#race baiting tw

[nikkiitalks]

Race Baiting - A thoughtument by Nikkiitalks.

Okay.. Here we go.

Firstly, for the sake of absolute transparency, when I was first contacted by @olivaraofrph in a tirade of a novel of a response, my skimming through it had me starting to be swayed in her favour, mostly because of the depths of which her privacy was invaded for the sake of the allegations against her. And in that moment, I prematurely forgave her. Told her I understood. But it turns out, after much more has come to light, that I in fact do not understand. And in turn my forgiveness is recanted.

I did not have all the information. Hell, I had a fraction of it. Natalie and I, we were friendly, but not close. We don't talk every day and we never did. We had, though, stood arm in arm against that moment's hot button issue that I had felt strongly about, and so had she. It seemed. We'd held each other in places of mutual respect, shouting each other out and praising each other's advocacy.

Now, it all feels so... silly. This performative display that I so willingly let be pulled over my eyes. But that's beside the point. That was all I knew of her, really. There are others in this tiny niche of our already tiny community, that were far closer. Those that ran servers, indigenous servers, with her. They weren't even afforded the respect of being given an explanation to, but I did?

I was the one, who when I it was brought to my attention, when I was urged to send a DM which I already had, that was deemed the one to get that? A novel, let me be clear, the contents of which I won't make public upon request. A lot of it had nothing to do, truly, with the issue at hand but served to distract from it in a wall of text. It was overwhelming, and it felt just a teeny, tiny bit, manipulative.

There's so much evidence now, even evidence regretfully obtained, that the only place her advocacy extends to is Tumblr. None of your public, irl facing socials having anything there about it. Your own admission of percentage, (how that had been confirmed as she claims I can't speculate), and other things that don't line up. Those of us in the community affected haven gotten together to compare and talk through our feelings toward it all and there is a consensus.

It fucking sucks.

Just the fact that this needs to be brought up absolutely sucks. It detracts from the credibility of other indigenous creators in the space. Not all press is good press, and Natalie right now, is bad press. Beyond myself and the others being lied to. Beyond the personal offense I take to that. This is what bothers me the most. For all the posturing and all the 'talking in wrong and confusing ways' it makes us all look bad. And for what?

The other personal and religious or spiritual beliefs she believes doesn't mean anything to me. The other racism claims about her I can't confirm, whatever. Talking shit about a beloved creator, real or not. Doesn't matter.

What matters is there is damage done to the indigenous community here on the rpc, and before we came together to discuss it, it was distressing to all of us. There is no such thing as clout on tumblr and I don't know why people can't seem to get that through their heads? What need is there to claim to be something you're not, even through insinuations, half truths and vague details? I don't understand.

Yes, the indigenous community is so willing to accept anyone with any indigenous blood, and it's the fact that this is what was taken advantage of by someone... that really gets me. That's what really makes it sting. It's a blow to every white passing Native out there, in my opinion. That's where my hurt is. It's the fact that there is question of the validity of the claims toward a shared familial and generational trauma to myself. That still impacts my father's side of the family to this day.

I don't even know where I'm going with all this, and I feel like I'm typing myself in circles, but it's all to say that I don't care about all the other stuff that serves to muddy the waters of the real issue. Race baiting does nothing but end up hurting those who's real life experiences you're roleplaying.

[lovedbath]

FORNICATION

TW: noncon, kinda historical setting, gojo is a BAD man, misogyny, breeding, he chases you, yandere

WC: 3k

Gojo x Reader

As the young girl's voice echoed through the air, a burst of joy illuminated your face, forming a dazzling smile. With your hands still preoccupied, delicately lifting your skirts to avoid the dampness, you pivoted on your heels. The frigid water beneath your feet sent a shiver racing up your spine, causing you to tremble from the icy chill.

In the midst of the freezing pond, you and your childhood companion embarked on a quest to retrieve the black bracelet she had carelessly dropped. It was a sizable, inexpensive trinket she had sneakily borrowed from her mother without consent.

As your friend fell silent, a sense of curiosity washed over you, prompting you to cast a questioning glance in her direction. She subtly nodded towards the dense thicket nearby, urging you to follow her gaze.

Your heart raced as you spotted a man standing not too far away, propped against a tree. A mischievous grin adorned his face, widening as your gaze met his. His lengthy, white locks flowed over his shoulders, shimmering in the sunlight.

His eyes gleamed with an irresistible charm as he observed you intently.

In an instant, you noticed that your skirt had ridden up to your waist, exposing your undergarments, now see-through from the water. The man's eyes trailed down your bare skin, slowly making their way to your panties. He smirked and locked gazes with you.

A mixture of shame and anger washed over you, prompting you to quickly adjust your skirt and restore your appearance.

In the distance, a soft chuckle reached your ears, causing you to glance at the man, who appeared carefree.

Your friend's voice interrupted your thoughts as she spoke, causing you to turn towards her while attempting to maintain a composed expression.

"I'm just telling you what I saw," she stated matter-of-factly.

"It's a man," you whispered.

"Yes, I know him. Let's just go. We don't want to engage with him, alright?" she spoke in a hushed tone, leaving you puzzled.

She pulled at your arm, urging you to exit the water.

"Come on," she pleaded. But just as you were about to move, the sound of footsteps drew near.

Now, a man approached you with a slow, lethargic pace, lacking any sense of urgency.

"I heard there was a new, stunning girl in town, but I had my doubts," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets with a mischievous grin.

Your cheeks burned as you looked up at him, revealing that you had been living in that house for the past two months, making his lack of awareness surprising.

"I'm Gojo," he introduced himself, his voice filled with unintentional excitement. His grin widened, displaying his bright white teeth.

"So, what were you ladies doing?" he inquired in a gentle tone.

"Um...well...we were," you motioned towards your friend, "fishing." Trying to navigate through the water.

He glanced at your flushed face and asked, "Fishing, huh?" with a hint of amusement. "What were you using as bait?"

When you failed to respond, he made his way towards the pond to offer his assistance.

Without hesitation, your friend reached out and firmly grasped the man's hand, guiding her onto the grassy bank. Gojo turned his attention back to you, gripping your hand tightly as he helped you out of the water.

His eyes locked with yours, filled with a meaningful intensity that refused to let go.

"You're soaked," he whispered in a hushed tone.

You attempted to moisten your dry lips, but the closeness of his presence and the warmth of his breath left you feeling flustered and unable to speak.

As he shifted his gaze from you to your friend, who was busy putting on her boots, his focus returned to you. Your heart raced even faster, causing your hands to tremble slightly.

His eyes lingered on you as your friend disappeared from view. He couldn't help but notice how your collar concealed your neck, while your partially unbuttoned wet tunic revealed a hint of your chest.

As he was on the verge of speaking, your friend abruptly cut in. Your friend cleared her throat, drawing your focus to her disinterested gaze. In a rush, she mentioned that her mother was likely looking for you and she didn't want to face her wrath.

With little enthusiasm, she adjusted her skirts and put on her boots. "Let's go," she urged you to follow her. Walking quickly, her steps were unsteady and hurried. Fear had made her forget to bid the man goodbye.

In her hurry, she also forgot her promise not to leave you alone with Gojo, the man emanating a sense of malevolence.

Once she vanished from sight, he turned his attention to you, eagerly waiting for you to put on your boots. Watching you with delight as you got ready, he swiftly wrapped his arm around your waist and drew you closer to him. The surprise in your eyes was evident.

"Would you like to take a walk?" he inquired, his gaze locked with yours.

"I'm not entirely sure if we've met before, sir. I'm hesitant to agree," you responded cautiously.

He smirked and nodded, recognizing that despite your youth, you were not naive.

"You're right, and please, call me by my name," he said, the sunlight glinting in his eyes, leaving you to ponder why such a handsome man was interacting with you.

"Well, now we have met. I don't want to pressure you, but I assure you, I'm not a bad person. My only intention is to get to know a beautiful girl like you better."

You nodded, and before you knew it, he led you deeper into the captivating forest.

Running, as if your very existence depended on it. All your focus was directed towards the act of running, as you sprinted past an endless sea of trees. Your chest burned with the desperate need for air, yet the haunting voice trailing behind you served as a constant reminder of why you were pushing yourself to the limit.

"Do you honestly think you can escape?" The voice whispered, its tone filled with a sinister delight, as it followed closely behind.

You were well aware that he was savoring your fear, relishing in the knowledge that he could catch you at any moment. But still, you ran. Your legs screamed with exhaustion, tears streamed down your face, leaving a trail of anguish, while your lungs fought for each precious breath.

The wind howled, causing the bushes to rustle and the trees to tremble, creating an unsettling buzz in the air. It was a symphony of unease that surrounded you.

Suddenly, the forest fell silent. A suffocating sense of dread washed over you, as you frantically scanned your surroundings, searching for any sign of him.

Before you could even let out a scream, you found yourself being forcefully dragged through the undergrowth. Your legs flailed in a desperate attempt to break free, but the man snarled, his grip tightening as he yanked on your hair, pulling you closer to him.

A whimper escaped your lips, his hold on your thigh growing tighter as he forced you down onto your knees.

"I thought you were just a naive little thing, but it seems you're quite the wildcat," he whispered softly into your ear.

His hand trailed up your thigh, leaving a trail of heat and goosebumps in its wake. His breath was hot against your skin, his long hair tickling your neck. You froze, feeling his body pressing against yours.

"Will you continue to resist?" he murmured, his voice husky and filled with a dangerous warmth.

His breath sent shivers down your spine, causing the hairs on your arms to stand on end. You felt like prey, vulnerable and exposed to the predator that held you captive.

Releasing his grip on your hair, he caressed your neck, his hold tightening as a warning. Paralyzed by fear and anger, you couldn't move or even breathe.

You were unable to express your frustration, tears of anger welling up in your eyes.

“My friend knows I'm with you and her mother will come looking for me.” you said, trying to sound brave.

"I couldn't care less," he nonchalantly replied, taking a firm stance between your legs.

As he leaned against you, he firmly held your shoulders down. Despite your determined resistance, fear and anxiety overwhelmed your thoughts, yet you remained steadfast. As you tried to push him away, he let out a weary sigh and effortlessly readjusted himself, his hands finding your dress to hike it up and to tear your panties.

“Did you honestly believe I was unaware of your stay at your ugly friend's place? I bided my time, patiently waiting for the ideal opportunity to catch you. And now, here you are. You are quite foolish, wouldn't you say?”

He chuckled softly as he reached down to unbuckle his belt, the sound the only interruptance of the silence of the forest. His hand firmly gripped your back, his nails digging into your skin to keep you in place. 

As his pants fell to the forest floor, his cock sprung out, already slick with anticipation. He teased it against your untouched cunt, relishing in your reaction, he didn't take his time, instead he pushed his weight onto you and entered forcefully.

A stifled moan escaped your lips as you realized the vulnerable position you had put yourself in. It was too late to retreat now, and he took full advantage of it. His pace was anything but gentle, causing you immense pain and discomfort. It felt as if he was killing you, his size tearing you apart. Despite briefly pausing to let you adjust, you found yourself gasping for air, your tears mingling with the dirt beneath you.

"You're like a whore," he rasped, his voice dripping with satisfaction, as if reveling in his dominance over you.

You insisted on repeating "No," amidst your sobs, making it difficult to understand. But you continued to say it, as if saying it over and over would somehow make it real.

He chuckled as he pushed in further, feeling your legs start to give up slightly. His lips trailed down to your neck and back, marking you with hickeys and bite marks. Beads of sweat adorned you as he moved with forceful thrusts. The ache intensified, tears mixing with drool as they streamed down your face.

The forest was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and skin slapping together, mingling with the scent of passion. His grip tightened on your hips, fingers leaving imprints on your skin. With a leg propped on his shoulder, he delved deeper inside you. Your back arched, hands covering your mouth as moans of pain escaped.

Between heavy breaths, he commanded, "Look at me while I’m getting you pregnant."

You were taken aback in shock as his words hung in the air. Just as you were about to protest, to refuse, he interrupted you.

“If you say no, I’ll rip your ass apart, and I know you don't want that. So, be a good girl and stay quiet.” he said through gritted teeth.

Your shivering intensified as the cold sweat dripped down your back in the midst of the forest, sending a chill down your spine.

He initiated a grinding motion, causing your clit to rub against his navel, sending trembles through your legs. As he smothered your arousal onto himself, the friction decreased, accompanied by a wet sound.

"Seems like you're enjoying this, I guess you really want a kid," he sneered, his hips grinding against yours.

Your whimpered response caused him to twitch violently inside you. 

“What girls like you need is to stay home, get pregnant, and warm your husband's bed. You need this to live.” he said, his thrusts intensifying, his groans turning into moans, “Yeah, you need me.” 

"Admit I'm right," he demanded, spreading your ass to spank your hole, shaking your entire body.

"No," you gasped, breathless.

He clicked his tongue, his hold on your backside firm, ensuring you stayed right on the edge of his cock. He paused, casually shrugging.

"Oh I get it," he cooed, "you want me to fuck your ass, right?” You vigorously shook your head in denial, which made him shush you like a loving husband, “So, I'm right, you admit you want to be my breeding bitch.”

“Yes!” You cried out, he kept thrusting into you, arranging you as he pleased, all you could do was hear the wet sounds of your pussy as he penetrated you again and again.

He whispered in your ear, his voice filled with a mix of desire and dominance. His movements became more erratic, like a wild animal driven by primal instincts. 

"Yeah fuck... You like that don't you, you little disgusting whore? You like it when I threaten you? I'll get you fucking pregnant.”

With one final thrust, he claimed his victory, sinking his teeth into your skin and marking you as his own as he came into your womb. His cum hot and thick, you could swear it left a slight bulge in your belly. 

Retreating, he beamed like a youngster discovering a bottomless jar of candy, his cock now flaccid, he leaned on you, his warm breath caressing your neck. You took a moment to regain your composure, feeling the fatigue engulf you, before he allowed you to crumple to the ground.

Your legs faltered, succumbing to the intensity of the encounter. As you fought to curl up, reminiscent of being nestled in your mother's womb, a wave of pain surged through every inch of your being.

“Let’s hope it takes, since now that you’re a fornicating slut, nobody else will marry you, let alone look at you.” he stood over you, looking into your soul, “You don't want to disappoint your friend and her poor mother, do you?”

[thelov3lybookworm]

Remember Me? (Part 12)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: heh

thats all i got to say lol

enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Y/n rose her eyebrows at Eris, waiting for him to begin speaking.

Sometime ago, a servant working in the Autumn Court's palace had informed Y/n that Eris was looking for her, and Y/n had rushed to meet him. Now she stood facing him, just like that night a month ago, the gentle evening breeze curling in the air, making the leaves outside the large window rustle softly.

It also didn't go unnoticed by Y/n that this was the same window that she and Eris had stood in front of that night Feyre had arrived in autumn court.

"You know how each year we have a high lord's meeting since the war with Hybern?"

Y/n nodded. It had become common knowledge that to prevent any more disputes between the courts, the High lords had decided to meet every year.

"This year Autumn is supposed to host the meeting, and the meeting is in a week's time."

Y/n blinked. "And?"

He rose a brow. "All the court's officials will be present."

Dread spread through Y/n when she realised. "Is Rhys going to be there too?"

His eyes flared with something like rage before his expression smoothed out. "No, because I have barred him from the court, but some of the members of his inner circle will be present."

Y/n heaved a sigh of relief. "And why are you telling me this?"

"So you can warn Feyre of it. The members are going to question if they find Nyx running around the corridors. Tamlin is also going to be present, and I don't know if you know of their history, but it was a messy situation she left him in."

Y/n nodded. "I'll let her know. Anything else?"

He nodded slowly, his eyes travelling leisurely to her feet and back to her eyes, making her heart start racing when he stepped forward

Only when she could feel his breath on her face did he stop advancing and speak, and Y/n ignored the urge to take a step back.

"One thing. Keep that bastard's name out of your mouth."

Y/n suppressed a shiver, instead lifting her chin and meeting his gaze head on.

"And what if I don't?"

"He will find himself incinerated." He murmured, the embers of a fire beginning to form in his eyes.

"Who do you think you are to tell me whose name to keep out of my mouth?" Y/n had no problem in not speaking her former lover's name, but an opportunity to get Eris riled up was too good to pass up.

There was an inferno raging in his eyes as he pushed the words out with gritted teeth.

"No one."

Though Y/n was disappointed, she wondered why she even expected a different answer.

"I will speak whomever's name I wish, then."

He looked away, his jaw clenched.

A muscle began feathering in his jaw, and Y/n blamed what she did next all on her distracted mind, but she reached up, gently running her fingers on that muscle in his jaw.

He stiffened instantly, and despite wanting to pull back her hand, her mind wouldn't let her.

He turned his head to her again, a different type of fire in his eyes now.

His eyes dropped to her lips, and Y/n held still as he leaned closer.

The air between them changed, becoming charged. Y/n waited with baited breath, not daring to take in necessary air in fear it would prompt him to turn away.

His hot breath washed over her face, and her eyes fluttered closed. Anticipation coursing through her very veins alongside her blood, she waited for that first caress of his lips.

Only it never came.

What did come, though, was the sound of screaming children, and Y/n and Eris barely had any time to jump apart before the kids came into view.

Y/n sighed, caressing the wall, pretending that she hadn't been about to kiss the high lord.

When the pattering feet came closer, she turned, flashing the little kids a dazzling smile as they came to a stop next to her feet.

"Auntie Y/n! Do you want to play with us?" Nyx asked, his eyes glittering.

There was obviously nothing else Y/n had to do, she agreed. Especially with what almost happened occupying her mind, she was sure she would not be able to focus on anything.

"Come, we have a few hours before dinner time, so we can play."

The children grabbed her hands, beginning to drag her away.

Y/n felt eyes on her all the way until she turned a corner and disappeared from his view, which did nothing to cool the warmth on her skin.

Feyre spoke up when she caught up to the Fin and Nyx, who were debating on what to play while Y/n watched.

"How about we play hide and seek?"

Y/n knew Feyre had questions, and so she didn't argue when she decided that Y/n and She would seek the kids.

"Y/n?" Feyre said as soon as the kids were out of earshot.

"Yes?"

"We need to talk."

Y/n sighed, nodding.

•○🌑○•

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

Eris Taglist: @kennedy-brooke@hnyclover@minnieoo@sidrapotter

Remember me Taglist: @holb32 @awoa1 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @luvmoo @we-were-beautiful @eerievixen @zoe2 @fussel9913 @j-pendragonx @thesnugglingduck @jesssicapaniagua @devilsnightz @esposadomd @littleffawn @mandowhatnow @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @princesslolaasworld @asemkta @cat-or-kitten @txzii @bunnyredgirl @theofficialmadman @leeknows-wife @aria-chikage @amygdtjhddzvb @azriels-mate123 @inky-clover @kemillyfreitas @12358 @justdreamstars @cuethedepession @princessvesta @fides25 @nocasdatsgay @acourtofbatboydreams @stained-glass-eyes0708 @glaciuswduo @wallacewillow0773638 @cassie6392 @quackitysdrugdealer @txzii @anuttellaa @coisas-da-dani @hnyclover @sassyslytherinshai @historygeekqueen @why4anne

[animeyanderelover]

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, stalking, overprotective behavior, manipulation, isolation, abduction, death

Tags: @lovley-valentine7 @leveyani @chxxz

Serial Killer s/o

Sebastian Michaelis

🐈‍⬛​Ciel has been called into active duty by the Queen due to a series of incidents that have been going on for a few months now where different murder happened. The victims have all been nobility and all of them were murdered in open space by a shot through the head. A sniper of extraordinary talent must have done all of it, someone who almost rivals Mey-Rin in skills in that from what Sebastian has been able to detect by examining the corpse. All of this must stop at once and Ciel decides to lure the serial killer out as he is within their target group as he challenges them via newspaper. He leaves his mansion, accompanied by Sebastian, in hopes of them taking the bait yet nothing seems to happen. Instead another two victims are killed and Sebastian muses that the killer must have been smart enough to realise that Ciel had something planned, although he doesn't mention it when he sees his young master silently seething, humiliated that he was ignored.

🐈‍⬛​Sebastian himself feels quite indifferent about the whole ordeal. Humans have always killed each other as they are feeble and incompetent creatures. He only is doing his work because of the contract he has with Ciel. His feelings change significantly when one night the sniper decides to target Ciel at night in his own mansion and it is Sebastian's inhuman senses that save Ciel that night as he races through the corridors to stop the bullet from hitting its target. Ciel, despite having just woken up, instantly analyses the situation and orders Sebastian to go after them. A small devilish smile, a polite bow and in the next moment the butler is gone. He is shot a few times but senses soon that the killer has realised that bullets don't work on him and has opted to flee instead. As if that would work. Whether they survive or not is of no concern, especially not for him. At least until he closes in on them and is suddenly surrounded by the sweetest scent he has ever taken in.

🐈‍⬛​The scent throws him out of composure, something you instantly notice as you shoot one more time, this time in his face. In that moment where his senses are overwhelmed, it catches him off-guard as he falls over. You naively assume that you killed him finally as you flee but not even seconds later you are grabbed and pinned to the ground, the same man you just shot in the face looking down at you with glowing eyes and not a single imperfection on his skin. You look at him in disbelief and horror whilst Sebastian takes away the rifle you tightly clutch in your hands, throwing the weapon carelessly away as his eyes never leave yours. He feels shivers going up and down his spine as he feels your racing heartbeat, his body pressing itself closer to you to relish in your warmth and the shape of your own body against his. One of his gloved hands caresses your face, magenta eyes engraving your facial features into every layer of his mind and soul. His mate. You are his mate.

🐈‍⬛​Ciel has made him promise to never lie to him and to obey his every demand yet for the first time Sebastian goes against the contract as he refuses to hand you over to the police. He doesn't expect a human, even if this human is his current master, to understand just how rare and significant a mating bond is to a demon like him. Ciel is quite shocked to see his servant acting like this as he has never been attached to anyone before yet here he is, holding the culprit and pressing them against his body like they are his saving line. You yourself look confused and scared all at the same time as you try to squirm away from the demon's hold. Yet Ciel has no choice ultimately as he has to cover the story up and Sebastian participates as Ciel allows him to do whatever he wants with you. You may be terrified now, kitten, but fear not. Your days of living in poverty and killing to steal and survive are over. You just have to give yourself to him.

William T. Spears

​📒​His work schedule has recently increased by a lot as an arsonist has recently started inflicting terror onto the public of London. Almost a dozen of houses have been burnt with victims either dead or wounded, especially at night. Police security has tightened and whilst the incidents have decreased a bit, they still happen in different areas of the town. It is so much work for him and he silently wishes the culprit to accidentally burn themselves at one point, especially when he sees all the name who will be made victims in the future. Whilst William doesn't see it as his job to catch the arsonist himself, he decides to still take a look and find out who is behind all of this. He searches for one of the next victims who will die and then waits for the culprit to show up. Eventually he catches you sneaking up on the house, a weird device in your hand that you throw into one of the windows, shattering it in the process. There is commotion inside the house before an explosion occurs and in the next moment the house is burning.

​📒​He has never seen this before and decides to follow you as he sees you disappearing into the shadows and streets of the city. You live in a house on the outskirts on the city, a scrapyard not far away from you. So this is where the troublemaker lives. Now that he knows where you live, William just opts on following you from that moment on whenever you go out to commit the next crime. He notices that you often bring with you a small device that he can't identify yet it seems to be the main reason why the house bursts into flames in the first place. He knows that you spend a lot of time rummaging through the scrapyard, probably searching for suitable parts to build this bomb. As much as you give him trouble, a part of the grim reaper is impressed that you can build something like this from garbage. One day when you are out of your house, he can't help his curiosity as he takes a look inside your house. He has never met a person who has such a messy house yet such a clean workspace.

​📒​You are terrified when you return but find the entire house cleaned somehow yet soon you figure out that nothing has been stolen. It has just been cleaned... Believe him, William wasn't anticipating to suddenly play the cleaner for you but he just could not help himself. He just had to tidy up your place because god knows how you manage to survive in there. Maybe, just maybe he was mildly concerned for your wellbeing as you clearly don't care for hygiene or basic order in your daily life unless it involves work. At least you are passionate about your work as you have made detailed plans on the constructions on those bombs. William has made a theory that you are a rejected engineer and scientist who is trying to accomplish the creation no one believed you could finish. Perhaps your low status plays another part yet instead of dejection you seem to be even more determined. A part of him respects it but not only do you risk getting caught but you put your work over your own health often.

​📒​His fears soon turn into reality when you are spotted by the police when lighting up another house. You flee through all the side streets but soon meet a dead end. Behind you, you hear the cops coming closer yet before they arrive, a figure suddenly appears behind you. A man in a neat suit and glasses who swiftly knocks you out. The last thing you recognise is the feeling of being lifted up before your consciousness fades away. That sudden abduction unlocks a completely new life for you. William absolutely forbids you from building a bomb in the house he purchased weeks before he abducted you as he had plans long before you had to be so careless. You may still read books about the topic but you will not create something that will ruin the house. As he knows that you are not the best when it comes to leading a good life besides when it involves work, he also takes over your schedule completely. The house is kept clean, you receive nutritious and healthy food and he makes sure that you get the needed amount of sleep every night.

Ash Landers

​▫️​The Queen has been receiving a lot of news from a new serial killer who has appeared in London yet this one seems to be a strange one. It has been reported that all of the victims have been known for treating spouses and childred badly, for abusing and for being con artists who deceived people of their hard earned money. A true criminal for justice by all accounts yet Ash, who is the one reviewing all of those reports and telling the Queen what to do, still views it all with disgust. There is no single good soul in this city after all and whilst he doesn't care about the scum who died because of the new serial killer, that won't save them from the judgement that he will cast on the city as soon as all of the needed preparations are completed. He has been plotting and planning for so long now, his goal is in sight already. Really, this silly human is just wasting their time. If they are trying to achieve a better world by killing of the other scum, it is for naught. Only a cleansing of the entire city will save it.

​​▫️​Yet through a sheer twist of fate one day you pass him without any knowledge of how lunatic and inhuman he really is. It is nothing special for you as you are trailing someone who is your current target but Ash pauses on the busy streets, his head snapping around as his eyes drill into your form. What a beautiful presence... What a clean aura... He has never felt something like this before. Entranced the angel decides to follow you around as well, enraptured with such a clean and beautiful being as you are. What is someone like you doing between such a vulgar crowd? What if they defile you? Suddenly there is a pressure he is feeling, his eyes nervously darting around as he scans all the people who are around you. None of them could even compare to you so why do you go outside? Your presence can't save those sinners anymore. Oh, how benevolent you are for still gracing them with your presence despite their ignorance of your true greatness. You truly are too precious for this world.

​▫️​Then he sees it though. How you walk up to someone who has an especially rotten presence around them. A smile on your face as you talk with them and Ash feels his hands twitch as you touch them slightly. You shouldn't even breathe the same air as them. With slick words and touches, you manage to seduce them enough to have them follow you as you lure them away from the busy streets. Ash instantly goes after you two as all of his alarm bells go off. You mustn't be left alone in a stained presence such as theirs. They will ruin you. He follows you all the way, his hand already on the grip of his sword to behead them if they do anything to you yet there is no need for that as suddenly you pull out a knife and slit their throat in one swift motion. The body hits the ground as they spend a while choking on their own blood and looking at you in horror before all life leaves their eyes. You mutter a silent prayer as a ray of light hits you as you pray for their soul to eventually be redeemed after paying for their sins.

​▫️​That's when you notice Ash appearing around the corner and you are visibly startled as you lift your knife threateningly. Yet in his eyes you only see awe and admiration as he looks at the dead body and then you. He clasps his hands over his heart as a singsong of praise and worship leaves his lips. How truly kind of you to pray for their forgiveness despite their sins. How thoughtful of you to end their pathetic and miserable life. You truly are a pure and special human. You find yourself disturbed by his words to the point where you don't even attack. Something is terribly off about this guy. He begs you to allow him to protect you, to assist you in your task of ridding this town of all the people who have ruined it. You are helpless in the face of an actual angel, one who is smitten with you to the point of a deadly obsession and offers to kill for you so that you won't have to mingle with those who he deems to not be worthy of your time and presence as you spend your time forever trapped and isolated under his care.

Claude Faustus

🕷️Whilst his master can rest perfectly safe in the mansion, the town surrounding it is living in terror as recently a lot of people have mysteriously disappeared only to be found days later with stitches all over their bodies, their hearts always missing. Not that this concerns Alois much who is aware that no one can do this to him for he has Claude by his side. Claude himself is very much disinterested in all those incidents as he holds a general dislike for the common crowd with no splendid souls to sense anywhere. He plans to finish his contract with Alois to get his hands on the young boy's soul in order to consume it and after that he will vanish. Nothing about this village will be memorable to him as everyone is crude and forgettable. That is just how a demon lives as they are mostly very detached creatures who only cater to their own needs without consideration for those who do not know of their existence. One day he will probably make another contract with another person only to continue the cycle.

🕷️​Then one day it happens though as he is in the town to buy some groceries for the next meal of his young highness. It truly isn't a special day but he can't remember that any day has ever been special ever since he became the butler of the Trancy boy. Yet it is on that day that he picks up a scent that has all of his senses and his head spinning as it invades his mind. Something primal awakes within him as he breathes in as much of the aroma as he can before his golden eyes start darting over all of the people around him as he needs to know the source of this scent. Eventually he locates the person the scent comes from, his eyes glued to your back as his legs start moving on their own accord. It's almost like the aroma has a gravity that pulls him to you and before he knows it, one of his gloved hands reaches out and grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. When you turn around and he sees your startled and confused face, he suddenly snaps out of his trance and swiftlx apologises to you. What just came over him?

🕷️​Unable to forget about you, Claude spends days silently agonising over the distance as he hasn't seen you since that day. He doesn't want his master to find out as he knowd that Alois would throw a fit which is the last thing that he needs right now yet his temper is clearly more agitated. A lot of excuses are used to leave the mansion in hopes that he will find you again but there is no sight of you detected until eventually he decides to leave the mansion at night after Alois has fallen asleep. Hannah is ordered to take care of the boy if he should wake up whilst Claude leaves at night when most people are already asleep. Finally he can use all of his abilities without a time limit and indeed is he now able to track you down after a while. He easily breaks into your house, a prominent smell of blood in the air together with the sound of prayers in an ancient language coming from the basement of the house. It isn't your blood though which is why Claude isn't worried as he follows the stairs down.

🕷️​He finds you in the middle of a ritual you are performing and it is then that he finally realises that you are the person who is responsible for all of the murders that have recently happened. He has seen those rituals before, they are generally used to summon his kind yet it is obvious to him that your soul is much more splended then the soul of the person you are offering. You aren't even aware of the worth of your own soul, are you? In either case, he can't have you summoning another demon who might make a contract with you. The candlelight suddenly vanishes as only darkness surrounds you and your heartbeat increases in fear and excitement. Maybe it has finally worked. Suddenly a hand clasps over your mouth and when you manage to look up, you see glowing eyes within the darkness who look at you with greed and desire. If your wish was to meet a real demon you shouldn't have gone through all of this trouble. You have one right next to you after all who doesn't want any of the sacrifices you have abducted and kiled. You are more than enough.

Hannah Annafellows

🟣​Sometimes humans can be more savage and demonic than what people call her own kind at times. Hannah can confirm that once more when the newspaper starts reporting that a new serial killer has appeared in town who butchers their victims like some do animals. Heads, guts and limbs are found spread in the sewerage or are sometimes delivered directly to the house of neighbours or friends of the victim. Waves of horror and fear take hold of the citizens as the murder has taken nearly a dozen lives already and their kill count only increases as weeks pass by yet the police is unable to catch them. Hannah has only passive feelings about the whole case though as she doesn't have to care about what happens outside of the Trancy mansion. She has sworn loyalty to Alois despite not even having a contract with him and she spends her time fulfilling her tasks for him despite all of the abuse he puts her through. The life of other people are not important to her.

🟣​She meets you in town during your workshift as you sell vegetables and fruits on the market. Hannah is immediately drawn to your soul and when she appears in front of you, you appear to be drawn to her too as her gorgeous looks take your breath away. You appear enraptured with her from the very first moment you meet her and Hannah uses that to her advantage a lot as she gets closer to you. She has pinpointed fairly quickly that her attraction and attachment she feels is because you are her mate as your soul calls out to her all of the time. She starts spending a lot more time with you as she isn't very much the center of attention to Alois who is mostly focused on Claude. Whilst she doesn't abandon the boy and still does her tasks dutifully, as soon as those are done she tells the triplets to take over everything else whilst she is heading out to meet with you again. She feels peace when she is with you yet she knows. You are hiding something.

🟣​A stench of blood seems to surround you even if the scent is very subtle and a shadow is lying over your soul as if theire is guilt that is shackled to your very being. Your lips are sealed though as you only give her a misleading smile whenever she tries subtly to find out what it is that fills you with such guilt. That smile could fool everyone but Hannah isn't a human. There is a secret you keep from her, most likely because your shame is too much for you to tell others about it. Do you not trust her enough? You should be able to give your everything to her without any fear as you may not be aware of it yet but both of you are bound together by fate. Hannah decides to take matters into her own hands after a while of failing to convince you. That is how she catches you in the middle of another crime, an axe in your hand and your body covered in blood as you are in the middle of dismembering another person. You break out in tears when you see her as you didn't want her to know about this.

🟣​It is a sick and perverse impulse that comes spontanously over you at times, a desire to dismember and murder someone. You don't know where it came from but the fascination has been always there even when you were only a child. You shudder to think what you will have to do with Hannah now that she has found out your secret but it never gets that far because you never get the chance to attack her. Instead her demonic powers overwhelm you instantly and the next time you wake up, you are stuck in a dark room, your hands tied up. Hannah still loves you despite finding out that you are the serial killer who has been butchering their victims but she expects some modesty from you. You should at least be able to control your twisted fantasies more instead of being a slave to them and fulfilling them without any self-control. As long as you haven't learned that though, she can't let you roam freely. You may think of her as a monster now but she only has the best in mind for you.

[hcdragonwrites]

A Tiger on the Mountain (a @semisolidmind Fanfic)

Here it is ! Another one. I made up a creature specifically so I could play out a scenario in my head and lead into another fic after this one. This is not a two parter but it leaves it open for a follow up!

TW: Blood and Violence and allusions to torture at the end. (Not of Peaches SHES fine)

“Get out before you become a new rug for me to wipe my feet upon.” Sun Wukong snarled over the table, his staff in his hands. The Nine Tiger Demon took a step backward at the fury. The expedition to this kingdom of monkeys and flowers had been a fools mission. Zari, The Nine Tiger Demon- Lord of the Eastern Waste and Terror of the Snowy Steppes, dipped his head cordially.

“As you wish, my Lord.” The tiger smiled and stepped out of the council room, his great black cape swirling as he exited in a flourish. He had made a jab at the Monkey Kings pride by calling him Lord. He knew that his patience was wearing thin with him. Especially after he had eluded to the weakness of mortal Ally’s.

“It is necessary to procure some of the goods they produce.” Wukong had waved the complaint aside. As if waving a fly. Zari was a lord of a snowy country where resources were few and blood was spilt as common as the snowfall. His kind had been hunted by poachers for their pelts. For the magic quality in their stripped bodies. Bones, blood, tendons, fur, claws… Everything in a tigers body was hunted for medicine, magic and mayhem. To hear that the most feared creature west of his kingdom, the great demonic Monkey King who had challenged Heaven, had made treaties with humans…

Zari had licked his muzzle sensing weakness.

“Why treat when you can take?” The tiger lord had questioned. His attendants beside him fidgeted, their hands straying to the scimitars belted to their sides. A twitch of his tail tip called them off. A tiger was playing with a monkey to see what sort of prey it had between his claws.

“And cause further disharmony around me ? Mortal men are easily placated. It leaves me free to put my resources into more important things.” Here the monkey leaned forward, eyes glowing with the torchlight. “Like seeking new territories in the east.”

The threat was received but Zari didn’t rise to the bait. He was a patient creature. The scars on his stripped hands and body proved how many battles and hunters he had outwitted.

Of course Zari had only come to sieze up the competition in the West. He never had any intentions of swearing allegiance to the ape. To debase himself to an ape? Never. So it only took Wukong a few more verbal jousts to also know the game was at an end. He had dismissed the tiger with a threat. Zari kept his claws velveted. For now.

As he stepped out of the corridor he let the slightest bit of agitation show in his whiskered face. A twitch of a tail brought one of his attendants forward.

“Gather the lower Claw.” Zari whispered. “They need a good hunt.”

“Of course my King.” The lesser demon bowed and raced off, light as a feather in the wind. At least that would humble the foolish ape—

Zari came around the corner and bumped straight into something soft, and pliable. His claws caught it reflexively before the thing fell completely onto his black armor and ruined his perfect complexion. He hissed, about to snap at this new weaker underling of a foolish king when the scent hit the top of his mouth.

Human.

“I’m so sorry!” It was female. The women pulled from the tiger claws. Her eyes remained cast down. Simple peasant clothes. Hair tied up in a messy updo. Flushed cheeks, good proportions. The tigers eyes had been blown wide.

“Are you alright miss?” Zira smoothed the twitching of his whiskers, kept the lashing of his tail to a minimum. But his instincts roared and his mouth pooled. “I did not mean to bump into so harshly.”

A captured peasant girl? A pet of this monkey kings?

“Oh no it was my fault!” The women said. She finally looked up and the tiger demon got a good look at the curve of her throat. The hot pulse just inches from his fangs.

From further down the corridor someone called “PEACHES!” The girl stiffened a bit then smiled sheepishly.

Zira felt as if he was a wolf in the sheep pen.

“I should have been watching where I was going. Carry on!” She bowed and then quickly scuttled off.

“Well well well…”Zira smiled to himself as another monkey ran past and after the fleeing women. He felt his grin widen, the drool threatening to slip. “Look like I have some entertainment myself…”

For Zari, The Nine Tiger Demon- Lord of the Eastern Waste and Terror of the Snowy Steppes, was whispered and feared by mortals across his snowy slice of the world. Legends told of how he would slip in as silent as a ghost. How he would visit families and paint their walls in red crimson and spattered gore. For Zari was a man eater, a enjoyer of mortal flesh. And his favorite prey that he enjoyed devouring most was women.

This conquest just got a bit more interesting.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I Demand compensation.”

The threat would have come off more terrifying from the Monkey King if he had been dressed in his armor. However he was… not. Instead Wukong was at the present moment, begging on Peaches lap beneath a cherry tree. His face was a storm cloud as he lifted Peaches hands up to his head.

“I am afraid you won’t be getting any.” Peaches let her hand fall limply off. The stormy face broke into a beggars crocodile tears.

“PEACHESSSS!”

Macaque would have snickered at his sworn brother begging but he was also not getting any sort of touches from Peaches. He didn’t know why she had decided today of all days to deny both of them.

Why was she withholding scratches from her husbands? Well. For many reasons. For one, one of them startled her awake this morning by swooping her into his arms because he got a little too excited and woke her from her dreams. It also triggered a huge sort of panic because she has had enough of nightmares on being snatched away thank you.

Of course telling the one begging at her knees right now that his over exuberance this morning had been one of the reasons for no pats, would only lead to more exuberance.

A second reason she was including both and not just the one who scooped her ? Well because the day before Macaque thought it would be funny to pop one of his shadows beneath her while she was trying to brush her hair and in the fall the hairbrush - still tucked into her hair- wrenched. It had been painful and she had lost several bits of her own hair in it.

And thirdly? Because these two had, for all intensive purposes of the words, kidnapped her and forced her to live here upon the mountain. Yes she was still bitter about it. No she wouldn’t get over it. At least not today. Too many tricks were tugged and her personal space breached for her to simply let it go. A little bodily autonomy and boundary would be nice. Instead her two lovers would look at her as one would a family cat and go “awwwwwwww!” and scoop her up.

So two very peeved simians sat cross legged staring her down. Wukongs tail was lashing back and forth, his eyes narrowed like a cats. He reached forward and grabbed Peaches hand again. She had learned long ago that giving them the satisfaction of her resistance- how cute! They would say as she practically threw all manner of pellmell closet clutter at them- would only prolong their inevitable smothering of her.

Being impassive was her best weapon.

So she let her hand be limply lifted.

Just as limply it slid off the Monkey Kings head.

“Peaches! Come on!” Wukong groaned. He sounded like a kid begging for sweets. Peaches sniffed. The day was nice at least. She had made her way out of Water Curtain Cave and out onto the mountainside before her attendant could shove and stuff her into royal courtly attire. Not today! Peaches hadn’t wanted to attend court. She hadn’t wanted to be near that council room. Her accidental bump into that demon had been as close as she had gotten. A tiger demon? Now that was something she hadn’t seen yet.

Wukong laid himself over her lap, his face pouting up at her. He looked… adorable. It was almost enough for her to forget about his transgression this morning. It wasn’t enough. She turned her head away.

Only for Macaque to be there. He had somehow snuck up, as was his silent way, and pressed himself to her back. He slipped her into his lap, and Peaches felt a little spark of unease. Macaque was the slower of the two when it came to affection, sneaking it in or trying to tease it from her. Wukong was all action and joyful tugs and play. His was earnest and forward. Macaque was… sly. Teasing. A fox inside the chicken house.

“Sweet peach, come now.” His hands settled around her. His breath tickled the shell of her ear and Peaches fought the blush from rising in her face. Think of rocks and birds. What you will eat tonight. Anything but how his voice and how it feels rumbling against me.

“We just want to have a little comfort.” The dark furred monkey lifted her hand. He entwined his fingers in hers. They were so large. The practically swamped her own. The claws slide along the fingers as he lifted her hand and tugged it into his fur onto his cheek.

“Come on, little plumb.” His smile was as sweet as honey, as soft as downy feathers. If it had been any other day she would have mussed his fur and teased him back. However Macaque made a mistake of touching her hair with a free hand. Reminding Peaches that this little trickster had yanked some of her hair out.

She let her hand remain lax.

“No.”

“Then you leave both of us no choice.”

Macaque leaned back and with a woosh and gasp of air and black- they were back in their room. The pillow pit cushioned their fall, as did Macaque who lay beneath her. Peaches let out an indignant squeak as the demon monkey growled playfully in her ear.

“You have only a few moments before Wukong gets here. Do you want to tell me what’s up?”

“No.” Peaches sniffed. His hand was trailing along her skin, almost walking up her arm.

“Are you mad at him?” Macaque asked.

“Yes”

“Are You mad at me?”

“Yes.”

“Is it … a mad kind of day?”

She didn’t respond.

He tutted and tugged her hands free of where she had shoved them beneath her arms. He placed one against the side of his head, eyes gently closing. He kissed her palm, her wrist, her arm.

“Come on my sweet… just indulge us both..”

“No.”

“Little minx.” The purple eyes flashed along with that sharp toothed smile. Peaches felt her face flush. Macaque leaned in and over her now, his free hand twining in the hair on the back of her neck. The demon was angling her from being the one on top, to sliding her into the pillow pit with the dark haired monkey hovering above. He pulled her up and into him, and Peaches had the startling realization that she was so very very small and he was so very very large all of a sudden.

“What sins do I have to whisper into your ears ? What marks should I leave upon your skin to earn your affection again?” His eyes dipped to her lips. Peaches face felt like it was afire. “Should I sing your praises into your skin with my teeth?”

Oh dear.

And then the moment of tension was broken by a furious orange blur bursting into the room and tackling both of them. Peaches cried out while Macaques face looked deadpan at his sworn brother. The moment of tension, of turning Peaches pink as a lychee fruit, was over.

“MACAQUE! THATS NOT FAIR!” The monkey king was entangled with both of them as he grabbed the other hand and shoved it into his fur. Peaches only held onto them now as they jostled her. “HOW MANY HEADSCRATCHES DID YOU GET?”

“None…” His face was exasperated, his tail twitching at the tip.

“None?” Wukong echoed.

“None!” Macaque slammed his head closer to Wukong. Peaches was perfectly sandwiched between her husbands very bare and very exposed chests as the two brothers bristled at each other. She was loosing her own power of wills because … well. Peaches was only human. She could barely stay mad at one Monkey half dressed. Two half dressed and practically pressed cheek to pec against either side of your face ? It was a marvel her body didn’t burn up on the spot from how much she was blushing.

“Why you shouting at me then?!”

“You spoiled my sport before I could tease some out of her.”

“Oh?” Wukongs eyes shot downward. Peaches looked away, feeling like she got caught watching.

Oh no.

The two demons looked down on her. And Peaches felt like she was in danger. Not a you-will-die-and-be-disemboweled way. More of you-will-be-turned-into-a-second-sun-from-how-much-we-will-tease-you kind of way. They loomed over their mortal wife, ears perked forward and grins becoming sharp and feral.

Another burst through the door however saved Peaches from being turned into a puddle beneath the attentions of her husbands.

“Ugh what is it now?” Macaque sighed.

“My King! We are under attack!”

The two warlords changed from flirting devils to stiff and immovable stones as they stood. Macaques ears swished, forward and back, each set twitching as he confirmed it.

Wukong was across the room, his armor back on his body in a flash. His staff was plucked free from his ear, elongating in a flourish.

“Where?” The Sages voice was a silent rumble.

“Off the south slope- a band of panthers by the look of it.” The sentry’s tail was puffed in fear. Wukong nodded and was off in a flash of fur and fury.

Someone was attacking the mountain? They must be crazy. Insane. Or have a death wish.

Macaque set Peaches firmly in the Pillow pit, eyes somber.

“Love don’t move. Don’t leave this room. Understand ?” His face was pinched in worry bordering on fury. He was trying to maintain his composure for her, to hold back the anger that was threatening to bubble upward. Peaches may think of her boys a lot of way. They were selfish when they wanted her attention. They had taken her away reluctantly from her home. She had been forced to live her for the past decade or so. Her husbands were warlords, murderers and Demons.

They also cared for her a great deal, in a way that no mortal could compare. They clothed her in the finest garb but also gave her the option of comfort. They brought her to the Palace and laid laws down among the fellow demonic ally’s that she was to be respected and treated as an extension of Wukong and Macaques power. They brought her gifts from the outside world when they came back from expeditions, made her foods from the finest ingredients, told her stories of their travels. On nights when the past came back to rear it’s head she could find comfort in one or both of their arms.

And at times like this, she felt thankful that, of all the kidnapping creatures in the world, at least it had been these two.

That didn’t sound like a plus at all.

Macaque was waiting for her response. Peaches shook herself free of the cobwebs, of the past and back into the present. The mountain was under fire. Something was trying to earn the ire of the Monkey King and his People. As a very soft once mortal immortal now, Peaches had no sort of power to defend with or help. She was a liability, at least until she began her own cultivation, on the battlefield. So Peaches nodded.

“Yes.”

It was all Macaque needed. He pressed a kiss to her temple and whispered “Good girl.”

And he was gone, falling into shadow.

“Hellooooo?”

Peaches started awake at the voice. Disoriented she disentangled herself from the soft fur and pillows she had been wedged between. She must have fallen asleep some time in the day. The light coming from the windows was a burnished gold, sunset settling on the

“Someone help! Help me please…”

The voice was disjointed, the sound echoing from beyond the closed doors. It set her skin to crawling. Shouldn’t there be guards ? Shouldn’t there be someone outside the doors?

“HELP. SOMEONE HELP!”

The voice sounded like a baby! The shrill high note cut through the last hesitation Peaches had. She opened the door and rushing out into the corridor.

The echos of her footfalls bounced back to her from the stone walls. The cry came again, a baby monkey hooting in distress. It came from around corridors, downs passageways. Peaches raced forward until she had burst out of the cavern and into the dying light of the sun.

The grass swayed in the breeze. The shadows danced across the field, like stripes on a great tigers back.

She felt a shiver go up her spine. Something was terribly wrong. It felt off - the world felt off. The mountain was usually brimming with life and sound. Birds would be calling even at this late hour when day turns to night. The cicadas would be sonorously screaming their complaints to the night air. However…

Everything was still. Not a insect nor a bird called out. There were no generals or other monkeys present on the mountain. Usually sentries were littered about the fields and slopes. There was no one here at this moment.

That’s wrong. Completely wrong…

A faint gurgle, a dying cry of a baby monkey from somewhere just ahead.

“Where are You?” Peaches called. The child sounded in pain- and the sooner she got them inside the cave, the better. “You have to tell me where you are so I can help you.”

“Typical mortals.” The voice came from behind and peaches whipped around. A tiger demon, a creature of immense size and with terrifying teeth, toward behind her. Zira held the languid look of a cat with a full belly, tail swaying in the grass and claws meticulously being groomed. The blood from those long claws was the fresh scarlet of new blood.

“Your kind always come when lured by another— I was wondering if I should do a human baby or a mortal imitation but, seeing as you’ve been collared and tamed by monkeys, I thought that would be the easiest way to lure you out.” The tiger lord grinned. Peaches saw that he was fully armored. The black leather of his body was painted in dark splotches of red.

He’s … killed people. Who has he killed?? Where’s the baby ??

Peaches stepped cautiously back into the grass, heart racing. The tiger lords eyes grew round.

“Are you trying to run?” His voice was practically a pur as he stood straighter. “Please do. The chase will be good for me and clear this monstrous smell of ape blood.”

“What do you want?” Peaches needed to stall. To find a way to keep the beast talking. He liked to talk to full the silence. “Why are you here?”

“Those are boring questions dear morsel. Boring indeed. You mortals think all the same- but at least you taste better then your little brains think.” Zira stepped forward and into Peaches bubble- forcing her backward and further away from the cave. “Why am I Here ? Well to play. It’s been so long since I’ve had a chance to play with another demons pet.”

Another slow pace forward. Another hasty retreat from Peaches.

“I can understand. I play rough. It’s hard when you all … scream at the slightest break of bone. At the sudden loss of limb…” the tiger lords body seemed to grow, a secondary face appearing from its left cheek. The new muzzle opened and in horror peaches heard people crying, of mortal women begging for their children. The voices of men pleaded for wives and sons and daughters. Anguished cries, cries of pain. Voices from the past.

Dead voices.

“They never last long.” The tiger smirked, that new face along his left side turning upward as well.

“So when I came to see this terrifying demon lord who has challenged heaven I expected him to have a show of strength. What I didn’t expect was a pet like you.” Those eyes flashed.

“Why? Wukong is the strongest Why—“

“Why did I not expect you?” Zira snorted. “Because demons forget themselves when they stop consuming lesser beasts and start befriending them.”

Peaches looked about her. She wouldn’t be able to make a dash back to the caves. This tiger was driving her further and further from safety. She had been a fool to try and help, a damned fool. The next best thing she could do was to try and stay alive long enough. Long enough for her to call out. Wukong or Macaque would hear her. She had no doubt on that. There was also the willow tree just ten feet behind her. If she could get to it and climb she may be able to stall out this demon.

“Now dear. How would you like to die?” The tiger was closer now as Peaches kept stepping back. She was almost back pedaling, trying to stay out of the range of those claws. Of those red teeth. “I could kill you by fang or claw. Or maybe a sword would be better. But then… where’s the fun in it for me if you die so quickly ?”

Peaches spun on her heel and ran.

“HELP!” Her lungs filled with more air, to shout to the Heavens above. The grasses bent beneath her flight. She had almost made it to the tree, almost got enough air to scream again when something slammed into her shoulder. Bright hot pain bloomed and she fell to the dirt. Her hands reached up and came away with sticky blood.

“Calling for help is useless.” Zira licked the fresh blood clean from his claws, enjoying the taste of terror on his tongue. “My men have them busy against the farthest side of the mountain.”

Peaches rolled, to get up to get away she did not know. Her movement was stopped by a booted heel to her shoulder. The new pain elicited a scream to peak from her lips. It rang eerily off the mountain that was so still. So awfully still.

“The pain will only be temporary.” Zira knelt. The tiger reached down with his clawed hands. He cupped her face as she fought him. He smiled and opened his jaws wide to close over her throat.

The suns last dying ray cast a shadow as black as night over the grassy floor. It pooled beneath the mortal women and then, with a slip and tug, Ziras prey was swallowed by the black. The tiger snarled claws raking the soil in a vain attempt to dig her back out.

“So it was you.”

Zira turned.

There, leaning against his staff was the Monkey King. His clawed hands and golden armor were covered in black blood. Zira felt a worm of unease creep into his calm and cocky smile. Those warriors had been the best of his Claw- the best in the Snowy Steppes. There was no way they had failed—

“Ah King Wukong!” The tiger Lord began. If he could stall him out, lead him into a false sense of security, then that would be better. It would buy him time to get closer, to steal into range and pounce. “So nice to see you agai—-“

The tiger lord didn’t even see the moment. On second the orange monkey was standing before him and the next he felt a blooming pain cut along his secondary face. He roared in confusion as the sight from those eyes was lost in a shower of blood. The tiger had no time to reorient himself however. The neck blow was to one of his hands. Sun Wukong clasped one in hand and with a terrible crunch, shattered all the bones within.

Panic came traipsing up the tigers spine. This was not good. The monkey was moving incredibly fast - too fast- for him to counter. He reached for his Scimitar- the blade of Nine Tigers- to end the fight. This blade could cut mountain in half- it could cleave souls from bodies and leave the flesh whole.

“You come to my mountain…”

The staff slammed into the side of his head, casting several of the tigers teeth from his jaws. He was unbalanced but determined. He just had to grab his sword —

“You attack my home…”

Another blow to his middle sent him slamming into the willow tree. The force of it snapped the bark and collapsed the Willow behind him. Zira felt stars float in his vision, tasted his own blood. He had a hand on his sword now though. He drew the blade, cutting it across the insolent ape that towered over him. Wukongs soul would be cleaved, his body left behind for the flies to lay eggs in. He would be dead. The blade sliced —

And snapped in half.

“You tried to devour my wife…” Fear is not something a tiger experienced often. It raced over his stripes, twitched his crushed whiskers, and made his eyes widen. That had been his wife ? That common little dustmote ? Zira had miscalculated. A pet was one thing. But a wife —

“You took… a mortal… as a wife? Pa—“ Zira tried for bravado, tried to spit into the monkey lords face. The tiger was desperately clinging to what remained of his pride. He had chased a rabbit into a ravine and found wolves.

Zira opened his jaws to cast his last disrespect. Only for the claws of Wukong to cut along his jaw and crush it closed before he could finish.

“I will break every bone in your body before I let you die. You will wish you were dead before I’m done with you.”

The shadows swallowed Peaches and arms wrapped around her but she was still flailing. She grabbed at fur and skin and battered her fists and nails against it.

“Ow - PEACHES - PEACHES ITS ME!” Macaque voice cut over the adrenaline that floated high and fast in her blood. She blinked at him. They were back in their room, back inside Water Curtain Cave. Peaches hand was still curled in a fist, still raised up to beat along her captors face. Only. This wasn’t the tiger anymore. It was Macaque.

“It’s just me.”

“I’m not dead am I?” What stupid words to say but it was the first thing her numb mind could think on.

“What? No.” Macaques face was a sea of worry lines as he gently turned her shoulder to him. The blood was sopping beneath the cloth of her shirt. He gave it a sniff and murmured in soothing tones. Mostly to himself. “But I’m concerned for your shoulder. Let’s get that looked at alright ?”

Peaches nodded. Macaque used his claws to rip free the ruined cloth of the shirt and gain better access to the claw marks.

“It’s an ugly scratch but nothing deep.” She felt his hands, paper soft press along the skin. She hissed at the fiery pain as damaged nerves and sore skin protested. “Peaches you will have to be brave for me and let me stich it closed ok?”

She nodded. Her mind was still processing the events just moments ago. Of tiger teeth flashing to bite her throat. Of claws cutting her skin. Macaque returned to her and tugged her into him. She didn’t protest. Didn’t stop as he pulled her hand up to his face. She twined her fingers into the fur, needing the grounding almost, if not more, then he did. Macaque made soothing chirps and soft noises as he worked, pulling needle through flesh and closing it up.

It was only after a time, when Peaches own fear began to fall away, that he asked her.

“Why did you leave the room Peaches ?”

“I heard … it sounded like one of the babies Mac.” One of the little monkey babies all alone and crying for help. The haunting sound echoing off the stone and always just out of reach. “One of the littles in pain and hurt. I didn’t think. I just … acted.”

“Mmm.” Another stich pressed into her skin and she flinched. “You know this means you will have to have a day guard now yes?”

“Are you putting more restrictions on me after I almost got devoured ?” It was a bad attempt at humor but Peaches tried anyway. Whenever something happened to her - if it was an imagined insult from a courtier, a threat to her life because she tried something new and it didn’t agree with her- the boys would set new limits, new conditions. Macaque scowled at her and she bit her tongue from adding to the humor.

“Precautions. If I hadn’t heard you—“ His voice chocked at the end. Peaches looked back. Macaques ears were all low, dropping like flower petals. For all their faults, for their transgressions in taking her choices from her, they loved her. Peaches could see that love in Macs eyes as he imagined the possible outcomes that could have happened. She twirled her fingers around s patch of his fur, soothing him and herself with the confirmation that this was the reality now and not those flashing teeth.

“We can’t loose you Love. I — we — we were so afraid.” When Macaque had heard the strangled help in the heat of battle he had stopped. He had felt his heart give a lurch and Wukong had been of like mind. That battle was practically won. Between the two sworn brothers, nothing much could stand in their fury. But hearing Peaches— Peaches who they left back safe in their room, in the palace, calling for help—

“I was too.”

“When I tell you to stay inside - stay inside. Understand?”Anger laced Macaques words as he pinned her with a look.

“Yes.” It wasn’t good enough though. Not for him. It wouldn’t be for Wukong. The next time the mountain was under attack—if there was a next time— Macaque would lock the doors and the windows. He would shudder the room in shadow if he had to. But. A yes for now was the best he would get from her.

“Good. That’s all the chewing out I’ll give you because when Wukong gets here he’s going to have some very harsh words with you.” Peaches shoulders flinched a little.

“He’s mad at me?” There was genuine hurt and dismay in her voice. Wukong and Peaches had the toughest days when it came to their relationship. Some days she could forget he had taken her without her consent from all she knew- had wiped her village clear off the map. Other days she only saw the blood soaked Warlord in all his fury. On those days arguments ensued and the kings mood was ever sour.

“Never mad at You.” Macaque reassured. Wukong never was genuinely upset at their peach. How could he be when he was enamored with her so? Macaque couldn’t even keep his own anger at her negligence of self after todays events. All she had to do was look at him with that puppy dog look and he was wanting to tease and soothe her into smiles and comfort. “Never. Afraid for your life ? Absolutely. He has half a mind to keep you indoors from now on.”

“He said that ?”

“As we were racing to come get you yes.” Macaque finished the stitches with a pull and tug. The cord came free in his claws. He set about binding cotton gauze around the area to protect the stitches. In the morning he would let them breathe.

“But I think if you let him coddle you for a few days and you agree to a guard, he won’t take your outside privileges away.” Macaque teased and gave advice. Wukong could get a bit … territorial when it came to their Peach. He understood how important it was to give some sort of semblance of freedom to her. Peaches was like a flower- she needed light and air to thrive. If Wukong took that away, he wouldn’t like how she would wilt. Even though Macaque himself had half a mind to keep her inside forever. Especially after today.

Peaches head brushed beneath his chin suddenly and the monkey was jarred from his thoughts. She was nodding off, fighting sleep. Macaque gathered her up easily and set her into the bed they shared. He took care to arrange the pillows, to settle her into her most favorite blankets and soft things. It was a distraction from the rage that now was bubbling upward. For though Macaque had the calmest demeanor- he was just as bloody and furious as his brotherly counterpart.

“Go to sleep.” He commanded. Peaches yawned, catching the trailing end of his tail.

“You won’t leave me … will you?”

“I will be right here till Wukong gets back.”

It was hours later when Macaque heard his brother step into their rooms. Wukong had bathed and cleaned himself elsewhere from the smell of the water and floral oils coming off of him. They both knew how Peaches had an aversion to the scent of blood. The monkey king was across the room and hovering over the pillow pit where she slept.

“How is she?” Wukong asked. All the rage had gone from him. Only worry remained. His tiny little wife… he could still see the Tiger hovering above her, his jaws parted wide over her throat to devour. It made Wukong wish to break his muzzle again.

“Worn out. The cuts are superficial at best. I stitched them up.” The sheen of white medical gauze and cotton took over one lovely shoulder of Peaches back. Wukong felt his teeth beginning to grit in a threatening smile.

“Why would she go outside?! Peaches isn’t a fool.”

“And she wasn’t one.” Macaque soothed. He was standing now that Wukong was here, making his way to the door slowly. “She went outside because she heard the bastard imitate a baby cry.”

“A baby?”

“She thought it was one of the babies.” Wukongs heart gave a shudder. Of course she would throw caution to the wind. His Peaches loved the children of the mountain almost as much as he himself did. “Peaches said she went out to look and that’s when he leapt at her.”

Wukong felt a bit of his anger ebb. He was never angry at Peaches. He could never be. But anger around how she acted ? … yes. That was a possibility. Hearing how she didn’t go out until she thought it was a baby- well. He couldn’t fault her for that.

“The sentries are dead.” Wukong had come across their bodies after restraining the tiger demon. Seeing his peoples cut throats and crumpled bodies had not soothed his anger. He hoped the tiger healed quickly enough so he could repay them for each of his peoples lives. “The tiger killed them. He thought he could kill me by swinging his fancy sword. Too bad it snapped on the first try.”

“Did you leave him alive?” Macaque was at the door now, his fists uncurled.

“He’s somewhere beneath us in a wet cave. I broke all the bones in his body. But … I Left the tail for you.”

“Good.” The door opened and his brother was gone.

Wukong stared at Peaches as she slept for a moment. He had almost lost her today. He half wanted to wake her up and shake her and the other half just wanted to keep her tucked away and safe inside the mountain. Wukong would pull promises and such from her tomorrow. In fact, he may have to teach her some basic self defense. She would never be able to stop a full demonic beast. It would ease his mind however - it would sooth him and settle the fur that kept rising along his back- if she at least had an understanding of what tricks and traits demons used to tempt food out of hiding.

Wukong slid into the nest, settling himself so he didn’t jostle her awake. Tomorrow he could sit her down and tell her the new precautions he would have to merit out. A new guard, lessons in defense, maybe even a copy of him nearby or in the shape of some common item… Wukong could gift her a hairpin each morning and do her hair with a copy of himself. A magical copy that would have ears out for any mischief she may wind up falling into.

It would give her the illusion of freedom without telling her I put a spy on her person. That made Wukong feel better. For the next few days however, she wasn’t leaving his side. He didn’t care if she cried out or pouted or started to throw things. They had almost lost her.

Peaches half woke with a start as Wukong adjusted the blankets about her. Her face came upward, staring and trying to see all about.

“Wukong?”

“It’s just me… you can go back to sleep.”

To his astonishment Peaches shifted, settling herself into his chest. Wukong welcomed her tangle, twining has hands into her hair as she tugged on his fur. Her cheek was pressed to his chest where his heart must be hammering beneath. The Monkey king made soothing chirps and soft calls to her, a reassurance of safety and care. Soon enough her fingers relaxed again as she fell into sleep.

He kissed her temple and nose, twirling his fingers through her hair. It was just as soothing for him as it probably was for her.

Wukong was glad the tiger had been able to survive him. He couldn’t wait to gift his pelt to her when he was finished with him.

If Macaque didn’t kill him after all.

[kombuuuu]

White ppl rly shouldn't have been allowed to see miles morales lol if it was a live action and yall were seeing a real afro latino actor ppls reaction would've been way different. Ppl can't handle seeing too many poc in one movie so they put gw*n's white ass in the middle and made her a main character to please ppl like u. They seriously couldn't allow miles, the first black spider man, to have his own damn movie bc of yall mfs. Always working a white mf into the script unnecessarily. Fuck gw*n, she's a traitor ass bitch anyways.

no way this is real

no way

you CENSORED??? GWEN

oh sorry man 😞😞 tw: gwen LMFAOOAOAOAOA

THEY MADE HER??? A MAIN CHARACTER???? BECAUSE SHES??? GWEN STACY???? THE MAIN FEMALE LEAD??? OF EVERY SPIDERMAN???? EXCEPT TOMS 💀⁉️

your hate towards gwen’s ‘traitor’ arc is totally justified, but it’s not because she’s white?? did u watch half the fucking movie??????? she had her reason, you can hate her for them sure, but don’t act like this is a race thing

also ?? he has… a whole movie… like an entire one

idk what shit ur on man, but honestly the whole bait shit is getting tiring, if u come back to my inbox i’m just gonna delete it and move on lol

[sweetsweetjellybean]

**Series Masterlist is available on the Fic Menu pinned to the top of my blog. Please Fix this link shit Tumblr**

TW: Smut-tacular Smut, Angst, Casual Drug Use, NSFW 18+

Beta’d by @superblysubpar AN: See End of Chapter Word Count 21,074

Series Masterlist

“Where are you two headed?” Steve asks, leaning against the kitchen island, raising a coffee mug to his lips. 

“We’re going to look at the car,” you say, beaming proudly. The long hours and careful saving are finally going to pay off. As much as you appreciated both boys driving you around, you can’t wait to be more self-reliant. This is a step in the right direction. Placing your purse on the island, you start going through its contents, making sure you have everything you’ll need. 

“Need any help?” Steve directs the question to you, but Eddie answers instead.

“I’ve got it covered, Harrington,” Eddie states in a flat voice as he pulls out two black travel mugs from the cabinet and moves around Steve to fill them with coffee. 

“Oh, yeah?” Steve turns to face him, crossing his arms over his chest, “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, It’s not a BMW, but there’s a used Pinto over at Kent’s car lot. I think it will be a good size for her, and it’s in her price range,” Eddie adds a little sugar from the bowl on the counter before snapping the lids closed.

“You’re kidding, right?” Steve sets his mug down on the counter and puts his hands on his hips, “You can’t put her in one of those. They aren’t safe.”

“Like I said, I’ve got this covered,” Eddie says, squaring up to him.

“It’s fine, Steve,” you say, trying to lower the temperature.

“It’s not fine,” Steve says, not taking his eyes off Eddie, “Those cars explode when they’re hit from behind. Something about the gas tank.”

“It’s what she can afford. Okay, money bags?” Eddie’s baiting him. Something has been off since the night Steve picked you up at work. Eddie’s been tense, paying closer attention to your comings and goings. 

“Then she can wait a few more weeks until she can get something else. I’ll drive her. She’s not getting in one of those death traps,” Steve fumes, taking a step toward Eddie. 

“I think we have had enough of your taxi services,” Eddie retorts, narrowing his eyes.

Dropping the checkbook you’re holding, you rush around the islands and hook your arm around Eddie’s elbow, “Eddie, come on,” you gently pull him back from Steve, “we’ll figure it out.”

He lets you pull him around the island, where you quickly grab your purse before heading towards the door.

“Don’t go to Kent’s. Go to Martin’s, you’ll get a better deal. They’ll haggle. Look for an Oldsmobile,” Steve calls after you.

“Thanks, Steve,” you say, giving him a look over your shoulder.

When you get in the van, Eddie grips the steering wheel and stares down at the dash. His knuckles turn white, and he shakes his head. 

“He’s just trying to be helpful,” you say quietly.

“Maybe he should go with you,” he turns his head to look at you.

Clicking off your seatbelt, you climb over the console into his lap,” I want you to take me, okay?” you press a few small kisses to his lips before he finally kisses you back. 

“Okay?” you ask again, rubbing his shoulders.

“Okay,” he softly pats your thigh, “you better get buckled in before safety officer squarehead sees you and has an aneurysm.”

Laughing, you kiss him again before returning to your seat. The van’s engine rumbles to life, and Queensryche blasts from the speakers. 

“Where are we going?” you ask as he drives towards town.

“Martin’s,” he sighs, drumming his hand on top of the wheel.

♡♡♡

“So, what do you think?” Eddie asks from the passenger seat. The wind from the open window blows his curls as you zoom down the deserted road surrounded by woods on the edge of town. 

Unable to keep up your poker face, you let the smile take over, “I love it,” you say, admiring the blue velvet interior of the Cutlass. The trees shade the road as you press your foot down on the gas, speeding along under their canopy.

“Easy now, speed racer. You haven’t signed for it yet,” he scolds with a smile playing on his lips. 

The tires crunch over loose asphalt as you pull onto the shoulder and turn the key in the ignition. Pushing up the armrest, you slide across the bench seat and straddle his lap, “I thought you liked to go fast,” you whisper before nipping at his neck. 

His hands slide down your hips until he’s squeezing your ass, “You really like this car,” he chuckles.

“Uh-huh,” you nod as you pull your shirt over your head and lean down to seal your mouth over his. 

“What do you think?” you ask between kisses. 

“I think,” his hands move to your breasts, kneading them over your bra, “that it looks like a little old lady’s car.”

“Hey,” you swat his hands off your chest. 

He laughs before leaning forward and burying his face in your cleavage. Placing your hands on his jaw, you tip his head back, “What do you really think?”

“It’s going to wipe out your savings after you buy insurance, but if you like it, you should get it.”

The leaves rustle softly as a light breeze blows through. A few of his curls flutter around your cheeks as you kiss, tickling your skin. 

“We haven’t checked out the backseat yet,” you say, grinding on his lap.

“We should be thorough,” his fingers glide down your shoulder, taking your bra strap with them. 

“Do our due diligence,” you agree, pulling on the lever that opens the door. Scooting off his lap, you climb out and open the back door. Reaching behind your back, you unclasp your bra before ducking into the backseat, Eddie following right behind you, unbuckling his belt and pulling off his shirt. 

He slips off your bra, balls it up, and tosses it into the front seat before maneuvering you onto your back and climbing over you until he’s cradled between your legs. 

“Roomy,” he says, looking around before closing his mouth over your nipple, laving it with his tongue, and gently biting down. 

“Yes, Eddie,” you moan, rolling your hips, seeking out some friction.

He’s working on your other breast when he stops suddenly, “Where did you go the other night when Steve picked you up from work?” 

His question catches you off guard. “What do you mean?” you ask, your stomach tenses and burns with nerves, “I came home.”

“Two hours after Enzo’s closed,” his face is entirely blank, disguising his feelings.

“I didn’t go anywhere. I got out a little late, and Steve wanted to talk, so he just drove around,” you loathe how easily the lies roll off your tongue. 

“Oh yeah?” his tone is measured and even giving nothing away, “Did he talk about that girl he brought home from the church? She seemed to enjoy herself. I keep meaning to ask him how she was,” he’s testing you, gauging your reaction.

“He didn’t bring her up.”

“No? Well, Steve’s fucked a lot of girls. He probably can’t tell one pussy from another.”

“Steve’s not going to talk to me about his sex life, Eddie,” irritation creeps into your voice.

“Why not? You two are such good friends now,” the sarcasm drips from his voice as he pulls himself off you.

“We better get back,” he opens the door and pushes out of the backseat, “We don’t want anyone thinking we stole their car,” he says, buckling his belt. He opens the front passenger door and reaches in to grab your clothes. He tosses them to you, leaving you to wonder what just happened.

♡♡♡

"Mmmmm," Steve hums, wrapping his arms around your shoulders from behind as you stand at the kitchen sink rinsing some ripe berries in a colander.

"I love being able to do this," he kisses down your temple, and you spin in his arms, abandoning your task. His mouth tastes minty and fresh as you slide your tongue inside. It doesn't feel wrong being with Steve, the same way it doesn't feel wrong being with Eddie. Loving them is as natural as breathing. There hasn't been any sex since the night at Weathertop. He hasn't pushed, content to hold and kiss you. And there has been lots of kissing. His hands are in your hair as he backs you against the counter, kissing you until you both need to come up for air.  

"Good morning," he says, pressing his soft lips to yours a few more times. 

"You're in a good mood this morning," you note the crisp, light blue button-down he has tucked into his jeans, a little more formal than he usually dresses.

"There's a beautiful woman that I'm crazy in love with in my kitchen," his fingers dip under the hem of your shirt, stroking the skin just above your shorts, "And I get to kiss her while she makes fruit salad," he reaches behind you stealing a couple blueberries, popping one in his mouth before offering the other one to you. Your lips close around his fingers as he places the berry on your tongue. The tart juice bursts into your mouth as you bite down.

"She loves you right back," you stretch to kiss him, the blueberry flavor coating your mouths. 

"Are you hungry? Can I make you some breakfast?" you ask, straightening his collar.

"I'm starving, actually, and I would love that if you don't mind," he says, grabbing a few more pieces of fruit. 

"What would you like?" you're thrilled his appetite has returned.

"Umm, how about some scrambled eggs?"

"You got it," happily, you walk to the fridge to retrieve the egg carton.

"I'll put in some toast. Want any?" he asks with his head in the pantry. 

"I already ate," you say, cracking an egg into a bowl. He makes himself a cup of coffee and drinks it leaning against the island watching you cook. Once everything is ready, you join him at the breakfast table.

"Do you need anything else for the party? I can stop when I'm out," he scoops some eggs onto his toast before taking a bite.

"Nope. We have everything," you went shopping yesterday, driving yourself in your new car. The school year was over, and everyone was coming over to hang out by the pool to celebrate. They had let Eddie walk at graduation despite him having to take one makeup class over the summer. Eddie invited Dustin and Nancy's little brother, who is bringing his girlfriend with them. 

"Where are you going looking so handsome?" you ask smiling, leaning your elbow on the table and propping your head in your hand. The collar of his dress shirt is open, and you can see a hint of dark hair at the edge of his white undershirt.

His cheeks tint pink as he finishes chewing, "I hate missing a chance to be alone with you, but I sort of have a job interview," he sets down his fork and turns his body toward you, "I'm meeting with the town manager and the head of the rec department."

"Whoa, that sounds important."

"The town's taking some of the disaster relief funds and building a new community center. A few of the town council members worked with me at the shelter and they asked if I'd be interested in working there," he picks up the hand you have resting on your thigh and fidgets with your fingers, "maybe even running it." 

"That's great, Steve. It sounds like a big opportunity. Is that something you're interested in?" you've seen Steve with Dustin and his other friends, he really cares for them, and they all look to him for guidance. 

"I'd probably have to take a few college classes, and I'll miss working with Robin, but this is the kind of work I can be proud of," he looks into your eyes, "I'd make enough to support a family."

"Is that what you want?" you ask, unsure how to feel. He's hinting about children when you're still trying to get through this without hurting anyone.

"Definitely," he says without any hesitation, "Do you?"

"Yeah, someday."

He squeezes your hand, happiness glowing on his face. He stands and leans over to kiss you, "I'll be back to help as soon as I can," he takes his plate to the sink and picks up his keys from the island. 

"Good luck," you call after him as he leaves the kitchen while you sit at the table, looking out the window, feeling a bit dizzy.

♡♡♡

There couldn’t have been a better day for a pool party. The hot afternoon sun burned away the few clouds leaving the sky clear and blue. The red line on the thermometer hovers in the high eighties. Summer songs playing through the radio float in the air mixing with the sounds of your friends laughing and enjoying the pool. 

The doorbell started ringing about an hour ago, with everyone showing up at roughly the same time. All of you had been relishing the beautiful weather and the company when you decided it was time to bring out the food. With your flip-flops clapping against the kitchen floor, you load up your arms with bowls of chips and fruit salad. 

“I really like your suit,” Steve whispers as he leans toward you, picking up the tray of sandwiches he helped you put together earlier. The bikini you have on is not as modest as what Nancy and Robin are wearing. At first, you considered changing, worried that you looked a little slutty in comparison, but Steve and Eddie seemed to appreciate it, so you decided to just go with it.

“You aren’t looking so bad yourself,” you wink, taking in his board shorts and sun-kissed shoulders dotted with freckles, a few hours of sun already giving him a golden glow. He follows behind you, putting his tray on the table he’d set up near the house, and you’re almost instantly swarmed by hungry teenage boys - not shy about helping themselves.

Steve had returned from his meeting cautiously optimistic. The interview went well, and they will let him know if they plan on hiring him sometime this week. After he’d changed, you watched him from the kitchen window with a smile and heated cheeks as he pulled out more patio furniture for the party, muscles flexing, a little sweat running through the patch of chest hair. Besides adding extra loungers and deck chairs, he set up two bistro tables with green umbrellas at each end of the patio, creating two separate seating areas. And a separate table for food and a makeshift bar for drinks that Eddie was working at right now. 

He also looks good, his hair tied back at the nape of his neck, his chest full of tattoos on full display as he fills a cooler with ice for soda and beer. Your fingers are very familiar with those smooth planes of pale skin and the way to get his muscles to jump under your touch. He finishes making sure cups, and more ice are easily accessible before taking care of the trash. Grabbing a can of spirit, he ambles over to one of the tables and sits down with a sigh wiping away a little sweat.

“Anyone want to light up?” Eddie asks, pulling a joint and a lighter from his half-empty pack of cigarettes. 

“I’m in,” Jonathan waves a hand in the air, walking away from the small table on the other side of the patio, where he was eating with Nancy and Robin. 

“Baby?” Eddie asks, eyeing you where you stand next to Steve, scooping some fruit into a paper bowl and handing it to Jane, who seems a little shy around you, but accepts it gratefully.

“Coming,” you call, handing Steve the spoon to finish serving alone, “What do you say, Robin?”

“Me?” Robin points to herself, surprised by your invitation.

“Yeah, I need a partner in crime,” you say, waving her over. Robin has been very kind, considering the sticky situation she’s gotten mixed up in, and you’ve really taken a shine to her. It was nice feeling like they weren’t just Eddie’s friends but yours as well. 

“She can’t even be around a cigarette without passing out,” Steve teases as he fills his plate with food. 

“This is better. All natural. Come on over, Buckley. I’ll teach you,” Eddie encourages, shooting a look at Steve.

“Okay, fine,” Robin acquiesces, getting up from her seat and carrying her plate to one of the trash cans. 

“I’m not taking care of you if you don’t like it,” Steve warns as he passes her on his way to sit with Nancy.

“Yes, you will,” she says over her shoulder.

“Yeah, I will,” Steve laughs, taking a seat in her vacant chair and tucking into one of the sandwiches.

Cool water lands on your warm legs when Dustin splashes as you walk along the edge of the pool to the table where Eddie is sitting, “I thought you are supposed to be a good influence,” he scolds.

“Who told you that?” you laugh. 

Kicking off your flip-flops, you let Eddie pull you into his lap, leaving the free seat for Robin. It’s nice to have your arm around his shoulder, his hand resting on your thigh. The distance between you has been growing. Mike tries to look inconspicuous as he meanders behind Robin, leaving Jane to join Dustin in the pool.

“I don’t think so, Mike,” Nancy says from her spot in the shade.

“Come on, Nance. You’re not mom,” Mike says, not even bothering to turn around to her as he speaks.

“Hey Eddie,” Nancy says, her voice sounding sinister, “do you remember what I keep in the shoebox in my closet?”

“Why, yes I do, lady Wheeler,” Eddie says sweetly, “Sorry, Mike. Maybe another time,” he waves the younger boy away. Nancy sips her drink with a satisfied smile. 

“What’s she have in there, dude? Your balls?” Mike asks, clearly annoyed with Eddie siding with his sister.

“Your sister scares the shit out of me,” Eddie admits, “She could hide a body and never get caught.” 

Jonathan chuckles at the assessment of his girlfriend while he sips his drink, “She definitely could.”

“Did you eat?” you ask Eddie as Robin settles herself in the seat beside you.

“I will after this,” he says, squeezing your hip, “You did a nice job getting everything ready.” Robin and Jonathan both shake their heads and murmur their agreement. 

“Thanks,” you say, planting your lips on the apple of his cheek and appreciating his sweet compliment. His words have had a sharp edge since the day you purchased the car, and it’s been even colder in bed. 

“Are you ready for this, Buckley?” Eddie smiles at her as he lights the joint and inhales, holding the smoke in before exhaling. He hands you the joint and explains the finer details to Robin as you take a long drag before passing it on to Jonathan. As you hold it in, the smoke swirls in your lungs, letting the effects lull you into calm. 

Robin takes the smoking joint from Jonathan between two fingers and eyes it suspiciously before taking a small puff. She tries to hold in the smoke the way Eddie explained but ends up coughing it out. She hands the joint back to Eddie and continues hacking like a two-pack-a-day smoker. Jumping up, you grab a drink from the cooler, opening it before you set it in front of her and rub a circle on her back. 

“How do you do that without coughing up a lung?” she asks once she’s caught her breath and chugged down the drink. 

“It’s your first time. You’ll get used to it,” Eddie assures her as he passes the joint along, “You’re going to make it, right Buckley?”

“Nope. I’m done,” she says, getting up, “Let’s just get plastered next time,” she pats your shoulder.

“You got it. Sorry, Robin,” you say sheepishly. She waves you off and joins the others in the pool. 

Taking her seat, you place your legs in Eddie’s lap. His elegant fingers wrap around your knee, occasionally smoothing their way up the length of your thigh as the three of you finish off the joint. Eddie and Jonathan are having an in-depth discussion on the quality of weed available in Hawkins compared to the west coast, but you tune them out, instead watching the younger kids’ antics. Mike is standing on the end of the diving board announcing the overly complicated dive he’s about to attempt, but then belly-flops into the water, splashing Jane as she bursts into giggles. 

“I’m going to get some food,” Eddie says, gently nudging off your legs before standing. He leans down to brush your lips and surprises you by sliding his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. Jonathan gets up and wanders back to Nancy, possibly feeling awkward witnessing the intimate moment.

Deciding not to stay at the table alone, you walk over to one of the loungers and stretch out, closing your eyes, letting the sun heat your skin, and the fuzzy edges of your brain push away any lingering worries as you enjoy the peaceful high. Someone takes the lounger beside you, and you don’t have to open your eyes to know it’s Steve. 

“Stop,” your lips spread into a grin as you feel his eyes moving over your body.

“What?” his playful voice confirming your suspensions.

“You know what,” opening one eye, you peek at him in time to watch him push his sunglasses up his nose and stretch out his arms, muscles contracting as he locks them behind his head before he turns his face towards the sky, savoring the afternoon sun. The two of you don’t talk, pleased to just be near one another, listening to your friends’ conversations going on around you. 

Nancy has been telling Robin about her college plans at Emerson and how she hopes Robin will come to visit when Mike and Eddie casually approach them. Mike tries pushing Nancy into the pool, but it ends up with both of them falling over the edge. Eddie simply picks up Robin and tosses her in before yelling a word of warning and cannonballing in after her. The pair have settled into a friendship akin to siblings, and you can’t help laughing watching them interact. 

Steve turns his smiling face toward you after chuckling over their silliness. This is truly one of those times you wish you could freeze things as they are. The important people in your life gathered close on a summer day. His eyes hold yours, and you know what he’s thinking, this is the kind of life you could have together. Closing your eyes, you lean back and let your mind work on the answers. A few drops of water land on your stomach.

“Come in the water with me, baby,” Eddie calls from the pool. 

Sitting up, you pull your knees up to your chest, “I’m not hot enough yet,” you watch him push his wet bangs off his face.

“You look plenty hot to me,” he wiggles his eyebrows, both his arms rest on the pavers that line the edge of the pool in front of your lounger.

Steve doesn’t move or turn his head, but you almost hear his thoughts asking you to stay with him, to choose him, while Eddie asks you to do the same. Stress returns, killing your high. 

Pulling the scrunchie off your wrist, you tie up your hair before getting up to join Eddie in the pool. For the first time, you question whether your decision is based on your guilt for lying to him or because you want to be with him. You’re always hurting one of them, and you hate yourself for it. 

Eddie takes your hand and pulls you through the water until your body is against his, and he can wrap his arms around you. Steve gets up and strides into the house, closing the slider with more force than usual. Eddie kisses you softly, and you smile, but you can’t help looking at the glass door that Steve just walked through.

Jane and Mike take up the loungers you and Steve had vacated while everyone else cools off in the water. Jonathan and Nancy are sharing a donut-shaped float kicking their feet gently to propel themselves around the pool, and Robin is trying to catch Dustin off guard, so she can dunk him. 

“They make a cute couple,” you comment to Eddie as you watch Mike and Jane talking. He takes her hand and holds it across the space between their seats.

“You think?” Eddie follows your gaze considering your statement. There was something different about Jane that you found interesting. When you first met her, you mentioned it to Eddie, and he chalked it up to her being Hopper’s daughter, but you’re certain that’s not it. 

“I’m going to go inside for a minute,” you say, untangling yourself from him, “I need the ladies.”

“You better go then. We don’t want any P in this ool,” he smacks your butt as you lift yourself out of the water. 

“You’re so cheesy,” you laugh, grabbing a towel to dry off. 

“You love it,” he says, turning back to the others, “Mike come here so I can drown you.”

Walking inside barefoot with a towel around your waist, you try not to drip water all over the floor as you look for Steve. He is in one of the downstairs bathrooms leaning against the vanity, looking at his reflection in the mirror. Your arms move around his waist from behind, and you place small kisses on his spine. 

“I’m alright,” he says, covering one of your hands with his, “I just need…I don’t know what I need,” he turns in your arms and brushes your cheek, “Do you?”

You’re aware of what he’s asking, and you wish you could say what he wants to hear, “No,” you say gently, shaking your head. 

“That’s okay,” he kisses your forehead, “You’re worth the wait.”

But as the guilt eats away at you like rust on metal, you’re starting to doubt if you’re worth it for either of them, “You’re catching some sun,” your hand runs down his chest, “Don’t let yourself burn, okay? I have to get back.”

A quick kiss ends your conversation, and you hurry back outside before you’re missed. Moving to the edge of the pool, you sit down on the pavers. Eddie comes to help you slip into the water. He wraps your legs around his waist, steers you down to the pool’s unoccupied end, and crowds you against the side.

“I’ve been wanting to get you alone all afternoon,” he licks away a drop of water clinging to your neck.

“Well, we aren’t exactly alone,” your hands move to his chest, trying to keep some space between you.

“Alone enough,” he argues, gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“You haven’t wanted me in days, and now that we’re in front of your friends, you can’t get enough?” you don’t bother hiding the irritation in your voice.

“You know how I get when I smoke,” his mouth presses against yours, “I’ve missed you,” his fingers move to your bottoms, tracing the edge down your thigh, in between your legs where he hooks a finger underneath, brushing it against your pussy. 

“Don’t,” you say firmly, and his fingers retreat immediately. He holds his hands up in surrender and sulks down to the other end of the pool. Placing your hands flat on the edge of the pool, you boost yourself up to sit on the edge letting your feet dangle in the water. The woosh of the slider being opened has you turning your head to watch Steve come back outside wearing a t-shirt. The chair from one of the tables scrapes against the pavers as he drags it closer to the pool just behind you, where he sits, rejoining the group. 

“Had enough sun?” Robin asks him as she pushes Dustin’s head below the water.

“Yeah,” Steve says, disinterested, “If you drown him, you can explain it to his mother.”

“Fine,” Robin groans as she lets Dustin up, and he sputters and immediately tries to return the favor.

“I can’t believe we’re finally done with high school,” Nancy says suddenly like she just realized it. 

“That’s right. So long, Hawkins High!” Robin yells as she tries hiding from Dustin behind Eddie. 

“I can’t believe I have to go to summer school,” Eddie raises his hands in a strangling motion. 

“What for?” Nancy asks, trailing her hands through the water. 

“Home Fucking Ec,” Eddie groans slinging an arm around Robin so Dustin will leave her alone. If Eddie himself hadn’t been enough to deter Dustin away from Robin, his announcement alone would have provided a distraction. He and Mike break out into fits of laughter at Eddie’s expense. 

“How do you fail Home Ec?” Jonathan asks, joining in the laughter.

“I didn’t fail. I missed too many classes,” Eddie explains defensively.

“What are your plans after?” Nancy pushes a laughing Jonathan off the float and into the water. 

“I haven’t really thought about it,” Eddie shrugs.

“You should come work at Family Video,” Robin says excitedly, smacking Eddie’s chest.

“I already got a job, doll,” Eddie reminds her. 

“How about something that won’t get you arrested,” Dustin says, raising an eyebrow.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Eddie shrugs.

Steve shifts in his chair, crossing his legs and shaking his head as a scoff rumbles from his throat.

“Something you want to say, Harrington?” Eddie raises his hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun as he glares at Steve.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Steve answers, returning his look. The conversation comes to an uncomfortable halt as everyone senses the tension.

“So…um...Dustin, did you tell Eddie about the club?” Mike says, trying to move things along.

“No, I didn’t, Mike. And now might not be the best time,” Dustin says through gritted teeth.

“What about the club?” Eddie asks, drawing his eyebrows together.

“That asshole Kenny Carter is trying to convince Principal Higgins to cancel Hellfire so the chess club can use the drama room on Fridays,” Dustin splashes his hands on the water’s surface.

“But we’re not going to let it happen,” Mike says from his place on the lounger.

“I know you won’t,” Eddie places a hand on Dustin’s head, ruffling his curls, “You boys got to be careful. There’s always some dickhead trying to take what’s not theirs,” he casts a look in Steve’s direction.

“Does anyone want anything else to eat?” you shout, jumping to your feet before anything else can be said, “I’m going to start clearing some of this away.”

“I will help,” Jane joins you at the table, gathering the empty dishes.

“Thank you, Jane,” you say, handing her a stack of plates.

“Eddie, when are you playing again?” Robin distracts him, and you make a note to thank her later.

Using your chin to keep the dishes balanced, you nudge open the door and use your foot to slide it the rest of the way, “Just leave everything on the counter. I’ll sort it out later,” you instruct Jane as you dump everything on the kitchen island. Leaning your elbows against the countertop, you hang your head in your hands and let out a sigh. When you raise your head, Jane is watching you thoughtfully.

“Thanks again for your help. It was very kind of you to offer,” you force a small smile.

She turns to go, but just before she enters the sunroom, she looks back at you, “There’s more to life than stupid boys, you know?”

Blinking as you watch her leave through the slider, you think that might be the best advice you’ve ever received.

Everyone is out of the water when you return from inside. Steve and Eddie are at opposite ends of the patio. Ignoring both of them, you join Nancy and Dustin standing by the pool with towels wrapped around their middles.

“When do you leave for Boston?” you ask Nancy, interested in her plans. Boston would be a nice place to visit, especially if you were going to Maine.

“I’m not sure,” Nancy looks behind you towards Jonathan, He and Eddie are wandering over to join the conversation.

“Not sure about what?” Jonathan asks, taking a sip from the bottle of beer he’s holding and putting an arm around her shoulders. 

“When we’re leaving,” Nancy explains as Eddie wraps his arms around you from behind. His wet curls brush against your face as he kisses your cheek, his hands are creeping higher up your body, and you cover them with your hands, stopping them from going any further. 

“I want to wait until my mom and Hopper move into their new house. Make sure she and Will are settled in before we take off,” Jonathan offers. 

“Where is Will today?” you inquire. Jonathan has just opened his mouth to answer when one of Eddie’s hands pushes past yours and lands on your breast. Blood rushes to your face, heating your cheeks. Jonathan and Nancy immediately look uncomfortable. Dustin starts turning his head, looking around the yard. 

“Eddie,” you hiss, batting away his hand, “Stop, okay?”

“What?” he asks innocently. 

Robin tries to step in front of Steve as he approaches from the side, “Jesus, Eddie. Tone it down, dude. You’re embarrassing her,” Steve criticizes, his hands on his hips.

The yard is suddenly quiet, the only noise the soft trickling from the pool filter. 

“I think I’m ready to go. Can you give me a ride, Steve?” Robin places her hand on Steve’s arm.

“Yeah, okay,” with a last look at you, Steve lets Robin tug him toward the house. 

Letting out the breath you’d been holding, you turn back to finish your conversation.

“That’s funny, Steve,” Eddie calls out to Steve’s retreating form. His voice dripping with sarcasm, “You didn’t seem to mind my tone when I was watching you fuck my girlfriend.”

Your mouth drops open, there’s a ringing in your ears, and a few things happen simultaneously. Jonathan starts coughing mid-sip of his beer while Nancy and Dustin’s eyes widen. Steve and Robin stop in their tracks, and Eddie stands there with a self-satisfied look on his face. He’s knocked back a few steps when you ram your shoulder into him as you run into the house, pushing past Steve and Robin.

The muffled sound of raised voice comes from the patio as you race up the stairs, slamming your bedroom door behind you. Sliding out the duffle you had stashed under the bed, you unzip and place it on top of the quilt before making trips back and forth from your dresser, filling it with your clothes. The bedroom door gently swings open, and Eddie enters, closing it behind him.

“What are you doing?” he looks around the room, confused.

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing, Eddie? I’m leaving,” you say, crossing into the bathroom to collect your toiletries. 

“Baby, I know you’re mad-“

“Oh, I’m not mad. I’m furious,” you say, cutting him off as you come back into the room and dump everything on top of your clothes, probably getting gunk all over them, but that’s the least of your problems, “I have never been so embarrassed in my life.”

“It’s not that big a deal. Everyone already knows we have sex,” he crosses his arms over his chest, trying to excuse his actions. 

“Yeah. They probably assumed I had sex with my boyfriend. Not that I let two guys take turns,” you pull on a pair of shorts over your still damp swim bottoms, ”I’m just starting to make friends with these people and now they think...I don’t know what they think. I don’t know what I would think if I was them, but it wouldn’t be good. You humiliated me because I didn’t want you feeling me up in front of Dustin.”

“That’s not what I was trying to do. Don’t worry. No one is going to think anything bad about you baby,” he steps toward you, but you retreat to the other side of the bed. His dismissive tone lets you know you’re not getting through to him.

You scoff, “Are you kidding me? Do you know what will happen if this gets around? You and Steve will get a pat on the back while I get labeled the town whore,” you pull a tee over your head, “Do you think you can imagine what that’s like, Eddie? When people judge you and whisper behind your back?” you try putting it in a way he can understand.

“Yeah, I know what that’s like,” he says softly, looking at his feet, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

“That’s right, Eddie. That’s the problem. You don’t think about me. You’re too busy having some kind of dick-measuring contest with Steve. Your *friend*, who, in case you forgot, is letting you live here for free,” you zip up the duffle and sling it over your shoulder before grabbing your purse and moving toward the door, but Eddie doesn’t budge.

“Move out of the way, Eddie.”

“Just wait,” he holds up his hands in front of him, “I’ll leave for a little while, and we can talk about it when I come back, okay?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m leaving. You need to move now.”

He moves to the side, and you storm past him, slamming the door behind you.

♡♡♡

If you squint your eyes just right, the bumps in the popcorn ceiling take on the shape of George Washington. Resisting the urge to scrape them off, you roll on your side and look down at your sister from the top bunk of the bed you’ve been sleeping in since turning up at your family’s home two days ago. Your mother explained that your bedroom had been converted into a sewing room as she put clean sheets on your sister’s bed. So when you haven’t been at work, you’ve been here, in your sister’s room, surrounded by posters of Corey Haim and Michael J. Fox, searching for meaning in the textured surface. A knock on the door jamb quiets your sister’s ever-moving mouth. 

“Eddie wants to talk to you,” your mother says, leaning against the door jamb.

“I don’t want to talk to him,” you roll onto your back and search for other dead presidents.

“Well, you can tell him that yourself,” your mother says sternly, “Come on, let’s give them some privacy,” she waves your sister out of the room. 

Eddie pokes his head through the doorway, looking around the room like it might be booby-trapped with girl things. Amusement and a long-suffering sigh take their turns on your lips as you climb down the ladder and close the door behind him. His hands tentatively reach for your hips. When you don’t protest, he pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you and presses his mouth to the side of your face.

“Are you still mad?” he asks quietly.

“No,” you say, savoring his warmth. His head dips to kiss you, but you lean away, “but that doesn’t mean I’m coming back.”

“What? Why?” his hands gently grip your biceps, “Don’t you love me anymore?” his brows pull together, and the sadness in his big doe eyes is enough to break your heart.

“That’s never been our problem,” you place your hand over his heart, “I just don’t know what we’re doing anymore?”

“You’ve changed so much,” he points out, looking away from you. 

“That’s right, and I want you to change with me,” you tap his chest, “I’ve been waiting around for you for the last year.”

“I’ve been in school,” he says defensively.

“There’s always something. Some excuse you have to kick the can down the road,” you take hold of his arm when he tries to step away from you, “I want to start my life. I don’t want to spend my twenties waiting for you to get your shit together.”

“What do you want to do that I’m holding you back from?” he asks with a trace of sarcasm.

“I don’t know, but I thought we would be figuring that out together. You don’t think about me when you make your decisions. I’m just there, somewhere in the background. I can’t build my life around you.”

“So, you don’t know what you want, but you know it’s not me, it’s that it?” he scoffs. His face falls when you don’t answer.

“Look, I’m going to go,” he sniffs, his eyes getting glossy, “We can talk again later.”

“Okay,” you wrap your arms around his middle, but he doesn’t hug you back, and when he walks out the door, you let him go.

���♡♡

Three more red x’s have marked the calendar since Eddie’s visit, and you miss him - you miss both of them, but you’re still no closer to a decision. It’s different being in your family home after months away. The rooms seem smaller - more crowded, causing you to feel more like a guest, like you don’t quite belong. There’s a slight smudge to the black text printed in today’s Hawkins post, like the typeset was just a little off at the printers. Your finger smooths down the neat rows of the classifieds, only stopping on the boxes that read ‘apartment for rent’.

Your mother walks into the kitchen carrying a bag of groceries, looking over your shoulder at the newspaper, “There’s a boy in the driveway,” she says like it’s a regular occurrence.

“Who? Eddie?” you question as she puts a milk carton in the fridge.

“No. Not Eddie. The other one with the hair. It’s like these boys today are afraid of the barber,” she muses, but you’re already out the door.

Steve doesn’t move from his spot as he watches you walk down the driveway. Sunglasses hide his eyes as he stands with hands in the pockets of his expensive jeans, a white t-shirt stretched over his chest.

“Do you wanna come in?” you ask, hitching your thumb toward the house.

“I want to talk,” he states with an unreadable expression.

“Then come inside,” you turn and walk back toward the house, looking over your shoulder to make sure he’s following you. 

“Out,” you say to your sister as you and Steve step into her bedroom. With a sigh befitting a pre-teen girl, she peels herself off the floor, taking her magazine with her, and stomps out, slamming the door behind her.

Steve steps around you and pulls out the tiny chair of the vanity. He sits and takes off his glasses. Folding down the arms, he hooks them on the front of his shirt before leaning forward and rubbing his hands together.

“Steve,” you begin but stop when he raises his head. There’s a blue tinge to the skin underneath his eyes. A pang of guilt resounds inside you, knowing you are likely the cause of his lack of sleep. 

“You left me,” he says quietly, “You left me without even saying goodbye.”

Tears prickle behind your eyes, and you’re embarrassed by your selfishness, “I’m so sorry,” you swipe at the first tear spilling over your eyelid, “I couldn’t stay with the way things are between you and Eddie.”

“I know why you did it,” he stands and walks to you, cradling your face in his hands. He uses his thumb to brush away another tear, “It just….hurt.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, looking into his eyes.

“I know, sweetheart,” he tips your head back and presses his warm lips to yours in a succession of light kisses, “I’ve missed you,” he breathes out between kisses, “Come home with me.”

“I can’t,” your fingers grip the fabric of the back of his shirt, “You and Eddie-“

“We worked it out,” his hands smooth down your neck until they’re wrapped around your shoulders.

“How did you do that?” your eyebrows raise in surprise.

“We’re guys,” he shrugs, “We grunted a few times and called it good.”

“And how do I explain going back with you?”

He steps back and puts a hand on his hip while the other pinches the bridge of his nose, “He asked me to come to talk to you.”

“What?” you ask, your mouth dropping open.

“It doesn’t matter, okay?” he pulls you against him, “I want you with me. I want to come home to you.”

“Steve, do you know how messed up that is? You want me to go back to my boyfriend so we can keep cheating?” you pull away from him.

“Then we’ll tell him,” he calmly crosses his arms over his chest. 

“No,” you say, stepping back, ”He doesn’t have anyone or any place to go. I can’t hurt him like that. And I don’t know...I haven’t-“

“He can keep the goddamn house. We’ll find someplace else,” he says heatedly.

“Even if I didn’t have a boyfriend, we can’t live together. We barely knew each other four months ago,” you say, scrubbing your hands over your face wondering if your hesitation stems from practicality or your reluctance to let Eddie go.

“Why not?” he asks, stepping closer, “I know I love you. I’d marry you tomorrow if that’s what you want.”

Inhaling a sharp breath, you feel like the earth has just tilted in its axis, “Whoa,” you press your hand to your forehead, “that’s way too much. This is crazy.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out a defeated sigh, “I don’t mean to pressure you. I want you to understand that I know what I want, and time isn’t going to change that. I want a future with you. I got the job at the community center. I’m ready to start my life and put everything else behind me.”

The same words had come out of your mouth just a few days ago when you were talking to Eddie. This is what you wanted. What’s holding you back?

“You say that, but you’re going to wake up one morning and think of the friends you’ve lost and the people we’ve hurt, and you’ll resent me. You just can’t see it yet.”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” he takes both your hands in his, “I don’t know what to say to convince you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“I wish I could be as sure as you,” your voice breaks, and your eyes fill.

“You aren’t coming home,” he says sadly. When you nod your head, his arms go around you.

“Just tell me you love me,” he says against your temple, ”it will be enough for now.”

“I love you so much,” your tears are leaving spots on his shirt, but you don’t want him to let you go. He kisses you until your eyes are dry, light brushes of his mouth meant to comfort, not demand, but after he’s gone and you press your face into your pillow, and the tears start again.

♡♡♡

“Goodnight,” you call over your shoulder, a week later, to the few remaining people at Enzo’s who are taking their time wiping down tables while enjoying a glass of wine from the bar. A round of “see ya laters” follows you as you push through the heavy front door onto the quiet sidewalk. The temperature dropped after the sun went down, and you wish you’d had the foresight to grab a sweatshirt. Fumbling through your purse and looking for your keys, you don’t immediately notice the gray van parked next to your Cutlass as you enter the employee parking area. 

Eddie is leaning against the dented side panel, and he smiles when your eyes connect. A warmth washes over you as you return his smile. 

“Rough night?” he asks, gesturing to your shirt that’s covered in tomato sauce from your collar to the hem. 

“Yeah,” you say, pulling it away from your body, “I think I might not be cut out to be a waitress at an Italian restaurant.”

“Well, that’s okay,” he says reassuringly, “Sometimes you have to give things a try to figure out they aren’t meant for you.”

Inhaling a deep breath, your lungs fill with the cool night air, and you wonder if his words hold a deeper meaning. 

“Listen,” he shoves his hands into his pockets, “I talked to everyone from the party. No one is going to say anything, I promise.”

“Thank you,” you swallow and give him a smile. 

“I don’t want anyone talking bad about you. Especially because of me,” he says the last part quietly, looking down at his shoes, kicking a few pebbles on the asphalt, “And I want you to know I’ve thought about what you said,” he sniffs and looks around the nearly empty lot, “I’m going to try really hard not to be such a shitty boyfriend. You deserve better.”

“Eddie, you’ve never been a shitty boyfriend,” hot tears are prickling behind your eyes, and you twist the strap of your bag in your hand.

“No. You were right-“

“No. I was too hard on you. You were right, I have changed, and not all of it has been a good thing,” your eyes burn as the tears flow unrestrained, “I’m so sorry.”

“Baby, what are you sorry for?” his voice is cracking, and it’s killing you.

“For all the things I’ve done to hurt you. Can you forgive me?”

“Baby, I love you. There’s nothing to forgive,” his hands twitch at his sides before he places them tentatively on your arms like he might not have permission to touch you.

Your heart aches. The guilt is breaking you. Dropping your purse, you wrap yourself around him, clinging to him as you cry, knowing you don’t deserve forgiveness, or Eddie, or Steve. You’re so very tired of crying, and you want to let him make it all better - let him love you. He squeezes you tightly and lets you sob while rocking you from side to side under the yellowish glow cast by the floodlight that buzzes at the edge of the building.

“I’ve missed you,” you say when you’re able to speak without hiccupping, your face hot and swollen.

“You have?” his surprise sounds genuine.

“Of course I have,” you lean back to look up at his face and wipe your nose on the back of your hand.

“I miss you too,” he uses his fingers to wipe away some of the wetness on your face, “I’ve had a hard time falling asleep without you. I’ve gotten used to your cold feet on my legs.”

Fisting the front of his shirt, you giggle, “Good to know.”

“Can I kiss you?” he asks softly.

Nodding, you stretch on your toes meeting him halfway. His kiss feels like coming home. Every touch and taste are familiar. Warm lips staving off the chill of guilt. His hands move to your jaw, angling your head to deepen the kiss. Light contented sighs escaping through the gaps. 

“Come home with me,” he requests with closed eyes, mouth still moving against yours.

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Come home to stay.”

He pulls you tighter, his kiss becomes demanding, and you can’t refuse - you don’t want to. 

“Okay,” you whisper. 

His lips pull tight as he smiles against you and prints three more kisses on your mouth before finally pulling back. 

“Can we leave your car here? I’ll bring you back tomorrow, and we can pick up your stuff,” he says with all the excitement of a boy on Christmas morning. 

“That sounds good,” you say, just as eager. He bends to pick up your purse and moves to open the van’s passenger door. After helping you in, he runs around to his side. Turning off the tape deck before turning on the engine, he drives you back to Steve’s, holding your hand the entire way.

The van sputters and comes to a stop in Steve’s driveway. Eddie slips off his seatbelt and leans toward you, with a hand on the back of your head, he places a cloud-soft kiss on your lips, and you let yourself sink in. 

“Let’s not bother Steve. I want you all to myself tonight,” he says while stroking your cheek. A tightness constricts around your heart. Some part of him knows he’s missing a piece of you. 

With his warm hand holding yours, he leads you quietly through the dark house until he can close you in your room, shutting out everything and everyone creating a span of existence for just the two of you. And when your mouths meet, you give him everything you have left. 

His grip on you tightens, and he purrs his appreciation when you tilt your head, giving his access to your neck. “Mmmmm, you taste like garlic bread,” he says hotly against your skin. 

Pulling back, you cover your face with your hands while your body shakes with laughter. 

“What?” he says, confused, “I like garlic bread.”

“I think I need a shower,” you step closer and put your hands on his chest.

“Is that right? Did I tell you what happened in Home Ec. today?” he asks, kneading your hips. 

“No,” you make your eyes wide and shake your head. 

“It was terrible. I opened a container of flour, and it got all over me,” he looks away but peeks at you under his lashes to see if his ploy is working.

“That is terrible,” you say feigning sympathy while he nods his head in agreement, “I guess you need a shower too.”

“Do you think there’s enough room in there for two?” his hands glide from your hips to your ass, and his fingers press into your flesh as he pulls you tightly against the hard length trapped in his jeans.

“I think we could make that work,” your arms circle his neck. 

His mouth comes down on yours in a frenzy of hungry kisses as he walks you backward into the bathroom. The air gets thick and heavy when you turn on the faucet in the shower, adjusting the temperature while Eddie takes off his belt and pants. Steam billows around the small room, and your skirt barely hits the floor when Eddie pushes you into the shower with him, both of you still mostly dressed. Passionate kisses mingle with laughter as the hot water plasters your hair to your cheeks and turns your white shirt transparent.

“Everything’s better when you’re with me,” he says, pulling your drenched shirt over your head. Every sweet word feels like a nail pushing through your heart, but you try to push away the guilt, just for tonight. He kneels as he works your wet panties down your legs and buries his face in your center. His warm tongue parts your folds as you tip your head back into the spray.

“Eddie,” moaning, you tangle your fingers in his damp hair, smoothing it back from his face. A tiny yelp bursts from your mouth and echoes against the tiles when his teeth nip your thigh before he kisses his way back up your body. 

“Now that’s much tastier than garlic bread,” he says, making you laugh as he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra, which ends up in a pile in the corner of the shower along with his shirt. 

“Let’s make sure all the flour gets rinsed off,” you say cheekily as you switch places, putting him under the spray. Your fingers grip the hem of his boxers, pushing them down his legs before kicking them into the corner. Leaning forward, you press a kiss to the center of his chest just above his heart and pick up the bar of soap that sits on the recessed shelf. Suds drip down your wrist while you rub the bar soap in your hands, working up a bubbly lather and letting it dribble down his smooth chest to where his hard cock rests proudly against his belly. Tiny drops of water cling to his lashes, his dark eyes watching you as you replace the bar and stroke your slick hands down his chest until one is swirling around his balls and the other pumping his very ready, swollen dick. 

“Fuck, baby… don’t stop,” he backs you both out of the spray and picks up the soap to take his turn, spreading the iridescent foam over your breasts, teasing your nipples into taunt peaks.

“Does it feel good?” you coo, using both hands on him, twisting them with each tug. Already knowing the answer but wanting to hear him say it with the pleasure‐drunk look on his face while he kneads your tits.

“Nothing has ever felt as good as you,” he breathes out before sealing his mouth over yours and backing you against the cool tiles. He pulls your hands off him, intertwining your fingers and holding them to the wall beside your head. He rubs his body against yours while you kiss, skin slicked and sliding, soft bubbles popping between you. He quickly turns, rinsing the front of his body in the steaming water. 

“Put your foot on the ledge,” he encourages, wrapping his hand around your knee to support you, spreading your legs wide.

“Are you ready for me?” he asks, spitting into his hand to lube his cock.

“Mmmm, so ready,” you hum, catching your lip between your teeth. 

Your moans mix like the parts of a song as he pushes all the way in until he bottoms out inside you. 

“I missed you so much. It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve been inside you,” he rasps, his forehead pressed against yours while he gives you a moment to adjust.

“Then let’s make it last,” you drape an arm over his shoulder. He thrusts in a slow rhythm gathering your free hand to press back beside your head, locking your fingers. His kisses match his pace, and he takes his time tasting you while the pleasure blooms from where you’re joined. 

The steam gets thicker, making your lungs feel heavy as you fill them with deep gasps while rolling your hips to meet every stroke. Sweat beads on his skin, rivulets running down his chest disappearing between your bodies. Tension builds in you, his measured pace starts feeling torturous - you need more. The muscles in your arm strain as you try pressing back against the hand holding you to the wall, wanting to break free and pull him into you harder. He slides his fingers down, circling your wrist, using his strength to keep you in place. 

“Do you need something, baby?,” he asks sweetly, dipping his head to lick your neck, “You just have to tell me,” he slows further, and you try bucking your hips, but this position has you pinned.

“I need you to fuck me,” you mewl.

“I am,” he teases, a smirk twisting his lips, “I’m gonna make you come…eventually. That’s what you want, right?” he dots your face with tiny kisses. Your lips chase his, but he pulls back too quickly.

“Eddie,” you shake your head with a frustrated smile, “you’re making me crazy.”

“I’ll do anything you want, my love. Just say it,” he chuckles.

“Fine,” you drop your head back against the tile so you can look into those mischievous eyes, “I want you to fuck me hard with your big cock..pleazzze,” you make your eyes big and stretch out the last word like a petulant child.

“It is big, isn’t it?” he laughs.

Before you can think of a clever response, he pulls out and spins you around, tugging back your hips and driving into you hard.

“Yes,” you cry, pushing back into him, bracing your hands in front of you. The sound of your skin slapping together fills the room as his hips piston forcefully against your ass, punishing your gummy walls, and hitting that spot that makes your eyes roll back. One of his hands glides around your waist and moves lower until his long, calloused fingers are circling your clit, while the other palms your breast catching your nipple between his fingers. Electricity is zapping under your skin everywhere he’s touching you, shooting you up the slope toward your climax.

“Are you going to come, baby? Go ahead, be a good girl and come on my dick.”

His words have you flying over the edge. He holds you up as your legs tremble, and your inner walls pulse around him. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cries, pushing you forward. Freezing water hits the back of your legs and has you both scrambling out laughing. He reaches back in and shuts off the water. 

“Oh, you didn’t get to come?” you tut, sticking out your lower lip, looking at his red, angry dick, “That’s too bad,” you wrap a towel around your body and open the door that leads back into your bedroom.

“Baby? You’re not that mean. Are you?”

You laugh as he chases you into the bedroom.

♡♡♡

Eddie’s arm was tightly around you when you woke the next morning. Placing your hand on top of his, you slide your hand back and forth, gently waking him.

“Hmmm, this is a good dream I’m having,” he says, kissing your neck and snuggling closer. 

“It’s going to be a wet dream if I don’t get to the bathroom,” you say, patting the hand and pressing on your stomach.

“Say no more,” he raises his arm, so you can slide out of bed. 

“I’m going to go get the coffee started,” you say once you’re finished in the bathroom, and he’s passing you on the way to take his turn. 

“I’m right behind you,” he says, closing the door.

Quickly, you dig through the clean laundry basket until you find the light blue tee you are looking for and hurriedly pull it over your head. It slides down to about mid-thigh, covering you enough to walk through the house. The house is quiet as you make your way down the carpeted stairs. Nerves are dancing in your belly, you swallow them down and make your way to the kitchen. Your breath catches when you see Steve standing at the island, hair askew, light stubble coating his jaw. His lips part when he sees you, and his expression is unreadable. Standing in the doorway, you nervously play with the hem of your shirt. 

“You’re back,” he says, leaning both hands on the counter. You nod and look down at your toes, wiggling them on the cold tile. His face falls, “You came back with Eddie.”

Again you nod, and you can hear Eddie coming down the stairs toward you. Your mouth opens to say something, but Steve’s lips pull into a bright smile, “You’re wearing my shirt.”

Dropping the material, you return his smile just as Eddie comes in behind you. 

“Good job, Munson. Finally wised up and brought her home,” Steve says, turning his back to pull three mugs from the cabinet, “Thank Christ, I was getting tired of your burnt cooking.”

“Hey, I thought I did a good job,” Eddie says, moving to the coffee pot and filling the mugs, “You said you liked the way I filled out that frilly apron.”

Steve pulls the creamer from the fridge giving you a wink, while Eddie spoons some sugar into the mugs.

“What do you guys want for breakfast?” you ask, finding your voice. 

“Nuh-uh,” Eddie says, bringing two of the mugs to the table, “you’re not cooking for us your first day back. Come sit down.”

“Okay,” you say with a little uncertainty as you move across the kitchen and sit at the table. 

Steve pulls a loaf of bread from the pantry and hands it to Eddie before taking two bananas from the fruit bowl. He snags his coffee and sets one of the bananas in front of you before taking a seat at the table.

Eddie loads the toaster and dusts his hands off, “What’s next? Oh!” he raises a finger in the air and moves to the pantry, “What kind of cereal, baby? We’re out of fruit loops. There’s Frankenberry or Kix. I think there’s some of that Müselix in the back, but I don’t recommend it,” he says scrunching his face. 

“Umm, Kix, please,” you say, amused. Eddie has made meals for you a time or two before, and you always appreciate it, but he’s never been quite this doting.

“Excellent choice. I’m going with the Frankenberry myself,” he says, going about putting together breakfast.

“Your car’s not in the driveway,” Steve notes, breaking the end off his banana and popping it in his mouth. 

“I left it at Enzo’s,” you break the stem on your piece of fruit. 

“I’m going to take her back later so she can go get her stuff,” Eddie says, setting down your breakfast in front of you and kissing your cheek. 

“Thank you,” you squeeze his hand, and he turns to retrieve his own dish.

An uncomfortable silence falls over the three of you, an occasional slurp of pink milk from Eddie highlighting the quiet. 

“What?” Eddie asks as you watch him use his spoon to separate the marshmallows from the cereal bits, “I like to save the monsters for last.”

Laughing, you slice the rest of your banana and add it to your cereal. 

“Now that’s weird,” Steve says, gesturing to your bowl as he stands and retrieves the peanut butter from the pantry. 

“Everyone puts bananas in their cereal,” you say before taking a bite.

“Umm. No, they don’t,” Eddie says, around a mouth full of cereal, “It’s gross, baby.”

“Is this how it is going to be now? You two teaming up against me?” you tease, sipping your coffee.

“Afraid so,” Steve says, putting some bread down to toast.

“Sorry,” Eddie drinks the rest of his milk from the bowl and wipes his chin on a napkin, “Steve’s my best girl now.”

“Jesus, Eddie,” Steve rolls his eyes, picking up the newspaper from the island and sitting down at the table to wait for his toast.

“We better get going. I have to stop by Ricks after I take you to your car, and then I have a few drops to make,” Eddie says, pushing back from the table and bringing his dishes to the sink, “I’ll be back in a few hours, baby,” he moves back to the table and leans down to give Steve’s cheek a kiss. 

“Get out of here,” Steve says, pushing him away.

Eddie manages to plant one on the top of Steve’s head, “He’s just playing hard to get,” he says, making you giggle around your last bite of toast. 

Eddie snaps his fingers, “Are you going to be around tonight, Harrington?”

“Try and kiss me all you want, but I’m not going to sleep with you, Eddie,” Steve deadpans, not looking up from the newspaper.

“How about a few video rentals then?” Eddie asks. Steve lowers the paper to hear him out.

“I’ll bring home pizza and some weed. We can all get blazed and watch a movie. Give my girl a proper welcome home.”

“I wouldn’t mind getting high,” Steve says, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Sound good to you, baby?” Eddie asks as you load the dishwasher.

“Yeah, sure. I’m game if that’s what you both want,” your stomach fills with dread knowing you can’t keep doing this. The lying, the pretending, the betrayal. Crimes committed for the sake of a love that’s ripping you to shreds. There won’t be enough of you left for either of them. A love that made you too weak to stay away.

“Don’t get Top Gun. I can’t watch that sad shit after smoking,” Eddie’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.

“Fine. But no onions on the pizza this time,” Steve points his finger at Eddie, “I could smell your breath from across the room.”

“Whatever gets me in your pants, Harrington,” Eddie says, winking at him. Soliciting an eye roll from Steve before he goes back to his paper, seemingly disinterested. 

Eddie’s hand on your waist guides you toward the hall, “That’s not my shirt,” his eyebrows draw together, and he looks at you questioningly.

“Oh, it’s not?” you look down and smooth the material on your thighs, “It was in our basket. It must have gotten mixed in.”

“We got to get you some pajamas, baby,” Eddie comments, taking your hand and walking ahead of you. Risking a look over your shoulder, you meet Steve’s gaze as Eddie tows you from the room. 

♡♡♡

After Eddie dropped you off, you drove around town before heading to your house. Now you're sitting on the bottom bunk of your sister’s bed, staring at the packed duffle sitting on the floor.

“Are you sure?” your mother asked when you told her you were moving back to Steve’s, “This is your home. You can stay as long as you like,” she reminded you.

“I’m sure,” you replied, not meeting her eyes, knowing you are far from being sure. It didn’t take you long to pack. Most of your things are still at Steve’s. They’ll be expecting you soon, but you can’t seem to get your feet to carry you from the room, choosing instead to tally up all the things you’ve done. Feeling worse that, given the opportunity, you might not change a thing. You’re hurtling toward disaster, and dragging your feet won’t save anyone.

Eddie’s van is in the driveway when you get to Steve’s house. Their voices carry from the kitchen as you toe off your shoes in the foyer and set your bag on the stairs.

“I was just about to call your mom’s,” Eddie says, coming around the corner and wrapping his arms around you.

“Sorry. I had a few things to take care of,” you feel older and more worn down with each lie.

“I put the pizza in the oven to keep it warm,” he says, kissing your nose, “Are you ready to burn one?”

“I’m going to go change and unpack. I’ll be quick,” you pull away from him and head up the stairs. 

“Okay, but don’t take too long. You know how whiney Steve gets when he’s hungry,” Eddie calls after you.

���Fuck off, Munson,” Steve yells from the kitchen.

Shaking your head, you turn to look at Eddie, 

“See,” he says, pointing toward the kitchen before disappearing around the corner.

Both boys are sitting at one of the bistro tables out on the patio when you join them, wearing a long-sleeved tee and a pair of Eddie’s boxers rolled up around your waist. The sun is just starting to dip below the tree line leaving the air chilled, and the sky streaked with orange and purple. A small sandwich bag of weed is on the table in front of Eddie, along with a lighter and some rolling papers.

“There she is,” Eddie says as you sit in the remaining chair between them.

“Okay,” Eddie slaps his hands together and rubs them back and forth like Mr. Miyagi from The Karate Kid, before opening the baggie, “Rick gave me this shit to sample. It’s a new strain. He said to be careful because it will lay you out. So, take it easy, baby. I don’t want you freaking out,” he sprinkles the weed across the paper before starting to roll it, “You can do what you like, Harrington, but you’ve been warned.”

“I don’t freak out,” you pout, crossing your arms. Eddie’s mouth drops open, and he pauses to give you a skeptical look. So you repeat yourself with more conviction, “I don’t.”

“I’ve got to hear this,” Steve leans forward, resting his clasped hands on the table.

“Well, let’s see,” Eddie licks the edge to seal it, “There was that time you thought your hand was stuck to your forehead, and I had to rip it off.”

Steve throws his head back, laughing.

“That was one time,” you scoff.

“And that time you cried because you were thinking about how one day I’ll be an old man with gray hair,” Eddie says as his long fingers twist the ends of the joint.

“That’s very sad,” Steve says, shoulders shaking as you narrow your eyes at him.

“Oh, and that time you made me sit still for an hour while you drew my portrait, and it was just a stick figure. I should have known when you were giggling the whole time.”

“Hold on,” you slap your hand down on the table, “that was you, not me.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Eddie shakes his head at you.

“I know it was you because the stick figure had enormous boobs,” you accuse.

A smug grin spreads across Eddie’s face, “Okay. Maybe that one was me,” he chuckles, “But I wasn’t the one who was dead set on the stars being tiny people that spy on us when we’re doing it outside.”

Shaking your head, you glare at Eddie. Steve’s elbows are on the table, his head is in his hands, and he can’t stop laughing.

“Are you going to keep running your mouth, or are you going to light that thing?” you ask, trying really hard to hide your smile. 

“Your wish is my command,” Eddie says before sparking his lighter.

The conversation tapers off as you pass the joint around, letting the thick smoke do its work. Eddie was right. The weed is more potent than what you’re used to. After a few times around, you and Steve both decide you’ve had enough and let Eddie finish it off by himself. 

The katydids and crickets have woken up. Their chirping and shrill squeaks are joined by the chants of the Whippoorwill, signaling the end of another long summer day. The familiar head and body buzz creeps in, loosening the tension as you watch the lightning bugs dancing at the edge of the woods. 

“I need to eat,” Steve says, slapping a hand over his flat stomach, his eyes looking glassy.

“Yes!” Eddie raises his arm, pointer finger extended to the sky, “Excellent idea, Steve,” he says, standing up and slipping his lighter and papers back into his pocket, “Ready to eat, baby?” he tugs you from your seat and into his arms, his soft lips start working their way down your temple, “I’m so glad you’re home,” his mouth moves over yours, and you open for him, letting him deepen the kiss. 

The glass slider leading into the sunroom is closed so hard it bounces off the frame, and the noise has you startling in Eddie’s arms. 

“Uh-oh. Princess Harrington is testy. We better go in,” Eddie pecks your forehead.

Something doesn’t smell right when the two of you enter the kitchen. Steve is standing in front of the oven with a charred pizza box in his oven-mitt-covered hand.

“Eddie,” Steve says, “You have to take the pizza out of the box before you put it in the oven or at least not set the temperature to inferno hot.”

“Oops,” Eddie looks at the box sheepishly while scratching the back of his neck.

Covering your mouth with your hand, you try and fail to hold back the giggles bubbling out of you. 

“She’s wasted,” Steve says, tossing the blackened box onto the stovetop.

“You’re one to talk,” you say, squeezing into the space between Steve and the stove, “Your eyes are bright red,” you pull out a pair of tongs from the ceramic utensil holder on the countertop and use them to flip open the box. Steve’s hand goes to your hip as he peers into the box from over your shoulder.

“The pizza looks fine,” you quickly step to the side out of Steve’s reach and open the cupboard to take out some plates and glasses. 

“Thank fuck, I don’t have another ten dollars to spend on pizza,” Eddie says, taking a plate from your hand, “What did you get for movies?” he asks Steve.

“Hoosiers and One Crazy Summer,” Steve says, lifting out a slice from the box. Strings of melted cheese stretch between the slice and the rest of the pizza. Steve drops it on his plate and shakes out his burnt fingers.

“Basketball? Really, Steve?” Eddie asks, using the tongs to load his plate and drop a slice onto yours. 

“Where’s your state pride?” Steve asks, reaching over you for one of the glasses of ice water you just poured and heading toward the living room, “I like basketball.”

“Of course you do,” Eddie says, following behind him.

Shaking your head and grabbing a few napkins from the basket on the island, you take your dinner with you, following the sound of their bickering.

The Harrington living room is arranged in a typical conversation style. An oversized couch with a dark wooden coffee table in front of it, flanked on either side by cozy deep, seated chairs. The lamp in the foyer has been left on to provide some extra illumination to the dark room, the flickering light from the tv providing the rest. Steve is sitting on one end of the large sofa fast, forwarding through the copyright warnings while Eddie bites into his pizza sitting at the other end. Passing out the napkins, you warily eye the free seat in between them, but there isn’t enough weed in the world to make that look like a good idea. Placing your glass on one of the coasters scattered on the coffee table, you opt for one of the overstuffed chairs. 

A sad gray hippo wanders down the street, and John Cusack ponders the wisdom of love while you eat your pizza. The empty plates get stacked on the table, and you tuck your legs under you, angling your body to watch the story of Hoops finding love and figuring out his future play out on the TV screen. The occasional chuckles from the boys are more likely due to their altered state than slapstick comedy. One movie ends, and another gets turned on, but your hazy brain isn’t keeping up with the plot. Eddie’s soft snores start about three-quarters into Hoosiers, the strong weed and the sports movie knocking him out. His head is tipped back against the couch with his mouth slightly agape while Steve’s full attention is on Gene Hackman.

The gears in your brain start turning, trying to find a resolution to the questions plaguing you. Steve and Eddie are entirely different from each other, opposites in most ways. Loving Eddie is like a roller coaster, thrilling highs dipping into lows and back up again with impossible speed. Drifting through life with him would be a hell of a ride, but one that could be stuck on the same circular track. It will always be you dragging him through life’s big milestones. More than likely, you’ll end up supporting him and anyone else that comes along if you decide to have a family. But there won’t be any shortage of love and if your relationship survives this storm, you can probably survive anything. 

Steve’s love is like the ocean, vast and strong. He’d be devoted, like the tide, carrying you through life with your feet never touching the sand, never letting you fall. He’d give you everything he has without a second thought, but that kind of all-encompassing love could be stifling. It could pull you under the surface if you don’t have space to make mistakes and solve them on your own. Without a doubt, he would work hard to care for you and make you happy, possibly at his own expense. Deep down, you fear a love born out of betrayal can’t be one that lasts.

Lost in your thoughts, it took a moment to notice Steve returning your stare, his hazel eyes soft but wanting. He runs a hand through his hair, making a decision. He stands and quietly moves until he’s standing in front of you, his chest rising and falling in short breaths. 

The light fog swirling in your brain turns into wisps of confusion when he drops to his knees in front of you. His eyes close as he leans forward and lays his head in your lap. The tip of his nose runs up your thigh, the light stubble on his cheek a delicious scrap on your skin as he nuzzles against you.

He needs your touch. It’s such a simple request. If the room wasn’t so quiet you would’ve missed the soft sigh he releases when your hands move through his hair, brushing it back from his temples. His arms circle around you, his large hands squeezing between your back and the chair, fingers sliding under your shirt so his thumbs can rub circles on your skin. 

His head moves against you like a gentle wave, a light press of his warm lips, a slight swell in the tide. Your fingers tremble as they smooth the soft strands at the base of his neck, apprehension taking hold at the abrupt recognition of how much he needs you. He lifts his head, and your hands cradle his strong jaw. 

“I love you,” floats out on an exhale of breath before the barest brush of his lips turns into a slow deep kiss. His hands grip the hem of your boxers, giving them a sharp tug, pulling them down in the back until he’s stopped by the weight of your hips. 

Kiss-swollen lips move to your ear, “I’m going to taste you.”

His words leave you tingling. Lifting your hips, you let him slide the fabric down your legs taking your underwear with them. He glances over at Eddie as he pulls you to the edge of the chair and drapes one of your legs over his shoulder. A finger raised to his lips warns you to be quiet. His eyes darken when he sees the glossy coating of wetness already glazing your center. 

Biting down on your lip, you watch as he takes his first long lick with the flat of his tongue before he begins lazily making out with your pussy. He places wet, sucking kisses through your folds, pausing to use his tongue to tease your entrance while his nose bumps against your clit. The wet sounds he’s making aren’t masked by the white noise of the TV. Eddie stirs in his sleep, and you freeze. He can’t find out like this. Steve looks up, and you shake your head. He stands, wiping the wetness off his chin before he extends his hand to you. 

He leads you down the dark hall, pausing to push you against the wall and kiss you, the taste of yourself on his tongue making you dizzy like another kind of drug. He eases open the door to his father’s office, flips on the lights, and ushers you inside before turning to lock the door. While his back is turned, you take the opportunity to rid yourself of your shirt, glad that you hadn’t bothered with a bra. When he turns and sees you naked and offering yourself, something passes over his face that has your breathing coming faster. He stalks forward, but his touch is gentle, hands caressing every bit of skin he can reach while he occupies your mouth with his demanding lips. 

“Next time, I want you in my bed,” he says, moving you into the room and lifting you to the edge of the massive desk, the polished cherry wood satiny against your skin. His possessive need to claim you weighs heavy but has your stomach tightening with arousal. The idea feels like a fairytale - to actually be just his. 

“Do you want me to finish what I started?” he asks, pulling his shirt over his head.

Your hands are drawn to his chest like a bee landing on a flower, your fingertips running through the bristly hair, exploring the dips of his muscles.

“No. I want to feel all of you,” you answer by drawing him closer so you can kiss the freckles and flat moles that dot his skin like destinations on a map. All places you want to explore. His arms go around you, letting you give as much as you want, and in this moment, you wish you could give him everything.

He guides you back until you’re lying flat on the desk. The scent of leather and ink rises from the blotter under your head. His big hands return to your thighs, the rest of his clothes now gone, his cock is at your entrance.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he says as he waits for your gaze to push inside you. The intensity of his eyes spread into an open forest of mossy green, being chased by the golden hues of autumn. Penetrating you two ways-your body, and your heart.

His hands hold your hips steady as he begins to move. Unhurried strokes fill you to completeness, wave after wave of warm pleasure cascading through you. The wisps of smoke still circulating in your brain have slowed things down, and every touch is a dream you want to get lost in. His hands roam as you adjust and tilt your hips to meet him. 

“Every day,” his flat palm sweeps upward between the valley of your breasts, “I want you like this every day.”

“Mmm, me too,” you capture his fingertips and press them to your lips before sucking them into your mouth. His eyes roll back, and his other hand tightens his grip on your thigh as he drives into you harder. 

“I need more,” he says, tipping his head back, “I want you closer,” he pulls out and helps you off the desk. 

“I can make you happy if you’d let me,” he takes your hand as he sinks down onto a plush club chair. The rich leather creaks under your knees as they push into the cushion on either side of his legs as you straddle him.

“You do make me happy,” you keep your mouth on his, swallowing his moan as you take him inside you, sliding down his length until you’re fully seated, “Now I’m going to make you happy,” gripping the back of the chair, you lift your hips and drive them down. Both of you expending effort to muffle the moans caused by the euphoria of your connection. He cups your breast, and his mouth laves attention on your aching, taut nipple as you work your hips, the head of cock hitting the best spot every time.

“That’s it. You feel so fucking good,” he moves his hands to your ass, encouraging your movements, “I wanted to touch you since this morning, and now I never want to stop,” his mouth devours yours, his tongue tasting and exploring like a man starved. Desperately, you whimper into his mouth as he starts driving his hips up from below you setting you on a path toward release.

“I love you,” you sigh between sloppy kisses, eliciting a low groan, “I missed you so much,” you confess feeling like a balloon caught up in a wind that’s moving higher and higher into the stratosphere. 

“I love you so much,” he rasps as he throbs and swells inside you, “I need you to come for me,” his tempo rises, and he’s hitting you deeper and harder than before. Your inner muscles tighten around him as your craving to be filled by him takes over. The first hot spurt against your cervix has you shuddering and falling back to earth as more of his warmth fills you and aids his last frenzied strokes. Little shocks and jolts tingle inside you as you crumple into his arms, legs still shaking, completely spent, floating in a cloud of bliss. His hands stroke up and down your back, your head rests on his shoulder, the rest of you pressed against his sweat-slicked chest, feeling it rise and fall as he catches his breath. Your mouths find each other, languid kisses help you come down together. Steve holds an invisible string to your heart that keeps pulling you closer to him and away from Eddie, a game of yo-yo you will never win. 

“That was-,” he kisses your forehead and tightens his hold on you.

“I know,” you say, certain you’re feeling everything he is. It was some of the most intense sex of your life. Kissing him once more, you start to pull back.

“Not yet. Just stay with me another minute,” he pleads.

“I have to go shower before….” you trail off, hating that you’re thinking about Eddie while Steve is still inside you. 

“I can’t keep doing this,” he confesses, “I thought I could, but I can’t keep watching him touch you, not after this. There isn’t a way this ends without him being hurt. I think you know that.”

“I do. I’m so sorry. I know it isn’t fair. Soon I promise.”

“Okay,” he says, helping you off him. After you’re dressed, he stays to clean up while you quietly sneak past a sleeping Eddie. Once the water in your shower is running, you let out a sigh of relief, you could have been caught at any moment tonight. Steve is right. This can’t keep going on. Putting soap on a washcloth, you shower off one boy so you can go to bed with the other.

♡♡♡

Clarity doesn’t come that night or the next day or the next. In fact you’re more torn than ever. The only decision you’re certain about is trying to find another job. Afternoons have been spent driving around Hawkins and the surrounding towns following the help wanted ads in the newspaper that you have circled with red ink. Busy days followed by waitressing in the evenings has kept you away from both boys, but today is your day off so after filling out a few applications, you make your way back to Steve’s house.

There is a dark stain in the driveway where Eddie’s van is usually parked as you pass by it with an arm full of groceries. Stacks of papers are spread out on the tabletop with a tired looking Steve sitting behind them. He’s been reading up on the proposed programs that the town wants the new community center to offer. He has to meet with the board members at the end of the week to discuss the best ways to utilize the interior space for the new building and you know he’s feeling a little out of his depth. His elbows are on the table and he’s using two fingers to rub his temples.

“Do you have another headache?” you leave the bag of groceries on the island before walking over to kiss him hello. 

“Yeah,” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in for a kiss, “It's been happening when I’ve been reading for awhile.”

“Maybe you need glasses,” you shrug, noting the tylenol bottle sitting beside a half full glass of water.

“Glasses? I’m not an old man or a nerd,” he says, sounding offended.

“Steve,” you roll your eyes, “plenty of people that aren’t old or nerds wear glasses. Besides,” you run your hands through his hair, “I think you would look sexy with glasses.”

“Is that right?” he asks, pulling you onto his lap, “Well, I’ll have to consider it then,” he brushes his lips over yours.

“Do you want to take a break after I get the groceries put away? I’m going to watch a little TV before I make dinner.” 

“Definitely,” he says, squeezing your hip.

After the bag is unpacked Steve follows you into the living room, plonking down on the couch beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you start flipping through the channels.

“What do you want to watch?” you ask snuggling into his side. 

“I don’t care. I’ll probably end up closing my eyes for a while.”

“Are you sure you aren’t an old man?” you tease, before settling on a rerun of The Brady Bunch.

“When is Eddie coming home?” he asks, looking at his watch.

“He has band practice tonight. So not till later,” you say with a yawn, “See what you started,” you complain feeling sleepy now that you're tucked into his warmth as Alice cleans up after the rowdy house full of kids.

“Just watch your show and give an old man some peace,” he teases, kissing the side of your head. 

The whooshing sound from the TV is what woke you. The faint light from the snow filled screen barely illuminates the room. One of Steve's hands is tangled in your hair, cradling your head where it rests somewhere between his shoulder and his neck. The clean laundry scent of his shirt mixes with the citrus and cedar that clings pleasantly to his skin making you absolutely dizzy with every inhale. In your sleep your bodies have found their way together, possibly at your heart's behest. Every innocent intention inevitably ends with you wrapped in his arms and the way he feels right now, so good and so warm, has you wondering why you would ever want to stop it. 

His eyes flutter open as if your thoughts have somehow woken him. Your hand moves to the side of his face, your thumb brushing back and forth over the light stubble on his jaw. His eyes are asking you a question that you can’t answer with a word. The pouty curve of his full bottom lip is too much to resist, your mouth closes over it in a slow sweet kiss. Just once turns into twice and three times before the fuse is lit and your hungry mouths start to feverishly devour. Gasps and hums join the symphony of your kisses. With a quick move, you’re beneath him,his long body stretched over yours. A low groan travels from his throat into your mouth when your hips rock against him in a desperate plea for more. A strong grip on your thigh molds your leg around his waist bringing his rigid length to perfect alignment with your hot core. Kiss swollen lips slide urgently against each other as your clothed bodies rock together. 

"Let's go to my room," his hand works its way under shirt, his thumb rubbing against the peak of your nipple. 

"Don't stop," you plead, bucking against him, moaning as his hard bulge hits your clit with every grind.

“Jesus. Can you come like this?” he whispers against your mouth. 

“Yes. I’m so close,” you beg. The light in the foyer turns on suddenly. Shock rockets through you. Somehow you missed the sound of the door opening. It takes a few moments for your bodies to stop after your minds register what's happened. Steve moves off you as Eddie stands in the doorway.  

"What the fuck?" Eddie says, sounding genuinely confused as he comes further into the living room, the light from the hall seeping in behind him. Steve's moving towards him, both hands raised in front of his body stopping just after rounding the arm of the couch, not letting Eddie gain any more ground, while you scramble up further into the room, backing away from both of them. The endless static still buzzing from the TV adding to the chaos.

"What the fuck?" this time he screams, his face turning red. He brings the heels of his hands to his forehead and paces back and forth, his shadow following him, as he tries to come to terms with your betrayal, "I fucking knew it," he says in a calm tone as if he's speaking to himself. 

His hands drop to his sides and stops moving staring at you, "I fucking knew," he yells, leaning forward his whole body raising to his toes with the force of his words, "I didn't want to believe it. I can't believe you could do this to me," he stretches out the end of the last word, balling his fists. 

Your trembling hands cover your mouth as your eyes fill with tears. There's nothing you can say to make this right. His anguish hits you like a tornado, sucking you empty and filling you with a guilt so heavy, you might burst at the seams.

"It wasn't like that," Steve says in a low voice.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" Eddie spits, turning his attention to Steve. Eddie's on him in flash, both fists gripping Steve's shirt collar, his red face inches from Steve, "I trusted you. You son of a bitch," his arm cocks back, hand bunched into a fist, ready to fly. 

Steve's hands go up in surrender, he turns his face to the side, eyes closed ready to take the punch, "Go ahead, I deserve it. I'm not going to fight you, dude, but it wasn't like that. I love her."

"You're fucking her," Eddie yells.

"I love her," Steve says again, eyes meeting Eddie's when the punch doesn’t come. 

Eddie lowers his hand back to Steve's collar, pulling him forward before pushing him away with enough force to send Steve backward over the arm of the couch.

"We tried to stay away from each other," Steve straightens up and rubs his chest over his heart, "We didn't want to hurt you, but I love her."

"That's just fucking great," Eddies voice drips with sarcasm, "And what about you?" he asks, turning towards you, "Do you love him?" 

His voice breaks at the end of his question, even in the faint light you can see his big doe eyes getting glossy. Regrets are stacking up like a wooden block tower, ready to crush you when they fall. 

"I love you" you sob, taking a step forward, putting you all at the same distance apart. They both look at you knowing you have more to say, "but I love Steve too."

The room feels like a vacuum, all the air leaves with those last four words. Eddie crosses his arms over his stomach, bending forward like he's been punched.

"I feel sick," he says, turning away from you both. Your feet start to carry you towards him but Steve holds up his hand to stop you. 

"How could you do this to me, man," Eddie shakes his head before turning back to Steve, "I thought you were different but it turns out I was right the first time," Eddie moves toward him, getting in his face, "You have everything. This house, cool car, money. I don't have anything, except her," he raises an arm pointing to you, "You could have anyone you want. They practically line up for King Steve."

Steve is trying to stay calm, but something is changing in his expression, his jaw clenches tighter as he stands tall letting Eddie yell only inches away. 

"You had your pick," Eddie gets louder, standing so close the tips of their sneakers are touching, "but you had to take her from me. The one person in this world that loves me. You can't stand not having everything. So you take her and leave me with no-"

"Take her," Steve snaps, screaming back at him, walking forward making Eddie step back, "You fucking gave her to me," Steve puts both hands on Eddie's chest shoving him back hard. Eddie stumbles but quickly regains his balance. The shocked look on his face, saying he's just realized he's had a part to play in all this. 

Eddie places his hands on his hips and looks down at his feet, "How many times?"

"What?" Steve asks brows drawing together in confusion as he takes deep breaths.

"How many times did you fuck my girlfriend?" Eddie demands, lifting his head but keeping his distance, "Or is it too many to count?" he scoffs, shaking his head. 

Steve looks down and then glances at you before answering, "Twice," he at least owes Eddie the truth. Eddie takes a step toward you and so does Steve. 

"That night he picked you up at the restaurant?" Eddie questions you. 

Swallowing and wiping some wetness on the back of your hand, you nod. Hot tears still stream down your face but somewhere inside you there's relief - no more lies.

"You lied right to my face," Eddie fumes, moving towards you. Steve takes a few steps to the side putting himself in Eddie’s path with you behind him. Eddie keeps advancing, "You need to decide, right now. It's him or me," he barks.

Eddie’s eyebrows lower and lips tighten as he realizes Steve is not letting him get any closer to you. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" Eddie challenges. 

Steve's hands are at his sides but there's a tremor running through them as he opens and closes his fists, "Back up," he growls through gritted teeth.

"Eddie-" you try cooling things down only to be cut off. 

"You think I'm gonna hurt her?" Eddie says astonished, "I would never fucking hurt her. You should know that after what we've been through. After we fought together."

Steve doesn't answer but his breathing sounds labored. 

"Steve, it's alright," you soothe, stepping towards him but stopping short of boxing him in. 

"You think I could hurt a woman after watching Chrissy die right in front of me," Eddie probes, "You saw the blood. You know what he did to her. What he did to me and Max."

Your mouth drops open, you've never heard any of this. Steve backs away from Eddie shaking his head as if to clear it. 

"You know what we had to do to kill him. You remember that, right?" Eddie pushes, "All the screaming. All their pain."

Steve stumbles back, his breathing picking up and getting shallow as his hands cover his ears.

"Eddie, you fucking stop it," you move forward, pushing Eddie away from Steve before running to the wall and turning on the light switch. Steve goes down on one knee, his head drooping down. Moving back to him, you put your arm around him trying to hold him steady as he hyperventilates. 

"Eddie, who killed Chrissy?" you ask. His eyes snap from Steve to you. This is the closest you've come to any answers, "Who did you kill?" the question chills you as it leaves your mouth. 

Eddie's face hardens, his warm eyes turn cold as his lips pull into a tight line, "Ask him," he nods his head in Steve's direction.

Steve continues to panic and you turn back to him, dropping down to your knees, holding him against you as you hear the front door slam behind Eddie.

"It's okay. You're alright," you cup his jaw and try to break through to him, "It's just me and you. We're safe. Put your head in my lap," you say, easing him down to the floor. 

♡♡♡

It's the mourning doves coos that wake you. There's a small group of them that gather on the patio in the mornings. Their white tipped wings flutter as they descend, singing out their sad song until their wings are tucked against their bodies and they begin their search for food. Their call makes you wonder who they mourn for, or are they here to remind you of what you've lost.

Blue-green morning light filters through the blinds in Steve's bedroom, the plaid wallpaper making the room feel smaller than it should. Your head rests on his bare chest, both his arms holding you close, his deep even breaths fanning over the top of your head. 

Eddie hadn't come home last night and it wouldn't have changed anything if he had. Steve had needed you more. He was exhausted when he finally had calmed, his head in your lap while you stroked his hair. He apologized over and over as you led him to his room but there was nothing to be sorry for. He watched as you stripped down to your underwear before joining him in bed. It wasn't about sex, it was about solace, needing the feel of each other. He held you as you slept, reaching for you whenever your bodies weren't connected.

When his hold on you tightens, you know he's awake.

"I've wanted this for so long," his voice is rough and heavy with sleep but also yearning, "To wake up with you. But last night is not how I wanted to get here."

"I know," you press a kiss to his chest and run your hands over the soft skin covering his muscles, "Me neither."

"I hate that I couldn't protect you," his voice quieter than it was before.

"There was nothing you needed to protect me from," you say, raising your head to look at him. 

"This time," he breaks your gaze and stares up at the ceiling.

"Can you tell me about it?"

"No," he looks back at you, the burden he's carrying making him look older at that moment.

"Steve-"

"I know. Later. I want to enjoy this a little longer, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay," you say, sharing a kiss before rolling over and his arms pull you snugly against him. Sleep wanders in and you both doze for a few more hours. 

"So, what happens now?" he asks, sitting up in bed with the blankets gathered at his waist while you pull on the t-shirt and shorts you had been wearing yesterday.

"I have to go," you say, sitting cross-legged on the bed beside him. 

"How did I know you were going say that?" one side of his mouth quirks as he shakes his head and looks around the room, “Everytime I think we’re getting somewhere, you leave.”

"Eddie doesn't have anywhere else to go. He probably slept in his van or on the floor at Wayne’s," you reach out and take his hand, “He won’t come back if he knows I’m here.”

“Eddie is a grown man,” he pulls his hand away and gets out of bed, putting on his boxers followed by a pair of jeans,”He has to stand on his own feet some time.”

“So what? He should lose everything in one fell swoop? He doesn’t deserve that,” you cross your arms over your chest.

“He is not the only one hurting here. I’ve stepped aside this whole time. Turned my head when he kissed you and touched you. And it ripped my heart out every time,” he pushes his sleep-mussed hair back off his forehead and sits down on the edge of the bed, “I love you and you love me. At least, that’s what you’ve been telling me.”

“I do love you,” you argue, “It would be so much simpler if I didn’t. Do you think I would put us through this otherwise?” you take both of his hands in yours, “I love you.”

“Then don’t we deserve a chance to be together? To be happy? When you think of your future I know you see us together just like I do. We’ll have a good life together but I need you here with me.”

“Let me ask you something,” you say, lacing your fingers with his, “How are you always so sure we’re going to end up together?”

He shrugs before giving you an answer, “I love you. I just can’t think any other way.”

“Then you’re going to have to wait for me a little longer.”

Leaning forward you place a chaste kiss on his mouth, “I need you to do something for me.”

“Okay,” he replies.

“I need you to talk with someone about the panic attacks,” you state simply. He shakes his head and looks away from you.

“There has to be someone who was there that will understand,” you push.

“I can’t lay this on them,” he argues, “They need me to keep it together.”

“What about Chief Hopper?” you propose, “Wasn’t he in the war or something? He’s probably seen this before.”

“How do you know about Hopper?”

“After what he did for Eddie. The way you’ve mentioned him. I figured it out,” you lightly squeeze his hand between yours, “I think one of the reasons I haven’t been able to decide is because I’m worried about what will happen to both of you. So, will you do that for me? Will you speak with him?”

“If that’s what you want,” his grip tightens on your fingers, “But let me ask you something. Have you considered that Eddie might not want to be with you anymore?”

Nodding your head, you blow out a deep breath, “I still need to decide,” you try and explain, “Would you want me by default?”

He tugs you closer and you let him pull you against his chest, “I love you. I want you to choose me but I’ll take you anyway I can have you, because I know you love me too. But if that's something you can't give me, I love you enough to let you go.”

But that's not what you want, you don't want him to let you go, not now and maybe not ever. He holds you until you can’t put off what you have to do any longer - you love him and you're leaving him again. With tears in your eyes you pack your things. All of them. This will be the last time you're in the room you've shared with Eddie. No matter who you choose, your time here is done. It may be the last time you're in this house. Steve waits for you at the bottom of the stairs. He takes the duffle from your hands and carries it out to your car. 

“It’s going to feel empty here without you,” he says as the two of you stand in front of your car saying your goodbyes.

Sucking in a shuddering breath you say something you’ve needed to say to him for a long while, “I’m sorry. I hate that I’ve hurt you.”

His big hands move to your neck, he thumbs smooth along your jaw, “Sweetheart, being with you has been worth it. I knew I was in trouble from the first time you came down wearing my shirt.” 

A grin tugs at the corners of your lips, “I love you.”

“I know. I love you too. I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Please,” you say. His mouth brushes over yours one last time before you get in your car. Hot tears stream down your cheeks as you watch him in your review until you turn out of sight.

♡♡♡

Your mother finds you sobbing in your car when she pulls in the driveway after taking your sister to the orthodontist. She wraps an arm around your waist and urges you into the house, bringing you straight into her room and closing the door.

“It’s time to tell me what’s going on,” she says, sitting down next to you on her bed. So you tell her. The whole story. Well almost the whole story you leave out the threesome and any other sex, and drinking and smoking. After that, it really doesn’t take you very long at all.

“Christ on a cracker, that’s a fine kettle of fish,” she says when you're done.

“What do I do, Mom? Tell me what to do and I’ll do it,” you say, wiping your eyes.

“You’re a big girl. You’ll have to decide this on your own,” she pushes your hair back off your shoulders, “but if you really love both of them. I think you’re going to have to decide who you can’t live without.”

♡♡♡

Putting a cardboard box into your trunk a week later, you smile as the familiar rumble of a loud engine accompanied by even louder music reaches your ears. You straighten up just in time to watch Eddie park his van on the street in front of your house. 

"Moving out?" Eddie teases, as he comes to stand beside you in front of your open trunk that's loaded with boxes. 

"Yeah. I am," you wipe your sweaty hands on the front of your shorts. 

"Oh shit, you really are? I was joking," he rubs the back of his neck nervously.

"Yeah. I found a place I can afford. I think it might be good to be on my own for once," you explain. It's time to choose yourself for a little while. 

"Do you need any help?" he asks looking down as he kicks the pavement with the toe off his white Reebok.

"That would be great. Do you want to follow me?" you question, pointing to your car with your thumb.

"Okay. Sure," he perks up and closes your trunk before jogging back to his van. The nervous tension between you feels like pins being driven into your heart. Both of you are unsure how to proceed after you've hurt him so badly. All week you've wanted to go to him, even going as far as driving by Gareth's when the band had practice, but ultimately what he needed, just like you, was space to make his own decision.

Eddie follows you up the stairs on the side of the garage, carrying a box of mismatched dishes your mother gave you. The windchimes attached to the underneath of the landing gently tinkle out a soothing tune.

"I can't believe you're renting from Mrs. Landry," Eddie says as he waits for you to unlock the door, "English sophomore year was brutal. She hated me."

"Well, you need to remember to turn down the music before you pull in or she still will," your key turns in the lock and the wooden door protests as you ease it open.The warm summer breeze blows through the  windows of your small studio apartment. The sheer curtains billowing around the boxes you have yet to unpack.

"You can set that down wherever you can find space," you offer, setting the box of linens down on the mattress of your unmade bed. He slides the box on to your tiny kitchen counter before he starts poking around the room. 

"This is pretty nice," he sticks out his bottom lip nodding his head as he looks around. 

"Beggars can't be choosers," you shrug, taking a seat on the worn couch that came with the apartment. The dated furniture is a far cry from what was in Steve's six bedroom, six bathroom house. 

"I'm serious. This is a big step. I'm proud of you, baby."

The term of endearment gives you a small flutter of hope that maybe all is not lost between you. He pauses in front of your refrigerator checking out the photos that are held up with magnets.

“Family photo,” he quips, flicking a polaroid of you, him and Steve that Dustin snapped at the pool party before everything went bad. The three of you looked happy then.

“Does Harrington know you're here?” he asks, lifting the flap of a box that's stacked on top of a few others.

“Yes,” you fold an afghan and drape it over the back of the couch, “The two of you aren’t talking?”

“No, we are. Just not about you,” he wanders over to sit next to you and you nod in understanding.

“Eddie, I need you to know the biggest regret of my life will be hurting you. You didn’t deserve it and I’m so very sorry,” your eyes are already getting glossy but you need him to know.

“Yeah, well you know, I shouldn’t have pushed you towards him,” he says, picking at a button that is sewed onto the back of the couch.

“It’s not your fault. It might have happened anyway,” you say, trying to be truthful.

“It’s not the sex. It's the lying,” he says, finally looking straight at you.

“I know,” you can’t hold back the tears, “I made so many mistakes.”

“Well, I’ve made a few myself,” he picks up the box of tissues from a table at the end of the couch and offers you one, “We had fun, though. Didn’t we?”

“Yeah, we did,” you say, taking a tissue from the box and mopping the wetness from your puffy face. He waits patiently for you to pull yourself together. 

“So why did you come to see me?” you ask, getting up to throw out the tissue. When you sit back down, you tuck your hands under your thighs to keep from touching him.

“I had a couple of things to tell you,” he pulls a lighter from his pocket, opening and closing it a few times before stuffing back in.

“Okay,” you encourage him.

“Nothing ever happened between me and Chrissy. There was some flirting, at least on my part. She was at the trailer because I was going to sell to her. Some of the hard stuff. I know you don’t like it,” he wipes his hands on the front of his ripped jeans, “I don’t get that kind of attention from girls like her. But if something had happened, I’m not sure I would have stopped it.”

“What does that mean, girls like her?”

“It means nice girls. Girls like you.”

“Thank you for telling me,” you say, swallowing, your leg bouncing up and down, “Can you tell me what else happened?”

“Not yet,” he says, shaking his head, “Maybe not ever. I don’t want to think about it. I just want to move on."

"Okay, what was the other thing you wanted to say?" you ask suddenly eager for this to be over so you can cry all alone. 

"That's the harder one," he looks around your apartment again, then down at his lap - maybe to gather his words or his courage. He finally lifts his head, "You broke my heart and you did it more than once."

Squeezing your eyes shut, you cover your face with your hands, losing the battle to hold back your sobs.

"I don't know if I can ever trust you again," his voice cracks, "But for some stupid reason, I still love you."

Leaning forward, you fall against him and his arms work their way around you. 

"I've never stopped loving you," you cry into his shoulder, "but I've ruined us. I don't deserve you."

"Maybe," he sniffs and can feel him wiping away his own tears, "but I still want you."

His admission has you crying harder, partly because you're about to break his heart again.

"I'm not going to lie to you anymore, I can't give you that, not right now. I need more time."

He gently pushes your shoulders, easing you away so he can see your face, "Because of him?"

Wiping your eyes, you nod.

"I don't understand," he says shaking his head, "You either love him or you love me. How can you not know?"

"I'm sorry," you agonize, "I don't know why it's like this. I can't help how I feel."

"Neither can I. And I'm certain I love you, only you. If you can love me, only me, we can work through this, okay? But baby, you've got to figure your shit out."

"I'm trying. I promise, I'm trying," wiping your swollen eyes as you cry.

"Alright," he sighs, "I need to go."

He stands to leave and you walk him to the door. He draws in a long breath before inclining his head to kiss you, "That wasn't goodbye, okay? That was see you later."

"Okay," you wrap your arms around him, "See you later," you say against his cheek. He hugs you back before he walks out the door.

♡♡♡

And life moves on. The rest of your boxes get unpacked and you get used to going to bed alone. You're offered a job as secretary at a new office that just opened in Kerly. The pay and hours are better and you don't come home covered in pasta. Eddie and Steve both come by often. Once they even came together, wanting you to know any hard feelings are behind them. You've met them each for lunches and sometimes dinner, casual dates, just spending time together. 

Eddie's summer class is wrapping up and he's making plans with Jeff to share an apartment. He's even put some applications in looking for some regular work, you suspect Wayne might be the driving force behind that decision but a step forward is a step forward. 

Steve is working part time at Family Video and part time with the town while the community center is under construction. He's struggled a little with some aspects of his new role but the head of the rec department has taken him under his wing and is showing him the ropes. Undoubtedly, he'll be successful, he just won't think any other way. 

Being on your own has been tough and sometimes lonely but it's given you the space to get to know yourself and enjoy your own company. Forgiving yourself has been the most difficult but possibly the most important thing you've done. Slowly, you've let go of the guilt. 

Then, one ordinary summer morning, you woke with the sun streaming through the curtains and your alarm blaring. In your haze of sleep, you forgot that you were alone and reached for him. When all your hand found was the cool softness of a well worn sheet, you knew exactly who you were reaching for, the one you couldn't live without. 

The heels of your shoes clack against the busy sidewalk as you walk the two blocks to the restaurant. Your feet will likely be aching by the end of the day but you wanted to dress up for your lunch date. Men in suits and groups of women dressed in business attire walk quickly making the most of every minute of their lunch hour. The upscale dinner's entrance is on the corner of two intersecting streets of the downtown. Walking past the people eating at teal outdoor tables with bright yellow umbrellas, you push against the brushed metal handle of the heavy door, a bell jingles above your head and you're immediately greeted by the smell of fried potatoes, eggs and burgers. Standing just inside the entrance you wait patiently to be seated. 

Letting one of them go was more painful then you could have imagined. The grief and loss leaving scars behind that will never let you forget. But when it was done, you could see his relief in being set free. He took a part of your heart with him when he left, a piece that belonged solely to him, a sliver you'll always be missing. Whether he puts it in a drawer or carries it with him, it's his to do with as he pleases. 

"Just one today, hun?" a waitress in teal dress and white apron grabs a matching teal menu from a pocket attached to the back of the first high-back booth lining the wall. 

"Two, please. He'll be right along," you tell her, already feeling happier that you'll soon be with him.

Strangely, after everything, moving forward slowly seemed like the best decision for both of you, cementing your love into a strong foundation before taking the next step - this is how you build a life. 

She leads you past the lunch counter lined with occupied vinyl upholstered stools and globe pendant lights hanging intermittently above it to a booth pressed up against the enormous plate glass window looking out onto the hectic street.

A set of bright white coffee mugs resting upside-down on their saucers are joined by shiny metal silverware wrapped neatly in napkins on the lacquered wooden table top.

"Coffee?" she asks after she waits for you to slide onto the tufted vinyl bench seat. 

"Just water, please," you say, accepting the menu she hands you. She places another on the table in front of the empty seat across from you before carrying your mug and saucer away with her. 

You've kept your apartment for now but he stays over frequently. And In the quietest part of the night with the moonlight illuminating his beautiful face, he holds you close, keeping you warm, and together you make your plans. 

Setting your menu down on the table-for once you already know what you want, you turn your head to daydream while you watch the people pass by on the street. A mother with a baby in her arms and a small child at her side meet up with a man in a shirt and tie. He leans down and kisses her cheek before lifting the toddler up into his arms and the family changes direction heading towards the park.

 It was always going to be him and some part of you knew it from the very first kiss but now you're ready to give him the best of you, willingly, unencumbered and completely.

The song playing on the radio ends and the DJ laments the approaching end of summer reminding everyone listening that with every end comes a new beginning before starting the next song, and you can't help thinking he was talking directly to you. The bell above the door chimes as it opens and you feel your cheeks rising when you see the top of a familiar head come through the door. His eyes move quickly searching for you and you hold your hand up in a wave when they connect with yours. 

As he walks towards you, the smile that he wears just for you makes everyone and everything fade into the periphery and you're filled with a love so big you're not sure how your body is containing it. Your hands itch to touch him, knowing that after everything - you're his and only his and he is yours. All the fears you had are blown away in the wind, like a dandelion letting go of its seeds - leaving only the possibilities of what can be remaining. In the aftermath of disaster, betrayal, love lost and love found, the long road of your future stretches out in front of you, and although you won't always be able to see what's around the next curve, you'll travel that road with him. 

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this fic, please reblog. It makes a big difference in helping others find my work. Drop a comment I'd love to hear from you.

AN: Endings are always bittersweet. Thanks for being on this ride with me, it's been an emotional one. Who did you see come through the door at the diner? Let me know in the comments. Special thanks to @loveshotzz who always pulls out my best writing and the rest of the hive @myobmaya @boomhauer @superblysubpar As always Jelly's after-hours answering service will be available to answer all your asks. xoxo -A

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[shuusagi]

Would you be willing to write a short-story involving cnc with Brahms? (totally okay if you’re not comfortable with the concept!!)🫶🏼

Ohoho yes I can!!

Tw: f!reader, consensual-nonconsent, dubious consent, biting, primal play, general roughness.

"Ok Brahms, remember the safeword. What is it?"

"Lavender." He says quietly.

"Good boy."

You don't remember how it started, perhaps it was you two playing hide and go seek, or from him purposely scaring you every second you got. You knew he loved preying upon you, for someone so submissive he can get into a predator roll quite well. One thing turned into another, and you wanted to try cnc.

You told Brahms, "don't go light on me. I want you to do whatever you want- despite anything I might say. But when I say lavender, promise me you'll be a good boy and stop?"

"Mmm- yes ma'am.." He said, already lost in thought.

/

It was pitch black all throughout the manor, with some of the windows open during a rainstorm to gather more atmosphere. Here you were, hidden under your and Brahms shared bed. You know he had been watching from within the walls, so why isnt he coming now, you wondered. Peeking from out under the bed, you look around squinting in the darkness. Huh. Maybe this was too much for him?

It had dawned on you that this might be stepping over boundaries for him, but the way his eyes lit up at the idea and his quick nods in agreement say otherwise.

Quietly, you slither out from under the bed. You place one foot on the floor and push yourself up, trying to keep the creaking to a minimum. You slowly tip toe your way to the door and open it, taking a glance behind you once more. You begin to walk out of the room and are met with a lean yet very sturdy- and hairy chest.

"Oof- uh oh." You look up to see his eyes pitch black behind the mask and squeal, running to the other end of the bed before he can catch you. You will never get used to how quiet and patient he can be, you were under the bed for damn near 10 minutes, was he waiting this whole time?

He slowly stalks over to you, placing his large hands on the bed, leaning his weight against them. His hands sink into the mattress. You try to bait and switch him and run right, he takes the chance running over to your side. You turn back left and run over the mattress and as you jump off, a muscular arm snakes its way around your waist- just under your breasts. You're kicking and flailing to get away, when that proves to be useless you pretend to be tired out, going lax against the 6'3" beast. He begins to carry you to the closet where one of his hideaway doors are, and you catch him off guard with a bite to his forearm.

He hisses and let's go, you scramble to your feet and run for the door. He's quick, you can feel his fingers graze your back but you're just enough out of reach.

Running through the hall, you debate on going to the storage room, or downstairs to the kitchen. Quickly you make up your mind and head downstairs, with him trailing not far behind you. Panting, you race to the island and gain distance between yourselves once more. But he's so fast- he grabs the back of your neck and pushes you into the wall. All the air within you is pushed out as you slide down the wall, he grabs your neck pulling you up. You can feel his hard cock pressed against your thigh, his chest heaving up and down in exhaustion- or maybe excitement? You groan and he releases his grasp on your wrist, pushing you so that your face is now against the wall and he's pushed squarely against your back.

You hear the familiar sound of his mask being tossed onto the island and before you know it, his fangs are dug into your neck. You yelp out, "Brahms- ah.. easy now.."

All he does is grunt and grab your hands within one of his own, pinning them above your head. He's learnt so much in the short amount of time of you teaching him to harness his dominance.

With the other hand he's quickly unbuttoning your pants, you squirm against him feeling his cock twitch against your ass. He pushes his hips forward, pinning you down from any further movement.

"Brahms- ah.. wait, please don't.." you beg.

He pauses, his thoughts becoming very confusing. On one hand he'll get punished for not listening to you, but on the other you're begging is like music to his ears. He flips you back over and crashes his lips into yours. In one fluid movement he yanks your shorts off of your hips.

"Please- wait.. don't be so- so rough!" He bites down on your neck once more and you squeal out in pleasure.

He hikes up one of your legs, and forces himself in with one fluid movement. You cry out, and he hushes your noises with another aggressive kiss. You know your lips are going to be swollen tomorrow.

The snaps of his hips are punishing, his hand twisted in your hair is aggressive and the way he has his other hand around your thigh is soaking his cock with how wet you are. You can feel the bruises forming now, its almost as if he's getting back at you for the times you scolded him or denied him his pleasure and release.

"Say my name." He growls into your ear.

"B-brahmsy..." His hand tightens around your hair, yanking your head up to look at him. "Say. My. Name." He enunciates each word with a thrust that has you seeing stars.

"Brahms... please, I'm sore-"

He hits harder and deeper. You're lightheaded, beyond aroused and teetering on your own orgasm. Then it hits you, your leg goes weak and you slide down the wall. He follows you, his cock still deep within you. He continues snapping his hips into yours with you laying on the cold porcelain floor.

"Ah... brahms.. lavender!"

He stops instantly. Looking you over he begins to scan your body for any signs of injury. He whines and nudges his face into the crook of your neck. You're rubbing his back and giggling.

"God.. that was- so so hot." You feel him snort against your neck.

"Mmm- you ok?" He looks into your eyes.

"Yes Brahmsy, I'm ok." You grab his face in between your hands and kiss him gently.

[gottawhump]

Guard Dog

Eliot

CW/TW: conditioning, overwork, exhaustion, pet whump, BBU/WRU. Eliot meets Jonas. Character development.

It’s exhausting to clean a whole house by himself. Sir-Nikolai’s house is smaller than his old owners’, but still big.

He needs to stop frequently.

Sometimes he closes his eyes for a moment, after closing a closet door behind him. An empty closet, all the carpeted floor space for him to lie down on and rest. Just for a minute.

He wakes up with the Guard Dog above him, looking. He scrambles to get to his feet, but his legs don’t cooperate. He only makes it to his knees.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Rest is earned by work, 704. Do you think you’ve earned it? “I didn’t mean to-to fall asleep. Please don’t tell Sir—“

“Sir? Does he make you call him that?”

He wants to hide from the anger. He wants to hide. If you’re noticed, you’ve already failed. But he’s trapped, the closet wall at his back, the Guard Dog-Jonas, his name is Jonas-blocking the door.

“No-no, he doesn’t.” You can call me Kolya, if you want. “But, but he’s an owner.”

“He’s not your damn owner.”

He wraps his arms around his knees, drops his head down, tries to make himself smaller. If you can’t do better, you’re only useful as Guard Dog bait, 704.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” The snarl is gone, Jonas’ voice is soft now. “I’m not mad at you. Nikolai just doesn’t think sometimes. Why were you sleeping in a closet?”

“I didn’t mean to sleep. Please—“ He can’t breathe. Grey static creeps up at the edges of his vision. Then, darkness.

He wakes up in Sir-Nikolai’s bed, not sure how he got there.

“Sometimes I don’t think either. I’m sorry,” Jonas says. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Eliot nods.

It’s easier to breathe after Jonas leaves the room.

But he’s soon back, carrying a tray with butter toast and a glass of orange juice. Sick food, his mind supplies from somewhere.

Eliot sits up, and Jonas places the tray over his lap.

“I don’t think you’ve eaten at all today.”

The toast is soft and hot, the butter melting and sweet on his tongue. He finishes both triangular halves, and sips at the orange juice. Jonas smiles, showing disconcerting fangs.

“Thank you, Si-Jonas.”

He shrugs. “You don’t have to clean here, you know. Nikolai hires a service to come in twice a week. And-and you can sleep anywhere. It just worried me, when I didn’t know where you were.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You-don’t need to do that, either. Apologize, I mean, for everything.”

“It’s hard, not to.” It hurts, not to, muscles tensing, throat closing, heart racing. The first and last words out of your mouth needs to be “I’m sorry”, because you’ve been noticed, and if you’re noticed, it’s because you fucked up.

“I know.”

Forgive and Forget taglist: @whumpsday @painful-pooch @whumpinggrounds @justplainwhump @bluetheautisticrat @i-eat-worlds

Eliot/704 taglist: @kim-poce @fishtale88 @i-eat-worlds @roblingoblin285 @cepheusgalaxy

[cassieuncaged]

Exploration - Part 1 (Astarion x Ilwyn)

1 of 3

Summary: “What in the hells is this?” suppressing a moan, his eyes darted up to find a glorious sight. His lover supped at the elixir in an unfamiliar desperation, rosy droplets running down a round chin and racing across the hollow of her throat.

“Pheromone infused wine,” she hummed, adjusting the robe that already revealed one bare shoulder. “The vendor assured me it’s a natural aphrodisiac.”

TW: non-explicit sexual content, mentions of past abuse, dissociation, language, etc.

WC: 1.4 K

A/N: yoooo, I haven't written smut in awhile and decided to add to the mountain of Astarion x Tav work their already is, lol. So have some Ilstarion fanfic (smut begins next chapter)

Memories were complicated, often tainting how one viewed many facets of present life.

At least that was how Astarion regarded his own. Two hundred years had soured his outlook on many things as life was slowly reclaimed. Autonomy, individuality, sex. All were concepts he’d attempted to regain in the months after the brain fell yet struggled with greatly.

Who he was still remained a mystery, what he wanted, how he felt…The vampire spawn felt like he was shrouded by invisible fog, attempting to live an entirely new life. One regaled in the shadows once more, despite the fact that he had company now.

He was grateful to not navigate the unknowns alone, his sorceress lover still firmly planted by his side. Ilwyn was understanding in many ways others wouldn’t be, a flower emerging from the muddiness of her own past trauma. Not to mention how young she was for an elf, still learning many things about herself as he was himself.

“I’ll be right here, my sweet star.”

She’d cooed into his ear one night after a particularly bad nightmare had destroyed his trance. Her body was warm, the scent of honeysuckle permeating her skin and bed clothes after a soothing bath. No one had ever held him like that, soothing and sweet until his rigid body began to relax against her. To be loved was to be seen, or so he had learned.

Wynnie was endlessly patient and understanding, allowing him to make choices for himself and to allow space when it was needed. Sometimes, the vampire spawn needed to clear his head, to feel the cool kiss of night tickle his cheeks and tousle his curls. If blood still pulsed beneath his skin. He was positive he’d be red as the fruit of a sun melon, leaning over the wrought iron barrier of the balcony.

How their innocent touches quickly became heated, motions filled with unbridled passion. How he felt himself drift away as Ilwyn lay spread out in nothing but slinky small clothes, her hand drifting to his breeches…

He deigned to be filled thoughts of his lover, to drown in her visage for hours, molding her body against his own in a passionate exchange, kissing and licking and nipping. Yet, the young elf carefully rolled them over so he lay with his back upon the down feathered mattress. Dismounting herself, Wynnie rubbed firm circles into a broad shoulder as Astarion’s ashen brows knit in confusion.

They were together, melding into one another so naturally and deliciously. Yet, allowing ruby eyes to shutter once had transported him into the hallows of Szarr palace, stretched across crushed satin as sure lips collided with curve of a stranger’s neck. A blonde woman, a man with bronzed skin, it never mattered who shared that damned bed.

Sex was a means to an end. Always.

Fingers would wrestle with his belt, frantically unlacing his breeches as their pleasure was pursued. And Astarion let it happen, allowing unfamiliar hands wrap around his icy length as dark eyes glazed over. There had been pleasure at first. But that was before the consequences had settled into the folds of his mind.

He was bait.

It seemed that only three months hadn’t been long enough to adjust centuries old habits.

“Stay with me, love,” warm fingers danced across his tensed bicep, noticing how pallid flesh was goose pimpled. She’d never realized that was even possible for the undead. “I’m right here.”

Words became difficult to express as his breathing steadied, arms wrapping around her torso. Astarion rested his cheek against a freckled tummy, radiating in her warmth. He craved her though found himself drifting away like a corpse in the sea. Tears began to well in ruby eyes, wincing as his withered heart hardened in his chest.

“How about we crawl back into our night clothes?” Ilwyn began, fingers tracing the ridges of the scars carved into his back. “I’ll fetch a bottle of your favorite red and we can read that book of elvish poetry we found.”

“I don’t want you to think…” his words trailed out, cold puffs of air tickling her belly. Those muscular arms wrapped around her middle as the sorceress gently shushed him. Even without the tadpole, she could practically read his mind. “You’re gorgeous. I want to be buried you in, truly. I have to…relearn.”

“I understand. We’ll take all the time that you need.” Blunt nails gently scraped against his scalp, tousling soft curls that soothed him.

“Gods,” he hummed, large hand gliding to rest on the curve of one hip, “You’re too good for me.”

“Let’s get dressed, my sweet.” A kiss was pressed against the crown of his head as the woman gently slid away, slipping her a periwinkle chemise over shorn ginger waves before his tunic was tossed across the bed, “I’ll warm the kettle and check on Scratch.”

“That sounds lovely,” he sighed, slipping his stitched tunic back on, “Then I’ll read you all the poetry I can find.”

He didn’t wait for an answer before thrusting himself onto bare feet, scrabbling against hard wood before the stairs begin to softly creek. That was how he found himself settled upon their balcony, nestled outside the city and overlooking the sea. The more time spent in the wilds, the more of an appreciation for nature he’d developed.

Sometimes he understood Halsin’s virtues more and more.

The night enveloped him, fresh air lapping at the tip of his nose to remind him that he was alive. In some capacity at least. He’d leave for the Underdark tomorrow at dusk while his lover ventured to Waterdeep. The wizard swore he’d an answer to their search for the sun. Astarion doubted the man’s abilities but didn’t question that of Ilwyn’s.

If there was a way, she’d find it.

And he hoped he could recover himself along with the sun.

Tonight had been his plan to do that, to get lost in Ilwyn as he craved, doting on every curve and divot of that beautiful body he adored. Though that didn’t stop his focus from slipping, his presence sliding into the cracks of existence as the means to escape.

He needed time, they both knew that. Though it didn’t quell his racing or thoughts or the cascade of tears falling down ruddy cheeks below in the kitchen. Astarion swallowed hard, pointed ears picking up on little whimpers from below before he’d slinked downstairs himself.

The kettle hung above a raging fire, steam puffing out of the ceramic stem as Ilwyn sat curled upon the floor, idling rubbing Scratch’s ears while she wept. The mutt’s head popped up when the vampire appeared, ears equally alert.

Lithe fingers unhooked the teapot from it’s perch, settling it upon the table. A freckled face was buried in white fur, refusing to look upon her lover as he sank to his knees. It was his turn to be of comfort, cool hand running down the length of a freckled arm.

“It’s nothing to do with you,” his own voice wavers, thick with emotion as she shivers beneath him. “I love you more than anything on the very face of Toril.”

“I know that,” Wynnie sniffled, sitting up as she allowed her fingers to twine with his own. “I only wish I could help more. Could be more healing.”

“Healing comes in time, I’m afraid.” A smooth thumb circled her knuckle for a moment before he tugged her into his arms, “But hells, I don’t want you to think for one second that it has anything to do with you.”

“What if I found a way to…entice you?” she pulled back, brushing a stray curl from the brow that arched upward. “To keep you grounded.”

“That’s rather appealing.” He growls playfully, though slightly apprehensive. He’s open to suggestions but equally nervous. “What have you in mind?”

“I, erm, I’m not sure,” she admits bashfully, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, “But maybe while I’m gone-”

“If you bring this up to Gale I’ll smite the three of us,” he sneered, nervous at what such a comment could possibly mean. The wizard hadn’t any a right to hear of what happened in their bed chambers.

“I meant in Waterdeep,” the blush emblazoned across full cheeks burned against his skin. “Maybe I’ll peruse a boutique or apothecary.”

“Ahh,” then Astarion was scooping her into his lap, cradling the small elf against his chest. “Whatever it is, let's not think of now. Instead, let's enjoy each other as we are.”

For the rest of the night, they basked in the other’s innocent company, though the gears in Ilwyn’s mind had begun to grind.

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Day 6 - (ALT PROMPT) Bloody Knuckles

I meant for this to be for day 4 of Whump Week but that other idea was too good, and then I didn't have the drive to finish it until now. More risen demon au stuff!

Ping list: @ailesswhumptober and @whumperofworlds

TWs: blood, discussion of suicide/suicide baiting, death mention

Mariano closed his eyes, feeling Dimitri's fingers combing through his feathers. They sat out in the little creek that ran through their domain, the quiet rustle of leaves and grass in the wind filling the comfortable silence. Cold, impossibly clean water meandered past, pulling the otherworldly black blood from Mariano's skin.

The last mission had been rough. Dimitri had insisted on helping him get clean again. Blood still oozed from cuts and scrapes, dark as the halo that hung near the tips of his tall horns. They'd bandage those once he was inside and dry again. Dimitri's claws scratched luxuriously against the skin of his wings, drawing little happy hums and sighs from Mariano as he finished washing his face.

"You're really pretty." Dimitri said with no warning.

"...What?" Mariano blinked. looking over his shoulder at Dimitri.

The blond demon just looked back at Mariano, still scratching through his feathers. "I said you're pretty. Turn around."

Mariano frowned as he did, black feathers ruffling before smoothing down as he shifted. The water felt amazing as it started to run against his lower back, his thin tail drifting along in the current. Dimitri took one of Mariano's hands in his, dipping it under the chilly water. His thumb started to brush over the broken, bleeding skin over Mariano's knuckles.

Mariano didn't wince, even as sparks of pain raced up his hand. "What makes you say that?" He asked, watching Dimitri's efforts gradually reveal raw, aching skin under the glowing black blood.

Dimitri frowned, tilting his head as he paused. "What do you mean, what makes me say that? I have eyes. You're pretty."

The water's temperature finally started to numb the sting of the bloody knuckles. "I thought you hated me." Mariano said as Dimitri let go of his now-clean hand to take his other one.

"Ah." Dimitri said, looking down at Mariano's hand again. His touch was somehow even more gentle, claws not even coming close to scraping against Mariano's knuckles. "I did, yes."

"You hated me the entire time we were alive. Before everything."

"I did." Dimitri said again, evenly. "I thought you were a brat, and a wimp, and spoiled. And stupid."

Mariano was quiet, letting Dimitri handle him more carefully than he'd ever done when he was alive. "When we all woke up here, you said I should've just killed myself instead of trying to whistle-blow." He said. "What changed?"

Dimitri's thumb passed over the knuckle of Mariano's ring finger, feather-light. "I'm not sure." He said. "You wanted to haunt Luis instead of just killing him, that helped. I liked that."

Dimitri's attention shifted to the knuckle of Mariano's pinky. "I think it was seeing your haunting." Dimitri's voice got softer. "I didn't like hearing you beg like that."

"Ah." It was Mariano's turn to speak quieter. "I'm sorry."

Dimitri shook his head. "No, no, it scared the shit out of Luis. He deserved it." Dimitri's fingers fell still. "He deserved to remember what he did to you."

They both fell quiet, the rustle of leaves and the murmur of water the only noises in their otherworldly paradise. Their feathers ruffled in the warm breeze. Dimitri let go of his hand to wipe at Mariano's cheek, thumb working at a stubborn streak of blood.

"Come." Dimitri said, his hand lingering where he cupped Mariano's face. "Let's get you bandaged up. Manuel's going to be upset if we stay out here too long and you catch a chill."

Dimitri stood, offering Mariano a hand up. He smiled, the briefest flicker of the expression flashing over his face as he accepted Dimitri's help. Dimitri didn't let go of Mariano's hand as they walked through the field of sweet-smelling flowers, up to the home they all shared.

[villain-enthusiast]

Could you do a snippet with a dignified supervillain and a sarcastic civilian? Idk I just feel like it would make for a fun little short story lol

tw: captivity, restraints, mild death threats, suggestive dialogue

Civilian had to admit, Supervillain was less intimidating than they had initially imagined.

They were larger, taller in person, dressed in a sleek black costume with a billowing cape that seemed rather excessive. But as the infamous criminal shuffled through the contents of something near the back of the room, Civilian couldn’t help but think that they looked like a rip-off Batman.

“Hey, uh, don’t you think this whole ‘tied to a chair in a cell room’ shenanigan is rather cliché?” Civilian blurted out, shifting uncomfortably in their bonds. “I’m not really gonna go anywhere.”

Supervillain stopped their movement abruptly. Their head raised slowly.

Keep talking. Civilian cleared their throat, maintaining their composure. “I mean, really, I know it seems like I’m an expert escape artist, but the gods decided to trade out my smarts for a boatload of good looks.”

Supervillain turned around, one brow arched, arms folded across their chest. Their dry stare raked over Civilian, from head to toe.

Then they scoffed.

Civilian gasped in an artfully exaggerated fashion, taken aback. “You just don’t understand the meaning of true beauty.” They leaned their head back into their seat, fluttering their eyes.

“You’re a bold one,” Supervillain mused, approaching Civilian. “I’ve never caught a bold one before.”

“What am I, a fish?” Civilian smirked, but went still as Supervillain stopped in front of them.

A frown crossed Supervillain’s face. “You really don’t seem to understand your place of power here.”

Some kind of hysterical laughter bubbled up in Civilian’s throat, but they held it down. “Honey, I’m not your average-looking civilian. You’re a notorious outlaw who resembles the look of an emo teenager. I’d say we’re on even playing field here.”

Supervillain’s icy expression didn’t falter. They stepped closer, bearing over the bound Civilian.

Civilian, although intimidated, smirked up at Supervillain. “That’s right, take it all in. I’m just too good to be true.”

“I’ve seen better.”

“Liar,” Civilian huffed. “You must have bad taste. What’re you into, furries?“

“I really am getting fed up with you.” Supervillain fingered the knife at their belt. “I don’t need you alive for bait.”

Civilian ignored the shudder that raced down their spines “What is it with you and the fish analogies? Oh my gods, do you have a fish kink? Is that an actual thing—,”

They stopped talking at the cold bite of blade at their throat.

“Say one more dumbass thing and I’ll cut you,” Supervillain growled. “You think you can just stomp over my dignity like you’re not testing death? You’re like a damn mosquito. Annoying and unyielding until they’re squashed.”

Civilian swallowed around the knife. They were quiet for a moment, then they took a breath. “Hero’s gonna come find me.”

Supervillain removed the weapon from their skin, and Civilian slumped back down into the chair.

“I sure hope they do,” their captor muttered, re-sheathing the dagger.

“Aw, you don’t want me around?” Civilian cocked their head in mocking disbelief. “I think you’ll grow to like me.”

Supervillain, who had begun to stalk back to the corner of the cell, stopped in their tracks. They turned back around. “So you plan on staying a while?”

“Well that’s a rather stupid question.” Civilian tugged feebly on the ropes binding them to the chair. “One could say that I’m a bit tied up at the moment.” They smiled proudly at their own pun. “I’m not going anywhere until Hero swoops in and sweeps me off my feet like a dashing savior.”

Supervillain sighed. “It’s taking everything in me not to strangle you right now.”

Civilian winked. “Ah, choking kink. I’ll write it down.”

The flash of a smile ghosted over Supervillain’s face, but it was so brief Civilian could’ve sworn they just imagined it.

Walking to the cell door, Supervillain jangled the keys in their hand. “Make yourself comfortable…” they trailed off, raising their eyebrows expectantly at Civilian.

“The name’s Civilian.” Civilian grinned.

Supervillain nodded once. “Have fun talking to yourself for a couple of hours. I’ve got a Hero to take of.”

Civilian furrowed their brow. “Wait, I thought you said you wanted—,”

The cell door slammed shut, cutting Civilian off before they could finish their sentence.

Damn.

[skydalorian]

Yet Another Distressing Wyll Mod

Another mod white-washing Wyll was uploaded on 11 January, 2024.

The mod is called "Wylls of Toril" and is created by Fesstrom, who has no other character mods in their history (and only one other mod, a nice mod which adds a popular Wyll hair-mod to his portraits). This is not necessarily indicative of malicious intent, but it does fit the pattern of prior modders who have little to no history other than a fresh account seemingly created for the sole purpose of offering a mod that alters Wyll's appearance, typically in order to make him appear less black.

The mod was originally posted with three screenshots of an alternate model for Wyll's face, along with three different skin-tones, two of which were a light and dark shade of brown, and one of which was white.

I am going to go into some detail below. I am willing to create more of a point-by-point breakdown and get into even further detail, but wanted first to share the basic description and screenshots. I am hesitant to go into a lengthy break-down from the get-go or without request, lest I be leading or present my own biases, upset, and bitterness as something more than my subjective experience. The more I can stick to the screenshots and links, the better.

Further details under the cut!

I (sanguinarialroot on Nexus) and others attempted to point out the racism inherent to this mod, with some overtly accusing the modder of deliberate racism, and other's detailing the issues without any comment on whether the mod was deliberately racist in intention outside of the operation and reception.

There is also a Reddit thread focused on this subject, and to which I contributed multiple comments (and a lengthy, distressing, thoroughly depressing dialogue with a lengthy, distressing, and thoroughly depressing person towards the tail end of a few comment threads... Trigger warning for a host of manipulation tactics or bad-faith dialoguing, as well as racism denial and baiting someone to share their race and then denying said race.)

I also have screenshots of my posts (the link clicks through to IMGUR) detailing the experience, many of which have since been removed due to reasons that the modder only scrambled to add as qualifying for removal AFTER I'd typed up my comments. This is presumably still being done for other users' as the mods post's count has hovered near 65 for around 24 hours now, despite it's prior post progression having rapid accumulation of comments in the hours closer to it's release.

Please read the comments on the screenshots, as I break down quite a bit of what occurred with a bit more detail and chronological progression than I would on a post in this form!

ONTO SOME POSITIVES (if they can be called as much...)

The modder later added another face model for Wyll, which appears to be their original model, with a wide nose and slightly thicker lips. This was done per another user's request. I'm going to be honest, I didn't notice this "fix" until long after my last posting before I was banned. It does not look quite so different from the modder's original alternate head, but I still regret that I did not acknowledge a potential attempt to improve. Of course, the damage was done and it does not absolve the modder, but it was an acknowledgement of a potential issue.

I would also like to thank the modder for remaning civil throughout the comment process! At no point did they speak lewdly or with hostility, and at no point did my banning seem like a drastic response. I can respect the modder's prerogative to remove me from the conversation towards the end. That doesn't mean I tolerate rampant censorship and lack of equitable culling towards their sycophants all across the board, but at least they weren't belligerent or overtly incendiary via their rhetoric.

CW/TW: Mention of racism + racism denial + race denial + whitewashing + and inclusions of links to message boards that include quite a hefty amount of racism + manipulative commenting + foul language + censorship + dismissiveness towards those attempting to criticize or call out what can easily be perceived as a racist project and racist messaging from the modder and/or commenters.

[eclipsecrowned]

What The Fuck Is Wrong With Tief Hel: (Grand)Parental Pacts, Patrons, and Pain. or, Why Hel Looks Like That Instead Of Like The Rest of Her People.

TW for body horror, health discussion. Long post, consider reading on blog rather than dash.

PT. 1: WHAT’S THE DAMAGE

For those not in the loop/who are being introduced to this muse on this blog rather than her old solo venture, we’re dealing with an AU version of my mythological Hel muse. In Norse mythos, Hel is a goddess of the dead, and has a vision that represents the limbo in which she serves. A living entity who rules over a realm of death, to one side she is a legendary beauty – and on the other, a horrifying corpse woman. Think Two-Face but substantially more Goth/Upsetting.

This is a deformity I carry into all of her verses, because disability in the divine is kind of an awesome concept actually, but the whole ‘half dead’ thing sometimes doesn’t translate very well into different verses. Sometimes, she instead has severe life-altering burns over half of her body, sometimes she just has a skin/muscle/nerve condition that largely effects one side, and sometimes it’s just a form of partial mummification in terms of look. One side of her will always, however, be affected by a chronic condition involving skin/muscle/veins/nerves. I’ll dig deeper into what this means for her mobility and health later. For now, we’re speaking strictly on what her actual appearance is.

In the verse in question – Galdur’s Bait 3 – I follow the schema of ‘disfiguring skin condition with underlying issues beneath said skin.’ That is to say, her left side is looking rather withered, skin drawn tight against her bones, looking fragile and rather spent. It isn’t a perfectly even 50/50 spread, but does appear to ebb and flow more to the right or only taking up a small fraction of her left side. It runs from her brow down to her feet themselves, though she dresses to obscure this fact and make it appear it’s only her face affected. It’s actually a key part of her early romance arc that she exposes her condition to the PC in full.

The impression this gives is… Unsettling. I’ll also go more into depth with this in a later point, but most common folk prefer not to look at Hel, and it’s often assumed she’s under the effect of some curse or an Undead. The point is, she barely looks like a natural Tiefling… Which is not an incorrect assumption, actually. Hel wasn’t created by cavorting with Cambions or trueborn tieflings having trysts. She’s not of Asmodeus, Mephistopheles, or Z*riel’s loins, metaphorically or otherwise.

Hel’s infernal lineage was a gift, you see. An Infernal gift, of course, but not from any of the usual suspects. She doesn’t owe her race or appearance to a Demon.

She owes it to a Dragon.

PT. 2: DAMAGE GETS DONE

Hel is not a first generation adventurer. She’s not even second generation. Lifetimes ago, there was a band of adventurers traipsing through the North. Two of these will be important to this meta moving forward – Farbauti Sudden-Striker, a Reghed Barbarian, and Laufey Liesmith, an Ill*skan of N*therese descent. As stated, Farbauti was a melee build, while Laufey supported he and their companions with magics. That should come as no surprise, given her heritage as one of the diaspora of that doomed empire, nor should her prodigious talent with the Weave.

Pivotal to this story, however, is the fact Laufey was an ambitious woman, and one who sought to supplement her already great powers with something more. The much touted Sorlock who built upon her inborn Sorcerer capabilities with a Warlock Pact, she worked tirelessly to hide that fact from others. Such an attempt to hide her deal only highlighted its nature: Infernal.

And there was plenty of reason to hide that fact. Not only was the North none too kind to such meddling, but she had not settled for more minor Patrons. Between her alarming natural power and her excellent breeding, she would serve only the best and darkest – or the most colorful, as the case might be. All of this pride led her to the altar of a then-Archdevil. With mutual aims towards power and control, and the agreement that Laufey would tirelessly serve her lady’s aims for domination and treasure both, Laufey signed herself to Tiam*t during her reign over Avernus.

She served with grace and discretion, collecting gold and land in service of her dark lady. Driven but lawful, many would be put off by such loyalties. Farbauti, for his part, was drawn into that gravity. Beautiful, brilliant, and with a distinct danger about her, Laufey was a lady worth fighting for, someone whose wit could help his own ambitions come to fruition. Theirs was a perfectly balanced union that produced two sons.

That is where it all falls apart. Despite being Humans both, the pairs first son was born wrong, possessing his father’s crimson hair, his mother’s pale complexion, and both a tail and the first hint of future horns. Laufey’s pact came back to haunt her during a lull in her adventuring, but the boy – Loki -- bore no outwards signs of her Lady’s favor besides the difference in race. The family left the North, finding it inhospitable for their son, and seemed like they might have made it.

A second son was the death of Laufey. The loss of Laufey was not the end of Tiam*t’s stain on the family.

Loki, for his part, took up his parents adventuring ways as he came of age. His lifestyle eventually led him to the Storm Horns, where he fell in with a Goliath clan and made something of a more permanent life with its leader. Each of their children were, per the rules of the setting, Tiefs like their father. The first son was about as normal as the offspring of such a union could be, reflecting more of a Goliath’s height and build as he grew. The second son had a strange way of growing scales rather than the natural ridges of his people, but was otherwise to standard.

And then there was his only daughter. Hel, who was born horrific, with disfigurements that could not be solved by magic and failing health that eventually saw her sent away from the mountain as an act of mercy. Her apparently degenerative, accursed appearance was much speculated about, but ultimately chalked up to divine mischief: Her father was an agent and acolyte of Mask, and his daughter’s conception lined up eerily with the end of a conflict against the Church of Cyr*c.

Those who look closely enough, however, will notice a few traits that point instead to her grandmother’s Patron, and perhaps even a sort of ‘blessing’ from the Chromatic Dragon.

PT. 3: SYMPTOMS AND SOCIETAL SIDE-EFFECTS

Maybe you’re saying to yourself, ‘Wow, Kadi, what interesting backstory lore you cooked up for your playthrough!’ More likely you’re saying, ‘Why the fuck did this bitch make me read that entire wall of text???’ Either way, I’m sure you’re at the conclusion of ‘What the shit does that have to do with your thesis statement?’ And I’m here to answer that question, with sources.

First, let’s get a little more in-depth with Hel’s appearance: The grey-tinted skin of her Goliath heritage, the slightly above average height that is also a gift from her mother, the back-swept horns and the prehensile tail and the vibrant eyes swimming in pools of black sclera that are so common among Tiefls. But the first thing anyone will notice about this woman is aforementioned textural/disfigurements from part one.

That isn’t just for show, by the way. It’s far more than skin deep. Per a past meta I wrote on the subject:

“For the most part, these aforementioned malformations outwardly exhibit themselves in neurological damage to her sensory and motor capabilities. This damage is commonly expressed in loss of sensation, reduced range of motion, and muscle weakness, as well as occasional fits of twitching or shaking in her extremities, digits, or facial muscles. More rarely, she might deal with temporary bouts of pain and partial paralysis through her rotted half, both of which can be quite debilitating and interrupt her routines, or even leave her bedridden in especially severe cases. Besides these neurological issues, there’s also the matter of reduced blood flow and vein problems running through half of her body. There is an underlying heart issue at play here, which poses a much more sizable risk than her constant but stabilized nerve problems. Coldness of extremities might be the most obvious that many will see – or in this case, feel. – but it’s just the first of many underlying problems. Lethargy and fatigue can also put Hel out of commission for a time, and can be especially worrisome when coupled with the aforementioned, infrequent periods of nerve pain. The moment where these two issues really wreak havoc on each other is when swelling of extremities puts further strain on Hel’s already damaged nerves.”

So what we have is Hel, who was born with debilitating but far from fatal chronic pain, which cannot be healed by any means. She also has visible malformations that only make her life more difficult-- this is not an invisible struggle on her part. It has been quoted in past editions that Tiam*t, dubbed the Undying Queen, is not fond of healing magics, and all but demands her faithful embrace pain to come out the other side of it stronger. It’s not an immediate tell of her heritage/the cause of recent Infernal twists on the family tree, and indeed no one is likely to cotton on to this side of Tiam*t’s doctrine in line with Laufey’s only granddaughter, but from a Meta perspective it can be inferred that Hel has suffered for all 35 years as a counterbalance or even as a sign of favor for her grandmother’s loyal service.

There’s more to it than wounds that will not heal/physical pain builds character, however. There’s physical tells unrelated to her malformations that also act as a walking advertisement of a Pact made generations before.

As has been pointed out to me by a friend, there is one aspect of Tiam*t that has endured through all editions and depictions. It’s a subtle thing, but the shape of her tail is singular. While Hel does not have a 1:1 ‘recreation’ of this aspect, she sure doesn’t have the standard spade or smooth tapering end that many Tiefs possess a their tips. It much more resembles a stinger, though the cartilage is neither hard/sharp enough to actually be used as a weapon, and this ‘stinger’ lacks the venomous capabilities of Tiam*t’s own tail. There is also the fact Hel’s ridges are scale-like in texture, which is something she shares in common with a brother.

Of course, the average person is not going to look at Hel and put together ‘Ah, Tiam*t influence.’ They are going to look at her and ask if she’s dying, planning on leaving anytime soon because she’s frightening the children and a fair few adults, or just draw weapons on what they take for an Undead. Too few people want to look at her long enough or have a deep enough understanding of the Chromatic Dragon’s aesthetics/doctrine to draw the correct conclusion. Even if they did and passed a perception check to recognize her for what she is, it’s just another mark against her, another reason to drive her out or draw blades.

That’s not likely to happen, however. Not even Hel’s own family can put the pieces together about her connection to the grandmother she so favors, as the family’s bet is actually on the fact her father pissed off Cyr*c before riding home to sire her.

PT. 4: LOOKING TO THE FUTURE

So that’s how we got here. What does it mean for Hel moving forward?

Well… not a lot. She’s not particularly invested in the Infernal, and already sold herself off to K*lemvor as a Cleric decades ago. Her grandmother is long dead and buried, so learning the truth from Laufey is a non-starter. Hel has a perfectly serviceable answer for why she is ‘like this’ in the assumption about Loki’s past activities she’s been made aware of. The strangeness has thus far gone no further than her, as in both endgames where she has kids they’re far more baseline as Tiefs go.

She’ll still have that wound that will not heal in her physical capabilities, but then, she’d have that even if there was a less fantastical reason for their existence. Even if someone were to come forward tomorrow and out all of this to her the day after the epilogue, there’s not much she can do with the information.

It can, however, open the door for several adventure hooks. I’ve even toyed with loose ends tying party lore together in Laufey’s cult was the seed from which grew the attempted attack on the Gate that another companion thwarted. That both have something to lay to rest while dragging their mutual friends along for the ride. That in any ending that leads the party to Avernus, there’s either roses or scorn thrown at one who reeks of the Chromatic Dragon. That the shades of the past start reaching out for Hel, drawn either to her resemblance to Laufey or her future friction with her chosen God. And then there is always the long-shot possibility someone recognizes Hel for these ‘tells’ of a past pact with Tiam*t and comes to collect a pound of flesh or incorrectly assess she’s caught up in worship of the Dragon in question.

[raayllum]

onto love like a sword

summary: Callum has three dreams in which Rayla kills him. His response changes every time. TW for blood and non implied murder

a/n: we can get a little fucked up. as a Treat

word count: 1.1k

'I fell onto love like a sword.' —Yves Olade

He wakes up shaking, the fire a collection of smouldering embers on the floor and Ezran snoring steadily in the corner, Bait pressed firmly to his side to keep him as warm as possible. Callum places a hand on his chest, determined to catch his breath, thankful his sudden start doesn’t seem to have woken anyone, his heart still racing. He’s in the middle of nowhere with his brother and a dying dragon egg, not back at the castle, not with a blade embedded between his ribs, not—

Dying, at Rayla’s behest.

read the rest on AO3

[forget-you-morelike-fuck-you]

Knee Highs- E.M.

Y/N's wearing knee-high socks to school.

Masterlist

TW- 18+ Minors DNI, mentions of smut, brief fingering, cursing, public teasing, innuendo, pet names (good girl, sweetie, baby, pretty girl)

Pairing- Eddie x Reader

Word Count- 1,735

(Gif not mine, credit to owner!)

You’ll admit, sometimes you like to do things just to get a rise out of Eddie. You like the thrill of it, knowing that once he finally gets you alone, you’ll be devoured by him in every way he can think of. Sometimes, it starts unintentionally, like today. You show up to school in a skirt and knee-high socks. You didn’t think much of it when you put it on, you just thought you looked cute. You walk into your first period, and Eddie is sitting next to your empty seat, still half asleep, his arms folded across his chest, eyes downcast to spare him the torture of the bright classroom lights.

“Good morning, Eddie!” You greet him brightly. He looks up at your smiling face, his mood improving exponentially now that his favorite girl is here, but then his eyes travel down, down to your pretty pleated skirt and those pretty knee-high socks. His eyes practically bulge out at the sight. The thoughts that stir in his tired mind equate to that of the shock of an ice-cold shower. Screw coffee, nothing can wake him up in the morning quite like seeing you looking so tantalizing.

“Well, good morning to you, Y/N.” There’s a sultry edge to his voice as he smiles, and you feel a heat rush to your cheeks. You lean down to give him a quick peck on the lips before you sit in your seat next to him.  

“What’s got you in such a good mood all of a sudden?” You ask, a laugh lilting your speech as you reach to pull your notebook out of your backpack. He shrugs, the smile curling into a face of nonchalance, his eyes settling shamelessly on the stretch of skin between the tops of your knees and the hem of your dangerously short skirt. Oh. So that’s the kind of day we’re having?

“What, is it such a crime for me to be happy to see my beautiful girlfriend?” You giggle at that, his eyes slowly creeping up your body, making your heart race. Even after so long together, he can still bring you to your knees with a single look. You lean toward him, a smirk on your glossy lips.

“I never said that,” You say. “Just wondering if there’s anything in particular.” You watch him chew his lip as he continues to eye-fuck you in the middle of the classroom, but you turn your eyes to the teacher as the lesson begins.

Eddie tries to keep his focus, he really does, but he can’t help but flick his eyes over to you every so often. He likes watching your face scrunch in focus as you do your work, your lashes low on your eyelids as you squint to read a question on the worksheet the teacher’s given you. And of course, there’s your outfit. He loves seeing you in anything, or without anything, for that matter, but who doesn’t really love a gorgeous woman in knee-highs?

By the end of class, he’s so out of focus all he can do is imagine what he’s gonna do to you when he finally gets you back to his place at the end of the day. You notice his absent-mindedness as you both pack up for your next class, and you bump his hip with yours as you exit the classroom together, hands clasped together as you walk. Eddie’s eyebrow flicks up, his face gazing down at your smile. “Wanna do something after school?” You bait him. Eddie bites his lip lightly, his hand squeezing yours.

“Yeah, what are you thinking about?”

“I dunno, we could just watch a movie or something,” You suggest. He pictures you laid between his legs on the couch, your head against his chest, his hands rubbing circles on your legs, higher and higher until…

“Yeah, we can do that. Sounds- sounds good.” His voice is a bit higher than usual, signaling he’s definitely thinking about what you hoped he would be. He swallows hard, trying to push the thoughts of you whining his name away. The two of you make it to your next class, and Eddie leans to kiss you.

His lips press hard against yours, his warm tongue smoothing across your cherry flavored lips, another thing for him to try not to think about too hard, and you giggle, your hand coming to his hip, fingers gently brushing over the skin just beneath his shirt. You’re having fun now, and you’ll have even more fun thinking about him stewing with need until you see him next at lunch. You hear his breath stutter slightly, and you smile as you pull away, giving him a flutter of your eyelashes for good measure before bidding him goodbye.

Eddie’s having a rough day. All he can think about is you and those lips and those goddamn socks with that skirt and how much he wants to rip them to shreds to get to every inch of skin he can while you writhe in pleasure beneath him. He half thinks about skipping a period to go into the forest to relieve some of the pressure building in his balls, but he thinks better of it, knowing that he should save it for you. He’ll just have to stick it out until the end of the day.

When lunch finally rolls around, you’ve come up with a devious little plan that’s got you skipping in the halls to the cafeteria. Eddie’s already there, and once you’ve got your lunch, you make your way to the table, setting your try down and plopping right. In. His. Lap. Eddie’s eyes go wide, but he fixes his face immediately after as you turn around to kiss him.

“Having a good day, sweetie?” You ask. He nods, his mind going fuzzy at the feeling of your warmth. He feels a jolt in his pants as you adjust yourself to face your lunch, and you feel it, the pump of blood in Eddie’s cock beneath you. You have to hold back your laugh, taking a bite of your sandwich in order to even keep a straight face. Eddie takes a deep breath behind you as he tries to act normal around all of your friends, but as one hand comes around to reach his lunch, the other hand goes to your leg, his fingers digging deliciously into the meat of your thigh.

You cover the hitch in your breath with a cough, your ass pushing into him as a reflex. Eddie’s being so quiet it’s suspicious, so you make conversation with Gareth to try and keep your cover. You feel Eddie grow beneath you, his cock pressing into your ass harder with every passing minute. You have to squeeze your legs together to hide the scent of your growing wetness as you both play a game of chicken. Who’s going to break first?

Well, it’s not going to be you. You finish lunch like a champ, keeping your cool and making conversation with the guys like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Even when Eddie’s hand dipped beneath your skirt to just ghost over the fabric of your panties, you barely so much as blinked. After the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch, Eddie grabs you by the leg to make you wait for everyone else at the table to leave before you get up. When you’re the last ones there, he releases you, and you get yourself up, your legs wobbling a little as you lose the little friction you had going under the cover of the table. Eddie stands and strategically adjusts the jacket around his waist to hide his erection. You try to hide your smile, but Eddie grabs your chin and turns your face to him.

“Bathroom. Now.” His eyes are dark and he licks his lips. It sends a jolt of electricity right to your aching core as you hurriedly gather your things. He grabs your hand and practically pulls you into the nearest restroom, not giving you a chance to even catch your breath as you’re pushed into the wall, his lips going straight to your neck. You try to keep quiet, though you wish you could let out all of the sounds of passion trapped inside your throat as his hands wander down to your hips. “You come here dressed like this,” He whispers. “And you get me fucking throbbing right in the middle of the goddamn lunchroom…” His hands go beneath your skirt, one to your ass, the other down the front of your panties, fingers greedily stroking up and down your slit. You have to bite his shirt to keep from moaning as the rough pads of his fingers sharply circle around your clit. “And you expect me to wait until the end of the day to fucking taste you?” Your legs go shaky, and he pulls his hand out from your panties, his mouth opening as he licks your wetness from his fingers, moaning at the taste.

“I didn’t—” You begin. Eddie gives a gentle slap to your ass before kneading it in his large hand.

“You didn’t mean to?” He mewls condescendingly, “Maybe this morning, but fuck, baby, you’ve been doing your worst ever since then, huh?” You smile wickedly into his neck, heart beating faster and faster. “I’ll tell you what’s gonna happen.” Your eyes widen as you pull to look at him, your breath coming in pants as his fingers drag up and down your sides. “We’re gonna walk out that door right now, and I am gonna drag you out to the van, and I am gonna fuck you senseless, and then, when we finally get out of this shithole for the day, I’m gonna take you home, and I’m gonna fuck you again. Sound good, sweetheart?” His face looms right above yours, lips just brushing. You squeeze your thighs together and nod obediently. Through your fluttering eyelashes, you see him smile. “There’s my good girl.” He kisses you wantonly, hands going to your hair. “Alright, then, pretty girl, let’s go.” You giggle as he grabs your hand, and the two of you sneak out of the school to the parking lot.

You make a mental note of wearing this outfit again as Eddie unlocks the back double doors, pulling you in with him. If it survives, that is.