel of you stretched tight around him. You hand clutches at him blindly, distracting. He threads his fingers with your own and pins it by your head.

When his hips fall flush with yours he gives you a minute, stroking your hair and kissing away the tears that have sprung up again. "Poor pet," he murmurs, petting your cheek. "Daddy'll make it better. Promise."

You nod, perhaps a bit stupidly, and John kisses you as he begins to move again.

You're easy beneath him. Pliant, like he was looking for all along. He wrings the first orgasm out of you easily enough and knows he could probably call it a night, knows you'd sleep well enough by the satisfied look on your face.

He doesn't want 'well enough.' He wants to put you under on his cock alone, drill it into your head that he can give you anything you fucking need.

"What do you say to daddy when he fucks you that good, sweetheart?" His voice surprises him, borderline cruel.

"Th-thank you, daddy."

He hums, rolls his hips into you experimentally. "Want one more?"

He doesn't wait for an answer.

With your legs hooked over his shoulders, John shifts his weight to fuck down into you, his sheer mass keeping you spread and pinned like a butterfly beneath him. Your breath stutters, fingers across his chest, shoulders, biceps. Anywhere you can dig in, find purchase - mark him back.

He knows he's got you dead to rights when your moan turns deep, unaffected. "Fuck, daddy," you groan and John bites back a dark chuckle.

"That it, sweetheart? Right there?"

You nod tightly, cords in your neck nearly visibly with how tight you've already been drawn.

"You gonna cum for me again?"

"Yeah, daddy, please -!"

"Dirty slut, cumming already," he tuts, but he pistons into you exactly the way he knows you need, his own groan caught like gravel in his throat when your cunt starts milking him and you mewl like you're in heat.

He's not nice about it; doesn't even let you wind down completely before his thumb finds your clit, drawing a tight circle across your sensitive little nub while he rocks the head of his cock against that spongey spot deep within you that damn near makes you hiccup in pleasure each time. It's no different now, your breath stuttering out in while you tense and shake beneath him. John waits until you're arched beneath him, clenched so tight around the base of his cock he couldn't cum even if he wanted to -

And then he presses his palm down flat and hard on your mound and you cum so hard it soaks his belly, dripping down to the sheets and collecting in the creases of both your joints.

"Fuckin' hell," he growls, planting one fist on the bed by your hip to support himself as he watches you drift back to earth.

You're fucked out and dazed, already drifting off when John rolls you onto your belly to straddle your hips. "Feeling better, sweetheart?" he rumbles, lowering himself to settle snugly over your back, keep you enveloped in his safe, sturdy weight.

"Yes, daddy," you mumble into the pillow and John presses a whiskery, satisfied smile against your temple. He slips back into you with so little resistance you barely even seem to notice.

"Just needed me, didn't you honey? Get some sleep now, yeah? I'll give you some sweet dreams."

[wangxianficfinder]

Daemons / Sentient Sword

~*~

🧡 Song of Suibian and Bichen: Or, the Greatest (And Only) Furby Master of Demonic Cultivation by moonwaif (T, 64k, WangXian, Fix-It of Sorts, canon adjacent, The spiritual weapons are furbies, Angst with a Happy Ending, The parent trap but make it WangXian with furbies, Mutual Pining, Taking my favorite parts of every adaptation and smashing them together)

🧡 like speaking to my heart by SnowshadowAO3 (T, 613k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Daemons, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Some people live!, additional warnings in specific chapters, if you don't know what daemons are that's ok because I explain it in the author's note, also by slow burn I VERY much mean slow burn)

The Grandmaster of Daemonic Cultivation by CaptainJojo (E, 104k, WangXian, ChengQing, XuanLi, Daemons, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, a lil bit of sexy in later chapters, Wangxian figures it out quicker, gratuitous bending of the rules of cultivation, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Metaphysical Sex, Daemon Touching, Canon Divergence, Eventual Happy Ending)

a shattering of souls by coffee_and_cardamom (M, 42k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Pre-Canon, Post-Canon, Canon Rewrite, Canon Temporary Character Death, Major Character Undeath, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Comfort/Angst, Blood and Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Mildly Dubious Consent, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, WWX in WWX's Body, YLLZ WWX, Oblivious WWX, BAMF WWX, POV LWJ, Protective LWJ, LWJ Character Study, Daemon Touching, Daemon Separation, Daemon Feels, Everyone Needs A Hug)

The Grand Master of Daemonic Cultivation by FayJay (G, 3k, wangxian, daemons au)

Kind of Evil by nirejseki (G, 1k, canon divergence, sentient swords, sentient sabers, BAMFs)

Crowded by nirejseki (G, 1k, NHS & WWX, wangxian, LWJ/NHS/WWX, canon divergence, different body offering ritual, atypical relationship dynamics, sentient sabers)

Close by nirejseki (Not rated, 11k, NMJ & Baxia, NMJ & NHS, body swap, sentient sabers)

Ch 25 & 33 of The Tales of Despereaux by stiltonbasket (T, 39k, wangxian, canon divergence, WWX summoned by QS, additional warnings in author's note when applicable)

the world passes by but for me there is only you by beeswaxing (E, 82k, wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it of sorts, accidental marriage, love confessions, first kiss, first time, horny teenagers, pining, fluff, everyone lives au, wedding night, emotional sex, golden core reveal) this one has sentient swords

Chenqing and Wangji Takes Matters Into Their Own Hands by HelloKitten (Not rated, 11k, wangxian, Bichen/Chenqin, fix-it of sorts, glimpse of future, time travel?)

If You Give a Cultivator a Daemon Series by ushauz (T, 23k, WangXian, XianNing, JC & WWX, Daemons, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Polyamory Negotiations)

@zeldacw seems to be this fandom’s originator of the Anthromorphic Weapons trope; those comics can be found under the tag 忘情隨塵 (WangQingSuiChen) and post on her Tumblr and on her Twitter @/zeldacw; inspired Kindred Spirits by EstelweNadia (Not Rated, 2k, WIP, Bìchén/Suíbiàn, Chénqíng/Wangji, Humor, Angst, Eventual Romance, Drama, Slow Build, Slow Burn)

Spiritual Weapons Have Feelings Too Series by meicairoubingfan (kiradyn) (T, 10k, Suíbiàn/Chénqíng, Anthropomorphic Spiritual Weapons, Pining, Weapons As People, Angst, Separation, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Romantic Relationships Between Weapons, But Also Platonic Relationships, Brotherhood, commiserating, Reminiscing, Good Guy JC, Good Brother JC, Established Relationship, Between A Sword And A Flute, Canon Compliant, Foreshadowing of Bichen x Suibian, Foreshadowing Of Wangji x Chenqing)

A somewhat unconventional family by DamieMontclair (T, 1k, Bìchén/Suíbiàn, sentient sword spirits, sentient first class spiritual tools, Little bit of angst, Recovery, Getting Together, Fluff, and dare I say...., Domestic Fluff) crackfic where the weapon and instrument spirits are a family in their own right

~*~

[sixofpomegranates]

☠︎ Scared, Princess? ☠︎

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Popular!Fem!Reader

Word count: 20K (Yeah, idk either.)

Summary: The Princess of Hawkins High and I hate each other, always have, but I think there is more to her... Is the Princess actually just another bullied kid who found a disguise out of her misery?

A/N: Listen, I had this joke with a Furby I really wanted to use. I tried it with a care bear and other toys to have it for the ’80s, but it wasn't nearly as funny. So: pretend turbines already exist, or make it modern!au or just ignore logistics and enjoy the joke.

CW: Fluff, Comfort, Angst, Smut 18+ | Enemies to Lovers | No use of y/n | Mentions of Past Bullying/Suicidal Thoughts/Pressure to have Sex/Loss of Virginity/Fake Friends (Reader), Neglectful Parents (Reader/Eddie), Alcohol Consumption/House Party, Fast Food Consumption, Popular Kids Being Jerks, False Accusation of SA/Incest (Eddie), !Reader being lifted up! – Smut ~ Penetrative Sex (Creampie, Unprotected, Rough, Semi-Public, Mirror Sex), mild Fear Play, Fingering, Oral (M&F), Thigh Riding, Hair Pulling, Cockwarming, Praise/Degradation, Breathplay, Spanking, mild Dom/Sub undertones, Aftercare

☠︎ The Freak's POV ☠︎

The Princess of Hawkins High. The flawless little cheerleader ranking in the social hierarchy of high school right under all sides loved Chrissy Cunningham, the Queen.

I love to tease her, push her buttons, and make her face turn into the cute little frown wherever I can. Her nose twitches when she gets angry; I wonder if she knows...

I wouldn't say I hate her, but I certainly feel irritated by her.

Always surrounded by the most popular jerks, the princess seems to constantly seek their approval. She has done so ever since her first day of school in this hell hole a year ago.

She – in fact – might be nothing other than a little puppy expecting treats for being a good girl—a preppy little puppy whose happy little smiles sometimes even tempt me to pat her.

But the little puppy is also a giant bitch at times. She snaps at me and hisses; she attacks before getting attacked. Coming too close to her would probably have me lose a finger... Maybe even my whole hand.

At the very least, she doesn't bully anyone, even though she has been a quiet bystander multiple times when her friends are busy ruining the lives of others.

She seems uncomfortable whenever she is caught in one of those situations, but she chose those friends and tolerates their shitty behavior. So, she is definitely not earning brownie points for it.

Not in my book. No... She deserves the shit I give her; the headaches brewing together storms behind does pretty eyes. I refuse to respect those who lack any respect for others.

As every day this week, there is a commotion outside the Hellfire Club's room... The prop room of the Theater Club.

A play is getting prepared, and therefore the Hellfire Club has to constantly deal with the door opening and closing. Students rush in and grab parts of my carefully arranged dungeon. They talk, they shove, they interrupt.

How is somebody supposed to defeat a clan of crazed cultists when there is that much reality intruding our fantasy?

As the door opens once more, I snap my head in its direction, roaring, "For fucks sake, can't you see that we are busy?"

The princess looks at me, dressed in this unforgiving little cheerleading uniform and a white cardigan. She holds a clipboard angled at her hip, her eyes wide at my angry outburst.

Taking a deep breath, she smiles, "I'm sorry, but as you know: This is the prop room of the Theatre Club. Having the theatre kids come in here and get their props is within their rights."

"This has been going on for a week now," I say, annoyed. "You could just get your shit when we're not in the middle of a campaign."

"Well, I am responsible for the set design and had cheerleading practice until now. So excuse me that I don't care for how convenient it is for you, Munson."

Now that she is mentioning it, she does look like she jumped around to annoying music for the last hours, her hair not perfect, the baby hairs sticking a little to her temples and forehead...

She is silent for a moment, biting the inside of her cheek; then, a devilish grin paints her glossy lips. "You could always just get a real room for your club."

I refuse to look at her any longer. Meanwhile, she's busy telling some smitten boys to carry out one of our tables.

"You know Higgins won't give me one," I mutter under my breath.

I hate it, but plenty of people know that I had to grovel at the principal's feet to ever even have Hellfire considered a real club. We don't get to request. The smartest thing to do is be as quiet as possible before Higgins shuts it down, scared I am sacrificing cats, or goats, or some shit...

The princess hums, uncaring, stepping next to me, "Well, sucks. I need the throne."

Her pink pen points with its end at my chair – my throne. I make myself extra heavy and chuckle, "Absolutely not."

An irritated look spreads on her face. "Get lost, freak; I need it for the play."

"Already gave you my answer," I smile as ill-humored as possible, then focus back on my sheepies, hoping to rekindle the excitement there was before we were interrupted. "Henderson, your turn. The cruel right hand of— Hey! Hey, stop that!"

The annoying princess is shoving her entire weight against my throne, thinking she can tip it enough for me to get out of it. She seems not to realize that I rather faceplant and take the chair with me than give her what she wants.

"Get out of the throne."

I give her a temperate shove that is already enough to make her stumble backwards. I swiftly check if she is okay, then grin at her face. "You can have it and all the other shit your selfish little heart desires when we are done with our campaign."

"But I need it now! I can't wait for your fantasy shit to be done; I have a curfew!"

I shrug, the desperate whine in her voice barely hitting me. "Though luck, princess."

"I'm going to tell on you," she warns me, the little angry vein on her forehead finally showing up.

"Good luck with that."

"I waited for my chance to design this set all year; I won't have you ruin this for me just because of your constant need to be a dick."

"And I won't have you ruin a perfectly good campaign that took me months to prepare just because you think you're entitled to special treatment."

"Eddie," she says again after some more props have been carried out of the room. "I need the throne for King Lear. You can have it back after the play is over."

"Yeah, nah. I'm sitting too comfortably. Like I said, come back when we're done here."

A frustrated groan leaves her throat, and I chuckle, "No need to lose your mind, Ophelia."

"Ophelia is from Hamlet, you uncultured idiot. You, of all people, should know the difference."

"Why? Because I am, too, a king that is losing his mind?"

"No, but because you are repeating Ms. O'Donall's English class for the third time now."

Okay. Ouch. Bitch?

"Eddie, maybe we should just—" I ignore Handerson's call for peace. I am not going to be the first one to back down.

"What's got your panties in a twist today, princess? Did Jason switch back to railing Chrissy again? Is that why you need to bitch at us? Can't handle that you'll always be just his side piece?"

"You're an asshole."

"And you're not intimidating without your shitty friends."

She sighs. "I need to be home by nine. Please get out of the—"

"Why? Is your daddy finally coming to visit you? Would really be a first since your family abandoned you here."

We all know that she lives with her aunt, a woman that is never home. It's the basis of her coolness. She has money, a place all to herself, and nobody can restrict the number of parties she visits.

"Well, at least mine's not doing 15, leaving me to live in a shitty trailer with my hermit uncle."

Jumping up from my chair, I growl, "Be careful what you say, bitch!"

I can take every blow towards me, but Wayne – the only father figure I've ever known – is off limits.

Although she trembles, she lifts her chin at me and snarls, "What are you gonna do, trailer trash? Beat me like your dad beat your mom?"

Without thinking, I close the distance between us, making her yelp and back against the wall. I would never hurt her... Hurt anybody... But I can live with the fact that she's scared that I might.

Being marked as an insane freak is an opportunity to set boundaries. Bullied kids develop all sorts of defense mechanisms and grasp possibilities like these. My defense is playing crazy, an unpredictable freak.

The Princess of Hawkins High looks at me with big eyes. She's barely breathing, shaking like a leaf as I tower over her. But as we both just stare and don't move, our expressions soften, and the wind is gone from our sails.

The air has calmed way too quickly, and the way she looks at me reminds me too much of myself when I'm pretending to be big and scary, although I actually just want to make it out of high school alive, with the least amount of trauma possible.

Jeff's hand on my shoulder suddenly pulls me back, far away from her. For a moment, I could swear she took an instinctive step following me.

Dustin hands her the clipboard that – sometime during our staring – must be slipped through her fingers. He apologizes countless times on my behalf, promising her the throne as soon as possible.

She nods, seeming as lost of a fighting spirit as I am, and then leaves.

"Shit, seriously. It's always the two of you. That'll end in a murder one day," Jeff sighs, patting my shoulder before sitting down.

"Not cool, man," Gareth lectures me. "If she tells Higgins about this, we're in trouble."

I wave him off, sitting back down on my chair. I actually don't feel like playing D&D anymore.

The Princess of Hawkins High... Is she another bullied kid who found a disguise out of her misery?

*****

Not thirty minutes later, I carry the throne into the cafeteria that doubles as the performance hall with the large stage across the entrance.

Nobody's here; the lights are suspiciously dimmed. For a moment, I believe that everybody has already left. Then I notice her sitting on the stage floor, tracing something onto cardboard.

The Princess of Hawkins High kneels there on all fours, butt in the air, completely unaware of my presence. Her headphones on her head and the cardboard beneath her seem to have her resign in another dimension.

My mouth becomes dry, and I lick my lips. This stupid cheerleading uniform has no right to hug her body like that. The heat in my face wanders downstairs when I think just about how good she looks in this position.

I fucking hate Jason Carver.

He plays hot and cold with her, using her and throwing her away to be with cute, innocent Chrissy over and over again.

For a year now, both girls act like it doesn't hurt them. And while I believe that this could be very true for blissfully oblivious Chrissy, the princess accepted her treatment, keeping her title and social status rather than her dignity.

It would be a lot easier for me to hate the Princess of Hawkins High if she weren't so pretty. I truly gather a great amount of self-hatred for this shit. Out of all the people, I want the cheerleader with bully friends, the one that lets Jason Carver – of all guys – use her like a cheap toy because his friends are hers and dictate her social status.

Sitting up and stretching a little, her eyes meet mine, and she yelps, making me scream in reply.

A small heart attack is truly one way to get rid of an uncalled-for boner.

Turning off her walkman, she takes off her headphones. "What do you want?" she asks with enough hostility to freeze hell.

"Brought you the chair," I answer, pointing at the obviously in front of me placed furniture piece.

She mumbles a slight "oh," and walks down the stairs next to the stage.

"Where do you want it?" I ask, lifting the heavy piece of wood.

She points at the corner next to her, and I oblige. My arrival seems to have reminded her of the "curfew" she said she has.

Closing the stage's curtains and the door to its stairs, she grabs her bag and walks outside. I follow her silently. The club has agreed to postpone our campaign.

Outside, she checks her watch, cusses as she knows that past nine, there are no buses, and starts walking.

I call her name, making her turn around.

"Hey, I can drive you," I offer.

I don't like her, but Uncle Wayne has taught me well enough not to let a young girl walk home alone at night.

"So I end up dead in a ditch?" she snarls.

I roll my eyes. "You're going to walk home on the side of the street. I don't need to drive you to have that being the end result."

She shakes her head, walking away. "No thanks."

"My uncle says it's not safe for women, especially not pretty women. The world is full of sickos and perverts."

She turns around again. "That coming from the town's freak is not as impactful as you think it is."

I sigh, throwing my head back for a moment, then say, "Stop being stubborn and get in my van. Nobody has to know I drove you."

"Why would you even care?"

"Because I am the last person to have been with you. I really don't wanna be a murder suspect accused of killing 'the pretty cheerleader with a bright future.'"

"I'd rather walk. Thanks, though." She offers me a smile and then walks away.

Fine.

Fine. Who cares?

Not me!

I hop in my van and drive out of the school's parking lot. I don't need to be nice to her. Let her end up in a ditch—none of my business.

On the other hand, though... I really don't want that to happen. Not only because I'd be suspect number one but also because...

It just doesn't feel right. I'm a freak and asshole for show, but I am a nice guy—not like Jason's bizarre version of nice guy that only ever ends with girls in the back of his car. Wayne would kill me if he knew I let a girl put herself in unnecessary danger, and I wouldn't be able to sleep well tonight, not knowing if she ever got home safe.

I groan, smacking my wheel, annoyed, and turning the van. I drive back to down the street and halt next to the princess.

Rolling down the window, I say, "Get in. C'mon, don't make me beg."

She shakes her head again. "Leave me alone, Munson." Then she puts on her headphones and keeps walking.

Jesus Christ, why is this woman so stubborn?

I turn the car again and, at the slowest tempo possible, drive behind her.

She turns around and looks at me, weirded out.

I shrug at her. "What? You didn't want to get in?!" I exclaim although she doesn't hear me.

Shaking her head again, she continues her way home.

I hit my wheel again, hating that Wayne raised me well. Life would be so much easier if I'd actually be an asshole.

"Oh, Eddie, thank you so much for making sure I get home safe," I mock the princess's voice.

"You're very welcome. But I am just doing the bare minimum," I answer as myself.

"Yes, but it's so sweet of you. Tiny dick Carver would never do this for me."

I chuckle, "I know he wouldn't. And I know it's small; I haven't skipped PE in a while and—" I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I'm fucking losing my mind here..."

An imaginary conversation with the princess, that's how far gone I am. Unbelievable. She wouldn't even stop to check if I were okay should I drive into a tree right next to her. And yet here I am, actually driving at snail's speed behind her to watch out for her.

Ten minutes into this shit, she turns around again. Shaking her head like I am the unreasonable here.

"You could just get into the fucking van!"

Of course, she keeps walking and leaves me to mutter annoyed bullshit to myself.

As we reach her house, she promptly stops, looking for something in the driveway. From behind, I see her shoulders sag.

Wiping around in her face, she turns around for a second, teary eyes glistening in my headlights.

Did... Did she actually expect somebody to be home?

Just as I try to gather the courage to get out of the van, she walks inside her big, lonely house, turning the lights on.

The Princess of Hawkins High. For so many, she is an inspiration, a clear view of what you could be if you'd only were perfect enough, had enough friends, would be loved enough...

But I think I know better. The Princess of Hawkins High is all alone.

*****

♛ The Princess's POV ♛

The Freak of Hawkins High still stands outside my home with his van as I walk into the kitchen and rewind the answering machine.

Aunt Tess had promised to be home today. I'd waited for nothing other all day than to finally hug her again. Especially since she hasn't been home for over three weeks now.

I press play and listen to the calls I missed during my day at school.

"Hey, girly," the voice of my aunt rings in my ears. "So sorry, but I won't make it to Hawkins any time soon. The deal in Japan is a bigger project than I anticipated, and — Just gonna be honest, I forgot to tell you a couple of days ago. I promise I'll be home next month, and I'm gonna make it up to you with a ton of gifts from here, okay? If you need anything, just call, okay? Great, love you."

"Hey, me again, honey. I forgot to tell you, I just put some more money in your account, and there is so much on it; I am starting to feel like you forgot how to shop? How bout you splurge a little? Make me feel less bad for not being home. Okay. Gotta go, bye."

My heart sinks, and I would start crying if I hadn't already in the driveway... When I saw that, once again, nobody's there.

I get a glass of water and gulp it down to ignore the way my throat closes up. For a second, I think I hear shuffling in the bushes outside the kitchen window but am distracted by my mom's voice coming from the recorder.

I haven't heard her say my name in a while, so my entire focus goes back to the little electronic on the kitchen counter.

"Hi, sweety. How are you doing? Your dad and I miss you terribly. We're currently in Paris, and I just know you would love it here. Work has been crazy and... Look, baby, that's why I called. I know we promised we'd pick you up and travel through Italy in July, but the firm is expanding so rapidly at the moment, and July will have us in Greece and Turkey, and maybe even China... Thing is, we'll have to cancel that trip, love. I know you were excited about it, but I can't see a way we would manage to push you between our other arrangements. How about I'll send you some extra money, and you'll have a girl's trip with Tess? My treat... Yes? Yes, I just need— Okay. Okay, sweety? I've got to go back to work. We'll talk soon, okay? Love you."

I press my lips together for a moment, then throw my glass against the wall across from me. I watch it shatter and fall to the floor.

Who cares? Not like anybody except me is going to notice that it's missing. I hate how loud I am sobbing by now, but can't seem to stop myself. I'd been really excited to spend time with my parents. I haven't seen them for months, even the last call was weeks ago.

I walk into the living room and drop onto the couch, curling into a ball. It's not like my family doesn't love me. I get everything I wish for, but I'd like to have a hug, maybe even a family dinner, instead of a bunch of cold money.

I tried to spend it all, but no matter what I buy, it doesn't help me when I feel alone, falling asleep on the couch, watching movies so that I hear people talk in this house. Being lonely sucks, and I am pathetic.

I don't know how much time passes, but after some squeaking wheels burn rubber outside my house, somebody rings the bell.

My heart thumps in my chest. I'm way too scared since watching Maniac last night. Why am I constantly doing this? I know I get paranoid when watching horror movies.

It doesn't help that I don't know if the freak's still outside. I am so not going to open the door for him. I do not intend to die tonight... Although I am not sure if he would actually do something like that.

Like, he scares me, but I don't feel like I am in danger when he's around. I actually appreciated that he drove me home—kind of.

It rings again, and this time, I get up. I walk to the door and look outside to see Amy, Jessica, and Chrissy standing there.

I didn't intend to have people over, but okay. I open the door, putting on my brave girl face.

"Hi," I greet them.

They look me up and down, each one of them dressed like they belong on the runway or in a music video, anywhere but my home, actually.

"Are you okay?" Chrissy asks quickly, hand rushing to my arm.

I nod. "Yeah. Yes, just my mom and aunt canceling on me again."

Chrissy quickly hugs me as the other two walk in.

Jessica looks around. "You sure there wasn't anything else?"

I shake my head. "No. Like I said—"

"The freak was outside your house," Amy interrupts me. "Creeping through the window."

My face heats up with the terror of what he might've witnessed, what he will use as ammunition against me at our next quarrel.

He has seen me cry; I didn't hide it well enough when disappointment hit me in the driveway. Maybe he wanted to check on me?

No. That isn't Eddie. He probably just been nosey or wanted to prank me by scaring the shit out of me because I stole his throne.

"I— Well, we... He kind of followed me home after I left school," I say, noticing how bad that sounds.

Amy's eyes widen. "Then it's good we threw some rocks at him and told him to fuck off."

"I didn't," Chrissy interferes. "I think that's mean."

"Yeah, but that's just because you wanna fuck him and see if he's living up to his title," Jessica snorts, walking into the kitchen and muttering something about the broken glass.

We follow her as we always do, Amy still going on about how a couple of girls had taken Eddie for "a test ride" before.

"You guys know how I feel about premarital sex," Chrissy squeaks, red as a tomato.

Jessica cackles, "Yeah, that's why Jason has to rail your friends instead."

We're all silent for a second. Shame floods over me like a bucket of cold water. The rumors and badmouthing will haunt me for a long time, but not as much as the guilt I feel toward Chrissy.

Jason can be very convincing, and I am apparently pretty dumb. I know he's not going to leave my friend any time soon, that I am just "his side piece," like Eddie said, but I always let myself be talked into sleeping with him...

I don't think I would even wanna date him. I just don't want to get on Jason's bad side, don't wanna lose my friends, as they were his first before mine and will stay his when the question arises.

Chrissy always forgives him, saying that he can't help himself and just is insecure and uncertain about their love, but actually, he's an asshole. And I am probably no bit better.

"Jason loves me," Chrissy insists, looking at me for support, although she knows he fucks me when he's bored of sharing a milkshake with two straws and "going steady" by holding hands.

I nod, not wanting to pop her bubble of ignorance. Guys like him never change.

"Anyway," Amy claps her hands, sitting down on the barstool. "Get ready. We'll wait."

"What?" I ask, confused. "Ready for what?"

"Tammy Thompson's party?" Jessica frowns. "God, how can you forget a party like that? We talked all of last week about it."

"Sorry. I forgot."

"You gotta be really stupid to forget this. Like, I knew you're not bright, but this..."

"Doesn't matter, right?" Chrissy de-escalates the moment, grabbing a broom and cleaning away the shards on the floor. "Just go get ready, kay?"

I hurry upstairs before Jessica can go on about me being stupid. She enjoys that I should've graduated a year before them... In another school, another life. It makes her feel superior.

I take a quick shower, do what's necessary to my hair, and apply makeup. When I walk into my bedroom, I hear gossiping downstairs and try to ignore it, too scared that it might be about me.

I put on a summer dress and matching shoes and head downstairs.

Amy and Jessica are currently listening to the voicemail left by my mom. Chrissy stands next to them, looking uncomfortable.

They are laughing, and I hate that it doesn't surprise me. I hate that I know this invasion of my privacy and the mocking are a price I am willing to pay to continue being their friend.

Looking at me, they stop their laughs and turn off the tape. They compliment my clothes and call me pretty like they didn't just revel in how pitiful I am.

And I thank them and compliment them back because that's what I do; that's how I continue to belong.

*****

I hate parties. They are nothing like in the movies. My friends don't drink or dance with me, giggle with me about nonsense...

No, we sit here on the couches with a couple of basketball players (unless they get up to help each other chug an entire can of beer or do a keg stand) and talk shit about people we don't really know.

Oh my God, have you seen this girl's perm? Kill me now.

Is she colorblind, or why did she think that color combo was a good idea?

Look at that nerd. Who invites losers like that? Why did he even show up? As if anyone wants his ass here.

"Fuck, there's the freak again," Amy's voice makes my head shoot up from my red plastic cup filled with... I guess beer and some sweet soda, but what do I know?

And true, there he stands. A can of beer in his hand, talking to Steve Harrington, a lazy smile on his face as he nudges the girl next to Harrington... Robin. That's her name. She's a girl from the marching band. She's nice.

I didn't know they were friends.

"How the mighty have fallen," Patrick says. "Back in the day, Steve 'The Hair' Harrington, King of Hawkins High, would've never been seen with the dealing freak."

I keep staring until Eddie looks in our direction, his brown eyes meeting mine. He's so pretty when he smiles and isn't frowning at me. I promptly focus back on the cup in my hands.

Jessica, who seems to have seen it, grins. "Now don't be scared," she tells me, looking at our jock friends and telling them, "The freak followed her home today and was staring through her window when we came to pick her up."

Disgusted outcries leave the guys in our group, and in an instant, Jason reaches over Chrissy, resting his hand way too high on my thigh.

"Are you okay?" he asks, squeezing the meat of my thigh. "You should start letting me drive you home for safety. You never know what's going on in that creep's sick mind."

I move my thigh a little, but Jason's hand doesn't leave me. Instead, his fingers start playing with the hem of my dress.

"I'm okay," I mumble, clearing my throat before repeating myself and sitting up more straight. While doing so, I act as though I have to correct the placement of my dress's skirt, shoving Jason's hand away.

As uncomfortable as I am around Eddie, at least he wouldn't expect me to "make him happy" in the back of his van with him for driving me home.

I know it's a big assumption, especially since I am terrified of the freak, but if that were his only motive today, he would've driven home and not followed behind me to make sure I was okay.

"You know what you should do?" Jessica says, delighted. "You should confront Munson about the stalking. Throw your beer into his face. A little embarrassment would probably humble that loser."

Amy nods. "Yeah, put him back in his place."

I shake my head—no chance I would do something like that. It's unnecessary drama, and I don't even like confrontation. It makes me shake and shiver.

"Come on," Chance laughs. "Don't be a sourpuss. We like you better when you're a sweet one."

He and Andy high-five each other, then turn to me. "Ideally, you could also throw in something about him being his uncle's bitch."

I scrunch up my face in disgust. "I am not doing that," I hiss. "That's disgusting."

Andy shrugs. "I'm just stating the obvious. None of those freaks can pull any, and Eddie looks like a pussy anyway."

"You're sick," I tell him, biting back the urge to vomit and hate myself for hanging around with people like this. People who get a thrill out of pushing others with obscene rumors and made-up bullshit.

Amy shrugs at me. "C'mon, now you're overreacting. We're just saying that because it'll hurt him. It's like when we were ten and told everyone his mommy's a hooker."

I shake my head, putting my drink on the coffee table. "That's so wrong."

"Why would it be wrong?" Jessica asks me. "It's his own fault for choosing to be such a loser."

It's your own fault for being such a loser.

I struggle to breathe as I suppress all the memories of coming home and bawling my eyes out. Of bloody, scraped-up knees from being pushed. Of my mother telling my dad I should just start fighting back so I'd be left alone.

Starting somewhere new doesn't erase the scars of the past.

Fighting back has never worked. It only made things worse. To conform oneself is the only way to survive.

I stand up promptly, ignoring the ongoing conversation.

"Where are you going?" Chrissy asks sweetly, holding hands with her boyfriend.

"Gonna get a new drink. That one's stale," I tell her with a fake smile and hurry outside.

The yard is thankfully empty for most parts. Some couples are making out while a couple of guys play beer pong, but nobody bothers to even look at me as I grab a cold beer from the cooling box filled with ice.

I press a hand, cold from the ice, against my neck to ease the tension.

Why am I doing this to myself?

It constantly keeps getting more challenging to look in the mirror, given the company I keep. But I don't know if I will survive starting right back where I started a year ago.

I wanna take a sip of my beer, but surprise, surprise, it's still closed, the cap laughing at me. I look around for a bottle opener, but it wouldn't be my luck if I would find one.

Suddenly the bottle is taken from my hands, and I look up to Eddie, who, without trouble, removes the cap with the plastic bottom of his lighter.

I stare at him in amazement. That was so cool. I have no idea how he did that without breaking something, but it's so impressive. And useful.

He hands me the bottle back. "Thank you," I say quickly, taking a sip.

Eddie stands there for a while, and I lean down, fishing a second beer out of the cooler and handing it to him. That's probably the only reason he's still here.

He takes it which a surprised expression, muttering, "Thanks."

Then he opens the beer again with his lighter and chuckles at my staring. "I can open these with my teeth—now that would really blow your mind. But last time, I chipped a tooth and had to promise my uncle I'd stop doing it."

"It's really cool," I mumble, mentally preparing for another blow from him.

But he just grabs another beer and hands it to me. I take it confused, and once he holds his lighter in my direction, I know what's going on.

I quickly shake my head. "I– No. I– I can't do that."

He cocks his head. "Why not? I'll show you."

"What- What if I break something?"

"Yeah, because nobody in the history of house parties has ever broken something—especially not beer bottles or a lighter."

He tries handing me the lighter again. "C'mon, princess. If something breaks, I'll take the blame."

I put my beer aside. I grab the lighter and look at Eddie, in each hand one of the needed items.

"Hold the bottle by its neck," he tells me, demonstrating the tight grip on his bottle.

I mimic him, and he nods. "Now, keep your thumb there and fit the edge of the lighter underneath the cap."

I do as he tells me. "And now?"

"Use your fingers as leverage and push the lighter up."

I have to try twice; Eddie encourages me. "A little harder, princess."

And then: Pop. The cap opens.

I opened the beer. With a lighter. This is by far the coolest thing I've ever done. I didn't even break something.

I look at Eddie, pure excitement painting my face.

"That's so cool," I tell him, showing him the opened beer.

He chuckles, grabbing a fresh plastic cup and filling the beer inside. "Good to know you're easy to impress."

"That was not easy," I tell him, and he hands me the red cup.

Giving me two more closed beers, he refuses to take his lighter back. "Go show your new trick to your friends."

"But that's your lighter."

He shrugs. "Got plenty more where that one came from."

I nod, putting it in my bra for safekeeping.

As he quirks his brow, eyes for a second gliding over my cleavage, I explain, "I don't have pockets."

Taking a sip from his beer, he looks away for a moment, nodding. "Well, uhm, maybe we'll see each other later? Like, when you get another beer, maybe?"

My heartbeat rises to a threatening level again. I nod, embarrassed, terrified, giddy, excited. "Y–Yeah, sure, maybe."

I head inside, walking back to my friends, who are all invested in something Jessica tells them.

As I come close enough to hear, it feels like my heart is getting pierced by a harpoon.

Nothing changes. No matter how hard you try, things will always stay the same.

"And after her aunt calls her mommy, telling her they don't even want to see her during summer break. Well, and we come to pick her up, and she cries like she just found out Santa and the Easter Bunny don't exist. It would be sad if it wouldn't be so fucking funny."

The group laughs, except for Chrissy. "Guys, that's mean. She was really upset about it."

"Yeah, because she's a baby. Come on, Chris," Jessica nudges her. "It's not like she's one of us anyway; we just chill with her because she buys expensive shit for us, and nobody's ever home."

"And because she's a good fuck," Andy adds, punching Jason's arm, "A fuck you still have to share, dickhead."

I don't know why I was stupid enough to think they would like me at least a little.

I don't know why I am surprised to find out they were just nice to me for the money.

I intentionally had made myself the selfless, sweet person. I bought them drinks and snacks; I hosted sleepovers and borrowed them money; I bought them the best birthday presents they could've wished for...

I wanted to make it seem to them like loving me was effortless.

"I like her. She's lovely," Chrissy defends me because she genuinely has a heart of gold.

Amy nods. "Yeah, and that's why she fucks your boyfriend."

The group cracks up. Jessica directing the direction of the conversation again. "She has no personality. Seriously, a piece of cardboard has more character. Have you seen her room? It's like a hotel room. So creepy. Total Carrie White behavior."

Taking a deep breath, I don't cry. I can't give them a luck to see me cry. I walk in on their conversation, put the closed beer bottles on the table, and look at them.

Their conversation halted the moment they saw me. Now they look almost a little afraid.

Jessica hums my name, her voice oozing with fake friendliness. "What have you got there?"

"A– Uhm... I," I stammer, then clear my throat.

Just pretend you didn't hear them. Gaslight yourself into blissful obliviousness like Chrissy.

"A trick," I say, wanting to reach for the lighter hidden in my bra.

But I stop.

For a moment, the grip on my filled-to-the-brim cup tightens, and I let my impulsive thoughts win. I walk up to Jessica; she and Amy are sharing the armchair.

"Are we gonna see some girl-on-girl action, ladies?" Patrick whistles; the rest of the jocks are just as enthusiastic about the idea.

She looks up at me, grinning like I am genuinely her friend, and blowing me a flirty kiss.

In a matter of seconds, I dump the cup's contents over Jessica, drowning her fake facade in beer.

She yelps, looking up at me, absolutely furious. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

I hand her the empty red cup, saying, "Sorry, my inner Carrie White came through."

The boys who formally were cheering about a wet t-shirt contest are now quiet as well. They know I heard them and have taken offense to it.

We all stare at each other for a few seconds; Amy uses paper tissues to help Jessica soak up the beer. Jessica bitches because of her makeup and dress... Not like I bought it for her anyways.

"We were just joking," Chance says.

"Yeah, let's forget about it. We all drank and thought it was fun," Jason says, hand reaching for my waist as he tries to pull me on his lap. "Come here, baby."

I take a step back, shaking my head. Then I rush upstairs and lock myself in the first bathroom I can find.

Well, not lock...

A couple of seconds after I isolated myself from the party, Eddie enters.

I am washing my hands and trying to calm down, taking deep breaths, so I don't burst into tears or have a panic attack when I fully notice him.

"You okay?" he asks, warm brown eyes scanning me.

I nod, grabbing a neon green, fluffy hand towel to dry my hands. "Peachy."

He continues staring, and I lose my nerves. "What are you doing here?"

"Wanted to check on you."

"Well, you did. I'm okay. Now get out."

It intimidates me to be in such a small room all alone with Eddie. He is terrifying. Terrifyingly loud, terrifyingly handsome, terrifyingly honest.

"What your friends did wasn't okay. They shouldn't have said those things," he tells me calmly, not getting intimidated by my tries to get rid of him.

Good to know that he heard everything. It makes me wonder how many other guests overheard how pathetic I am.

"Well, thank you for stating the obvious. Now get lost," I bark.

"Maybe you should stay away from them. You're only getting used by them, just like Jason's only using you."

I feel tears well up in my eyes as I hiss, "That's none of your fucking business, freak."

Eddie coos my name in the softest way I have ever heard, taking a step closer. "You could do so much better than running after a jock who's only using you for the sex his girlfriend doesn't give him."

Laughing spitefully, I snarl, "Better? Like who? You? Sorry, but the last time I checked, the only pussy you're getting is a quick pity fuck or girls trying to figure out if you're also a freak in bed or if we all just call you that because you're a weird, pathetic loser."

His eyebrows knit together. "Hey, don't be a bitch to me just because you chose to have shitty friends."

"As if your friends are any better."

"They are," he growls at me. "They might not make me seem cool and desirable, but at least they don't talk about me like a little piggy bank or a fucktoy they get to share."

Impulsive thoughts take over again, and I slap Eddie across the face.

I have precisely a second to fear the consequences; then he grabs me by the shoulder and pins me against the cold tile wall.

He manhandled me so roughly that it takes me a second before I can breathe normally again. His arms are now pressed against the wall of each side of me, and I feel fear creeping up on me again.

"What have they done to you that makes you think you constantly have to attack before being attacked, huh?"

I look away from Eddie, hoping he doesn't see my lips shiver or my body tremble. But he grabs my face with his right hand and forces me to look at him.

He seems angry and annoyed, but not necessarily at me. His eyes still lay comforting on my features.

"You can't possibly enjoy being used as Jason's cumdump and having to watch him go back to his perfect girlfriend — the one he actually wants — when he's done with you."

"As if you would treat me any different, freak," I bite out, hoping to hit him right in his hypocritical ego.

For a second, he just looks at me; then his hand no longer grabs my face; instead, his knuckles delicately brush over my cheek.

"You're talking to a guy who fell in love with the first girl using him for her little test ride and needed almost a year to figure out what was going on. Why these pretty girls gave me hopes, seemed like they liked me, let me wine and dine them, but once we had sex, they didn't talk to me again... Pretending I didn't exist.

"I wouldn't treat you like Jason for many, many reasons. I am not an asshole like him; I can't turn off the fact I need to have feelings for the person I fuck; Or that I hate how much I would like you to look at me like you look at that idiot...

"But most importantly, I know exactly how it feels to get used—be a little pawn in the cool kids' game. I'd never project that pain on somebody else just to make myself feel better."

I feel seen, understood, and called out for my past behavior.

Looking away while others were treated by my "friends" like I'd been by my bullies all my life wasn't okay. I knew that. But I had just wanted to be the target no longer.

He thinks I look at Jason with love... God, the freak's a little stupid.

"You don't want me to look at you like I look at Jason," I tell him, avoiding his eyes.

He tilts his head so he can follow my gaze. "Is that so?"

I nod. "I look at Jason like he's somebody who told me he's in love with me and would break up with Chrissy so that I'd lose my virginity to him. And since then, I sleep with him because he calls the shots, and my friends are actually his friends..."

Eddie clenches his jaw. "You're right. Don't want you looking at me like that."

He's so close to me I can smell the cologne on his skin and the cigarettes on his breath. He's terrifyingly handsome.

"I'd rather have you continue to hate me then."

"I don't hate you," I whisper. He's too close to be any louder.

"But you don't like me either," he says, frowning.

"I'm scared of you," I admit, face piping hot with shame. "Y-You see right through me and call people out on their bullshit. I'm scared you'll do that with me, and I won't be able to look in the mirror again."

He doesn't say anything, so I continue to babble like a pretty-dressed fool.

"You're hauntingly pretty. I– I am really scared of what you make me feel because I want to run away from you without a chance to escape."

Eddie smirks during all of that, looking like a wild animal lying in wait for the kill.

His body shifts, now so close I could never escape, even if I'd try. His left leg moves between my thighs while the hand from my cheek now dances around my throat, ending any need for a necklace.

I look up at him. As he applies the tiniest bit of pressure to my throat, I whimper. I feel like I should run, my body tells me to flee. I tremble badly, eyes already teary as I feel myself become excited. I quickly look away.

I am excited. I am aroused, wet. Eddie does this to me with his presence. My fear of him arouses me.

My fear and the thought that he wouldn't actually hurt me... But very well could.

It feels so wrong that I whimper again, hips bucking and my sensitive clit rubbing against his thigh. I whimper again, that level of arousal unknown to me.

I look up at him again. He'd never looked away; he had studied my behavior, the rollercoaster of emotions I am currently going through.

My hands run up and down his chest, fumbling with his jeans vest, leather jacket, and the soft shirt beneath. There is no question I'd claw myself into his skin if he'd try to move away.

I buck my hips again, now shamelessly using the friction.

His head dips lower again, his warm breath spreading on my skin. "Scared, princess?" he asks.

I nod, lust drunken. "Terrified."

Then he kisses me, smiles just seconds before our lips collide.

I moan into the kiss, Eddie not needing any more confirmation that I am enjoying this.

His hands grab my hips, starting to control the way I am rocking on his thigh. His hips start rocking into me, and I can feel his clothed erection pressing against me.

My hands wander into his messy curls, his lips leaving my mouth and moving down to my neck. I moan loudly as he begins to suck at the delicate skin of my throat.

The suction hurts, causing electric shocks to strike straight between my legs. Eddie's mouth releases me with a pop, his warm, wet tongue licking over the angry spot apologetically.

He pecks my lips, a boyish grin on his lips. "Your beautiful," he tells me, pupils so blown I believe his eyes to me nothing but black marbles.

I whimper in reply, my entire focus lying on the tightening inside me and how good the harsh material of his ripped jeans feels against my clothed pussy.

Suddenly he removes his legs from me, holding my hips in place so I can't follow him.

Annoyed noises leave my mouth, but he just smiles at me. "I know, sweetheart, but you're making a mess on my leg. We can't have that, now, can we?"

I quickly shake my head; the bathroom just lit enough to have me see the wet patch I left on his thigh. Reason tells me I should be embarrassed, but Eddie looks at me so proudly I can only think of chasing the high it gives me.

A hand leaves my hips, and Eddie uses it to palm his bulge, seeming to hope it'll relieve him of some pressure.

Our eyes meet, and he grins, "Wanna show me how much of a slut you can be? How good you can behave?"

I quickly nod, following the push of his hand, and sink to my knees. I quickly run my hands over his thighs while he unbuckles his belt and opens his jeans.

I try to reach for his boxers, already licking my lips, but Eddie swats my hand away, the slap burning on my skin.

"Don't be a greedy whore," he warns me.

I quickly nod, eyes unable to stay directed at Eddie's face as he finally untucks himself. His thick cock is painted with rough veins, the pink, leaking tip making me want to forget any formerly given commands.

"Now, what did I say?" he warns me, hand reaching into my hair and making a makeshift ponytail out of it.

"You've done that before?" he asks, and I shake my head. "We don't have to."

I look up at him, pleading, "Please. Want to."

A low chuckle leaves him. "Now that's just pathetic, baby." Still, he uses his grip on my hair to pull me nearer his pulsing cock.

As my lips barely touch him, he coos, "Don't be shy; give it a kiss."

I do as he says, kissing his tip and coating my lips with his salty precum. He looks so pleased as I lick my lips; I instantly kiss his cock again.

"Good girl," he whispers, guiding me to take him into my mouth. "Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you, princess."

At the same moment, he tucks harsher on my hair, the feeling making me moan onto his cock. "Not any more than you want me to, at least," he chuckles, seemingly having hurt me unintentionally.

As I am comfortable with this new position, have gotten the hang of it, I try taking him deeper. He's long; I don't expect to be able and take all of him; he doesn't seem to expect it either.

But I give it my best. Eddie's hand is guiding my bopping head, grunts and praises leaving him. I almost choke, only the breathing through my nose hindering me from gagging, but I take all of him, the curly, dark pubic hair at his base, tickling my nose.

Our eyes meet as I hold him in the back of my throat, and a guttural moan escapes him. His fist hits the tile wall behind me, the loud sound making me jump and pull away from his cock.

We stare at each other for a second, a string of saliva still connecting us. Then we grin like misbehaving children.

Eddie takes a step back and pulls me to my feet. Gripping my hair again, he yanks my head back, exposing my throat. His tongue darts out, licking a broad strip up to my lips, following where the string of spit had landed.

He doesn't kiss me; instead, he smiles at me, leaving me waiting for something that never comes.

Spinning me around, Eddie holds my back pressed against his chest while he shoves the soap and small towels from the counter space into the sink. Then he pushes my upper body onto the now empty counter, my hot cheek resting against the cold marble.

I can feel him push up the skirt of my dress, Eddie's coarse hands groping my ass, and then slapping me harshly. I yelp a little, feeling him lean over to check my expression, and then do it again.

I clench my thighs together, not knowing when I will finally feel relief. Another smack comes down, this time on my other cheek. I whimper, hoping for the spanking to be over soon. Not because I don't enjoy it but because I am too riled up to wait any longer.

Thankfully, Eddie seems to have heard my silent prayer. He pulls down my panties, letting them drop to my ankles. I hear the chain on his jeans jingle and then the familiar sound of a condom wrapper.

I reach behind me, grabbing Eddie's hand. He leans forward, smiling at me. "It'll just take a moment, sweetheart. Safety first."

He tries, but I don't release his wrist. "I'm on birth control. Just– Just please let me feel you."

Eddie takes a deep breath, then nods. "Are you sure?" I nod so fast I fear dislocating something.

Standing behind me, I feel him glide his cock through my fold a couple of times, coating himself with my arousal. Then he bottoms out in me with one solid thrust.

I moan loudly, pressing my forehead against the marble counter as he stretches me out in ways I thought impossible.

Eddie shortly rests his body on mine, face pressed against my shoulder. His right hand rests next to my head; the left one runs up my thigh and waist. He solely lifts himself from me enough to reach under me and grope my tits.

He growls quietly and kisses my shoulder before he pushes himself up again. His hands glide down my back and come to a hold on my hips.

Eddie pulls me into him several times, experimental thrust having me breathless. Then he sets into a harsh and unforgiving pace.

I am so wet, the room is filled with the most obscene squelches I have ever heard. The high-pitched, already fucked-out moans leaving me surely don't make anything better.

Then, Eddie's hand tangles itself in my hair again. He pulls me up on my hands and forces me to look into the mirror.

"Keep your eyes on the mirror, baby. Watch yourself getting fucked by the freak," he tells me with a hint of resentment.

Watch the man you demonized for so long show you the gates of heaven.

I look at myself, hair a mess, lips puffy, pupils blown. I moan, every thrust coaxing another sound out of me while I feel Eddie so deep in me it makes my eyes try to roll back.

But I focus, I do as he demands, and I watch us. Watch Eddie. How his head falls back as he moans, how his hair sticks to his sweaty forehead, how his hand reaches underneath me, between my legs and starts rubbing my clit.

My insides tighten again; the coil inside me seconds from snapping. My head drops, and I accept the stinging pain that comes with it.

I already pulse around his cock when he stops playing with my clit.

He let's go of my hair as well, the hand now wrapping around my throat and pulling me up. Eddie leans down a little, ensuring I am pressed against his chest.

He's looking over my shoulder. I follow his gaze. Our eyes meet in the mirror.

"Look at that, princess. Fucking terrorized me for a year, running around and being a little bitch, and now you're so desperate for me, you didn't even let me put on a condom."

I whimper, not able to find words.

Eddie chuckles. "No, no. Don't be ashamed. It's good to know that all that was needed to have this raging bitch become a little puppy was to fuck her pussy raw until she sees stars."

"Eddie..."

He leans closer to my ear, never breaking eye contact. "Yeah, that's right, baby. Let the whole house know how badly you want the freak to come in your little pussy."

I'm on the brink of my orgasm when he says, "Fucking look at me when you come. I deserve to be the only thought in your dumb little head when you come on my cock."

And instead of keeping my eyes on his reflection, I turn my face to my right, looking straight at him.

The mirror had been a type of protection; it had kept us from looking directly at each other. We were supposed to hate each other, and maybe we would change our minds when our eyes meet. But I look at him, and all I can think of is how I don't want this moment to end.

He didn't think I'd look directly at him; the look on his face as our eyes collide tells me that... And it tells so much more.

Eddie dips his head lower, the hand from my throat now holding us up while the other cups my cheek.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, kissing me roughly as we melt into each other.

We are moaning into the kiss, my right hand flying up and holding onto his neck, the other trying to dig itself into the marble beneath its palm.

As I come, my knees buckle, and I go limp. Sex has never felt this good, and my body seems wholly to agree, the orgasm almost knocking me out.

Eddie's hand leaves my cheek so his arm can wrap around my waist and hold me up while he keeps thrusting into me. He finally fills me with his hot cum. Forehead pressed against my side, a husky moan leaving his lips.

Carefully, he lowers me onto the counter, my cheek resting on the marble top. We're both panting, and I don't feel like I am fully back on earth again.

Eddie brushes my hair out of my sweaty face, half his weight resting on top of me. He lazily kisses my cheek a couple of times, only stopping when a smile tucks on my lips.

As he stands up, ready to pull out, I grab his hand. He instantly stills in his movements. "It's okay, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere."

I shake my head. "Please. Not yet."

He signed, looking around a little. Then he pulls me up against his chest. With his arm around my waist, he lifts me up, walks over to the closed (and ugly decorated) toilet, and sits down.

Still inside me, his arm spreads my legs apart, hooking them over his own, so I can comfortably sit in his lap.

I am on full display, and I don't know if Eddie locked the door, but I don't care. Because his arm is still around my waist while the other lazily strokes over my naked thigh.

He leaves kisses up and down my neck and shoulder and presses his forehead against my temple. I am wholly satisfied. And the big scary metalhead seems to be too.

"You know," he suddenly speaks into the silence. "Whoever thought that fluffy toilet seat covers are a good idea is a psycho. Feels like I'm sitting on a fucking Furby."

There is a second of silence, then we both burst into laughter, making Eddie add, "The worst part it that that pervert seems to like it, given the way he tickles my balls."

"Jesus, Eddie," I laugh, holding my stomach.

As our laughter finally ceases, he presses another kiss on my shoulder. "Hey, how- how about we ditch this party and go eat a burger instead? My treat."

My heart races again, and I seriously start to question if I know the difference between excitement and fear, but at the same time, I am astounded.

He wants to spend time with me. We just had sex, he'd gotten what he wanted, and he still stayed around.

Jason had never stayed. He took what he wanted and then left.

The pain in my chest and the tears I refuse to cry let me feel just how fucked up the last year has been.

"I– My friends are..." I stammer. I don't know how to collectively call that bunch of bullies and explain how afraid I am to go downstairs again.

Eddie, however, seems to misunderstand my stammering. "Yeah, don't worry. Was a stupid idea anyways." He stands up, making sure I stand on my feet and then pulls out. "I'll go down first; just wait a couple of minutes, then you can join your friends again."

I lean against the marble counter. "Eddie, I didn't–"

He grabs one of the neon-colored hand towels and soaks it in water. While cleaning himself, he sneers, "No worries, princess. Won't tell anyone you took a test ride on the freak."

He's hurt, having built up a wall so promptly that I feel like he believes he never had a chance with me anyway. And now, he hates himself the for having gotten his hopes up.

Eddie tucks himself away, rinsing the towel with some more water before stepping next to me and kneeling down. I whimper and look at the ceiling as he pushes my dress up and begins to clean the mess between my legs.

Given the way I just let him fuck me and then sat there spread out for the world to see with him still inside me, I actually have no right to be this embarrassed right now.

"That's a nice ceiling," I blurt out to distract myself. "The only thing not neon colored or fluffy in this bathroom."

Eddie huff's a small laugh against my thigh but stays quiet as he cleans me of our mixed cum running down the inside of my thigh.

I press the back of my hand against my face, eyes squeezed shut, and just continue my mortified blabbering.

"I'd like to go eat something with you. It's just that I don't think I'll survive the humiliation of going downstairs and facing my friends after I just bathed Jessica in my beer. I am not good at confrontations, and if you don't know a way to get me out of this house by climbing out of a window or something, I believe I have to stay here until the party's over."

I interrupt myself with a whimper as Eddie brushes over my sensitive clit, then grab his hand to avoid him doing that again and look down at him.

I am met with a boyish grin on his pressed-together lips as he tries not to laugh at my short-circuiting brain. He throws the towel into the sink, and while standing up, he pulls my panties back into position.

"Want me to create a distraction? I could lay a fire... Or start a fight with Jason, restoring your honor?"

I giggle, and he leans closer, pressing a soft kiss on my lips.

"Or – if you like it extreme – we could kill two birds with one stone and set Jason on fire."

"You are crazy."

He nods. "The craziest."

"Maybe don't commit murder and get prison time just when I'm about to go out with you."

He chuckles, pecking my lips again. "Yeah, sounds counterproductive."

Eddie spins me around, back pressed against his chest and arms slung around me. I look at our reflection in the mirror. My hair is a mess, my makeup smudged, but Eddie (whose chin is comfortably resting on my shoulder) looks at me like I hung the stars in the night sky for him.

"I look like a mess," I mumbled.

He quickly snaps, "Shut up. You're beautiful."

I lean my head against his when somebody tries to open the door. We quickly jump apart, my anxiety rising as I say, "Occupied."

"Hey, we were looking for you," Amy says through the door.

"I'm fine. Just go away, please."

Eddie's hand brushes over my hair, and we smile at each other for a moment.

I don't need to be afraid.

I don't need to... I still am, though.

"Don't be a bitch and come out so we can talk," Jessica hisses, and I wonder if she's still soaked with beer or only reeks like a distillery.

I'd be oddly satisfied with both.

"There's nothing to talk about. You guys used me and are shitty friends." I look at Eddie, a proud smile on my lips.

I am standing up for myself. I don't need to be their punching bag.

"Everyone uses everyone. That's how life works," Jessica says.

Amy agrees, "You actually should be thankful that we let you to hang out with us; it's not like anybody else would ever want that."

"Yeah," Jessica goes in for the final blow, "If not for your lack of personality and annoying sob stories, then for being the basketball team's mattress. Everybody else would throw you to the curb for being a whore."

That's when Eddie unlocks the door and swings it open, towering over the two girls, growling, "You better fucking take that back."

The two girls look at him, absolutely terrified for a moment, so I step in front of Eddie. My hands are resting against the doorframe as though I could keep Eddie in and protect him from the hate we are about to receive.

"Are you kidding me?" Jessica asks, and I feel my stomach tie itself into knots.

"I– I am..."

"You seriously let the freak fuck you?" Jessica asks, this time so loud I am certain at least some of the other party guests are hearing her.

I nod a little, everything feeling numb as I am back in the position I was in a year ago. I am prey about to be devoured by monsters.

Jessica storms off, her heels loud on the hardwood floor. I look back at Eddie, who looks at me, brows knitted together. I just know he can sense the aura of panic and anxiety surrounding me.

Amy still stands there, looking at me, my disheveled appearance, and then at Eddie. As her gaze meets mine against, she says, "You didn't want it, right?"

I frown. "What?"

She repeats herself calmly. "You didn't want to have sex with Eddie. He forced you."

I feel the metalhead behind me tense up.

Shaking my head, I stammer, "No, we– I–"

But Amy interrupts me. "It's not your fault. That monster just preyed on you all day and attacked the second you were alone. We're on your side; I promise we still love you. Babe, we all know you would never let the freak touch you."

I spiral down the option I have just been given.

Lie. Lie. Lie.

Lie and tell me you were raped.

Lie so we can all pretend that nothing else happened today.

None of your actions will have consequences.

Eddie is an easy scapegoat. Nobody will bet an eye if I wrongly accuse him of assault.

Lie to save your life while ruining Eddie's.

Lie, and we will lie for you.

This goes beyond bullying. It is downright evil and disgusting... And for a moment, I think about it. Think about the get-out-of-prison card I have just been handed.

This is how far some people will go to keep their social status.

Being one of the cool kids is not worth this.

Jessica returns, all our friends with her. She has a big grin on her face, ready to shred me into pieces. This time with audience.

Jason is the first to speak, pushing past Chrissy and taking in the scene before him. The picture of Eddie and I. The mental image of us having sex.

"What happened?" he asks.

Amy is quick to cut off Jessica, nodding first at her and then at me. "Eddie raped her. Right?"

Jason's eyes are on Eddie, fury there that is solely his own righteousness. The rest of the group starts to explode into rage, throwing every possible insult at Eddie.

Jason takes a step towards us, and I make sure not to let him get to Eddie. "He didn't do anything," I say loud enough to make them shut up.

Chrissy pushes past our friends and takes my hand. "But Amy just said–"

I nod, barking, "Yes, because Amy is very sick in her head."

I make sure to look at every single one of my former friends (excluding close-to-tears Chrissy) while saying, "You are awful people. So easy to jump on the bandwagon and ruin somebody's life only because it fits your bully agenda. I am pretty sure that not a single one of you likes the others. You guys are just hanging out because you very well know that you're horrible, and none of you could ever make a single real friend."

They are silent and confused, look at each other and then at me. This felt good. No wonder Eddie is constantly calling people out.

"And you know what?" I ask them, feeling a second wind of courage as I look at Jason. "I just had amazing sex with Eddie. Better than I ever had with your pathetic ass. Also lasted about three times longer. Being fast isn't always a good thing, Jason.

"I hope that one of these days Chrissy finally realizes that she can do so much better than a guy whoring around for his ego, just being with her because she'll make a nice and quiet housewife that'll do his laundry while he bangs Amy and Jessica and has Andy's mom go down on him every Tuesday since her divorce."

All eyes are on me... Well, not really.

Patrick's are on Jason as he had known Patrick was chasing after Jessica for years now.

Andy will probably pass out, vomit, or both at any moment.

Jessica and Amy look at each other and wonder how I knew they, too, fuck Jason while making me out to be the devil for having done it.

Good old Jason is very talkative during sex but sadly very inconsistent with names and the amount of details he gives about other sexual encounters.

And poor Chrissy's are on her boyfriend. It hurts now, but frankly, I think it's better she finds out what kind of man he is now than in ten years when they're married with kids.

Jason, red-faced, takes an angry step toward me, his hand twitching as he raises it. I instantly yelp, "Touch me, and I'll sue your ass so badly you can kiss your scholarship and bright future goodbye."

The jock lowers his hand and looks at his "friends," but I cut into the meat of their lies way too deep.

It's then Eddie wraps an arm around my waist and shuffles us out of the bathroom. I'm not mad at him, as he almost uses me as a human shield to deflect anything that could come from the jocks—it's for the better; they won't hurt me.

As there are a couple of steps between us, Eddie grabs my hand, and we rush down the stairs. It's early quiet. I hadn't noticed that the music was out before. At the middle of the stairs, we see multiple party guests scattered around the living room, staring at us.

Had Jessica planned on letting everyone hear how she and the rest of the bullies chewed me to pieces?

Eddie and I exchange a look and then walk down the stairs like we weren't just about to run off.

"It's not a party when there's no fight, am I right?" Eddie chuckles loudly into the room, looking at Steve Harrington, "Dude? My stuff?"

Steve hands him his lunchbox. "You two okay?"

Eddie beams at Steve, wrapping an arm around me and lifting me a little. "Have you heard her?" he asks proudly. "My girl devoured those jocks."

"Think everyone heard her. You guys should probably take off."

He sets me down on my feet again, and Steve turns to the rest of the party. "Okay, people, now that the entertainment is over, who is ready to party? I think we should make use of that sweet pool outside!"

The former King of Hawkins High has the people wrapped around his finger as he turns the music up and encourages them to follow him outside, quickly waving us goodbye.

Taking my hand in his, Eddie walks to his van with me. Grabbing his keys, he grins, "You wanna get in, or am I walking you to Benny's?" I punch his chest and let him open and close the door for me.

Putting my seatbelt on, I finally feel my adrenaline drop. That situation was terrifying. It's a miracle I didn't start to cry in front of them; the tears are sure as hell coming now.

"Oh my God," I whisper as Eddie gets in. "I can't believe I did that."

His hand moves up to my thigh. "Hey, sweetheart. Everything's okay."

I shake my head. "I just obliterated all the friendships I had."

Eddie is silent for a moment, then sighs. "Okay, you know what you're gonna do? I'll drive you straight home, and you call your friends tomorrow and tell them you were drunk and did some uppers with me."

He pats my thigh before removing his hand. "Trust me, the way their friendships work, they'll never talk about tonight anyway. You'll have a perfect excuse for going off on them, and everything will be as it was."

I look at Eddie, surprised. He doesn't protest. He even helps me come up with an airtight excuse. But I honestly don't think I want them back as friends.

I watch his jaw clench as he stares straight forward. "I– I don't want..."

"It's cool, princess. Not like I expected anything to change between us," he tells me quickly, pained laughter leaving his lips.

I nod. Of course, he didn't. "Oh, okay." I wipe away the tear running down my cheek.

Stupid, stupid. I won't cry because Eddie Munson and I just had a meaningless hookup. I'm not gonna cry because he hasn't just magically fallen in love with me.

Eddie turns the key, and the van comes to life. Loud metal music nearly bursts my eardrums, and we both yelp in shock. He quickly turns it down and looks at me, apologizing, but I am already laughing.

He joins my giggles, hand flying back to rest on my thigh. I quickly wrap my hands around it, making sure he can't move away again.

It takes a moment to collect ourselves and even longer as we just look at the other. He's so pretty.

God, I really don't want to be his enemy again.

"I'm sorry," I tell him, making him tilt his head. "I was a giant bitch to you the entire year. The things I said weren't okay, and the names I called you weren't either."

He looks at me, then checks his watch. "It's a little early for a Christmas miracle, sweetheart."

I nod. Fair, I deserve that. I have made myself as unappealing and lovable to him as possible.

"I was a bitch to you, and you didn't deserve it, Eddie."

He shakes his head. "You weren't a bitch... At least not a big one. A little bitch. But I guess that came with the company you keep. Adapting to avoid being an outcast again has its downsides."

My eyes widen. "H– How...?"

How does he know?

How does he know?

Eddie shrugs. "Instinct. You seem a lot like you're attacking before I can say something. You never really bully but are willing to look away when your friends do it because you wanna stay on their good side. Everything about you, when you're with them, is fake. And when we're alone, you are a completely different person."

He chuckles. "When we're alone, you're a cute little thing that doesn't bitch around or wants to fight me for a chair. You're even scared of me... Like, I know I can seem scary, but come on. I would never hurt you. I'm all bark, no bite. But somebody who's been bullied a ton – know that one first hand – never really counts on it to be over. So we keep our guard up."

"I'm not afraid of you because I think you would hurt me. You call people out on their bullshit, and apparently, you see right through mine... I always feared that one day you be too spot on in front of Jessica and the others, and they learn that I am actually just a loser who befriended them so that I wouldn't be their target."

I wipe the back of my hand over my now-wet cheeks; the other hand still holding Eddie in place. "I am actually a really, really awful person. Just like fucking Jessica. I'm a total hypocrite."

"Hey, don't say that," Eddie coos, but I shake my head

"It's true. I befriended the worst bullies in Hawkins High and sucked up to them so they'd like me, although that's exactly the type of people that made my life so miserable that my parent sent me to live here, thinking bullies don't exist in go-fuck-yourself Hawkins.

"I am pathetic. A fucking joke. I- I literally just got my schedules on my first day here, took a look at what the cool kids were wearing, and then skipped classes to buy clothes that would make me fit in. What kind of loser does that?"

Eddie squeezes my thigh. "A loser that thinks fitting in is the only way for them to survive."

"That's stupid," I bite. "I would've survived even if I hadn't done that."

"Can you promise that? Can you really say that you would've survived if everything would've been like in your old school? If you would've gotten bullied again even after leaving your entire life behind—including your parents? Or would you have hurt yourself?"

I look away from Eddie, tears still running down my cheeks. I wouldn't have survived. I wouldn't have been able to handle all this pain again. Every single day up to moving here had been hell. I'd come home from school and cry for hours.

My parents weren't home enough, so they hadn't even noticed when I started skipping classes just not to be in school; I stayed at home and stopped taking care of myself. I'd been a dead girl walking when they finally decided things needed to change.

"See?" the metalhead next to me says, knuckles coming up to brush my cheek. "Even if it wasn't right, you did it because you thought you had no other option. You just tried to survive with the least amount of damage possible."

"Stop being so understanding," I sob. "Makes me feel even worse."

He nods. "Sure... Okay, then, how dare you, woman? How dare you attack my sweet innocent quirk of rubbing truths into people's faces without them asking for it?"

I giggle, almost choking on my tears. "You're such a dork."

He forcefully has to remove his hand from my thigh so he can cup my face in his large hands, thumbs wiping away my tears.

As he gives me a kiss on the nose, I say, "I don't wanna be their friend again. Wanna..." I stop myself before I can say something stupid like, "I want to stay with you."

"I– I think I have a proposition I'd like to make, princess," Eddie says. "I don't know if you knew, but eight toxic friends are actually the exact trade-in price to get a top-of-the-notch metalhead freak like me. It's even enough to treat yourself to the he-might-even-ask-you-out-if-you-promise-not-to-run-away-screaming bonus."

He removes his hands and gives me room to think. "Now, why would you want that?" I ask, not understanding how he could literally hate himself that much.

Eddie shrugs. "Believe it or not, there are people that actually like you. Also, you chose me today. You were given a one-way out ticket that would've put me in prison right next to my dad, but you chose to protect me instead."

"Everyone would've done that."

"Absolutely not," he shakes his head. "You saw how badly they wanted you to say I assaulted you. Every single one of them would've loved to throw me under the bus like that. So much so that I stopped hooking up with girls because my uncle always feared that could happen.

"One pretty, innocent girl regretting having fucked the freak, looking for a cop-out, is all it would take. There are maybe ten people that would come to my defense in all of Hawkins. The rest would say they knew I would do something like that, that I always was creepy, dangerous, and that it has to do with the satanic music I listen to.

"Maybe you made some bad decisions, but you're a good person, sweetheart. And because you chose me, knowing that it would slaughter your social status, I am more than ready to choose you and keep doing it."

I nod, but before I can answer, he pulls out of the driveway, drives down the road, and adds with a grin, "I also think you're a straight ten, so... I'd be stupid not to at least try to talk you into dating me. Like, she takes my side, she's pretty, laughs at my jokes... My Uncle would say you're a once-in-a-lifetime chance for a loser like me."

"Okay, I–"

Eddie interrupts me, pretending he's deep in thought. "I will, however, have to find a way to explain to the boys how I managed to pull someone like you... Ideally, without the fact that I fuck like a god—there are some little shrimp in Hellfire, so we'll have to keep it PG, baby."

"Eddie?" I giggle, but he continues.

"I will also have to make you the Princess of Hellfire Club. Because I don't think we can keep your former title... But don't worry about that. I have good connections to the King of Hellfire. I'm just gonna roll him a joint and explain to him how cute my girl can be when she isn't trying to design the set of 'Hamlet'—"

"King Lear," I interrupt him.

He nods, a mischievous grin on his lips. "Right. The one with Ophelia."

"I am going to beat you," I warn him, making him giggle because, apparently, he does know the difference and just loves to annoy me.

"Better be nice," he warns jokingly. "I'll have a lot of persuading to do since you stole the King's throne. Won't be easy. He was very pissed about it."

I let him ramble on, not a single doubt in my mind that he is too giddy to actually let me answer. But when my ears pick up on a familiar tune on the cassette that is playing, I quickly turn the volume up.

"Uh, 'Sweet Leave'!"

Eddie looks at me for a second, then back on the road. I have rendered him speechless.

"Sorry," I tell him promptly. "I– That was rude. I shouldn't have touched the radio without asking."

He shakes his head. "No. No, it's fine... I– That's Black Sabbath."

I nod. "Yeah, I know. I like them. My aunt took me to a concert of there's when we were in London in '81. Her ex-husband was really into rock and metal. They had a nasty divorce in which she got all of his vinyls and cassettes because he cheated on her, and she wanted to hit him where it hurt. Most of the stuff is also signed. It's all up in the attic somewhere. I can show you should you want to come over someday–"

Now, hello over-sharing. What the hell was that? I can't remember the last time I rambled that much.

"Sorry," I quickly say, but Eddie's hand moves to my thigh, a pearly white smile on his face.

"No, please, keep going." I look at him, unsure if he's only saying it to be nice, but he insists. "Seriously. Wanna hear more."

"Okay... Uhm, they divorced the spring before I moved here, and my aunt still had the tickets she had bought for his birthday, so she took me to the Monsters of Rock Festival, with ZZ Top, Marillion, Bon Jovi, Ratt, Metallica... It was so cool."

I laugh at the memory. "They only had very big shirts left at the merch booth, so I got a giant one. I actually still sleep in it when nobody comes over."

"Why?"

I bite the inside of my cheek. "I... I hide all my stuff in the basement. My old stuff. Like I said, I really wanted to fit in when I moved here and thought that maybe I was the problem."

"That's why Jessica said you have no personality?"

I nod. "I never decorated my bedroom. There are some polaroids, a scented candle, and my stuffed bear but all in all, it's still the guest bedroom I moved into. Didn't want to give anyone ammunition to bully me."

I hate how pitiful I sound, so vulnerable it scares the shit out of me, but Eddie squeezes my thigh. "But that right now is who you are? Like, listening to that kind of music and being into festivals and concerts?"

"I– I don't know if that's who I am. I definitely like it, but it's not all there is to me," I say. "I like aspects of every music genre, I like traveling, I like horror movies, but also am a sucker for romance novels... Especially the tacky ones with the bare-chested guys on the covers. I also never — not once — was able to keep a plant alive. I just forget they exist and stop taking care of them.

And apparently, I like talking way too much, way too fast. But I never really wanted to talk to somebody that much so it's a good possibility that I just need to get used to liking somebody that much."

Eddie chuckles, teasingly chirping, "Oh, so you like me, huh?" I nod, and he says, "Normally I am the one talking too much, but honestly? I think I like hearing your voice more than my own, so even if you don't stop with those cute little info dumps... I think I'm good."

I giggle, ears heating up and jaw hurting from my smiling. "Now what's that smile for, baby?" he asks, grinning too.

"I don't know. You just... You make me feel..." Giddy? Comfortable? Calm? Excited?

"Horny?" Eddie asks, pulling into the parking lot of Benny's.

"No. I mean, yes, but not right now," I stammer. "I think the feeling right now is happy. You make me happy."

Eddie kills off the engine and looks at me as though I told him he just won the lottery. "Happy, huh?" he breathes, and I nod.

Removing his hand from my thigh, he harshly grabs the stirring wheel with both hands. "I– Uhm. Wow. Okay," he stutters, street lights showing his pink cheeks. "I didn't think– I... That feels really weird. Like somebody opened a shook-up can of soda in my chest. All fizzy and bubbly and that kind of shit."

I frown a little while trying to decode what he just said. "I think normal people call that feeling butterflies," I say. "Like, when your heart starts beating so fast it feels like it's jumping out of your chest."

Eddie nods. "Yeah. That's the feeling." He starts laughing, "Shit. Never had that one before."

"I think I had it for Jason... In the beginning, I mean."

Eddie looks at me like a kicked dog, and I instantly regret having mentioned Jason. Why did I even do that?

Just as I want to apologize for ruining the moment, he says, "He really did you dirty, huh?"

"It's kind of my own fault," I mumble. "I should've known that real life isn't like a shitty teen romance, where the new girl captures the heart of the most beloved jock in school.

I'm so stupid. I had known him for maybe two weeks and actually believed him when he said I was special and that he was in love with me. Let him sweet talk me into having my first time in the backseat of his car, although I wasn't even ready... And the next day, he was still with Chrissy, and he never said 'I love you' again."

Eddie's doe eyes stare at me, glassy with a hint of pain. "I won't do that to you," he promises. "I know that's a very basic promise, but I won't hurt you."

I just nod, staring at my hands in my lap. Don't they all say that? He reaches for my chin and makes me look at him.

"Hey, I'm serious," Eddie insists. "I almost started crying, and my heart did that butterfly soda thing because you said I make you happy. If something good makes me have that strong of a reaction, hurting you will probably kill me."

I shake my head, being too vulnerable for my own liking. "Butterfly Soda is a cute pop band name."

Eddie chuckles at my sentence, then asks, "Can I kiss you?"

I nod, and he brings our lips together so gently, so chaste, I melt into him without hesitation. He could hurt me but trusting that he won't shoots a thrill up and down my spine.

He pulls away, grinning.

"What?"

His smile grows wider. "I bagged the hot cheerleader. And it's not even like I didn't have the hots for you before, but now knowing that you like the same music as me and are also a little bit of a freak..." He snorts a laughter. "Jason's a fucking idiot, and I'm such a lucky bastard."

I, too, laugh a little, making Eddie kiss me again. Then he says, "Okay, princess. What kind of burger do you want? I'm gonna get the food and then drive us home."

"To my place?"

"If you're okay with it?"

I quickly nod. "Yeah, totally. I- Uhm, I want a cheeseburger with bacon. No tomato, I won't eat it if there's a tomato in it. Like, seriously."

"Tomato in burger equals death. Got it. Fries and a milkshake?"

"Yes, and yes."

"Let me guess, strawberry?"

I gasp, appalled. "How dare you?"

"Chocolate?" he guesses again.

"Vanilla. Vanilla and nothing else in the world. Strawberry. Do I look like a strawberry girl to you?"

Eddie giggles, "Well, to be fair, you also didn't look like an insane person to me a few minutes ago."

"Let me guess, Munson, you like chocolate?"

He nods, "And strawberry and vanilla. Can't do wrong with me. It's a milkshake; I drink it. But I only dip my fries into chocolate shakes."

I blink at him. "You dip your fries into your milkshake."

"Yeah, the sweet and the salty balance each other out."

"You have a real nerve calling me an insane person," I laugh, reaching into my bra and handing him my credit card. "Here, your disgusting eating habits on me."

Eddie's smile vanishes, and he shakes his head. "Nah, keep it, sweetheart. Told you it's on me."

"It's okay. I have too much money anyway. My aunt is actually getting worried if I don't start spending it," I assure him, but he shakes his curly head again.

"Sweet thing, even if I'd accept you paying for it, they won't let me pay with a card that has somebody else name on it."

"But I'm giving you my okay. Chrissy used it too one time, and nobody cared."

Eddie frowns, and he stares out the windscreen for a moment. "It's not your card that is the problem. It's me. You won't find any place in Hawkins that will let a Munson pay with somebody else's credit card. My old man made sure of that."

"Oh," I mumble, watching how his face is drowning in shame. I'd known his dad was in prison and had used it for ammunition in fights before but, honestly, hadn't thought that the town was treading Eddie as if he was solely his father's son. Doomed to repeat his mistakes.

"Yeah. They'd probably call the cops without thinking twice, and that would end our cute little date in a heartbeat."

"Kay," I say, unbuckling my seatbelt. "I'm going in with you." Eddie looks at me, confused. "If I'm in there with you, they know you didn't steal my card."

"You know that means you're going to be seen with me, right?"

"You gave a whole speech about how I'm now your girl and what we're going to tell your friends."

He shrugs. "Well, yeah. Mostly because I like hearing myself talk and think I have banger jokes, but... I don't know. Am not as confident as I thought I was."

"Want me to tell you that I don't mind being seen with you?" I offer, making Eddie grin.

"I mean, you could hold my hand when we go inside. That's something couples do. Maybe I'll lay my arm over your shoulders and kiss your cheek too."

"Yeah, we can totally do that," I agree. Before pulling down the visit and looking at the mirror. "I need to fix my makeup, though."

"Say no more," Eddie smiles, pulling the still-damp neon green hand towel from his pocket.

"You stole Tammy Thompson's towel?" I ask.

He nods proudly. "It's our towel now, baby. Not like she wouldn't have thrown it away, given that we used it to clean ourselves after fucking in her bathroom."

Grabbing a clean corner of the towel, he spits on it before bringing it to my face and cleaning away the dark streaks of makeup on my cheeks.

"I should be more grossed out by this than I am," I tell Eddie, making him laugh.

"Nah, you enjoy having my spit on your face."

"And what makes you think that?"

"Because you're a freak. My freak, to be exact."

Eddie leans back, checking if he removed all of the mascara, then nods, happy with his work. He presses a kiss to my lip and then gets out of the van, running over to my side and opening the door for me.

*****

"Please tell me that's a joke!" I squeal, sitting next to Eddie on the floor of my living room.

He shakes his head, dipping another fry in his chocolate milkshake. "Nah, honest earned money."

"You ate a worm for ten dollars," I exclaim, making him chuckle.

"Yeah, because I was twelve and stupid. Today I would charge at least twenty bucks to eat one," he tells me proudly.

"How about I give you fifty, and you promise to never eat a worm again?"

"Deal, sweetheart." Grabbing my hand, Eddie shakes it eagerly, a boyish smirk on his lips. "See? Eating worms is already bringing in profits."

The Freak of Hawkins High has me laughing at all his stupid jokes, makes my heart flutter at every pet name he gives me, and the thought of him ever leaving makes me sad.

Maybe somewhere down the line of tonight's disastrous events, I have lost my mind. Maybe there was a rift in reality, and I ended up in a parallel universe... But somehow, I feel like myself again. Although she is a girl I bearly know at the moment, she feels familiar.

Somehow Eddie has found his way in the middle of all my chaos. He stands in the eye of a hurricane I created by trying to be the social butterfly I never was supposed to be.

The more time he spends with me, the more I feel grounded. I start feeling real again. I am not a butterfly. Maybe I am a raven, a rabbit, or a fox... Or maybe I am a girl that likes to use silly metaphors because they sound poetic. Who knows?

Cleaning up after our royal feast of burgers, fries, and milkshakes, I wash our plates. Eddie standing behind me and nipping at my neck. His teeth graze my skin, softly biting it.

Laying the clean plates aside, I lean back against his chest and sigh. He replies with a cocky chuckle.

"Can I ask you something, possibly very dirty?"

"Anything," I sough as my face heats up, and I try looking at him, but he holds me too securely, kissing my cheek and then my temple.

"I know we now established that you're positively afraid of me and know I am not going to hurt you... But when we were at the neon bathroom of horrors, I recall you saying you want to run away from me without a chance to escape."

I nod. "I– I know I said that, but that's not a question."

Eddie squeezes my waist, making sure to tickle me. "Oh, I'm sorry for trying to ease you into the conversation."

I giggle, and he stops as I try to move away. Sitting me on the kitchen island behind him, he steps between my legs, bringing his face close to mine. "Did you mean it?"

I quickly shrug, making him lecture me, "No, baby. Use your words. Work with me here."

"I know it's weird," I finally say, embarrassment burning my face. "I– I don't feel it with anybody but you, but it's really confusing."

Eddie's brows knit together. "Does it turn you on when you're scared of me, sweetheart?"

I nod, breath stacking as his hands glide up my naked thighs. "Want me to hunt you down like prey?"

I whimper, making his ego swell. "Maybe we could drive out to lovers lake sometime, and I chase you through the woods... Would you like that, princess?"

I nod eagerly. God, I should not feel myself becoming this wet when thinking of him like that.

As he raises his eyebrows, I remember to use my words. "Yes. Would like that very much."

Taking my jaw in his hand, he brings out lips together, grinning and whispering, "Kinky little thing," before kissing me so gently I could melt on the spot.

As he pulls away, he kisses the tip of my nose, then asks, "Want to show me your bedroom?"

"Are you going to stay?" I ask naively.

Although I am fully aware of my bedroom showing ending with him inside me, my heart yearns for a closeness I didn't think I was able to allow.

Eddie's warm eyes look at me, surprised and enamored. Almost as though I turned down hands full of diamonds just to hold a small rock, he'd handed me.

"Good luck trying to get rid of me," he laughs, pulling me off the kitchen island and setting me on my feet.

I grab his hand and pull him upstairs, turning off the lights downstairs as I do so. If I have my way, we're not coming down again until morning.

As we enter my room, Eddie looks around. He is underwhelmed. Massively underwhelmed. I can see it hidden under his pitiful attempt of keeping up a neutral face.

"Is it that bad?" I ask. "Did I ruin the mood?"

Eddie quickly shakes his head. He pulls me to his chest, kissing the top of my head. "Of course not, baby... I just understand now what Jessica meant by cardboard personality. It's really like a hotel room."

I look at the white, empty walls, the basic sheets, and the almost empty bedside tables with solely lamps and alarm on it. "Didn't want to risk having something I like and then get made fun of for it," I admit.

"Gonna make sure you'll never have to do that again, okay? You're too perfect to make you hide," Eddie tells me without any judgment in his voice, so sincere it feels like an oath.

He pulls himself away to look at the teddy bear sitting on my desk. "Now, who's that guy?"

I quickly grab his hand before he can touch my bear. "That's Frank. Please don't touch him. He's starting to fall apart. Have him since I was a child."

Eddie grins at the one-eyed bear, who's missing an ear. He points out the safety pin keeping the filling in his head, "Frank's short for Frankenstein?"

I shake my head. "They promise me for three years now that they'll help me patch him up."

"They?" Eddie asks before nodding. "Oh. They. Family's really leaving you hanging, huh?"

"They're– They just work a lot."

"You should still be their number one priority. You're their child." He runs a hand through his hair, trying not to talk himself into a frenzy. "Shit. When I started living with Wayne, he quit his job as a trucker and started working at the plant, doing night shifts so he could be home with me during the day."

"They make sure I'm cared for, though. I have tons of money. Can buy whatever I want," I defend my parents and aunt.

Eddie sighs, annoyance in his words. "Not everything can be fixed with money. Somebody should've been there to tell you that after you changed schools."

"Are you mad at me?" I ask, worried about the change in his demeanor.

His expression quickly turns soft. "No, no, no, princess." Cupping my cheeks, he says, "I just hate how you had to fend for yourself. After trauma, a kid needs somebody to trust and feel safe with, somebody who shows them they're there for them. You can't just give them money and a fresh start in a new town and think shit doesn't catch up with them. Your parents should've known better."

"Was your uncle that person for you?"

Eddie nods, sitting down on my bed with me. "Mom and Dad were really bad for each other. Saw a lot of nasty, toxic shit happen between them," he sighs, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Dad always had a foot in prison, and every time my mom would say we were not going back to him, yet we always did.

"After she got sick and eventually died, Dad didn't sell his stuff anymore but took it. The crimes got worse, his patience as thin as a knife's edge. My mom wasn't there anymore to cash in the beatings, so I got my ass handed to me a couple of times because I was too hyperactive and tested my luck.

"CPS got involved after Dad once again stole a car and that time robbed a diner, shooting the waitress, and I ended up with my dad's older brother. Wayne's cool, though. Took me a while to understand that you can get in trouble, and it ends with a stern talk and not with losing a tooth.

"Man's as linear as they come. Has never even gotten a speeding ticket. Would've probably ended like my dad, wouldn't it have been for him."

I swallow harshly. "Now I feel like a real piece shit for picking at your family when we'd fight."

Eddie shrugs. "Not like I didn't rub it in your face that you're being neglected."

"I'm sorry."

He presses his lips together. "I'm sorry, too."

I turn on the lamp on the bedside table, get up, and turn off the big light. My bedroom is now sparsely lit by warm yellow light. It seems cozier like this.

Walking back to Eddie, I climb in his lap, him not wasting a second to let his hands roam my body. We kiss, Eddie, pulling me into him by the waist, hips grinding up against me.

It feels like hours pass; the chance is high that that is actually the case. We sit in the middle of my queen-sized bed. Layer by layer, we have shed our clothes until we sat fully naked in from of each other.

Our legs are partially tangled, and there is nothing we hide from each other. I am the most vulnerable I've ever been. But I feel safe.

We still kiss, hands gliding over the smooth skin, exploring. Eddie's fingers glide in and out of me, while I moan into the kisses, returning the favor. We take breaks to collect our breath, using that time to admire the naked person before us.

The next set of kisses has Eddie back me against the pillows. My hands have captured his face to ensure he has to come with me.

He takes place between my legs as if we'd never meant to be together in any other way than this. As though we never had been at war with each other and ourselves while ensuring the other would succumb to madness.

Pulling his fingers out, he moves them to my lips, watching nearly enchanted as I take them into my mouth and clean them from my own wetness.

As he enters me, it feels like everything else, every growing pain of character, every touch by somebody other, and every spite-filled encounter washes away.

Eddie's movement is nothing more than pure lust and a sign of how long we've waited for the other. Our bodies pressed closely together, fingers, nails, and teeth digging into delicate skin like holding on to our sole lifeline.

The past and, with it, Jason, Jessica, and everyone else is nothing more than part of the tedious prologue before Eddie and I.

The night is filled with promises, whispers of sweet nothingness, and the call of each other's names. Only once we're wholly exhausted, have taken and given everything we can, can we bring ourselves to stop.

Our sweat-covered bodies are still tightly wrapped around each other. A kiss or two still stolen with the greatest efforts to ignore every sore muscle and the burning of our raw, scarlet lips.

Brushing wet hair out of my face, Eddie lies next to me, his fingers dancing over my face. The storms feel like they have surrendered to the fact that this is meant to be.

We're no longer fighting it and letting the other in. The Freak and the Princess of Hawkins High... We never stood a chance anyway.

*****

Opening my eyes the next morning, there is a total of forty-five blissful seconds. Birds are singing, a soft breeze is blowing over my skin from the window Eddie must be opened, and the sun is shining.

Then I roll over, and my hand touches the cold pillow next to mine. I sit up, look around, and notice the lack of clothes on the floor.

Not only that, Frank the teddy bear is gone too.

My heart is beating fast.

A voice in my head laughs at me, while another tells me I've been played. Last night and this morning, make sure to leave me with an unsettling whiplash I try to ignore.

I get up, quickly throwing over my dress from last night, and walk down the stairs.

Maybe I am freaking out over nothing.

"Eddie?" I call through the house but am met with no answer. "Eddie?"

He's not in the kitchen, the living room, or the garden. There is no message on a notepad or a missed call. I call and call until my voice cannot hide the reality of things.

I am alone.

I walk back upstairs, tears running down my face as I change the sheets, close the window, and take a steaming hot shower. I need to get every memory of him off my body.

He left.

He fucked me and left.

Eddie fucking played me. He let me let my guard down and stabbed me in the back.

I shouldn't even be surprised. I've been nothing but a bitch to him all year. He saw a chance to get back at me and took it.

After my shower, I put on my baggy festival shirt and panties and put on a horror movie while I cry my eyes out on the couch.

I cry over the loss of my teddy bear. I cry over how real last night felt. I cry over the fact that I have effectively burned every bridge and am on my own... Just like I always was.

I gave Eddie so much of myself, thinking he would be different, not like Jason. But men are all the same, apparently.

*****

☠︎ The Freak's POV ☠︎

Sneaking in through the ridiculously loud squeaking door, I kick off my shoes. The hardwood floors seem like they are worth more than both my kidneys on the black market, so I don't want to risk anything, even though the princess told me not to worry last night.

I put the plastic bags I carry with me in the kitchen and catch a glimpse of my girl lying on the couch. The loud credits of a slasher on tv seem to have canceled out my arrival.

I walk in, smiling at her. The second she looks up, my smile falls.

"Hey, sweetheart, baby, are you okay?" I ask worriedly, closing the distance between us and falling onto my knees before her.

Did her former friends call? Another heartbreak by her family?

She takes a shakey breath, whimpering, "What are you doing here?"

I look over my shoulder toward the kitchen and back at her. Her eyes are red, her cheeks wet. How long did she sit here and cry? "I– I was out. Was up before you and got us some breakfast."

"You left," she whispers.

"Only for a little."

"I– I thought..."

As her voice dies, my eyes become wide. The princess had thought I wouldn't return.

"Shit. Baby, no, no, no. I was just out getting some stuff. I left you a note." She shakes her head, but I insist. "I did."

I pull her up from the couch, dragging her upstairs. I did not tiptoe around this morning and search for sticky notes and a pen like an idiot for this to be the outcome. For her to be upset.

Entering her bedroom, I walk straight to the nightstand on her side of the bed.

Okay.

Fair.

No note.

The princess still stands there at the door, looking like she has been absolutely miserable since she woke up—which is no surprise if she thought I ran off after promising her the world last night.

She showered and wears this shirt that would make a better dress. Lilac-colored ones replace the sheets from last night, and the severity of what she went through hits me like a brick.

The princess thought I used her and left.

Just like Jason fucking Carver.

The bane of my existence.

God, I hate that guy.

I turn to the nightstand again. I know I placed the note there. I'd stuck it on her alarm so she'd see it. I drop to the floor, looking under the bed.

Nothing.

But there, almost completely behind the nightstand, shines the neon pink traitor. Wind must've yanked that piece of shit up and thrown it behind it.

I quickly get up and hand it to her. The princess takes a second to read:

"Out to get breakfast and take Frankenstein on a ride. Gonna be back in a heartbeat. — E. ♡"

As she looks up at me, her beautiful eyes fill with tears again. "I thought you wouldn't come back."

I rub the back of my neck. "Didn't mean to upset you, princess. Next time I'll put it somewhere better, kay? Promise."

A tear runs down her face, and I am quick to cup her cheek and wipe it away. Her fingers wrap around my wrist while she nuzzled her cheek into my palm.

My heart flutters and my chest feels fuzzy (that whole butterfly-soda condition really feels more like a medical emergency than anything else). She's the most gorgeous when she lets me see her vulnerable side.

"You kidnapped my bear," she finally whispers, and I chuckle, pressing a kiss to her hairline.

"No bearnapping took place, baby. We just went on a little shopping trip."

"Told you he could fall apart at any moment..." she huffs.

I wrap an arm around her, and we make our way down to the kitchen. Opening one of the plastic bags, I hand her her stuffed friends.

She sits down on a barstool by the kitchen island and carefully pats his head. "Thought you took him as a souvenir."

We're seriously doing something wrong if women think that low of us.

I should beat the shit out of Jason.

I look at her, obviously fake annoyance on my face. "Now, what was so hard to understand when I told you you're now stuck with me?"

She shrugs, and I dislike that I understand her uncertainty. It will potentially take a while of me being the most annoying, clingy piece of shit until she gets it. But okay. I'm good at being annoying and clingy. I'm totally up for the challenge.

"Why did you take him with you?"

I grin, flipping over the plastic bag—an array of needles, threats, filling, and fabric tumbles onto the counter.

"We're fixing Frankenstein," I announce, opening the little paper bag with the replacement eye and showing it to the princess.

"Really?" she asks in disbelief. "But– I can't sew."

I spin slowly, pointing out my battle vest's patches. "Lucky for you, I am a God at it."

"And you know what to do?"

I nod. "The lady at the store helped, and we picked out a matching fabric, threat, and eye. She's also the reason I didn't get the demon-looking cat eye. She said she thinks my girlfriend could get scared should I put it on her teddy bear."

"Girlfriend," the princess whispers, the softest smile on her lips.

"Of course. You traded your shitty friends in for me, remember?" She nods, making me sigh in relief. "Good. Amazing, actually. Because your boyfriend also got you these!"

I pull a couple of posters out of the second bag, unrolling them to present them to her royal highness. "Black Sabbath, Metallica, and – of course – Corroded Coffin."

She giggles, grabbing the Corroded Coffin one and looking at mine and the guys' hand-drawn masterpiece. "So I'm hanging my boyfriend's band on my bedroom wall?"

"Hey," I tell at her jokingly. "If my girl isn't supporting me, then who is?"

She nods. "You're right. Gonna be a good rockstar girlfriend."

"An extremely hot one, too," I say, wrapping an arm around her waist again. "We're gonna be the bi-awakening for a lot of people, sweetheart."

"Sounds good." The princess leans forwards, capturing my lips with hers, and I feel my knees buckle.

No matter how cool I pretend to be, she makes me fucking melt. And now that she doesn't bite anymore, I can finally indulge myself in her.

Wrapping her legs around my waist, I set Frankenstein on the counter and carry my girl upstairs.

Throwing her onto the freshly made bed with which she tried to erase the memory of us, I crawl on top of her while taking off my jacket and shirt and throwing them aside.

I kiss her softly, feeling her hands glide over the massive searches she marked me with last night. They burn like hell, but each ounce of pain feels good. The princess marked her territory.

"You wanna paint your walls before we put the posters up?" I ask her. "Or would you rather get some wallpaper?"

She looks around for a moment then her stunning eyes meet mine. "You know how to put up wallpaper?"

I shrug. "I mean... It'll probably look like shit, but sure. If you want it, I'll figure out how to do it."

I have an unbelievable, lovesick audacity that makes me believe I could do anything her precious heart longs for. Fuck, having her like me is an ego boost that will probably go to my head.

No. Nope. It's already there.

The way she grins up at me, fingers cradling my face... I am fucking invincible and apparently really good in the sack.

"Didn't you say you got breakfast?"

Way to bring me down to earth.

I frown for a second, thinking of where I put the waffles, eggs, bacon, and pancakes I got at a nearby diner.

"I- Uhh..." Yeah, I have no idea. "Either it's still in the van, or I left it at the diner."

The princess starts laughing, throwing her head back into the sheets. I use that moment to gently bite her neck, licking over the bite mark with my tongue.

"In my defense, I was busy thinking about the bear and if I can pull off making a little Hellfire shirt for him," I speak against her skin.

My girl lets out a sigh. "But what will the King of Hellfire say when he finds out you're making them for non-members?"

"Frankenstein is an honorary member," I inform her, sitting back on my legs and pulling her onto my lap. "His human is the King's woman. The Princess of Hellfire."

"Shouldn't I be the Queen then?" she asks, quirking an eyebrow.

I lick my lips, pulling her face closer. "Don't get greedy, princess. Being the Queen is something that you earn."

Her lips split into a smile. "And how do I earn it?"

I place a kiss on her right cheek. "By being kind." Another on her left cheek. "By being yourself." And I place the final one on her lips. "And by staying with me for at least a month. Gonna crown you Queen as my one-month anniversary present."

"Sounds like a cop-out, so you don't have to buy me something," the princess teases.

I gasp, appalled, and push her off my lap. "You're gonna regret that one, princess." She looks at me with big eyes. "Gonna give you a 10-second headstart. Better make sure I don't get you."

While slowly standing up and moving towards the door, she grins. "What happens when you caught me?"

I slowly stand up as well. "Then I'll eat you alive, princess. Make sure you really regret being an ungrateful little slut."

Her breath hitches, and she squeals as I make a sudden move in her direction. We grin at each other, both our eyes darkening with lust, then she bolts out of her room and down the stairs.

I chase after her multiple times feeling her shirt or skin on my fingertips. She is laughing, screaming, and squirming as I finally grab her.

Placing her on the dinner table, I force her back against the cold wood while I step between her legs. "Now I got you, sweetheart," I chuckle deeply. "No point in running anymore."

I take a step back and spread her legs further for me. Kneeling between them, I bite the inside of her thigh, while I make my way to her center.

The fighting spirit has already left her. My girl whimpers as I pull her innocent little panties aside and am met with her arousal glistening in the daylight. I lick my lips before I dive in, her hands quick to grasp for my hair as she moans loudly.

*****

The Queen of Hellfire.

The Freak's girlfriend.

For many, she used to be Hawkins High's Princess, somebody they aspired to be. They don't understand what happened, why she gave up her title, and now plays with the terrifying King of Hellfire.

They don't get how he managed to get the Queen's family to approve of him, like him, so far so that they even wanted to pay for his college education. How he gratefully declined (of course) and instead got them to pay for the first of many Corroded Coffin albums.

He didn't even need to ask. He brought the Queen's smile back on her face and that is worth the world for her family.

Not that anyone in Hawkins ever understands anything. Like, how the ex-cheerleader became best friends with a bunch of nerds, Robin from band, Steve Harrington, and future star journalist Nancy Wheeler.

But as the Queen of Hellfire learned, it doesn't fucking matter what others think as long as she is happy and has the King on his knees for her, worshipping her divine form.

She's fucking mine. Forever.

Suck it, Carver.

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[spiritunwilling]

tiktok povs r like in this universe where everybody presumably owns a furby and solely wears corset tops the color of your furby and corset laces will change on your 16th birthday, indicating what species your fursona is. yes our society runs on a class system based on fursona species btw. blue eyes white dragon is the secret magic class that is hunted down by the government

[relaxxattack]

hi! it's me :) fic rec anon. things have been hard lately so i have some more stuff to recommend bc it makes me feel better. uh, this one's mostly a like, grab bag of stuff? miscellany yknow. let's get into it (also if i have any repeats of stuff you've rec'd here before then Whoops)

pilot light, pale rapture is a post-game fic about jade and her Issues. jade/davepeta. has some excellent jane work in there and is meant to imply june pre-transition. i'd also like to recommend this author's other work, including the collected works of the originators, and the fanventure kittyquest which you can find on mspfa. both the collected works and kittyquest are about a richly detailed take on earth C, with accompanying myths; kitty quest is about jade and davepeta's daughter kitty harley-leider. very very good.

estrogamer girl is about trans girl roxy! very sweet. gen.

METHODOLOGY AND INTERPRETIVE "RECORD" OF SOULBOT WRECK AA109.23J2 – [DRAFT] is about a post-game grad student accessing the wreckage of one of aradia's soulbots postcanon, and experiencing the feelings of a doomed timeline's aradia. ararezi, outsider pov.

who could ask you to be unbroken or brave again is a fic about rose and vriska talking about trauma and child abuse post-canon. gen.

Metronome of a Night Queen's Heart and Other Unused Romance Novel Names is a fic in which kanaya asks dave to be her bloodbag after becoming a vampire, causing rosemary and davekat misunderstandings. rosemary and davekat.

Jade: Endure is about what it would have been like for jade to grow up with her corpse in her own house. short and very good. gen.

grant me wings that i might fly is about jade english raising jake english up to her eventual death. very good. gen.

DIRK TAKES A PISS is , okay listen i know from that title oyou might be like, fic rec anon, What are you recommending to me BUT LSITEN ITS ABOUT DIRK ACCIDENTALLY DROPPING HIS PACKER ON THE FLOOR OF A BATHROOM AND GETTING MEET CUTE'D. it's good. okay. dirkjake.

one more night (your ex-lover remains dead) is a junejasprose fic about trauma and what it means to be a rose left behind. if you're going to read ANY jasprose fic you have to read this one it's literally iconic to me and changed the way i see her forever. junejasprose.

Light Without Effulgence is a jake & rose friendship manifesto and it is HILARIOUS. "rose, you gather, is like dirk if he were a woman and capable of being happy" like that's hilarious to me. gen.

Bitter is a fancomic about jade and rose and i'm not going to spoil the surprise of what it's about but it's DELICIOUS. jaderose.

CHARGING THE VOID is a space opera roserezi au with hints of vrisrezi left behind and also both rose and terezi are trans and also it's DELICIOUS like i can't even say anything about it. if anyone has read baru cormorant and is familiar with it it's like that. roserezi, unlike pretty much anything else i've recced here it DOES have a sex scene so if you're uncomfortable with that it's not for you.

think about staying alive is a kidswap au! about rose strider my favorite kidswap <3 gen.

Postscript is about rosefef, rebellion au, being the last two left alive carrying out a rebellion against the condesce. rosefef.

Transperience is about calliope and the trans experience! fancomic, gen. very good.

goddess is about june egbert coming out! can you tell i'm a june egbert Believer gsdlkjfsakldj it's gotten to the point it's hard to read fic where she's called john lmao

I'm Hoping One Day Acting Cool Will Make Me Feel More Self Assured is about kanaya maryam and the burdens of being assigned mom friend. rosemary. also she and rose have a long furby.

we are the reckless is a space opera au in which vriska's a pirate captain and aradia's a helmsman. i love the blackrom in this. aravris.

i think this is enough for rn. have fun!

AND WHEN THE WORLD NEEDED THEM MOST…

THEY RETURNED!!!

thank you so much!!!!! these all look very fun and it’s definitely appreciated TwT and kind of you!!! 💞💞💞

[bunirabbit1028]

Pov me when I get new furbies... I recently saw a 2005 on eBay for like 30 bucks I was so tempted rahhhhh

[braisedhoney]

Hey hey what’s the whole crew thing ab?/genQ if I’m a follower am I a crew mate??

(I’m so sorry my furby blog is the blog my asks come from if u want just normal me my acc is @cringgekingg)

(Aadgfjhjfks you're fine!! always happy to remember furbies exist they're icons of the apocalypse.)

i never thought my reach would go beyond people who were here for when the crewmate thing started actually! that's really cool, and i don't mind explaining at all <3

the crewmate thing came from a mixture of iswm (where you play a POV Captain character) and my own obsession with space atomica/space odyssey type content! so i kept the captain uniform, made up a spaceship name (the hive) and everyone who wants to follow me becomes a part of the crew, if they'd like to.

also there's a bee motif bc of my name, and a vague owl motif bc of the mask.

[venusararara]

pov your whores find a furby letsssss goooo

Omg... they all think it's sentient. They don't have many robots on tantibus excluding I N F O B O Ts, which are fully sentient vessels for angel's souls. AI and toy robots don't exist on their planet, all of them are very fascinated and confused, trying to converse with it.

Also, native tantibusian language sounds a lot like furbish JFKEJDJ

[ao3feed-lokitony]

In the Dark of the Night

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/JIFUd01

by Little_Miss_Anime_Luva

Sandi has a new neighbour: the ever elusive Tony.

He moved in with her neighbour Lukas recently and she's got to admit, he's a bit weird. At first, she wasn't going to comment, after all, what they do in the privacy of their own home is their business. However, when that weirdness spills over and takes an interest in her? Well, then she'll be a bit more concerned.

Words: 6943, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of Technomage Tony

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), Thor (Movies)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Loki (Marvel), Tony Stark, Original Female Character(s), Original Children of Loki (Marvel)

Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark, Loki & Tony Stark, Loki & Original Female Character(s), Tony Stark & Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: Kinda, the neighbours are weird, Sandi doesn't know how to handle this, Furby, Stabby the Space Roomba, loki and tony acting like dads, Mild Horror, Horror, Creepy, Sleep deprived character, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, almost, Loki coming in for the win, 3rd person pov, technomage tony stark, Tony Stark's Starkbots, Daisy is chaos, but so are all of Tony's creations, she's trying, Fluff, Magic, No obvious romance, No Romance, but it's hinted at, Pre-Slash, Developing Relationship, Developing Friendships, Demon Summoning, Occult, Occult rituals, don't do it kids, Nightvale, Prompt Fill

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/JIFUd01

[randomfoggytiger]

X-Files Collector’s Edition: Off-The-Wall Crazy Crack Fic {Edited}

Skinner’s gremlin birthday, Mulder and Scully adopting a Cheerio loving alien, nightmarish insurance claim calls, failed pipe repair with bubble gum-- this has all the crazy adventures that Chris Carter likes to pretend don’t exist (and do because I say so.) 

(Note: I separated this out from my original crack-fic post for better ~thematic~ order... and also because I had others that necessitated a re-ordering.)

Loose chronological order below! 

Diadem’s Happy Birthday  

““Crossing in to his office he hung his jacket in the small closet space hidden in the rear wall.  It was only upon turning back to his desk that he noticed the small parcel, set carefully atop a stack of mail.  It was hexagonal, about eight inches tall, and was wrapped in shiny green paper.  It was taunting him.    

Silly as it may be, his first instinct was to run.  Unfortunately he had a meeting in twelve minutes, so that was not an option.””

Skinner spends his birthday alternately bonding with and vainly hiding a Furby in his desk (at least he has someone to celebrate his special day with.)  

Yasinta Widjojo’s Monster Mash

““What's up?' Mulder asked.        

'Have you had your computer crashed lately?' Langly asked.        

'Of course, everyone had.' Scully shrugged.        

'It might not be as easy as you think it is. We discovered that some crashes were actually caused by an unknown biological entity in the system itself.' Byers said as he turned away from his computer.””

CSM’s latest nefarious scheme-- unleashing little monsters on the computers-- is stopped by TLG; but it explodes before they can pick it apart for information.

Satchie’s Claimed

““Now fully recovered and back at work, Mulder waged war against his health plan like a modern day Don Quixote tilting at imaginary windmills.  His medical claim had been denied five times without explanation, and he was incredibly frazzled.  Numerous phone calls to the hospital and claims office were less than productive.  He was inundated with past due notices and harassing phone calls from the hospital threatening to turn his account over to a collection agency, as well as letters from the health plan stating his claim could not be paid under the terms of the contract.””

Mulder has recovered from one of his many hospitalization stays only to encounter the real nightmare: insurance calls.

FootlessData507′s

Do You Want to Believe?  

““You whistle on your way to the Hoover Building. Why shouldn’t you whistle? You are a straight, well-educated, white American male in your thirties. You feel relevant and vital. “Stand aside!” your stride seems to say. “For I am a straight, well-educated, white American male in my thirties!” Nodding at a perfect stranger on the street, your body language adds, “And I grew up on Martha’s Vineyard!” However, your relevance and vitality diminish somewhat when you enter the Hoover Building, and diminish even more when you reach the audiovisual equipment room and are informed by Marge that you can’t have the good projector today because the Financial Crimes section needs it.”"

An alternating POV ‘Pick Your Own Adventure’ with Mulder whistling through his haphazard day and Scully trying to bail him out of his choices.

CLONK!

““Does Mulder know you’re here?” demanded Langly, who was sitting beside Frohike. The woman across from him flinched.            

“Excuse me,” she snapped, “what’s going on? Do you all know each other?” She tucked her hair, which was every bit as long and blonde as Langly’s, behind her ear.          

“Mulder doesn’t know I’m here,” Scully answered, “and I’d appreciate it—”    

“Why should she have to tell Mulder she’s here?” Frohike demanded, turning on Langly. “Unless she’s here for an X-File—”            

At this possibility, Frohike and Langly both started swiveling around, searching the basement for anything inconsistent with a Unitarian speed dating event.””

Scully’s cousin drags her out of her comfort zone in the pursuit of men-- at a different faith’s church with strangers and two Ken-doll identical twins... and TLG. It turns into a group shout and gossip session before all of them meet up with Mulder at the movie theater.

This is SO good. SOOOOOOO good. Everything weaves back and in on itself.

@scullysexual​/@bigfootwrites​/PostApocolypticAlien’s

Mulder and Scully Adopt an Alien

““The grey creature’s back is to him but Mulder can see in its hands is a bag of his Lucky Charms.

In a surprise, he drops his gun. It crashes to the floor startling the creature who turns in surprise. Its big black eyes stare up at Mulder with wonder and fright, the Lucky Charms bag clutched tightly in one hand, a marshmallow held frozen in the air in the other.

Then it starts screaming.

And Mulder starts screaming in response.

And everyone is screaming.””

Mulder is enamored with his cereal alien... until it bonds with Scully, who beams like a proud kindergarten teacher. Then Mulder gets petty and jealous.

Mulder and Scully Adopt an Alien Part 2

““I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” says Scully, shaking her head.

“It’ll be fine,” says Mulder with no hint of worry in his voice at all. “He looks fine.

”The ‘he’ referenced is the alien- dressed in one of Scully’s dresses from when she was younger, Mulder’s baseball hat covering his head.””

Mulder and Scully have to sneak their alien friend into FBI headquarters to (hopefully) find resources to return him home. They’re almost immediately in trouble, of course.

Char Hall’s Switch  

““Agent Mulder,"  Skinner began.    

"Yes?"  Mulder answered and Skinners face clouded with confusion.  Scully poked Mulder in the ribs and stepped forward.    

"She's funny, isn't she?  What can I do for you, sir?" she said calmly.  She felt like a fool.    

"Uh, you two have another case to do.  Mulder, I need you in my office in a half an hour.  Scully," he said, turning towards Mulder.  "I need you to perform an autopsy in bay four.  Pronto."  he said and stalked away from the office.””

Scully is woken in the office by the unpleasant realization that she and Mulder have body swapped. Mulder’s not happy, either; but his day gets worse every time he runs into cronies from her old life. (Also, they both get shot, so....)  

eponine119′s X-Mas

““"They'd been having hard times - in school, financially - it's conceivable they would be looking for an easy solution to their problems."

"Asking Santa?" cried Scully.  "These were seventeen and eighteen year old girls, Mulder, they've got to have more sense than that."

"I know," Mulder informed her, "My source tells me they intended to document Jolly Old Saint Nick and sell the pictures to the highest bidder.”"

Santa is kidnapping little girls to use as slave labor. He’s kinda evil, and makes them forget.

Mystic’s Plumbing

““...Their eyes raised to the roof where the drops originated from, a small hole with a circumference of about an inch.

"Rain?"  Mulder asked.

"We're in the basement."  Scully reminded.

Both never taking their eyes off the hole.””

Skinner finally cracks after seeing his agents drenched in water, failing to plug up a ceiling leak with bubble gum.

Kel’s The Shortest Mulder MedicalTorture Ever Written

““He vomited again and again, and he did not want to eat anything, not even sunflower seeds.  

Mulder said he felt fine but Scully said he had acute appendicitis. She took him to the hospital herself, to make sure that he didn't accidentally go to Antarctica.

The emergency room doctor did horrible things to Mulder, like push on his sore tummy and put a needle in his arm.””

This puts all medical torture hurtfic into simplified sentences while condescendingly patting the reader on the head. This SPOKE to my soul, which was ravaged with the wounds of bad X-Files fics. No joke I have a read a story based on all the mentioned tropes (and more.) Perfect. 

Amy Schatz’s

Everything But the Kitchen Sink

““Scully," he whined, looking up at her.  "I don't like Hazlenut/Irish  Cream/Ginger/Mocha/French  Vanilla/Chocolate Mint  coffee!   And  I  really don't  like  Peach/Pear/Apple Turnovers!"      

Scully shrugged.  "So?  You didn't want to come  to my mother's   house   for   Christmas,  New   Year's,   Easter, President's  Day,  Columbus  Day,  St.  Patrick's  Day,   my birthday,  my cousin's shower, or Spring Cleaning  Day,  but you were glad you did afterwards, right?  So give the coffee and  pastry  a try."  She hoped that he would buy  that  and just  leave well enough alone.  Scully was not up to a fight with *Her* today.      

Mulder shook his head, suddenly feeling rebellious, and thinking  that this insanity had gone on too  long  and  too far.  "But, Scully-"    

"Mulder!" she hissed, "stick to the script!"

Meta-- Mulder and Scully are salty with the thousand-and-one unrealistic scenarios they have to act out each day, courtesy of the Writing Overlords.If they step out of line just a little, the punishment is swift, severe, and hysterical: for example, Pendrell in alluringly compromising positions for Scully. (READ THIS AND WEEP WITH LAUGHTER.)

Enjoy!

[ao3feed-thor]

In the Dark of the Night

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/ipUDtfO

by Little_Miss_Anime_Luva

Sandi has a new neighbour: the ever elusive Tony.

He moved in with her neighbour Lukas recently and she's got to admit, he's a bit weird. At first, she wasn't going to comment, after all, what they do in the privacy of their own home is their business. However, when that weirdness spills over and takes an interest in her? Well, then she'll be a bit more concerned.

Words: 6943, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of Technomage Tony

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), Thor (Movies)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Loki (Marvel), Tony Stark, Original Female Character(s), Original Children of Loki (Marvel)

Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark, Loki & Tony Stark, Loki & Original Female Character(s), Tony Stark & Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: Kinda, the neighbours are weird, Sandi doesn't know how to handle this, Furby, Stabby the Space Roomba, loki and tony acting like dads, Mild Horror, Horror, Creepy, Sleep deprived character, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, almost, Loki coming in for the win, 3rd person pov, technomage tony stark, Tony Stark's Starkbots, Daisy is chaos, but so are all of Tony's creations, she's trying, Fluff, Magic, No obvious romance, No Romance, but it's hinted at, Pre-Slash, Developing Relationship, Developing Friendships, Demon Summoning, Occult, Occult rituals, don't do it kids, Nightvale, Prompt Fill

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/ipUDtfO

[helen--richardson]

sometimes i write things. just 2 make myself laugh :)

[wangxianficfinder]

"Beautiful Writing and Good Plot" Compilation Part 2

"Beautiful Writing and Good Plot" Compilation Part 2 (Pt.1 here)

~*~

symmetry by bleuett (M, 45k, wangxian, scifi au, cultivation in space, happy ending, yearning, reunions, non-sexual intimacy, grief/mourning, unconventional time travel)

break me like a promise, keep you like an oath by Eevee (ChaosBitch) & gayjeris (M, 19k, wangxian, major character death, angst w/ happy ending, trauma, mental instability, demonic cultivator LWJ)

Under every sky, in every way by naqaashi (M, 13k, wangxian, curses, curse breaking, mermaids, fix-it of sorts, angst w/ happy ending, fluff, secrets, confessions, hurt/comfort, golden core transfer fix-it, genius WWX)

The envy of the world by vulnerable_bead (E, 48k, wangxian, post-canon, night-hunt; Mojo’s post) WWX and LWJ as teachers to LSZ, LJY, and Lan junior OCs; poetic fairytale prose; a casefic of unfurling complexity with an intelligent, subtle, and tragic antagonist; mysterious uncharted musical magic; a climactic confrontation that deserves to be animated. And then there’s the famous Windowsill Papapa Scene.

Build me no shrines by occultings (M, 54k, wangxian, post-canon, case fic, slow burn, pining, confessions, getting together, hurt/comfort, whump, angst w/ happy ending)

some good mistakes by Lise (T, 18k, wangxian, JC & WWX, JC & LWJ, post-canon, roadtrips, JC pov, rescue missions, hurt/comfort, JC & WWX reconciliation)

The most dangerous thing is to love by KatAnni (E, 112k, Wangxian, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, Angst with a happy ending, Everyone lives, Hurt/Comfort) - Early Golden Core Reveal, heartwarming scenes of reconciliation and sibling bonding mixed with heart-wrenching scenes of wwx dealing with the trauma of the burial mounds and having to talk about feelings

A Secret Never Shared by Vrishchika (T, 28k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, frankencanon, Pining, Soft LWJ, Deity WWX, BAMF WWX)

green sleeves growing cold by mistergoblin (G, 16k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, CQL Verse, Fairy Tale Elements, Mild Angst, Fluff, jealousy & misunderstandings, curses as an excuse for more Yearning, LWJ POV, lwj centric, Repression, No War AU, Touch-Starved, Everyone lives, Happy Ending)

看客散去唯你我不忘 | the world forgets but i still remember you by prettyxianxian (T, 11k, WangXian, Modern AU, Flashbacks, POV Multiple, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Insecurities à la Wei Ying, manifest au, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Good Parent YZY, Good Parent JFM)

paired wings soaring by typefortydeductions (E, 33k, WangXian, Modern AU, Domestic Bliss, Slice of Life, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, BDSM, one instance of car sex, wwx is an artist and lwj translates poetry, Light Somnophilia, Suspension, subspace AND domspace, Comeplay, very loving and consensual degradation)

🧡 Song of Suibian and Bichen: Or, the Greatest (And Only) Furby Master of Demonic Cultivation by moonwaif (T, 64k, WangXian, Fix-It of Sorts, canon adjacent, The spiritual weapons are furbies, Angst with a Happy Ending, The parent trap but make it WangXian with furbies, Mutual Pining, Taking my favorite parts of every adaptation and smashing them together)

🧡 Yiling Salon: Hair, Nails and Piercing by TriviasFolly (T, 22k, WangXian, Modern AU, Hairstylist AU, Hairstylist WWX, 5+1 Things, Fluff, Experimental style)

🧡 Night of the Living History (an edutainment special!) by Aerlalaith (T, 51k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Workplace Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Museums, living history, Some Plot, Slice of Life, Injury, a minor haunting)

sweet chaos by eachandeverydimension (G, 86k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Arranged marriage, Fluff, Romance, Light Angst, Falling In Love, Different First Meeting, Qīnghéng-jūn's A+ Parenting, Night Hunts, Chinese Language, Good Sibling LXC, Good Sibling JYL, POV LWJ, Getting Together, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Chinese Culture, Slow Burn, No Homophobia AU)

fish & wild geese by impossibletruths (T, 21k, WangXian, Modern AU, Farm/Ranch, Poetry, Grief/Mourning, Cooking, Catharsis, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Hunger as a Metaphor for Grief, Farming as a Metaphor for Healing, There Are Lots Of Metaphors In Here, Overzealous Use Of Imagery, Podfic: fish & wild geese by raitala)

Pentimento. by orange_crushed (E, 72k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Art Conservation, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Past Sexual Harassment, Masturbation, Sexting, Major Character Injury, Injury Recovery, Workplace Accident, Hurt/Comfort, Past Incarceration, Adoption)

Counterpoint by Magnolias-by-the-Window (JustAnotherAbby), maichan, Tsuminoaru (T, 33k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Classical Music, POV Alternating, Orchestra, Getting Together, Mutual Pining)

And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 138k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together)

medium blues by darkterrible (E, 193k, WangXian, Horror, Spooky, Opposites Attract, Fluff and Angst, Gore, Ghosts, Necromancy)

Flowers Blooming in the Dark by TheLegendOfChel (T, 64k, WangXian, Gods & Goddesses, Inspired by Hades and Persephone, Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Mutual Pining, Forbidden Love, Hades and Persephone AU, Kidnapping, kind of, Courting Rituals, Secret Relationship, Child LSZ, Tooth-Rotting Fluff)

the soft animal of your body by sysrae (T, 15k, wangxian, modern w/ magic, golden core reveal, hurt/comfort, whump, animal transformation, shapeshifting, getting together, confessions)

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 598k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

Restoration by ritualist (M, 85k, wangxian, yiling wei sect au, fairy tale elements, non-linear narrative, time skips, YLLZ WWX, sentient Burial Mounds, sunshot campaign, canon-typical violence, war, politics, implied/referenced rape/non-con, necromancy, surgery, identity issues, pining, angst w/ happy ending)

NOSTOS by animediac (M, 45k, wangxian, pacific rim fusion, non-linear narrative, grief/mourning, angst w/ happy ending, the drift, hurt/comfort, sparring)

Wei Wuxian Makes a Wish series by natcat5 (M, 119k, wangxian, major character death, underage, madoka magica au, modern w/ magic, time travel, high school au, body horror, self-harm, angst w/ bittersweet ending, time loop, mental instability, suicidal thoughts)

💖 Silver & Gold by beeswaxing  (E, 162k, wangxian, post-canon, fix-it, fluff & angst, hurt/comfort, de-aging, established relationship, non-sexual intimacy, cuddling & snuggling, BAMF WWX, horny teenagers, underage kissing, Mojo’s post)

burning camellias by AvoOwO (M, 284k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Sunshot Campaign, Prisoner of War, WWX is a Mess, Genius WWX, Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Blood and Violence, Blood and Injury, BAMF WQ, BAMF WWX, BAMF WN, POV WWX, Hurt WWX, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Sentient Burial Mounds, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Attempted Sexual Assault, No Golden Core Transfer, WWX Has No Golden Core, Poisoning, Smart WWX, Protective WQ, WWX & WQ Friendship, Medical Torture, Cannibalism, WWX & WN Friendship, PTSD, Dubious Consent, Consent Issues, Heavy Angst)

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Under 10k (so maybe slightly less plotty)

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well-met by warlight by wukuiyuxin (Not rated, 2k, wangxian, WIP, Old English Style Poetry, Epic Poetry, [Podfic] well-met by warlight by Cathalinareads (Cathalinaheart) ) an account from LWJ’s POV of meeting, loving, losing, and mourning Wei Ying and raising A-Yuan—in Norse-style alliterative epic verse: a narrative device enabling LWJ to be at once spare, stately, grammatically faultless, and poetically eloquent the way he’s supposed to be in the original Chinese.

Waltz for the Moon by LilyMaxwell (T, 3k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, scifi au, mermaids, hurt/comfort, healing, sad w/ happy ending, brotherly love, suicidal references, romance, ocean imagery)

🧡 i will find you again by Pip (Moirail) (T, 9k, WangXian, Modern AU, Haunting, Horror, Reincarnation, Fate & Destiny, author lwj, Haunted Houses, Happy Ending)

[andtheyreonfire]

when you’ve laid your hands upon me

pssst. pssssssst. @borrowedblue . a manic twink dressed like a cross between freddy mercury and oscar the grouch told me it was ya birthday. heard u like scary man, so.,

Like I said on Ao3, this is kinda a song fic! Start the song at “the giant pressed play” for an enhanced experience :0

Special thanks to @bilgisticallykosher for helpin me with this fic! i have been waiting all day to read urs girl.,

Word Count: 4168

Ao3 Link

Warnings:  Fearplay, consensual fearplay, references to body mutilation, Remus-typical POV, and cursing.

A gust of breath launched the straw wrapper in Remus’ mouth to the other side of the room.

It fluttered, looped, glided through the air in something one could almost call beautiful. Flew through a sliver of dull light shining through Remus’ blinded windows. Turned green in the neon light radiating from his beloved Frankensteined Furby’s eyes, shimmering from its spot on his desk. The straw wrapper crinkled, almost ethereal in Remus’ piss-colored lighting, like a lost soul drifting back to the netherworld finding peace.

The straw wrapper hit the back wall, and fell to the floor like the flaccid piece of paper it was.

Remus groaned.

There were no side commissions to complete. No work in the middle of spring. No inspiration for a project bubbling up out of the blue, and the materials for his current ones were on their way. Rummaging around in their garage was too much work. Getting up only to sit down at his shitty computer felt like a waste.

Remus was, in every sense of the word, bored as fuck.

At times like these, the human would find his way over to Logan, drape himself over his boyfriend’s shoulders and ask normal questions like how long would it take someone to bleed out after having their dick ripped off by a lion? and on a scale of 1-10, how fuckable are giant squids?

But Logan was doing adult things, like taxes and filing taxes and chugging almost giant-sized cups of coffee. As cute as the furrow of his boyfriend’s brow and concentrated pout were, being disturbed was the last thing Logan would want.

Remus scratched a stain on his Fish Want Me, Women Fear Me tee, gaze drifting around the room. It landed on the painted guitar pick—bigger than his head, like most of Remus’ stolen goods gifts were—mounted on the wall.

Looking at the swirling landscape of a prairie in a hurricane, a grin spread on Remus’ face.

What were two boyfriends for, anyways, if not for twice the amount of Tomfuckery?

Remus catapulted himself off his bed, ignoring the music scale of pops his back released. A quick jog down the human walkways along the walls, a cheerful wave to a Logan perched on the literally giant-sized couch, and Remus found himself at the door of his other boyfriend’s room.

Well. Human-sized door.

Remus barged in, because knocking was only something door salesmen came up with to sell more doors—just like how shitting was only invented by toilet salesmen to sell more toilets.  

Sure enough, a massive, macab-dressed form was hunched over a tangled, all-too expensive sound system; wires and cords strewn around like tentacles from a god of the void. The giant was bobbing his head, strains of a guitar faintly protruding from bulky headphones. He drummed a beat out with colossal, black painted claws.

Remus trotted forward.

He could tell the moment the giant noticed him. Cat-like pupils flickered towards him, locking onto his movements like a predator staring down prey. It was hard to tell if the lightning that struck his nerves was from instinctual fear or...something else.

Not many humans had the balls to live and breathe near giant-dominated areas—or giants at all, for that matter. Remus and his former-friend-turned-partner were the exception, of course.

And yet, the rockstar in front of him seemed to bring out something different in people. Despite being one of the scariest motherfuckers you could find on a stage, humans and giants alike still flocked to him like moths to an inferno.

Because his music brought out that instinctual, stomach-plummeting fear and honed it. Used it. Celebrated it.

Remus screamed himself hoarse during his first concert, alight with adrenaline and sweat and terror as he was drowned out by speakers ten stories tall. Craning his neck back to see a performer that could hold him in his hand growl out a booming melody. Feeling his knees shiver as vibrations threatened to send him sprawling to his feet.

Remus had known since that first instant he was in love.

He wasn’t even the one that had found his way in the performer’s hand during one of his—ah, audience interactions. The rockstar would parade around a lucky soul like a toy, showing them off and riling them up and scaring them shitless, showing the world the monster he was.

That was all Logan.

Wasn’t like the nerd didn’t sign the proper wavers, they may have just...been shoved away before he could read them. Really, Remus oughta give Janus a medal for getting Logan in the front-row venue.

Remus waved, leaning over the railing he knew could splinter so easily in the giant’s grip. He heard a flash of blaring guitars as his partner slid off his headphones, before he shut off the program with a single click.

If anything, Remus’ partner certainly knew how exhilarating he could be.

The giant grinned, rows of massive, sharp teeth shining in his gay-ass fairy lights. “Hey, Remus.”

That fondness—the quiet, almost teasing lit he gave to someone roughly the size of his finger—was almost enough to send a ball of hellfire careening through Remus’ chest. “Hey, Virgil. What’s fucking?”

“Just runnin’ through the track we recorded last week.” Virgil Tempestas—a stage name, mostly—offered out a palm as long as Remus’ body. The human wasted no time catapulting himself into the soft flesh, jerking upright as the giant brought Remus to his chest. “The instrumental is mixed, which means we’ll probably hit our deadline, but...”

Remus craned his neck back, looking up at Virgil’s face. “But?”

“It just—the vibes aren't right.” His boyfriend huffed, running a hand through a shock of purple hair. “Like—the feel is underdeveloped, or overdeveloped, or the tone isn’t right. I don’t know. I want to be able to perform this live, and it doesn’t...flow. Here.”

With a few clicks, a drumbeat burst out from the sound system. Remus paused, letting the sound wash over him. Guitars joined in a few beats later.

He closed his eyes, imagined giant combat boots stomping around on a stage as big as a city block. Imagined a low, rumbling voice echoing far above him. Imagined fear pumping through his veins, hyper-aware of the powerlessness that pinned him in place and sent him screaming.

Remus imagined what of sound an angel made of chains and strings and churning metal would make, and opened his eyes.

“Bass-boost it, I want my ears to bleed.” He crawled over and leaned against the thumb—the thumb that probably stopping him from throwing himself off the giant’s hand. Virgil’s gaze flickered down to him, and Remus shrugged. “Other than that, sounds good to me. Top ten songs to get your shit kicked in to, definitely.”

Virgil snorted, but slid his headphones back on after a nod from Remus. The human took that moment to latch onto Virgil’s thumb and try to wrestle it to the center of his palm.

He failed—especially when Virgil demonstrated his ability to pin all his limbs down with one hand—but it was a valiant effort.  

After some fun and riveting times squirming under fingers as long as Remus was tall, the giant removed his headphones. Remus perked up as his appendages were freed. “Alright. How ‘bout now?”

Virgil pressed play. Deep, booming cords reverberated over him, through him, thrumming in his core. A shudder passed down his spine. Remus grinned. “It’s perfect. Gonna be a hit, I can feel it—Oh, c’mon, what’s got your dick in a twist?”

Virgil bit his lip—which wasn’t fair because that was Remus’ job thank you very much—as Remus frowned at the rockstar’s furrowed brow. The human was about to crawl up to Virgil’s beautiful face and force it out of him when he blurted, “I didn’t practice anything for a concert, I didn’t think to. I usually have a specific act in mind but things didn’t really work out so I don’t—feel like I know the song? And I can’t put on a show if I don’t even know what I’m trying to sing?” The giant sighed. “Yeah.”

Remus leaned back, considering. “You want an act.”

“Yes.”

The human stared up into eyes bigger than his head. “Then let’s make one.”

Those eyes widened, cat-like pupils dilating. “...You sure? We haven’t done that in a while.”  

The human’s heart fluttered at the hint of petulance in Virgil’s tone. Seemed the giant enjoyed their cat-and-mouse game as much as Remus did. It wasn’t harmful, just a bit of good, old-fashioned mortal terror and blood-pumping for the soul. Mostly, Virgil did it to test out new show bits or review an old trick, because Virgil was a prep who wanted practice with scaring the shit out of people.

Remus was the only one in their house who could stomach it. Wasn't his fault the looming, the growling, and the reminder of how helpless he was in the face of a monster setting his heart pounding with more than terror. They yearn for what they fear for and all that.

Well—he was pretty sure Logan did enjoy it, even if a few minutes of a game let him out of breath, stuttering, with his face flushed and voice a squeak. He seemed to prefer Virgil’s softer, snarkier side to even the just-for-pretendsies looming danger.

Remus once broke his arm on purpose on their backyard’s brick wall trying to see if he could fit his fingers into his shoulder socket, so.

“Are you kidding? Fuck yes.” Remus wriggled in Virgil’s palm, stopped from toppling off by a gentle claw pressing down on him. “Put me down so you can slam your hands next to me or whatever.”  

Virgil snorted, but lowered his hand down to the desk anyways. Virgil’s work desk was massive, even for giants; just a vast expanse of dark wood. His set-up barely filled half of it. “I haven’t even started the music yet, chill.”

Remus slid off the palm, before crossing his arms and pouting up at his boyfriend. “C’mon, I wanna see your fangs, pretty boy. Set upon me like a flock of vultures on a rotting corpse or whatever—”

Virgil leaned forward, setting his forearms on either side of Remus and looming over him. As a shadow fell Remus, he craned his neck back, only to catch sight of massive fangs splitting into a sharp grin. “It’s cute that you think you can tell me what to do,” Virgil Tempestas purred, voice reverberating down and through Remus’ core and fuck, fuck. “Patience, little morsel.”

Virgil leaned back. Remus’ heart lurched forward with him. He took a moment to try to shrug off the flush on his cheeks using his face alone, stopped only by Virgil snorting at his expression. The giant raked his hair back with his claws, stretching to grab a hair tie to put it back. Remus couldn’t help but shiver. Oh, this session was going to be fun.

With a click, the giant pressed play.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Virgil asked, laying a hand flat against his desk. Any growl was absent from his voice, a patently sincere look the only thing toward Remus.

Remus lunged forward, splaying his body across Virgil’s palm yet again. He blew a raspberry. “Duh. I got no reason not to be.”

Virgil watched him wriggle in his palm, and Remus resisted the urge to cringe away from that cat-like, predator gaze. The time for blue-balls was later, goddamnit.

Nothing left to do but enjoy the show.

The beat was nice, steady, a heavy drum pounding through the quiet of the room. Remus stretched as a guitar joined in the mix. He looked up, up, up into his giant’s eyes, and the human’s crinkled at the loving look Virgil directed at him.

The drums slowed, thrumming out a staccato rhythm, and—

Remus found the palm below him gone as Virgil tossed him up.

The guitars surged, fast and sending daggers piercing through his ears, no doubt drowning out the half-delighted shriek Remus let out. The human flailed, catching a glimpse of the ground so far from him, and his stomach lurched like a container of fucking pickle juice.

The back of his shirt caught. Remus twisted around to see two massive claws pinching it, dangling from a comparatively thin layer of fabric over a fatal fall. The fingers moved, and Remus grasped his shirt collar before it could choke him. He stopped in front of the giant’s face.  

Virgil’s mouth twisted into a scowl. Remus’ heart pulsed like someone shoved a screwdriver through it.  

And the giant began to sing.

Virgil’s voice was deep—it always had been, apparently. Remus couldn’t imagine anything but those low, crooning tones, pounding through his core like the world’s sharpest drums.  

The giant’s fangs were on full display. They shone in the afternoon light, slid against his lip like a sheathed sword, etched closer as the giant leaned in to purr a line in Remus’ face. Wicked-sharp, almost as long as Remus’ forearm, and very, very powerful.

Little morsel, the owner of those fangs had called him, hunched over Remus’ tiny form and looking at him like he was nothing more.

Little morsel, Tempestas had called him, and, well, wasn’t he right?

As the giant’s voice turned soft, he brought Remus away from his face. Those inhuman eyes crinkled into something almost like grief. Remus stilled as Virgil moved a massive claw up to his cheek, and the cool, sharp tip trailed down tiny, vulnerable flesh.  

The grip around Remus was iron, but under the stare of something so massive, the attention of someone his mind called a predator, Remus found he couldn’t move if he wanted to.

Virgil leaned in, and Remus’ body vibrated with that low voice. The giant’s gaze slide away, and Remus’ heart stopped as Tempestas’ face shuttered closed.  

The guitars exploded, and the giant moved.

Blaring bass, pounding drums, Virgil hunched over him, snarling lyrics to the human in his hand. His voice boomed, but Remus could scarcely hear anything over the roaring in his ears. He glanced away, only for an instant, and his gaze snapped back like a rubber band as Virgil’s shadow engulfed him.

Is this what storm chasers felt, staring down the eye of something so much more than you? The booming of thunder in your core, the crackle of lightning in the distance, craning your neck back overhead to see clouds, a gathering storm, a disaster in motion? Helpless to do anything but sit back and watch the rain pour?

It was certainly what Remus felt, staring up, up, up at Virgil. Staring up at his love.  

Remus laughed, slightly manic, and hoped the giant didn’t hear it over the thrumming of the music—

Only for it to turn into a grimace as Virgil dropped him on the table. The human scrambled back, on his feet and staring up as Tempestas launched into the second verse. Virgil tilted his head, slow, almost deliberate, running his eyes down the prey in front of him. Remus swallowed.

Tempestas took a step to the side, standing tall and pinning Remus with his gaze. His claws flexed. He prowled around the desk and—well, wasn’t it funny, how Remus almost felt like the one on a stage, putting on a show to the giant looming over him?

The rockstar leaned forward and tilted his head. Remus couldn’t do anything but stare back as the giant ran a claw down his shoulder. He leaned in, closer. Closer. His gaze turned soft. The dark clouds parted.

Something flickered, and Remus jerked back as the giant closed the final gap with a snarl. He slammed a hand next to the human, and—

The giant’s face filled his vision, his hands practically wrapped around him, his heat seeping into his skin. The sharp smell of peppermint wafted from Tempestas’ mouth. He was so close to him, almost making up his entire world.

Tempestas leaned back, gaze flickering away, and the iron grip around Remus’ heart tightened. Massive claws rapped a beat on the table.  

When Tempestas peered down at Remus, he didn’t smile, but was a near thing.

“You can feel it, can’t you?” the giant asked, voice sliding in-tune with the bass. The music blared on, and Remus’ heart leaped as Tempestas moved back to loom over him. “Of course you feel it. Why wouldn’t you?”

Remus craned his neck back, shivering as the giant’s shadow engulfed him. His eyes drifted to the claws so close to him, only to jerk back as something warm and sharp ruffled his hair. The giant smiled, fangs glittering.

“Thrumming, thrumming, thrumming.” His voice was low, that special sort of rumble that only emerged in performances. “The bass, your heart, the vibrations from my voice, up and in you and all around you." Tempestas leveled him with an expecting stare. “You feel that thrumming, that pounding?”

Remus nodded, adrenaline setting his nerves alight, and those massive eyes crinkled. “Thought so.” Tempestas hummed. “Let me ask you something more.”

Tempestas moved, standing over Remus from a diagonal angle. One way clear, it seemed: across from the giant and forward. No hiding spots on the expanse of the desk, but it would take the Tempestas time to reach out. Enough time to run.

If Remus’ legs didn’t give out before he could escape.

“Can you hear my voice?” Tempestas crooned. “It must be loud to those tiny, sensitive ears of yours.” The giant's claws stopped, flickered to point in the air. “Can you hear the pounding of the drums? If this were a real concert, your voice would be drowned out by them so effortlessly.”  

Tempestas leaned forward, chest five times as wide as Remus was tall pushing up against the desk. The storm tilted his head. “Can you hear the beating of my heart?”

Remus paused, ice flooding through his veins. The giant purred, “Listen. It shouldn’t be hard.”

And—he could. Blocking out everything except the natural disaster in front of him, he could hear it. It was slow, and so, horribly, loud. As big as a whale’s, pounding, pounding, pounding.

An amused breath of air sent Remus’ hair askew. Tempestas’ voice dropped low, reverberating through the human’s body like a swarm of locusts. “Can you feel anything but me?”  

A claw ran down Remus’ back. The pad of the finger pulsed with a massive pulse, surging with the beat. “Can you hear anything but my sound?”

That claw travelled to Remus’ chest, and bits of the human’s tee caught on its small, jagged edges. It slid under the human’s chin and lifted it up. Remus shuddered at the cold tip of it against his neck. “Remus,” Tempestas hummed. “Do you know how helpless you are?”  

A blush burned Remus’ cheeks. The giant grinned, fangs shining like chainsaw teeth, and the human’s knees threatened to buckle.  “I know what you’re feeling right now.”

The threat under Remus’ neck retreated. Remus’ hand shot to his throat, watching the giant examine a line of claws, each one almost as big as Remus’ head. “Maybe it’s a shiver down your spine. Maybe it’s the hammering of your tiny, little heart. Maybe it’s the blood running through your veins.” The giant’s gaze flickered over him. “You’re vibrating right now, Remus, and it’s not from excitement.”

Remus held a hand in front of his face, watching it shake like a leaf in a hurricane. He was, wasn’t he?

The giant leaned back, and Remus craned his head up, up, up. “You feel it.” He laughed, a sharp, booming thing. “Why wouldn’t you?”

The monster peered at him, gaze wide and unwavering, the gaze of a predator. “Do you feel the urge to run?”

The drums hissed, lightning-quick. The guitars surged like the booming of thunder.  

Remus bolted.

The pressure in his legs abated, burning as he pumped them faster, faster. Alarm bells blared, the music roaring in harmony with the static in his ears. A thin sheen of sweat crept down his forehead. A cackle behind him tore through the black noise in his head. Remus pushed himself faster—

He tripped, fell, went sprawling with the edge of the table an arm’s length away. He stumbled forward on his hands and knees, whining. It was right there. It was right THERE—

A massive hand slammed in front of Remus. Claws curled in on him like splintered branches.

Too late.

The human lurched back, whipping around to see the monster looming over him. The giant practically screamed the next lyrics. Remus’ cheeks darkened as he filled up his vision, overwhelming Remus’ ears with pounding music, snarled singing, the thrumming of a massive heart.  

Remus’ breath caught in his throat. He had to run. He had to run, get away, move, do anything to escape the behemoth before him. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, why was he frozen, why was he was trapped, why he couldn’t he move move from the predator he’s goiNG TO—

“Virgil?” Came a distant, quiet voice. “Oh. Am I interrupting something?”

The music stopped. Remus creaked open his eyes—when had he closed them? —as the giant in front of him rumbled, “Nah, we’re just having fun.” The massive hand around him squeezed, gentle, yet firm. The human’s heart fluttered. “What’s up?”

Silence. Considering, analyzing silence. Not judgmental, but sharp enough for you to wilt anyways. Remus could recognize Logan’s presence anywhere. Finally, their boyfriend said, “I was considering ordering Chinese shortly. Do you want anything?”

Virgil’s gaze flickered down. His fangs were hidden, gaze open, no trace of the thing of nature present just moments before. He spoke, and it was like the gentle patter of rain. “You want your usual?”

Remus nodded, adrenaline still clogging his vocal cords. He leaned back into Virgil’s palm, letting the warmth seep through his skin. “Vegetable Chow Mein for Remus.” A massive claw ruffled his hair, and Remus made a noise like a deflated balloon animal. “I wouldn’t mind some sushi. Don't care what flavor. Thank you, love.”

“You’re welcome.” Remus could hear the smile in Logan’s voice. He considered throwing a hand over Virgil’s hand to wave after him, but...it was so warm. After a moment, Logan called out, “Try not to overwhelm Remus before dinner.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Virgil breathed. His gaze flickered down towards Remus, slight panic in his eyes. Remus gave a thumbs up, sticking his tongue out for good measure. Virgil deflated a little in relief. Really, how could Remus ever be scared of such a massive dork?

Heh. Dork. After distant footsteps retreated, Remus sprung up from Virgil’s hand. “You found your bit?”

Virgil glanced away, almost like he was scared to look at someone the size of his finger. Pussy. “Uh, sure. You good, Re? I know I got carried away—”

Remus waved a hand. “I’m fine, you tall drink. You barely answered my question!” The human put his hands on his hips, trying for his best stern gaze. “I’ll climb up there and pull you down myself if I need to, bitch.”

The being who could overpower him with barely a thought snorted. “I don’t doubt it—but, uh, yeah. I got it.” Virgil smiled, his genuine one that was more eyes than teeth. “Thank you, really. You gave me a lot to work with—Well. One problem.”

“Yeah?”

“It is...a lot. Not really something I would consider doing spontaneously, especially with a stranger.” Virgil leaned in, folding his arms under him and setting his chin on top. “I can’t help but think it would be better to do it with, say...someone I know.”

Remus’ heart spasmed. He resisted the urge to clutch at it, in the process resisting the urge to bite down on his fingers and see if he was dreaming. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Virgil’s gaze turned soft, open, eyes shining like amethysts. “Obviously, it’ll be different. And only if you want to, of course, I don’t want to force you or anything—”

“I’d fucking love to.” Remus stumbled forward. He nodded, nodded again, looked up at Virgil with a fire in his eyes. “Yes, I want you to toss me around like a limp fucking French fry. Yes—”

“Hey, chill, I haven’t even released the song yet. My next concert ain’t for a while, either.” Virgil’s gaze turned sheepish. “I’ll tone it down a bit, too. Don’t want you to collapse before the show ends.”

Well, rude, but Remus didn’t mind. He surged forward, throwing himself against Virgil’s lips, and shuddered as he felt the giant let out a small gasp of surprise.

He was technically doing the opposite of ‘chilling’, grasping at whatever small bit of skin he could put his hands on and nipping the top of Virgil’s lip. But as that impossibly soft mouth pressed against his body, Remus figured that Virgil didn’t mind, either.

[hollowsart]

Woke up from a truly horrific fnaf-esque dream.

Gonna explain the dream below, but warning for mentions of a hospital and some slightly vague description of violence.

I just wanna talk about it cuz wow. Wild.

====

What I remember of the dream was that I was in a hospital learning about what happened to some girl who was brought there and was told this by her mom from inside a derelict robot that looked like Bonnie but bare. She had a soft motherly voice tho and held my hand while she told the story of her daughter.

Apparently there were some weird bird-like things on top of some cabinets, not sure what their purpose was but they were big and close enough to the bed the girl was in that I had the pov of during the telling of one part of what happened to the girl. One of those bird things, they had faces that looked like first gen furbies as well I remember them being yellow and shaped kinda like those pillow dolls?? The creepy rectangle ones. Anyways one of the bird things on the cabinets started to malfunction and started violently pecking at the girl.

Saw nothing after that, it just jump-cut with the sounds of doctors and nurses frantically shouting and were trying to figure out what to do with the robot thing and the girl too. The cut went to the girl staring intensely into the abyss from her new bed, completely bandaged and patched up but silent...... And she had a robot bird looking appearance, dark in color, laying facing a wall and nearly on her stomach. Definitely traumatized from the incident.

Before all this tho I was in a room defending myself against the hospital animal-like robot things trying to get in to attack me or something. And that's when the mom robot appeared and was not aggressive but instead sat down on the same cot that I was sitting on at the back of the room. There was a main hallways door that most robots tried to get in through and a closet-like door like.. one or two would try to use. And I think maybe something on the ceiling. The whole place was falling apart like it had been abandoned or something.