#The whole thing is so bizarre and every word from his mouth keeps making the video worse

[things-methinks]

FilmCooper should actually stop making videos on serious topics. He has a lot of shit takes on sensitive matters. There's this intense "guy who paints his nails to seem progressive" energy. I don't think he is a horrible person per se, but he is not as nuanced as he tries to come off as. Saying Justin Baldoni should have just "sucked it up" because he asked an important question to keep himself safe from injuries? Man, you should sit this one out. And the comments about Chappell Roan releasing statements telling people to stop stalking her as "statements after statements" "like 30 posts" is very weird from someone who bends over backwards to defend women because he is the only doing "some research" and looking at stuff from a different angle. Honestly, if being wrong multiple times in the expanse of one video was a tournament, his video would be the top contender.

[msgexymunson]

Highest Bidder

Description: When you get Eddie to agree to be on auction for the Valentine’s Ball, you don't count on jealousy affecting you this much. To be fair, you didn’t think Chrissy Cunningham would be there. But maybe, just maybe, he likes you just as much as you like him? 

Warnings: Angst, fluff and smut, my favourite horsemen. NSFW, Minors DNI or I'll shoot you with arrows and not the cupid kind. Slight older, 25 ish Eddie Munson x 23 ish fem reader, confessions, BFFs to lovers, oral fem receiving, p in v unprotected sex (dress before you impress irl) 

A/N: So this was meant for Valentines but I decided to catch Covid instead. Inspired by the auction scene in Groundhog Day. I loved writing this, hopefully you get the desperate pining feeling that I was trying to give off. I love all of you, not only on Valentines but every day. 

Comments and reblogs keep this little paper heart from bursting Into flames. Please, comment and reblog, it makes me so happy you don't even know. 

7k words

Masterlist

“So sweetheart,” Eddie begins, a sly smile creeping over his face as he steeples his hands in front of him, elbows on his knees, “are you gonna tell me why you did it?” He's sitting across from you in his armchair, like this is some sort of bizarre job interview. 

The surroundings are familiar. Eddie's second hand couch, the worn fabric soft under your thighs. The coffee table you helped drag up four flights of stairs, adorned with a coaster placed entirely for your benefit, of course. It's not like Eddie cares about water rings. The comforting smell of the fabric softener Eddie uses intermingled with cigarettes, and incense to cover the smoky aroma. That, and Eddie's aftershave; faint after a night in proximity of it, but there all the same. 

The situation is not familiar. The wayward glances, the lingering touches, the tension filling the air so thick it's like trying to move through cake batter. Wading through some dense, sweet, all consuming feeling that sticks to your ribs and pulls you into its gravity.

Torn between looking at him and shyly stirring your drink with its straw, you think about it. Why did you? The answer wasn't simple. It never was, with Eddie.

It all started with the Valentines Charity Ball your mom roped you into helping to organise. She was a force to be reckoned with, your mom. The human equivalent of a wrecking ball. When she got involved with any good cause, no one and nothing could stop her. Including you. 

So, when she ran to you in desperation last night, you didn't hesitate. One of the guys for the date auction had taken ill and she was stuck for a fourth. So, the first name you could think of spilled out of your mouth. It took some convincing. No, he's not just some freak. Yes, he's doing well for himself. Yes, he's got a steady job, an apartment. No, he doesn't deal anymore. Yes, he's good looking, obviously. No, we aren't a thing, we were never a thing. 

You were never a thing. It was much more complex than that. Affairs of the heart always were. When you'd met Eddie at school you were quiet. A loser, living on the fringes of obscurity; not popular, but not strange enough to be bullied. Eddie was safe. A shield. You'd entered Hellfire without a second thought. And sure, he was handsome, ridiculously so. But at the time, he was seeing some twig called Stacey or Samantha or something, and you bit down on your attraction. Hid it deep within the tissue of your heart. Swallowed it whole. Then, you'd dated Thomas, and after that, he had seen Wendy, and then it was circumstantial. At no point had the pair of you been single together until recently, so it clearly wasn't meant to be. Whatever attraction you'd been harbouring was mellowed, dissolved and disintegrated in yourself. After that, he was just Eddie. 

Convincing Eddie to do the auction had been an entirely different story. It wasn't nerves. He had stood on tables in the cafeteria to speak his mind, after all. He had conveyed his innermost thoughts to almost any who would listen, like some wayward preacher at a bizarre sermon. It could never be nerves, not with him. It was always the fear of not being enough. The fear of himself. After many words of encouragement, he'd agreed. If only to shut you up, but it worked. 

What you hadn't accounted for was the sight of Eddie climbing out of his beat up van in a goddamn button up shirt and fucking dress shoes. In jeans that weren't ripped, with wild hair scooped back into a low bun. You hadn't counted on the easy smile you'd seen a thousand times now winding into your stomach and sending raven wing beats into your heart. In the soft wink that loosed a thousand moths within your core. Moths, they say, live at most, a day, but these seem ancient compared. Alive in an enclosure you had created years ago, set loose suddenly and all at once, their once fixated caretaker ignoring his responsibilities. 

“Hey sweetheart, am I late?” 

When had his voice gained that huskiness, that depth? When had looking into his chocolate brown eyes melted your insides? A twinge in your back brought on by the stress of the night took you back to the here and now. Gazing back at him whilst you attempted to rub it away, you replied.

“N-no, not at all. You, you look really good, Eddie.” 

He scoffed aloud, shaking his head in disbelief, a cascade of loose curls flowing around his face. 

“That's a load of crap. You, hey, you look amazing. Seriously, smoking hot.” 

Your head span with the compliment, as you looked down at your own outfit. It was a ball after all, and for once your mom had insisted on a dress. It was a deep red, cheap satin, low cut, a tasteful hem at the knee, with a slit up the side providing at least a little mobility, and kitten heels. Currently, you felt like an outsider looking into a different world through plexiglass, but the way Eddie looked at you made you feel like you belonged. 

‘It's nothing, just a dress.” 

“Hey,” he replied, crowding your space with the confidence he embodies, “you look incredible. Trust me.”

His knuckles dragged across your flushed cheek, and for a moment all sense of who you were and why this was happening was lost to the feel of his skin on yours. But only for a moment. Dipping your eyes down, you took a tiny step back. 

“We should head inside Eddie. You ready?” 

After a couple of hours of cheesy music and weak as fuck punch, you tapped your fingers on your plastic cup and turned down the latest pensioner who thought you were here for his amusement. Until finally, the host tapped the microphone and asked everyone to gather at the front for the main event. You made your way to the side of the stage in case you were needed, and waited for the bidding to start. 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have the highlight of the night. For one night only, Hawkins’s most eligible bachelors will be yours, to an extent. Be prepared to be wined, dined, and entertained, by our finest gentlemen, all in the name of charity, of course. And first up, is our very own George Heights! Give it up for George everyone!” 

The crowd clapped as George walked onto the stage, an early balding man with just the hint of a pot belly poking through his chequered blue shirt.  

“George is an artist, and an aspiring architect, with a penchant for poetry and an insatiable appetite. Give it up for George, everybody!”

After a lukewarm auction, which ended with George being bought for 65 bucks, the next one was sold. And the next one. Pretty soon, it was Eddie's turn. He stepped forward, and whispers began to float around you. You expected that, to some extent, but there were woops, and even a wolf whistle too. Ever the showman, he bent into a low bow, straightened back up, and winked at the audience. 

“And last, but not least, we have a handsome young man up for your bidding pleasure. Put your hands together for Eddie!” 

As he did a turn on the spot, hands outstretched, the rouse of applause went on for longer than you thought it would. Enthusiastic hands clapped for your man.

No. Your friend. Just a friend. 

“That's it, that's what we're looking for! Eddie is a mechanic, and a talented guitarist, who is looking for your company tonight! So, starting bid, can I hear twenty dollars?” 

“Here! Twenty dollars!” An old lady waved her programme enthusiastically in the air. Eddie's eyes rolled and caught yours momentarily, and you flashed a smile at him. 

“There we go, twenty! Can we go to twenty five?” 

“Thirty!” an equally old lady shouted, earning you yet another look from him that made you laugh. 

“Fifty dollars!” 

The crowd went silent as a man in the back shot his hand in the air. 

“Woah, a high bidder! Anyone want to beat fifty?” 

Before the crowd had a chance to recuperate a young and extremely pretty woman's hand shot upward. 

“One hundred dollars!” 

Everyone fell silent. The only thing not getting the message was your heartbeat. The beautifully manicured and delicate hand belonged to none other than Chrissy fucking Cunningham. 

She looked more beautiful than ever. Hawkins’s sweetheart, all grown up. The popular girl, the pretty girl. Prettier than you, at least to your mind. Prom queen, beauty pageant winner, and the icing on the cake? Actually a nice person. No one could hate her, it would be like kicking a kitten. 

But as your heart dropped like a lead weight into your chest, you thought you wouldn't mind seeing a bit of fur flying across the room, guided by your heels. 

You saw it, you couldn't fail to. The sudden way Eddie stood a little straighter, chest puffed up a little more, as a slow smirk crawled over his face. 

“One hundred? Wowee! Thank you young lady! Anyone for one twenty?” 

The man at the back called out, “right here!” 

Chrissy giggled, small hand held up covering the cute noise, and made another bid. 

“One thirty!” 

It seemed like the entirety of your body's blood had rushed to your head. You felt dizzy and sick, watching this happen, like some slow motion car crash. Again, your damned back hurt. you rubbed it in vain, and gazed back at the ruin in front of you.  

“One fifty!” The man at the back bellowed. Eddie's eyes widened, and he put his hands together, as if in prayer. His gaze was begging, pleading, and directed at Chrissy. 

The frozen spell you seemed to have been under lifted suddenly. This was not going to happen, you wouldn't let it. Chrissy had everything she could possibly need, she didn't need more. She couldn't have him. 

He's yours. 

Through watery eyes, you fiercely trawled through your purse, and came across the little envelope you tucked in there earlier. The money you had scraped together to go towards buying a car. You'd almost forgotten it, intending to drop it home before you came here. 

It looked like you'd have to be a pedestrian for a while longer. 

At the same time Chrissy placed delicate fingers in the air, your whole arm shot up, purse clutched in hand. 

“Two hundred and fifty two dollars and thirty nine cents!” 

Gasps and grunts from the crowd echoed throughout the hall as everyone turned to face you. Even Eddie's jaw hit the floor. It took a moment for it to register, but when it did people were cheering. 

“Well, I think that wraps it up folks! The highest bid of the night, sold to the very eager young lady in red right over here! What a great donation!”

He continued talking, wrapping up the show, and signalled for the music to start once again. Blood was hammering in your ears, making you almost oblivious to everyone around you. All you could focus on in your tunnel vision was Eddie as he walked to the edge of the stage, climbed off in a smooth hop, and started sauntering toward you. 

“You know, if you wanted me that badly you could have just asked, sweetheart.” He said, as he flashed you a smug grin. 

“Hey, I was just saving you from that guy over there, pretty sure he wanted more than a date.” Your words came out calmer than you thought you were capable of as you clenched a fist at your side to hide your shakes. 

“Oh, really?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest, “That's what you were saving me from, huh?” 

He knew it was a lie. You knew it was a lie. You're pretty sure the entire hall knew it was a lie. 

“Of course, don't want some old geezer putting his hands all over you. Not a fun Valentines. Plus, I own you now. You've gotta do what I say.” 

Your hands dropped to your hips, holding them as you smiled at him. 

“Kinky,” he replied, stepping closer, making you falter in your confident stance as you’re forced to look up at him, “so, what are your orders, princess?” 

“Can you, get me a drink. A proper drink, from the bar? Please?” 

Taking your hand in both of his, he brought it up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it that turned your insides upside down. 

“Easy. Your wish is my command. Jack and Coke, right?” 

Gormlessly nodding, all you managed to say was a stunted “uh huh.”

He flashed that grin again, and bounced off with more of a spring in his step than usual. 

You turned on your heel, begging yourself to get your head together, and busied yourself with gathering the donations for the auction, including your hefty one, and passed the cash to your mom to be locked away. When you approached, she opened her mouth but you wildly waved a finger at her. 

“I know, I don't want to hear it. Not right now.” 

She smiled, and just said, “pretty sure you could have got that date for free.” 

Rolling your eyes and simultaneously rubbing your back, you passed over the cash and turned quickly, nearly slamming into someone. 

“Easy princess, I know you bought me but I won't stand for full on tackling.” 

He was holding your drink high, arms up to protect it.

“Sorry Eds, just escaping from-” 

You looked over your shoulder, but your mom had disappeared. 

“-nevermind. Thank you.” 

As you grabbed your drink you took a generous gulp in a vain attempt to steady your nerves. 

“So, now you have me, what are you gonna do to me?” 

As he guided a wolfish grin to you, you simply rolled your eyes, trying to hide the fact that several unsavoury thoughts were swimming through your mind. 

“What if I told you to hop on one leg and bark like a dog, huh?” You replied, sending a grin right back. 

“Oh you don't think I would? Don't test me princess.” 

You simply folded your arms and cocked your head, daring him with a look. Eddie nodded, and started fucking bouncing on one leg. 

“Woof! Woo-” 

“OK OK stop you weirdo!” Gasping a laugh, you grabbed him by the crook of his elbow and dragged him away from the curious stares of those around you. 

As the song changed to a slow ballad, Eddie whipped the drink from your hand despite your protests and placed it on a nearby table. 

“What are you doing?” 

Grasping your hand he escorted you to the middle of the dance floor and suddenly pulled you so close that the air expelled from your lungs. There was no air, just music, and feeling, and Eddie. 

“I'm dancing with you. Isn't this what you do on dates?” 

As he held your hips, thumbs rubbing into your sides, your mind cleared. Like a bubble of smoke had popped. This felt good. This felt right. You circled his neck within your arms and relaxed for the first time that evening.  

“This isn't a date, Eds.” 

Your words held some spite, but it was belied by the smirk tugging at your cheeks. 

“You are right. This isn't a date. If it was, well, we wouldn't be surrounded by geriatrics.” he nodded at the crowd around you, eliciting a high pitched giggle from your chest. 

As you swayed in step with him, gazing into his chocolate eyes, the smirk only grew, fuelled by the mischief in his eyes. 

“So, if this was a date, what would we be doing instead?” 

A part of you wants to feel bashful and turn away, but the spell his eyes have you under is in control. No force on earth could tear your gaze asunder. The couples around you could burst into flames and be chalked up to little more than background noise. 

“Well, first, I would have picked you up at your house, bought you some flowers too,” he said as he brought his hand to yours, holding it and pushing you into his frame even more, so you strained your neck up to him. His breath fanned delicately against your ear as he continued his explanation. 

“Probably took you to a fancy restaurant, with fabric napkins,” he said, making you giggle at his understanding of ‘fancy’, “would have paid too. Maybe had some wine. Shared a dessert.” 

“Yeah?” You nearly whisper it, words falling into the exposed skin of his neck. 

“Yeah. Then, I would have taken you back to my place, offered you a cup of coffee,” suddenly he spun you, pressing his lithe front to your waiting back, his fingers scooping the hair from your neck sending comet trails of sensation down your spine. He continued, words making your head dizzy, “Then, I would kiss you, properly. Like you deserve to be kissed.” 

As he spun you back to face him, you held his gaze for a moment, seeing every ounce of honesty etched into those big brown eyes. 

“Eddie?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Let's get out of here.” 

You shake your head, bringing yourself back to the here and now. Here you sit, opposite Eddie, invaded by his scent, debating whether or not to just tell the truth and hang the consequences. 

Taking a gulp of your drink, you set it back down and look Eddie in the eye. 

“Listen, I'm gonna be honest. I saw the way you looked at Chrissy and I… I was jealous. I didn't think, I just kinda acted. I'm sorry if it was weird.” 

Bravery fleeing your bones leaving behind an airy wobble, you look at your own lap, fingers twisting over and over. You're only slightly aware of the shuffle and rustle of Eddie rising to his feet, of footsteps, of the dip in the couch next to you. Then, Eddie's large hand comes to rest over both of yours. 

“Do you know why, sweetheart? Why were you jealous?” 

His hand is steady, fingers stilling your movements confidently, but there's a quaver to his voice that seems entirely unlike him. Grasping his fingers, you absentmindedly play with his heavy rings. 

“I feel stupid. I've had… kind of a crush on you, since high school.”

Of all the reactions, you hadn't expected a deep laugh to reverberate from his chest. Recoiling in horror, you shift your hands away from his and move to stand, your only thought to run, flee. 

“No no no, please, sit,” he asks, hands grasping at your waist to keep you there, as you rub at the twinge in your back again. 

“Turn around,” he says, and you don't find it in you to disobey. Firm hands stroke softly down your back, “you've been rubbing your back all night. Right here?” 

Fingertips circle the spot that's been aching and you nod, confused.

“Eddie, if this is a rejection, it's a really odd one- oh fuck, right there.” 

He chuckles lowly, knuckles working at the knot near your spine. 

“It's not, it's really not. You're in pain, and I know you'd never ask. Plus, I, ha, don't have the balls to say this to your face.” 

You don't say anything in response, you can't. Of course he's noticed you're in pain, he always notices stuff like that. The fact that this isn't a rejection though? It has your head reeling with so many thoughts that you can't express the words. Eddie clears his throat, hands rubbing into your skin through your dress, easing some of the building anxiety. 

“I've got a secret. I've- had a crush, on you, since middle school.” 

“Shut up!” You gasp, mouth hanging open at his confession. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“You didn't even know me in middle school Eds.”

“Yeah I did. Well, sorta. You remember that day I ran into the library? I asked for help?” 

You pick at the scab of a memory, itching it to the forefront of your brain. 

“Oh yeah, you were running from that idiot... Johnny?”

“Jimmy Salinsky. He was gonna beat on me. You, you didn't hesitate. You didn't even know me, but you told me to hide under your chair, you even threw your coat over your lap to hide me.” 

“What else would I do?” 

He snorted derisively, continuing his impromptu massage, “ignore me, tell me to fuck off, just like anybody else. But you, no, you didn't. Jimmy ran in looking for me and you didn't even lie! He asked if a freak had run in and you-” 

“-I said ‘the only freak in here is you’, I remember.” 

“That's right!” He laughs, squeezing your hips appreciatively, “Then he asked if you'd seen the poor kid, Eddie. You said, ‘I've never even met an Eddie’, which was true too. Not like I introduced myself before I dived under your chair. I remember crouching there, trying not to laugh, watching your little legs swinging. You had odd socks on, and you smelled really good. Anyway, I crushed on you hard.” 

Head buzzing over his words, you try to organise your thoughts. 

“Did the guys- did Hellfire know?” 

“Sweetheart, I'm surprised you didn't know, it was common knowledge. I just thought you never liked me like that.” 

Turning to face him again, you stroke hesitant fingers over his knee. 

“Didn't say anything, you were seeing Stacey.” Eddie's face screws in confusion until clarity rings like a bell in his mind. 

“Her? I wasn’t- that wasn't a relationship. I would have stopped in a fucking heartbeat if I'd known.” 

“Oh. I dated Tom to get over you.” 

“I dated Wendy to get over you!” 

Sharing a laugh, you both hold eye contact, giggles dying at the realisation of what this means. 

“So, Eddie, about that kiss…” you inch forward, ever so slightly nearer to him. A pink tongue darts out of his mouth, wetting his bottom lip. 

“Yeah, that. That was me, running my mouth,” he says, anxiety wracking his voice as he strokes his neck compulsively, “Not that I don't want to kiss you, I do, just, erm, don't expect fireworks?” 

It's almost like he's back at middle school, the nerves radiating off of him. Smiling sweetly, you take his hand and place it on your jaw, leaning into its touch. The breath he exudes is shaky as he moves closer, eyes darting to your lips as yours flutter shut. 

It's tentative; a brush of his mouth as if he's scared of you running, of some practical joke. When you make no move to pull away his thumb strokes your cheek, lips now moving more confidently against yours. Your heartbeat is echoing inside your head as your hand slips to slither down his chest and around him, circling his side. 

Only then does his tongue slowly snake out to wet your bottom lip; a silent plea which you happily grant. Still, it's delicate, tongues moving leisurely against one another as if you have all the time in the world. It's by no means dispassionate; far from it, it may be the most emotionally  charged kiss of your life, but it feels like he's holding back. 

So, you pull him closer by the front of his shirt, flicking your leg over his knee as your fingers tug hard. It's then that his tongue licks into you in earnest, thick and smooth, filling your insides with need. Just when you feel utterly consumed, whining inside his mouth, he breaks away. After a few pecks to your lips, he presses his forehead to yours, breath uneven, cooling your swollen lips. 

“I'm in love with you.” 

It comes out of his mouth in a rush. All you can do is stare gormlessly. 

“Huh?” 

“I love you. I just needed you to know that. This isn't just a- a thing. I'm in love with you, I have been since forever. I know it's a lot to take in, and I don't expect you to say it back I just need you to-”

You shut him up, pressing a hard kiss to his parted lips.

“Eddie, you lied.” 

“What? I'm telling the truth I-”

“You said don't expect fireworks. You were wrong.” 

Wasting no more time, you force your body onto him, tongue clashing against his teeth as the force of your kiss presses him backwards. His head makes contact with the arm of the couch, hands hot and heavy on your hips, pushing you into his bulge. 

The fabric of your dress is constricting your movements, making you huff into his mouth. 

“Eddie,” you manage in between spit slicked kisses, “unzip me.” 

There's a cross between a grunt and a moan that vibrates from him into you as his hand wanders across your back, groping its way to the zipper. In a few short bursts he manages to unzip it, not once breaking the kiss. 

Cool air hits your skin and you stand up, shimmying the dress to the floor and you straddle him moving in for- 

“Woah, slow down a second, just, just wait.” 

You try to kiss him again but he pushes you back, your ass flush against his crotch as you sit up. His gaze is scrutinising, examining every inch of your form, making you feel more exposed than you've ever felt in your life. 

The desperate urge to shy away works into your arms as you cross them over your chest, but Eddie's having none of it. He tugs at them gently, pulling them to your sides as his thumbs rub encouragement into your skin. 

“Sweetheart, there's a thirteen year old boy doing backflips in my head. Let him have a moment.” 

A little laugh you let out comes out as a snort whilst he gazes up at you in wonder. So, you give him a show, flicking your bra undone in one practised movement and sliding the straps down your arms, eventually letting it fall to the floor. 

“Jesus H Christ and all the angels.” He breathes, grip tightening on your forearms. 

A quivering hand reaches up, and to your surprise, cups your face. 

“You are so beautiful.” 

Eyes suddenly watering, you blink twice to will the onslaught of emotion away. 

“Not like Chrissy though,” you shrug, eyes downturned. 

“No, you're not like her. You're beautiful, like you.” 

Tugging you forward, he pulls you in for a breathtaking kiss, the full force of his feelings overflowing and filling your heart with heat. With a nibble to your bottom lip, he lets up for a second. 

“Can we go to my bedroom?” 

Nodding, you clamber off him and stand up. Eddie just makes a noise like you knocked the wind out of him, holding his hand to his heart. 

“What?” You ask, hands on your hips, like it was normal to be standing in front of him in just a pair of panties. 

“Don't look all stern like that, or I'm gonna bust in my pants,” he jokes, standing and crowding your back. 

The journey to the bedroom takes a while. Mostly because you can't keep your hands off of each other. He's grinning, giddy as a school boy, firm hands pressing into your sides, hips, ass. You respond in kind, nearly ripping his shirt in your efforts to remove it, only managing to unbutton the offensive material to expose his lean tattooed torso. 

Eventually, your spine hits Eddie's mattress, the soft furnishing welcoming you, begging you to sink in further. His touches are soft too, almost reverent in their delivery. He stands to remove his shirt and jeans, bulge prominent in his black trunks with little patterns on them. As he coaxes you further up the bed you squint and realise what they are. 

“Eds… are you wearing Star Wars underwear?” 

He chuckles, following your eyeline. “They are Darth Vader pants, to be specific, very manly.” 

The smile you flash him almost hurts your cheeks, the situation feeling so close to normal. Normal adjacent at least. 

“Yeah, very manly. Almost caveman like.” 

“Look, I didn't think I'd have a hot girl watching me undress tonight, let alone the woman of my dreams. Just forget the nerd pants.” 

You're laughing now, even when he's grabbing a pillow and getting you to lay on top of it, positioning you just where he wants you. Your giggles stop however, when he asks a question that steals your breath away. 

“Do I need to put a towel down?” 

“That's very presumptuous of you.” You smile, batting your eyelashes at him. 

“Look, I'm just asking. I don't mind sleeping in a wet patch I just want you to be comfortable.” 

He hovers over you, lips pressed into a line of concern. pressing your mouth to his to will the tightness away, you whisper into his face. 

“You want me to stay?” 

“Sweetheart, I'd ask you to move in tomorrow.” 

The next kiss is a searing heat, all heaving tongue and grinding hips. His hand winds into your hair, tilting your head to get you just where he wants you. No longer the blushing boy, he's the confident man, taking just what he needs and giving you what you crave. It's fire, it's want, it's everything. 

“Eds?” You murmur into his mouth as your hips chase his form. 

“Hmm?”

“Get the towel.” 

Hopping off of you, he practically skips out of the room, leaving you to debate whether or not to take your panties off. As you finally decide to strip them, fingers wedged into the fabric, he returns. 

“Nope, just wait, please?” He asks, propping you up with ease to lay the towel down under you. So, you let go, allowing your arms to fall to your sides.

“Lemme look after you,” he says, climbing on top of you to plant open mouthed kisses to your neck. You nod, gasping when his teeth graze a sensitive spot on your neck. Short nails dig into his back as you whimper at the contact. 

“Right there princess, hmm?” He chuckles, mouthing at your neck. 

“Uh huh- oh fuck,” as he bites softly, tongue flicking out to lather at the spot. 

Moving down, his lips press to your collarbone, then down your chest, until he places a peck to your nipple. 

“I've been dreaming about these tits, but nothing can compare to the real thing,” his tongue darts out, swirling around the pebbled nub, sending goosebumps over your skin, “fuckin’ flawless sweetheart.” 

You want to say a smart remark, shaking your head, but all thoughts fly out the window when he sucks, rough fingers reaching out to rub the other. Back arching, your legs clamp on his little waist, saying their own prayer to keep him there. 

As he releases his mouth with a wet noise, the thoughts flood back, all barriers forgotten. 

“I've been thinking about you too, what you'd do, what it looks like,” you admit, truths flying free in the heat of the moment. 

“Yeah?” He smiles up at you, “been thinking about my dick?” 

“Yeah, how'd it feel in my mouth, how'd it feel inside me,” you breathe out as he continues his worship of you, tonguing and kissing at your tummy. 

“Fuck,” he says, hot air fanning over his wet string of loving kisses, “you're gonna kill me, saying shit like that.” 

“Don't die, I'll never find out,” you joke, breathing unsteady as he falls between your thighs, playfully nipping at the sensitive flesh. 

“Oh we wouldn't want that. How else could you know what this feels like?” 

Lifting your head, he locks eyes with you as he licks thickly over your clothed clit, pressing hard. 

“Oh Eddie, yes,” you wail, wriggling under his touch. 

He merely smiles in response, hooking rough fingertips into the waistband of your panties and pulling them down almost torturously slowly. They stick between your legs so much that your cheeks flush. Eddie doesn't seem to mind in the slightest, working them off your feet and tossing them on his bedside table. You briefly wonder if you're going to get them back, but then his lips are sucking at the soft skin on your ankle and you stop caring. 

Up, up, up he moves, showing each patch of skin just the same amount of love, until he reaches the crease where your thigh meets, tongue rippling over it. You huff in frustration, hips wiggling. 

“I'm getting to it sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to your mound, “I wanna savour this.”

Words of protest dissipate when he laps at you, rooting out your clit without a moment's hesitation. Any clandestine thoughts you had about this very moment are nothing compared to this. To the feel of Eddie sucking at your clit, his pillowy lips wrapped around it. To the sudden roughness of his fingers as they graze your entrance. To the breach of one, slipping deep inside of you, immediately seeking out your sweet spot. 

“Eddie, ri-right there, oh God!” 

He moans into you, vibrations tickling you in the most delicious way. It's an amazing feeling, but you can't help but think about the noises you're making. Maybe they're pathetic, and not what he's used to?  You bet he's heard some beautiful moans in his time. Some pretty blonde things with long legs and big tits. Girls who know what they're doing. Oh God, what if you start feeling him up and he laughs at you? What if- 

“Hey, sweetheart, you here?” 

He gazes up at you between your legs, eyes boring into you with the question. 

“Sorry, so sorry, I'm here I-” 

“Hey. Don't apologise. You in your head?” He asks, head resting on your thigh, “you know we don't have to do this right now.”

“No, no I want to, honest, it's just- I dunno, second guessing myself? I'm just thinking about-” 

“See? That's the problem. Stop thinking. Lie back and enjoy it. Just, get out of your head. No place I'd rather be.” 

His brown eyes are wide, wet with honesty. He was never able to hide his real emotions, at least not with you. 

“OK, I'm so- I'll enjoy it.”

“That's it. Close your eyes princess, and just feel.” 

Eyes fluttering shut, you concentrate on the feel. Of his lips, suckling softly at your clit, tongue running around the hood. Then, fingers slipping inside once again, curling within you. Moans slither out of your hoarse throat as your hips roll up to meet his lips. 

“That's it, so good for me,” he mumbles into you, “doing such a good job. You sound so sweet.” 

Sweet. You sound sweet. 

In that instant, all your hang ups begin to melt away. The pleasure he's giving you is hitting just right, making you forget all your worries. Pressure builds in your tummy; a whirling, winding force hitting you from the inside out. You're squirming, but it's as if someone outside of you is letting you know. It must be Eddie's firm palm, the one that presses into your abdomen, keeping you steady. Keeping you here, in this moment. 

There's no rush. Time loses all meaning. He could be between your thighs for minutes, hours, days. All you know is the ball of desire tightening within you is fit to burst, bubbling over in a melting pot of raw emotion. 

“Eddie, I'm so close, s-so close!” 

He doesn't falter, doesn't deviate in his ministrations. He continues, tongue circling, fingers curling so deep inside you think you can see God. A swirling, cloying heat encapsulates you, winding around that feeling you buried in your heartstrings and tugging it loose. That deep emotion you pushed aside years ago, a healed splinter, set free by the love and care he's pouring out of his flowing tongue.

It reaches its crescendo, vision darkening as every nerve is coddled with an inner fire. You're not even sure what you feel; release, blinding pleasure, pure love? It could be all three as you cry out, fingers tugging at Eddie's hair. 

He rides it out with you, fingers coaxing your orgasm to the very brink and beyond until you flop back into the bed. 

The first clue you have that something different just happened is the wet feeling underneath your ass. It feels damp, and cold? Opening your eyes, you haul yourself onto your elbows to look down. 

“Now are you glad I said about the towel?” 

Never have you seen so much of your own release coated on a man. It's covering his mouth, chin, cheeks, hand. You briefly wonder at how it could have happened, how that much could have come out of you. 

Eddie wipes his mouth and hand on the towel underneath and makes his way to hover over your heaving form, eyes practically shooting hearts at you from deep within.

“You alright princess? We can stop right now if it's too much.” 

Blindly you reach out, clumsy fingers rubbing at the hard swelling of his member inside his underwear. 

“Don't you want me to return the favour?” You ask, confused. 

“Sweetheart, one kiss of those pretty lips on my dick and I'll be done for.” 

“Then- I'm on birth control. Fuck me, please.” 

The groan that he lets out is deep and guttural, moving his limbs for him. He gets up to whip his pants down and you see it for the first time. You see him. 

It's big. Fuck, its the biggest you’ve seen; not just long but thick, even thicker than your fumblings thought. A glint of silver throws you for a loop, almost making you think you imagine it, but there it is again. 

“Holy shit, Eddie- are you, pierced??” 

“Oh yeah,” he chuckles, glancing down to follow your eye line, “you didn't know about that huh.” 

He climbs on top of you, kissing as he goes, plush lips on your skin. Soft, delicate, and warm. Guiding his hardness to your opening, you can't help but rub your thumb over the tip, pre cum slipping on the balls of the piercing. Eddie's breath stutters, nearly panting in your mouth as you smirk. 

“Now that's not fair sweetheart.” 

You continue to smile, gathering your slick to slide him in, but it quickly turns into a wince. 

“Fuck, Eddie, you're too big,” you whimper out as your eyes screw shut. 

“You're fuckin’ flattering me princess.” 

“I'm not, seriously, you're- oh goddamn-” 

He's pushing into you, slowly, but it still burns, the sheer stretch at his girth almost too much. Gnawing at your lips, tears well in your eyes. 

Eddie looks shocked, taken aback by your reaction. 

“Really? Fuck, OK sweetheart, you're OK. Look at me, you can take it, yeah?” 

Trust Eddie to say the hottest thing by accident. He's just trying to check in, but by God it sets your insides on fire. 

“I-I'll try.”

“That's it, atta girl, little more.” 

Reaching down to where you're joined, you wrap your hand loosely around the base, realising he's only halfway in. 

“Eddie, jeez you could- oooh- you could have f-fucking warned me, ah!” 

“Just relax, I've got you princess, you're taking it so well, you can take the rest- oh Jesus H Christ you're tight.”  

A long drawn out cry echoes out of you as he bottoms out, tears loose and running down your temples. He's leaning on his elbows, fingers stroking at your hair, leaving snowflake kisses on your cheeks. 

“Uh- mmmph- Eddie, you've got a pornstar dick.” 

Gritting his teeth, he looks at you almost sternly.

“You can't say that or I'll cum right now, please.” 

Eyes softening, you kiss his lips instead. He envelops you, tongue dancing in your mouth making you forget the dull ache. Nothing can make you forget how full you feel however, your pussy quivering uncontrollably around him even though he's not moving. 

“This is so nice,” he says, entwining his fingers with yours over your head. 

“Eddie, you're literally balls deep in me and it's ‘nice’?” 

Laughing so hard you feel it in your chest, he kisses you again. 

“Sorry, I mean, just being this close with you. It's everything I've ever wanted.” 

Lips quivering, you stare at him, eyes wide and wet. 

“Eddie, I lo-” 

“No, don't. Not like this. Just- can I move?” 

You nod, biting back the words, and he slowly rolls his hips. Eyes nearly hitting the back of your skull, you moan, meeting his movements. He's so deep, it's like he's everywhere. Every pore, every capillary, pulsing with him. 

“Oh my God, baby, oh God!” 

You're rambling words but it doesn't seem to matter, mind filled with fog, with feeling. With him. He links one arm under the fat of your thigh, coaxing you to curl it around him, and everything seems to fall into place all at once. Each rolling movement is pressing into that sweet spot inside of you, that spot he seems to find so easily like a gravitational pull. He smiles, panting in tandem. 

“Right there princess?” 

Nodding like a puppet on a string, he lets out a long groan. 

“Good, I-I’m not gonna last, you feel too fuckin’ good.” 

Pleased at his reaction, you link one arm around him, stroking at the taut skin of his back as he drives into you harder. Grunting with each thrust, he's tensing, holding back. 

“You can come, Eddie,” you say shakily. 

“Not before you sweetheart,” he replies, doubling down on his efforts. 

It all feels so intense, each whirl of feeling sinking deep into your bones and fanning the flames of your heart and desire. 

“Eddie, s-so close, come with me, please.” 

Almost as soon as you say the words your climax springs out, overflowing with every emotion he won't let you say. It fizzes through your nerves, throbbing with each beat of your pulse. 

Eddie groans, releasing at the same time, two bodies with one heart. As you both relax, melding together, you giggle at the same time. A laugh of relief, of pure happiness. 

“Sorry, thought I'd last a little longer.” 

He seems embarrassed, lifting his head enough to look you in the eye. 

“Eddie, that was perfect.” 

He snuggles his head deep in your neck, inhaling your scent as if it were the last time. 

“I'm gonna get you cleaned up, hang on.”

Lifting his head once more, he kisses, and kisses, lips moving against you with pure feeling. 

“OK, now I'm really gonna go.” 

You giggle as he just keeps kissing you, staring up at him with each unspoken word swimming in your mind. 

“Right, now, just hang on.” 

With a final peck, he slips out of you, returning with a warm cloth. Not used to this affection you merely lay there, allowing him, and wriggle out of the way when he takes away the towel. When you move, you see there's still a wet patch, but it's been mitigated at least somewhat. 

“I can change the sheets if you want-” 

“Eddie, I don't care, just hold me.” 

Grinning like a boy he climbs back into bed, pulling blankets over the both of you. Fitting together like you were always supposed to, you sigh with relief. 

“Eddie? Can I say it now?” 

You whisper it into his chest as he holds you close, almost afraid of breaking the spell of the evening. 

“That depends sweetheart,” he says, fingers tracing unknown patterns on the skin of your arm, “you have to mean it. I couldn't take it if you didn't mean it.” 

“I mean it. I love you Eddie, I think I always have.” 

The smile in his voice makes you smile too.

“I love you too. Happy Valentine's Day."

Taglist

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @choke-me-eddie @littlebebebunny @big-ope-vibes

[eldritch-spouse]

So we know that patches wishes to be separated with stitches/his dullahan self, so i wonder, would stitches still be interested in patches/their obession? and if so could we have a threesome with them pretty please with a cherry on top 😩

[Realistically yes, both would. Fem reader.]

TW: Breath play.

A lot has changed in the world, and in very little time at that.

You should have listened to your captor-turned-tentative-boyfriend when he told you to keep your mind open these upcoming times, that a lot of what you knew about reality was about to be challenged and he wouldn't let you enter lunacy because of it. But finding out all religions are lies, knowing there are two gods currently on Earth, that one of them has employed Patches all this time- That they have children-

It's enough to shell shock you for a couple of days. But apparently, the surprises aren't over.

Oh no they aren't.

When the magic caster had deemed you mentally stable enough, he approached you calmly and said, almost apologetically, that there would be just one more change- Regarding himself this time. He must have seen the color drain from your face, because a stuttering fit ensued and he assured you that it would be for the best. You sure fucking hope so, because you have never been so stressed before, sitting on the couch with a tea mug in hand, watching a comfort movie to keep your mind off things.

Patches has been gone the whole day. He works mostly at night, so you're not used to spending mornings and early evenings on your own. It's almost uncanny. As hard as you try to focus on the actors' lines, the scenes you've seen a hundred times by now, some little bit of you is wondering wildly what could be the change Patches will undergo.

Maybe he'll ask for a different head? No, it couldn't be that, he can manage such a simple thing on his own. A radical change in appearance maybe. More humanoid? Or outlandishly bizarre, a beast of eight arms, three heads and yeah okay let's not go down that road- Maybe he wants something else more secretive, knowledge he has no business sticking his gourd head in. Yes, that sounds like him. You just hope he doesn't come home a completely different person, it would shatter you. Through all these rapid-fire changes in the world, Patches has been something of a lifeline for your sanity, an anchor of consistency, a pillar. Losing him would be crushing in a suffocating way. Your heart races alarmingly at the thought, and you gulp another mouthful of hot tea.

Calm down. He said it'd be good.

Right as you're about to get some shuteye, the quiet noise of the front door's lock clicking open jolts you, the mug between your hands nearly toppling over to make a mess of the carpet. You're more awake than you've ever been in a record amount of time, adrenaline thundering through your veins at the sound of footsteps.

Two monsters walk into the living room.

And the mug drops from your hands. At least it didn't shatter.

Two Patches... Two- Did he seriously ask for a clone of himself?!

You sit, slack-jawed, glancing at the two people standing side by side. They look like siblings, oddly enough. One of them looks exactly like the Patches you're used to, purple garb, loose white shirt, big hat, that rounded mouth and those pretty pinprick eyes. The other, albeit sporting the exact same body type, dons much more ragged coat, a scarf, no hat or gloves- He has the exact same look on his face Patches does when he's having a fit, all sharpness and mischief, sockets a void-like shape. They stand before you, studying you as intensely as you study them, one looks stressed, the other is tapping his foot giddily. You have no words, every time you try to say anything, your throat just closes up and you freeze, wary. Which one of them is your Patches? What does this imply? What are you going to do now?!

" Patches? " You simply ask, looking between the two and suddenly feeling very unsafe.

" D-Don't worry, everything's okay, but I need you to listen- " The one with the hat starts, tone gentle, though gets interrupted when his lookalike takes steady steps in your direction, instantly jolting you to stand up tensely.

Fortunately, he's grabbed around the arm by the first, the two exchanging terse looks. " Stay still, will you?! This is serious, you can't just frighten her. " The trapped one stomps and wrings his arm free, making a dismissive motion as if to tell the other Patches to bugger off.

" What the fuck is happening? "

" Firefly, I swear it'll all make sense, just let me explain. " He pleads, and you feel compelled to at least hear him out, nodding silently. " ... I need you to promise not to be mad at me. "

You squint, arms crossed. " Yeah no, I can't promise you that. " The one who's been silent all this time makes a noise like a wispy snicker.

Patches sighs. " Do you remember those times when I... Got into fits? "

" Yes? "

" Right. " He visibly cringes. " So, that wasn't exactly me. "

" Excuse you? " You don't like where this is going.

" B- Basically, I uhm... I split into two, when I died. We're both Patches I guess, but we've been trapped together for all this time. " He tries, struggling to find the right words.

A pregnant pause unfolds, your gaze drops in thought. Two different people, previously in one body. Two people you've been interacting with all this time, under the assumption they were one and the same. Two people- Oh God, two people you've fucked. This is so beyond the threshold of normalcy, of common fucking decency, you can't believe you've been lied to all this time. Tricked! All because he didn't have the guts to tell you, because he's a coward.

" Are you fucking serious right now?! " You start, with a fire you don't even think twice about.

The talkative one hunches. " I- I know, I'm- "

" There's been two of you this whole time?! I have two boyfriends- You BOTH had sex with me and I didn't even know! " It's mind-boggling. Watching the hatless one bend to grasp his knees, shaking in mute laughter, only incenses you further. " What are you laughing at, do I look like a fucking clown to you?! " He wheezes soundlessly and you rattle like an overheated kettle.

The one in a coat is kicked repeatedly by his counterpart, who offers you a pathetic smile. " P- Please moonlight, I know how you must be feeling... " A vein nearly bursts in your forehead at the nerve. " But can we focus on the present, please? " He waits for a moment, probably wondering if you're going to try and maim either of them. " To make things easier, you can call me Patches, he's Stitches. "

You're momentarily distracted by how much that makes them sound like a pair of plushies. Patches and Stitches, names much too innocent for this dullahan duo. At least it does solve the naming issue, he's right.

" I'm not... I'm pissed at you. Both of you. " And deep down, you know you should be more irate about this.

After all, it's such a monumental breach of trust. Sure, the two acted differently even within the same body, but both of them responded to the same name! They made no attempts to state being separate people at all. You've been played for a total fool all this time.

" We- We get it, we really do firefly, and we're sorry. " Patches tries to smooth the situation down, yet his counterpart consistently ruins any progress by making strides towards you.

Instinct tells you to put distance between you two, even if, realistically, you've embraced this monster many times before. He titters silently again at your antics, and a very brief game of cat and mouse is cut off when he grabs you by the middle, arms trapped behind his. They're strong for being such twinks, something you already know. A pumpkin head leans onto your shoulder and you huff.

Patches sighs. " Maybe... We could, w-well, make it up to you? "

Time freezes for a second there. " Make it up to me. " You parrot skeptically, still in Stitches' hold.

His lips wobble in a familiar motion and he won't meet your eyes, nodding. " Yeah. "

The meat of your ass is groped by a strayed hand and you immediately grasp where this is going. " Are you serious? " You growl to the one holding you, but all he does is nod mischievously.

Still grabbing you, the monster makes a sharp pulling motion, sending you two falling with a startled scream. You land on top of him, and he lands on the couch, adjusting quickly so you're on his lap. Bastard! Before you can bark anything at Stitches, Patches climbs on as well, leaving you trapped between the two. Not that you're making any real attempt to get free.

Stitches starts grinding against you immediately, predictably, you can feel him harden quickly. Patches smiles softly as he fiddles with your casual home clothes, removing your shirt and aiming for your sweatpants. " Of course this is the first thing you want to do the moment you're apart. " You roll your eyes. " Pervert, bet you've been thinking about it for long. "

You expect Patches to pipe down, perhaps nod and make a horny little noise at the insult, but he surprises you by simply staring into your eyes. " ... Haven't you? "

You blink back at him.

Stitches whistles teasingly, discarding your bra more roughly than you'd like. Maybe, at some point, you might have had thoughts of a similar nature- But never did you think they'd have any basis in reality! You have no response for the taunt and it shows on your overheated face.

Your hips are lifted so Patches can remove your bottoms, eyeing your pussy as he gently spreads your legs. He usually doesn't get to have you in submissive positions like this, so you can't blame him for ogling. Stitches shifts beneath you, struggling some before he's able to free his cock.

It slaps onto your cunt, his greedy hands rubbing over your warm skin before cupping your tits, playing around with them. They have the same exact body type, so it only takes a quick glance down to confirm that their lengths are likely identical.

" Don't hog her. " Patches warns his double, pushing his own clothes aside to free himself.

Stitches mouths something back, and although you can't see his face from this angle, or read lips all that well, Patches clearly understands it was something offensive. The dullahan adjusts, grinding his dick across your entrance and ripping a shuddered moan out of you. It only seems to sting Patches' jealousy more, because he's grabbing your head and forcing a kiss between you- As if to eat that noise, claim it for himself.

Stitches continues to rock himself against you, every drag of his tip on your clit getting you wetter. When Patches moans against your mouth, you know he's wrapped a hand around himself, peeling back to watch the show. In a way, it's sort of like watching himself fuck you from an outside perspective. If you were in his shoes, you'd find it extremely bizarre, but it doesn't surprise you he'd get turned on by it.

Green hands drift from your inner thighs to your womanhood, parting your lips and lining Stitches with your hole. He's panting just watching it happen, groaning like he's the one sinking into your hot cunt, when it's his more rambunctious counterpart. You gasp and whine, wet but still a bit unprepared for the stretch, taking Stitches to the root only after a couple of encouraging rolls.

" Fffuck... " Patches murmurs, stroking himself faster the moment Stitches takes over to set a mild pace, deep but hard thrusts making you clip out moans.

" Is- Hhn- Are you technically getting cucked by yourself right now? " You joke, feeling Stitches shake behind you in what you know is a soundless belly laugh, pistons stuttering.

" I don't like how much I'm into this... " Patches admits, something you've heard from him a couple of times into your oftentimes rocky relationship.

" Liar. " You jab, more of a tease than a heartfelt comment. " Hey- Ah- Make yourself useful, no? " Lidded eyes drift from his face to the place where you and Stitches join, beckoning the other to do something about it.

Much to your delight, he flushes a deep emerald and lowers a thumb to your clitoris, quickly rubbing a couple of circular motions before giving up any type of pride and removing his head so he can hold it up to the action. A summoned tongue laves from Stitches' underside up to your button, swirling it there as his face deforms and he does his best to suck at the little bundle of nerves.

The combined stimulus has you bucking, eyes rolling slightly as you struggle between wanting to grind onto Patches' slimy tongue or fuck yourself deeper onto Stitches' cock. He speeds up beneath you and all higher thoughts seep out your body, broken moans filling the room.

At some point, a sneaky hand coils itself around your neck, a firm, shudder-inducing hold slowly starting to constrict the faster your pussy is pounded. Patches looks up at you just in time to see tears prick your eyes from oxygen deprivation, too breathless to moan but tightening hard enough around Stitches' cock that he throbs and makes wispy groans.

You're sure you're drooling, but it doesn't matter, as every sensation only heightens in your body's state of relative panic. Thighs shaking, goosebumps covering your body, it only takes a couple of well-timed fucks for you to toss your head back and cough in a sudden orgasmic wave, fingers spasming aimlessly. Stitches releases his vise grip of your throat to hear your desperate wheezing turn into ragged whines, clawing at your thighs as he follows you over the edge, trembling. Patches only stops licking at you when your pants become overstimulated winces and his double's cum is oozing out around you two.

The dullahan in front of you slots his gourd head back onto his neck, watching you sag onto Stitches. His expression becomes a little more serious when he sees the state of your own neck, smoothing soft fingertips across it. " If you're this careless with her again, I'll burn you to a crisp. " Patches seethes.

" N- No, it's fine. " It's your turn to stutter. " I liked it. "

His sockets widen. " A-Ah, really? " The magic caster looks positively delighted by the news that maybe, you and him might have a similar desire for pain. Though you wouldn't go to the same lengths he does.

Stitches interrupts the moment by roughly shoving at Patches' shoulders. The mute monster points insistently at the other end of the couch and Patches climbs back on after a glare. Your sweaty body is quickly dumped onto Patches, receiving a quick slap to the ass before you're arranged to straddle his lap.

Stitches grabs Patches' neglected girth and positions him properly before nudging you to sink onto him. The two of you shudder when Patches slips in easily, pussy having already had a workout. You can feel Stitches' load spilling further and don't need any encouragement to start lazily riding the dullahan looking lovingly up at you.

Dirty fingers prod at your lips, you part them without thinking, making eye contact with Patches as you dutifully clean the seed off Stitches' digits. He cackles silently, Patches huffs needily, and you giggle.

Okay, fine, you'll admit having two of him isn't so bad after all...

[legobiwan]

What do you think the rest of the mario crew thinks of luigis villains?

Oooh hoo hoo. Fun question, anon! I'll include my projected opinions of Bowser, Peach, Mario and maybe a little addendum of E. Gadd as they're the main players who would have definite and varying things to say about each villain.

Bowser

Antasma: Thinks he's an absolute pushover and annoying, to boot. 10/10 would join forces with and betray again as it was almost a little too easy.

King Boo: Is extremely wary of him and tries to avoid entering any deals or partnerships with him, as even Bowser thinks King Boo is seriously deranged and from the rumours he's heard from the Boos who immigrated to the Darklands, he is a petty, tyrannical, and insane ruler. (Not that Bowser isn't petty and tyrannical - at least in his own mind. But, in reality, Bowser is pretty fair according to Darklands culture and treats his minions well, even if he yells and stomps around a lot).

Dimentio: Hates him with a burning passion and wants a chance to go one on one with him, just so he can personally stuff a sock in the smooth-talking jester's mouth. Bowser is always open to less-than-healthy alliances for personal gain, but even he knows Dimentio is someone you do not do deals with if you want to live. But by the lava gods, would he love to dig him up from the River Twygz, just for the opportunity to bury him again.

Peach

Antasma: Frankly, to Peach, Antasma is another villain-of-the-week who kidnapped her. She has no patience for villains who rely solely on kidnapping as their modus operandi, it's insulting and she's over it. She'll, of course, keep an open line of communication with the Pi'illo Kingdom in case Antasma or someone similar tries to make a pass at the Dream Stone, which is a wildly dangerous artifact.

King Boo: Even though King Boo did kidnap her once, Peach holds less disdain for King Boo than Antasma, as, at least with King Boo, her imprisonment wasn't targeted solely on her. She has a healthy respect for King Boo's powers and does not want to get the Mushroom Kingdom entangled with whatever bizarre blood feud is going on between him and Luigi.

Dimentio: She's just glad he's (hopefully) dead. This hasn't stopped her from drafting up a contingency plan to account any reappearance, just in case. She considers him one of the most dangerous villains of all time and worse, due to the whole Chaos Heart fiasco, that contingency plan she's created? Strategies to contain Luigi are also in that plan, and she hates every word she has to dictate to her scribes.

Mario

Antasma: Hates him for the fact he managed to infiltrate his brother's dreams and not only violate his deepest thoughts, but bring Bowser along for that ride. Good riddance to bad rubbish, as the old saying goes.

King Boo: Wants. His. Head. On. A. Platter. (But also, that whole thing makes him doubt himself? He's supposed to the protector, not Luigi. And three times now, Mario has managed to fail and been taken captive by ghosts. He can't figure out why he's so ill-disposed to deal with the paranormal. He needs to fix it).

Dimentio: Mario simultaneously despises Dimentio and is also terrified of him, as he's one of the only bad guys he's never truly been able to kill. Sure, they brought down Super Dimentio (Mario doesn't want to think about that, the other way his brother was folded and stretched into a grotesque monster of the apocalypse), but even then, Dimentio had one last trick up his sleeve and if not for Count Bleck and Tippi, the worlds would have ended and that damned jester and his in-thrall brother would have been left kings of an empty universe. More than King Boo, the nightmare that returns to Mario again and again is Dimentio rising from Underwhere with dangerous, silky words, somehow convincing Luigi to join forces with him to reignite the Chaos Heart and bring reality crashing to an end.

Post-script: E. Gadd

I think of all the villains, E. Gadd would be most fascinated by Antasma. King Boo is a nuisance, one created - if he were to be honest with himself - in part due to his own negligence. He'll never know everything about ghosts, but he knows a damn lot after all these decades. But to traverse the world of dreams and use them to alter reality - that is something E. Gadd has not encountered before, and he would love to study Antasma's powers and see how they align with the brainwave charts he's taken in secret of Luigi.

[blushweddinggowns]

Ever since Steve had gotten that new job at Family Video, he was gone, a lot. Too often for Eddie’s liking, even if it was just a part time job. And when he was off, it was a fucking battle to get him all to himself. 

The kids were always after him, and then there was Nancy, and now freaking Robin, who seemed to be beating them all out nine times out of ten. And he couldn’t really do anything about it. Because Steve followed all the rules. He called every two hours, always came home when he said he would, and spent every night in their bed. Eddie always knew where he was, what his plans were for the day. And the girl made him so happy. 

Eddie had half-expected that same nice feeling he had when he saw Steve and Nancy together, happy just to see Steve happy. But with Robin, it was different. In all honesty, he was jealous. But it was a very confusing jealousy. He knew that Steve didn’t love her like he did him, he wasn’t that insecure. The girl was a fucking lesbian for god’s sake. He heard the words come straight from her own mouth.

She had been so shy when she told them, near hiding behind Steve while Nancy and Eddie sat on the couch. Shy and scared, like they would ever be capable of rejecting her over something so small. God, Eddie was easy, because that whole thing had melted his heart. No wonder her sad face always worked on Steve, the girl was naturally adorable. 

Which just made the fact that he didn’t like her worse. It wasn’t her fault, he knew that on some level. But as sick as it was, he didn’t really like anyone being close to where he was in Steve’s life. And she was starting to skirt uncomfortably close to the line. 

Because Steve loved Robin. Really loved her. Like knew everything about her loved her. Eddie knew that he loved everyone in their family, but this was different. Even Nancy, who Steve would do literally anything for, wasn’t in the same league. Because something about those two just clicked, bizarrely fast. Like finishing each other’s sentences fast. Like telling each other every traumatic childhood experience they ever had in the span of a month fast. 

And he kind of fucking hated it. Nancy had boundaries, lines that Steve or anyone weren’t allowed to cross. But Robin didn’t. At least not for Steve. No, he could be just as weird with her as he could be with Eddie. Whiny, possessive, touchy, she didn’t care. If anything she just gave it back full force. And for so long Eddie had been the only one who could fully deal with how intense Steve was. And he liked it that way.

And the worst part was how much Eddie actually liked her. Or he would have if he didn’t feel like he was in competition with her for Steve’s spare time. He hadn’t known at the time just how literal she was with the little I won’t let him die, comment. But she had stayed true to her word. And was also one of the only other people in their group that was reasonably freaked out by all his crazy shit. And in Eddie’s eyes, cowardice wasn’t a bad trait if it meant keeping the people he loved alive. 

But despite how much he trusted her, despite how happy she made Steve, Eddie sincerely, wanted her to fuck off. Just a little bit. Not that he let it show to either of them. 

Did that make him a horrible person? Yes. Was that anything new? No.

But at least he wasn’t alone. Nancy was annoyed too, but to a more reasonable extent. In a way, she had been just as spoiled with Steve’s time as he had been. There were common days that Eddie was busy with things that Steve wasn’t involved in, and she used to have first pick when it came to when they hung out. But now she had to work around his new work schedule and his new best friend schedule, all while her boyfriend was hundreds of miles away. 

It was an annoyance they kept between themselves. But it was nice to have someone to be shitty with, just one more thing he loved about Nancy. 

They were whispering about it as their table, eyes stuck on Robin and Steve laughing across the room. They were at the bowling alley, sitting around with drinks after a frankly embarrassing loss to the wonder duo. They were crowded around a claw machine, Robin cheering Steve on as he tried to go for the impossible elephant in the back. Robin had already won Steve a stuffed narwhal, so according to him that meant he was obligated to return the favor. Despite the fact that he had already lost four times. 

“They’re adorable and I hate it,” Nancy sighed as she gnawed on her straw, “The worst part is how great she is. Did you know I tried to invite Steve to the movies last weekend? Well guess who picked up the phone?”

“Robin?”

“Robin,” Nancy said, “And I actually ended up inviting her to the movies. And had fun.”

“Traitor,” Eddie huffed half-heartedly, feet kicked up on the table, “But I know what you mean. I can’t even hate her. Did you know she speaks four languages? How is that fair?”

Nancy shrugged, “It isn’t. But neither is life I guess.”

She was right about that. But he just wanted her to back off a little. But without hurting her feelings, or pissing Steve off. There was only one answer he could think of, “Makes me want to find her a girlfriend or something. Just somewhere to redirect her time. Maybe I can put out some feelers.”

Nancy raised a brow at him, “A girlfriend? In this town? Good luck.”

“Why not?” Eddie asked, “I got lucky. You got lucky. Why can’t she?”

Nancy rolled her eyes, “Oh yeah, I’m so lucky that my boyfriend moved across the country.”

“Y’know what I mean,” Eddie said, eyes already scanning the room. It really would be the perfect solution wouldn’t it? The only problem was that he didn’t really know what gay girls were supposed to look like. But he did know that Robin drooled like an idiot for anyone who even slightly resembles a young Barbara Eden. That couldn’t be too hard to replicate, right? 

He kept looking around, eyes stopping when on a particular petite blonde. Oh, she was definitely Robin’s type. 

“Hey look at her,” Eddie said quietly, jutting his chin forward in the blonde’s direction, “She’d be perfect.”

It helped that she seemed to keep glancing Robin’s way, barely paying attention to what her friends were saying. She kept smiling to herself, coincidently synched with every dramatic cheer Robin gave Steve. That seemed as good a sign as any.

Eddie was more than happy to play the part of her unknown wingman, especially if it meant having Steve to himself again. 

But Nancy didn’t seem very impressed. She raised a brow at him, “You have no idea who that is, do you?”

But Eddie was already on his feet, shrugging when Nancy tried to stop him, “Feelers!”

He made his way over, a plan forming in his head. It’s not like he was going to tell anyone she was gay, that was far from his place. But maybe he could gauge any interest, or at least her personal level of strangeness. Because they couldn’t just be gay. They had to be a little weird if it was ever going to work. He just needed to see if he could find someone who had the vibe. And a good starter test for that was to see if she closed down on Eddie “The Freak” Munson straight away.  

She startled a little when he waltzed right up to her, but she didn’t turn and run, which was sadly something. He stuck his hand out with a smile, “Hey there. I’m Eddie.”

He half expected her to laugh at him, or at least ask who the hell he thought he was. But she didn’t do either. Instead she smiled back, reaching out to shake his hand, “Chrissy.”

From the newest chapter of this fic!

[septnanis]

canopy

a Destiel post-canon fix-it bit

Once Cas gets back, they orbit each other like a binary system. Always close but never getting close enough to speak the unspeakable. They spend the first few weeks in the bunker marinating in the awkward silences and equally awkward conversations before Dean has had enough.

He is a forty year old man who has faced down every thing from suburban ghosts to the creator of the universe and he feels almost embarrassed how he can’t strike up the nerve to talk to Cas.

So Dean packs a bag, walks to Cas’ room and tells him to suit up, get his shit and meet him in the garage in an hour. Cas just gives him that look that reminds Dean that Cas is a million year old celestial creature and Dean is a little human speck. It makes him grin all the way to the garage.

Cas shows up fifty minutes later, packed bag in tow. He’s wearing jeans and a dark blue henley covered by a chambray shirt that makes Dean’s mouth dry up because Cas looks handsome and capable and like a Winchester.

“Where are we going,” Cas asks, likely out of curiosity because Dean knows it won’t affect his decision to come along. “A hunt?”

“Hunt what?” Dean asks right back at him. “We, my angelic friend, are going to reap the rewards of killing God and go wherever the hell we want.”

With those words, Dean sits himself in the driver’s seat and pulls the door shut with a satisfying click. Cas joins him in the passenger’s seat and moves about until he’s sitting at a comfortable angle.

“We didn’t kill God,” Cas says. “We… deactivated him.”

Dean starts the car and turns to grin at Cas. “You didn’t do anything,” Dean says. “You were chilling in the Empty.”

Someone else might have been offended at the obvious dig, but Cas just grins back at him.

—-

Several weeks on the road and Dean has never felt free the way he does now. They’ve been to more than a dozen roadside attractions, some more bizarre than others. Cas likes the particularly strange ones, asks even stranger questions.

Dean gives the cheap motels a wide berth and gets the rooms in nice hotels.

In Vermont, he fishes out his phone while Cas is pumping gas and looks for a bed and breakfast. One, because he thinks it’s hilarious and two, he’s really always wanted to stay at one that wasn’t haunted.

“How do you feel about canopy beds?” Dean asks without looking up.

Cas clears his throat and puts the gaspump back. “Seems a bit redundant, a bed with a roof inside a building with a roof? But I guess it’s… cozy?”

Dean does look up at Cas, his finger hovering over the Book Now button. The man is all big blue eyes and heather grey sweatshirt and Dean is in love with him, probably has been for years.

“Would you like anything?” Cas asks as he starts walking towards the station to pay.

Dean shakes his head and hits the booking button like he’s on a mission.

When Cas comes back out, he puts a cold bottle of water in Dean’s hand even though Dean didn’t want anything.

“You need to hydrate yourself,” Cas says and turns to walk away.

“I love you,” Dean says. It stops Cas so abruptly it’s like time has stopped. “I’m… I’m in love with you. And we’re at a gas station which is a stupid place to say this but here we fucking are.”

Cas turns back to Dean and looks apprehensive.

“Before the Empty swiped you,” Dean keeps going because this once in a lifetime momentum and even he knows he’s on a one way street now. “You told me all these great things about me. And if anyone else had told me I would’ve laughed my ass off at them. But I actually believed you.”

The apprehension in Cas’ eyes remains steadfast, his whole body language like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You told me you loved me,” Dean says. “And then you were gone. Didn’t even give me a chance to think about it, much less figure out that… you’re it for me too, Cas. You’re loyal and you’re brave and kind and maybe the most stubborn, toughest son of a bitch I’ve ever met.”

Thankfully the apprehension makes way for what looks like a spark of hope in Cas’ eyes. It reminds Dean yet again that this is a million year old celestial creature, hiding out in a human vessel, inexplicably in love with this little human speck.

“I love you, Castiel,” Dean says. He shrugs, because there’s nothing else he can think of to say.

Cas smiles at him so beautifully it becomes clear pretty quickly there’s nothing else he has to say.

—-

Later, Dean pulls the covers up over their heads and kisses Cas for what feels like the hundredth time. He decides he’ll never ever get tired of it.

“Under the covers, under a canopy, under a roof,” Dean says, smiling wide. Cas eyes are the color of the sky once the sun has set in the minimal light. “How’s that for redundant?”

“It’s cozy,” Cas says. He runs his knuckles over Dean’s face.

This is freedom, Dean decides. This is peace.

Also available on ao3: canopy

[herblackabyss]

About • Tag List • Ask • Series Masterlist •

[Title] 7 Dates, 7 Conflicts [Rating & Genre] [M] 18+, strangers to lovers, slow burn, Collage AU [Pairing] Jeon Jungkook x Reader (Amaya Bradford) [Trigger Warnings] a few cuss words

[A/N] I'm baaacckkk~! I apologize for my absence, but I truly struggle with this whole social media and social interaction thing. I had to restructure this part because I've come to the realization that my brain doesn't quite know how to write multiple events into one part...

P.S the last bit is a mess but I'll update it soon...<3

ALSO HAPPY HUNTER DAAYYY!!

[Word Count] 2740

"This is an absolute colossal fucking disaster, Chenle," I hiss under my breath, pacing across my bedroom with my phone clutched tightly to my ear. On the other end, the low hum of my best friend's tired yawn slips through the line, the digital clock on my nightstand casting an ominous glow – 10:47 PM.

I roll my eyes, my frustration lacing into the very syllables of my words. "I mean, how on earth are we even supposed to tackle this if he's out there getting his dick sucked instead of meeting me to work on the assignment?" Veronica had given us a unique homework assignment during our last COMM101 class—a creative pair-building exercise intended to break the ice. It was supposed to be an opportunity for Jungkook and me to explore each other's perspectives and come up with something that was at least halfway decent. Yet, instead of paying even a sliver of attention, Jungkook seemed to be far more interested in sketching bizarre doodles across my meticulously taken lecture notes. Since that fateful Monday morning, I've embarked on a one-woman crusade to pin him down and get him to work on it. But every attempt I make is met with flimsy excuses and empty promises. He's always conveniently "busy" or "tied up with something else." And me? I'm not naive enough to swallow those slippery words whole, not when they spill from his slick, slithering tongue like a practiced dance. As the relentless ticking of the clock emphasizes the looming deadline for my not-so-friendly essay, the harsh reality sets in. I realize that I know next to nothing about this bumbling baboon, except for the fact that he can't seem to keep his... cock out of people's mouths. The idea of crafting an essay detailing his countless escapades with the campus coeds is tempting, but it also feels like a peculiar form of self-inflicted torture. I flop onto my bed, clutching my phone as if it's my only lifeline in this chaotic situation.

"Guess I'll just have to corner him tomorrow," I murmur to myself, feeling a potent mix of determination and resignation settle in my chest like a heavy anchor. I reach out for the worn notebook resting nearby and flip it open, its pages ready to receive my thoughts and ideas for the upcoming project, even if, for now, it's a solo endeavor. After all, if Jungkook insists on making things difficult, I'm more than willing to return the favor. "Key word: 'probably,' but I can't take that risk with Jungkook," I try to speak as calmly as possible, frustration mounting within me. There's no way I can just sit here and hope he comes to his senses. I need to take action. I shouldn't be in this position, having to babysit a grown man when it comes to his academics. I mean, seriously, I'm baffled by his attitude towards this assignment. How on earth is he the top student in the Computer Science department? Does the university randomly select his name from a hat filled with sheets of paper with only his name on them? Or is he secretly paying someone to do his assignments? "But I hope you're right," I concede with a sigh as I wrap up the call and head to bed.

"Jeon!" I shout, my voice slicing through the noisy street, instantly grabbing the attention of curious onlookers. He strides purposefully toward Avery's Bagel Shop, his arm wrapped around the waist of a wavy-haired blonde. Her stunning long legs propel her forward, her eyes locked on him, with hearts practically sparkling in them. As I watch their interaction unfold before me, it becomes painfully evident that this is a heartbreak in the making. Jungkook, of all people, isn't exactly renowned for his ability to commit, and that's common knowledge around campus. He cycles through new romantic interests every week, and he's openly professed his disinterest in love on countless occasions. Yet, here she is, hopelessly falling for him—poor thing.

I raise my voice, frustration bubbling within me as I call out to him once more. But he remains utterly indifferent, his gaze fixed solely on the entrance of the quaint, inviting eatery. With a graceful sweep, he swings the door open, his hand tenderly resting on her lower back as he ushers his companion inside. I can't help but let out an exasperated sigh, my impatience growing by the second. I shake my head in disbelief before navigating my way across the bustling street. What the fuck is his problem? Stepping through the gleaming silver double doors, I make my way to the established ordering queue. Contrary to any wild ideas he might be concocting in his thick skull, I'm not here because of him. I wanted to get some work done on a few of my assignments before making my way to Chenle's place. Avery's holds a special place in my heart— it's been my favorite spot to grab a bite and study for years. Avery, the owner, is a culinary virtuoso in her mid-thirties, a mastermind behind a medley of bagel creations that are nothing short of life-altering. Over time, she's expanded her menu to include other breakfast and lunch delights, all of which keep people coming back for more.I became a regular of Avery's in her food truck era. Back then, she operated her modest business right in the heart of the city, serving her delectable creations from a weathered, banged-up red truck.Since then, I haven't looked back, it feels like I've gained a good friend and a great place to study when I need to. "Are you planning to ignore me for the rest of your life?" I say, my voice filled with frustration as I approach Jungkook. He's engrossed in a conversation with the blonde, oblivious to my approach. It amuses me how much effort he invests in girls he never intends to pursue beyond a casual fling. I mean, what's the point of all this when there are no intentions of going any further?

I watch as he slowly turns his head to identify the source of the voice. When he realizes it's me, his expression shifts, but he doesn't reply. The blonde clinging to his arm shoots me a nasty glare, clearly annoyed that I've interrupted their conversation. It's even more amusing to me that there are girls who willingly put themselves in such situations with guys like Jungkook, thinking they can be the ones to change them. "The assignment is due in just four days, Jeon, and I haven't even started because of you," I huff, frustration gnawing at me as I rummage through my bag to find my purse. Earlier, he had told me he had important matters to attend to today, which was why he couldn't meet with me. When I proposed meeting later in the day, he promptly shot down the idea, insisting he didn't have the time. So you can imagine my surprise when I spotted him with his little date. Emerging from the depths of my bag with my purse in hand, I shift my gaze toward him, awaiting his response. But there's nothing. No glimmer of recognition in his eyes, no hint of acknowledgment. He just stands there, unmoving, as if I'm invisible.

Is he really going to stand there and ignore me like a petulant child

I exhale a deep sigh, my eyes narrowing as I focus on the back of his head, frustration bubbling up inside me like a simmering volcano. A million wicked scenarios play out in my mind, each one more devious than the last, all focused on how I could effectively sabotage his date.

A mischievous thought dances through my mind. What if I were to swing my bag, aiming it at that unsuspecting, utterly useless head of his? And just for good measure, I could give his blonde friend a forcefully playful shove, a move that would surely knock her on her ass.

Or perhaps... A sly smirk gradually creeps across my face as a more subtle, yet equally potent, idea blossoms in my mind. It's nothing too extravagant, but I have complete confidence that it will work like a charm.

As I stand here, contemplating my revenge plot, I can't help but notice that the queue opposite the one I'm currently in has emptied out. Without missing a beat, I smoothly slide into that vacancy, feeling a rush of anticipation building within me. My eyes immediately fixate on the illuminated board behind the cashier's head. I tilt my head to the side, carefully examining my options before allowing my gaze to shift to Jungkook, whose irritated expression is now in plain view.

As I observe, a smug grin slowly creeps across my face. I can't help but revel in the satisfaction that washes over me as I witness the subtle twitch in his furrowed brow and the rhythmic clenching of his jaw. The tension practically oozes from his pores, an electrifying aura that I can almost taste. After all, he doesn't deserve to have a good day, not after all those lies he's been feeding me these past few days. I'm in absolute awe of his extraordinary ability to seemingly disregard my very presence. My eyes meticulously track his every move, from the way he confidently places orders for both himself and his date, to the charming, heart-melting smile he offers her and with a delicate touch, he tucks a strand of her golden locks behind her ear. It's almost as if the world revolves around them, and everyone else in the room merely fades into the background. I watch, captivated, as he tenderly grasps her hand, guiding her with a gentle assurance toward a cozy booth nestled in a secluded corner of the establishment. They settle in, their bodies so close that their shoulders brush against each other, creating an aura of intimacy that's impossible to ignore. Their conversation flows effortlessly, brimming with laughter and whispered sweet nothings. I have to admit, this guy knows exactly what to do to make a girl feel special.

A simmer of irritation bubbles beneath my skin, while amusement dances at the edges of my thoughts. Jungkook, so blissfully unaware of just how persistent I can be and utterly clueless about my insatiable appetite for pettiness, continues to test my tolerance for his behavior daily. What he doesn't know is that I've always been known for my excellence in theatrics, and quite frankly, if Jungkook wants to put on a performance, I'll give him a whole damn show.

As soon as I place my order, I waste not a single second in moving toward my target. I stride with unwavering purpose toward their booth, my head held high, my hips swaying seductively as I saunter across the room. A mischievous glint flickers in my eyes as I gracefully slide into the seat right beside him, his murderous glare meeting my unflinching gaze.

I respond with a sickeningly sweet smile, my voice dripping with a teasing tone, my eyes twinkling with faux longing. "I haven't seen you since Monday, Jeon. I really missed you," I say, letting a pout form on my plump lips as I lean in closer to him. My gaze shifts to his date as I rest my head on his shoulder. "Who's this, Kook?" I mumble, deliberately ignoring the way his fists clench between us. I'm fully aware that my intrusion on his little date will undoubtedly annoy the ever-loving shit out of him.

He exchanges a quick, awkward glance with his date, who appears thoroughly confused and uncomfortable with my sudden presence. I release a sigh, my gaze carefully assessing her features. "My replacement, perhaps?" I ask, shifting my attention back to him. I catch that split-second flicker of surprise on his face – he clearly didn't expect me to say that. "Amaya," he warns, his demeanor growing stern as he clenches his jaw, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. But if I'm completely honest, I've never been one to heed warnings; Chenle always claimed that it would take a miracle worker to handle my attitude. "I'm Amaya, by the way. You?" My focus shifts to her.

"Kiarra," she whispers, her voice barely audible, and I notice her eyes closely following my fingers as they delicately trace the contours of Jungkook's exposed neck. Her lips curl into a condescending smile as she shifts to the seat opposite ours. Girls like Kiarra, the quintessential "it" girl, always seem to gravitate towards guys like my insufferable group member.

To be honest, I've got her type down pat. Her shallowness cuts through the layers of designer labels and caked-on makeup. She gives off vibes of someone who places an exorbitant amount of importance on her position within the social hierarchy, evident in the meticulous effort she pours into her appearance.

She's undoubtedly frequented the finest surgeons, splurged on the most lavish clothes, and surrounds herself with a clique of girls who are both beautiful and, well, rather uninteresting. "So, how did you end up meeting my favorite boy?" I ask, a gentle smile gracing my lips, my head still comfortably nestled on his shoulder, my gaze locked onto her as we engage in this unspoken standoff. She's challenging me for control of the situation. "We met at Jimin's party last week," she responds with a manufactured smile, her impeccably white teeth on full display. However, I can discern the underlying annoyance in her eyes, even through her facade.

"Jimin's party," I inquire, my brows furrowing in faux hurt, pretending to be genuinely surprised as I maintain that delicate touch along Jungkook's collarbone. My fingers trace a slow, teasing path, eliciting a subtle shiver from him. "I'm hurt, Kookie. You told me you were too busy," I pout, my tone dripping with feigned disappointment. I shift my gaze to Jungkook, my eyes wide and glistening, attempting to make it appear as if I'm truly saddened by his recent evasiveness.

Kiarra, caught off guard by my interaction with Jungkook, shifts uncomfortably in her seat. She clears her throat, her irritation growing the longer I linger. "Well, I guess he had some free time after all," she retorts, her voice laced with hostility. The cracks in little miss perfect's facade are becoming more apparent, and I can practically feel the tension radiating off Jungkook in waves. He's obviously annoyed by my intrusion, but by the look on his face, you could never tell well aside from his clenched jaw. "Amaya, what are you doing?" His deep voice carries a warning as he slowly turns his head to look down at me, his dark eyes fixed on mine.

I maintain my act, tilting my head ever so slightly to meet his gaze, a playful smile dancing on my lips. "I mean, I have to get your attention somehow, right?" I respond, my voice brimming with faux innocence. Leaning in a little closer, my lips hover dangerously close to his ear, and I whisper, "Besides, it's been weeks, and you've been so absorbed in... other endeavors." I punctuate my statement with a sly wink.

Kiarra's perfectly manicured nails clench onto the edge of her designer bag as she observes our little spectacle, clearly flustered.

Drawing even nearer to Jungkook, my lips graze his ear as I murmur, "You know, we do make quite the convincing pair, don't you think?" My words are laced with just enough mischief to set him on edge, and I can see the gears turning in his head as he contemplates how to navigate this unexpected scenario. "Excuse me," she mutters, abruptly pushing her chair back and rising to her feet. Her frustration is palpable in her tone.

"Leaving so soon?" I inquire, my voice dripping with feigned concern.

Jungkook attempts to intervene, but Kiarra is already making her way toward the exit. "Kiarra, wait," he pleads, reaching out for her, but she brushes past him without a second glance.

With a theatrical sigh, I rest my head on Jungkook's shoulder once more. "Well, that didn't go as planned, did it?"

Jungkook rolls his eyes, a hint of amusement twinkling in his gaze. "You're un-fucking-believable."

I flash him a mischievous grin, my façade dropping as Kiarra departs. "Just rescuing you from a bad date, Kookie," I remark with a wink. "And reminding you that you can't keep avoiding our assignment forever." With a satisfied hum, I smoothly slide out of the booth and stride toward the exit, shooting him a playful wink before making my way to Chenle's place.

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[capriciouswrites]

on the first day of halloween my true boo gave to me...a sakura with a sword

Alright, only two people expressed interest in seeing this, so apologies to the rest of you. I'm thinking just tumblr drabbles, but some might get long. So, here's a little bit of Sakura's POV for a bit between chapter one and the as of yet unposted chapter two of i get knocked down (BUT I GET UP AGAIN). Enjoy.

Sakura itches her nose and tries to fight off the second hand embarrassment she’s getting from this whole…thing. Haku, next to her, is just staring in horror. Which is absolutely a reasonable response, and luckily on his henge’d face can easily be mistaken for terror.

Which is good, because they’re supposed to be civilians and ergo be terrified of all of this.

But really it’s just…really, really bad.

“Did they just —“ Haku’s mouth snaps shut as Sakura shoots him a look — her brown eyes might look softer than her normal green glare, but he’s always been a smart kid.

Not that he’s wrong. And really, she’d prefer he be horrified and disbelieving than think anything that’s happening is a good idea but —

Sakura squints slightly and then tilts her head, hand itching for her bingo book. That's not a symbol she knows. Which is just wrong. How can there be a village she doesn’t know? They’re wearing their forehead protectors proud, which is nice she supposes but… 
“There are too many,” one of them is saying, not even bothering to keep their voice down, “we should just kill some here. Keep the healthiest.”

Sakura sighs and tilts her head back. Next to her Haku’s shoulder’s relax. Her lips curl slightly and she shakes her arms out.

Every few months she likes to have them henge up and join a caravan as civilians just to work on some of those subtle skills that being a missing-nin don’t emphasize, but it’s not like this is the first time she’s ended up doing something to defend the group — but normally that's because whoever’s attacking realize that there’s someone with chakra just chilling there.

These guys haven’t noticed, didn’t even notice when Sakura made a clone to join the children.

Haven’t even noticed that mist is slowly rising and curling around their ankles and higher, despite the bright sun beating down.

Which is just, hell, just insulting.

“Okay, I’m sorry," she says, stepping forward from the crowd where she’s been cowering with the others, “what fucking village are you from?” She considers and glances to the children, “whoops, sorry, cover your ears, that’s a bad word.”

“We’re Sound! And we’re going to —“ Sakura whistles sharply to cut them off and signal Haku.

“Sounds made up,” she says, “but I changed my mind, I don’t actually care. Okay, bye.”

The ice mirrors rise from the mist slowly, and she wants to applaud at both how smooth they move and how down right creepy it looks. Haku’s learning so much, she’s so proud.

Her hands go over her shoulders, even as the fake-ninja arm themselves and look around, one splitting into two which is just bizarre, to pull out Kabutowari even though he just looks like a backpack at the moment.

She still hasn’t bothered to drop the henge, probably won’t, since what she’s pulled out looks like a leg of lamb attached to a mirror with ribbon holding the two together which is, quite frankly, amusing enough to make her enjoy what’s probably going to be a brutally boring fight. She snickers to herself, deflects a blow with the mirror and then cracks a skull open with the lamb before flash stepping to the next one.

“Okay,” she says once they’ve raided what the civilians have left behind — she figures they escaped with their lives which obviously wasn’t going to be the case otherwise, so taking some of their shit as payment is reasonable, and they weren’t even there to argue so they must not’ve cared about it too much, “but ‘Sound’ is definitely fake, right?”

Haku shrugs and continues to examine the roll of silk he’s going to spend the next week bitching about carrying until they get to one of the few tailors they like.

“Oi, brat, don’t ignore me. Sound, fake or real? I kinda want to find out what’s up with that. Side trip?” Haku rolls his eyes and ignores her, so she reaches over to flick the side of his head — being very careful not to catch him with the sharp edge of her fingernail. “Show some respect, brat, we’re gonna go hunt down some fake ninja, it’ll be fun.”

“Yes, Sensei,” he says, dryly, giving her a look over the silk that makes her laugh — he’s come so far from the shy boy terrified of his own bloodline limit, she’s so proud.

[suna-reversed]

Talking to the moon🌙

Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

minors DNI‼️

3k+ words

(quote^^ by- Richard Siken)

warnings/tags- blood and violence. oral (f.recieving), vaginal sex, anal, dacryphilia, slight praise, slight degradation, fingering. age gap. toxic relationship. mentions of harassment. yandere themes implied. heartbreak, moving on. fluff. angst. hurt/comfort. (all characters are aged up!)

Gojo Satoru is the moon. Ever changing and radiant. Beaming with light, even when he doesn't have any of his own. And much like the moon, parts of him stay hidden in an ominous darkness as he leaves you cold and alone in the tangled mess of sheets, wondering why your lover disappears at the crack of every dawn.

You had met him a while ago when he had first come into the bakery you worked at part-time, dazzling pearls on show as he ordered every single flavour of mochi off the menu. You didn’t know where it started; how the simple exchanges turned into conversations that lasted up to hours, your manager practically having to shoo him away so that you’d stop getting distracted.

You got used to him visiting you in the day during work, sitting on the barstool near the bakery counter, talking your ear off about the most random of things while he stuffed his face with mochi. You sometimes wondered how you happened to have so much in common with a man so much more older than you. 

You couldn't exactly remember how those innocent conversations turned into you being splayed across the marble kitchen countertop of your apartment at 3 am, the joyous man now turned into a ferocious beast as he devoured you whole, holding your legs apart, tongue licking in between your folds with such fervour that made it seem as if it was the last meal of his life. 

In all honesty, you didn’t know a lot about him, except for the fact that he worked at a private institute and often travelled overseas. He’d be as silent as a mouse as he slipped out of your place before sunrise each time. He never told you why, and eventually you stopped asking- the warmth and comfort of his body too addictive to have to give up for the question of ‘what are we?’ being answered.

On days that you’d find yourself waking up early, you’d simply let your eyes roam over the muscles of his back, adoring the dimples at the bottom of his spine, memorising each blemish, scar and mark as if you’d never see it again. You sometimes found yourself wishing he’d take off the peculiar fabric covering his eyes- your mind could barely fathom the shade of his orbs.

You knew that he was always aware of you being awake. But he didn’t acknowledge it, whether by accident or choice, you could never tell. So every time he’d finish pulling his shirt over his head, you’d roll away, focusing your mind out the window on the half disappearing moon instead of the crushing weight on your chest. 

Perhaps, this was the love they never told you about. The love that wasn’t afternoon picnics and obnoxious public displays of affection. The love that wasn’t late night grocery runs and feeding each other food at cafes.

Instead, this was the love that had you deleting messages and cleaning up the strands of ashy hair from your shower drain. The love that had you lying to your friends about the marks on your neck and pretending like he didn’t just have you pinned down beneath him the night before as you served him coffee.

Every morning that you woke up alone in bed, sore and unclothed from the events of the previous night, you found yourself thinking of ways that you’d turn him away the next time he showed up at your door. But then the bell would ring, and your feet would be carrying you to the half broken man covered in bruises and blood before you could think of it.

This time, you’re sure you tell him to go away, to stop treating you as if you were some toy, slamming the door in his crestfallen face. But then why do you find yourself clutching onto his scarlet stained jacket in the bathroom? The first aid box discarded to the side as you sob into his chest, a hand stroking your hair as he assures you he’s fine. 

That night, you find him buried deep inside of you, your heavy breathing filling the silence of the air, your back to his chest. The arms around you feel unbearably tight as he pulls you even closer to him. Why is he trying to snatch all the warmth from your body?

The hot breath of his mouth is right next to your ear. He’s telling you he wants to be tender and merciful while his teeth are digging into your jugular, the hand around your throat tightening as his hips rut into you harder. He does not wipe away the tears flowing freely down your face.

The next morning, you find a burning sensation rising in your chest as you stare at the empty space next to you; his underlying scent of strawberries and citrus still lingering.

What had you been expecting? Why would this night have been different from any other?

That question is answered when you realise the unfamilair feeling of a cold metal wrapped around your ankle while climbing out of bed. Looking down, you see that it's a thin silver anklet with two charms hanging off of it.

His initials and a crescent moon.

You can’t help the smile that’s on your face for the rest of the day.

--------

You're panting, the drumming of your heartbeat echoing in your ears, vision blurring as you try to make it back home. You’re gripping onto the walls to keep yourself from falling, the pain in your body near unbearable as you somehow manage to unlock the door, not even making it past the entrance as you crumble apart right there, curling in on yourself as broken sobs leave your chest. 

The sound of footsteps has you shutting your eyes, flinching from the pain and fear of knowing you can’t fight. The terror of your attacker being in your home makes your cries even louder.

Instead, you find your senses being flooded by the familiar scent of strawberries and the cologne that you bought him- warm muscular arms come to wrap around your figure, lifting you up. You’re still crying as he settles you down onto the bed, gently pulling your hands away from your face.

He lifts your shirt to reveal the expanse of wounds littered across your abdomen. An unreadable expression remains on his face as he skillfully cleans off the blood, fixing you up like you’ve done for him a dozen times. You don’t remember telling him where you were injured. Could the blood be seen through your shirt? None of it matters as he pushes you back down onto the plush mattress, your eyes fluttering close you as fall into a deep fitful slumber. 

It’s a full moon tonight, the light cascading through your window providing you an odd sense of comfort. You turn over in the dark, gasping a little as your eyes lock onto a pair of strange azure ones. Your mind is still heavy from the medicines you took, perhaps that’s why you don’t react, simply staring into the unfamiliar eyes on a face that you recognised better than the back of your own hand.

His slender pale fingers are trailing over the skin of your abdomen. Shouldn't it hurt more? A hand comes up to your face, gently cradling your chin as he examines the scratch on your jaw. Your heart skips a beat as his soft lips press a chaste kiss onto your brow. His voice is low and tense, anger barely restrained as he asks,

“Who did this to you?”

You try to form a response, but all you can hear is the shallow echo of the beating of your half-dead heart. Your chest feels hollow as words finally rise to the tip of your tongue, eyes dry as you tell him all of it. How a strange force had pinned you against a wall when you were walking back home, how the man who appeared from the shadows of the dark alley didn’t even lift a finger, yet it felt like each bone in your body was being cracked apart. How you barely felt the pain of the broken bottle that impaled your flesh as you were thrown aside, the stranger parting from you with just four words,

“Consider this a warning.”

You don’t care how crazy you sound as you explain the bizarre events that occurred. You don’t care that his orbs are as blue and twice as deep as the mariana trench. You don’t care that for once, his eyes hold something other than just lust as he looks at you.

Your throat feels raw by the time you finish, and it hurts to look at his pitiful face so you roll onto your side, fixing your eyes on the shimmering celestial body outside your window. You both lay in silence for a while.

“I liked thinking of you as the moon at times.”

The calm in your voice startles Gojo, but he remains quiet, wanting you to continue. It doesn’t matter if it's gibberish, doesn't matter if it’s words of hatred, of doubt, of regret; he’ll take it as long as there’s something- as long as you’re speaking. His arms tremble around you a little as a bitter laugh escapes your chest. 

“But at the end of the day,” you pause, taking a deep breath, “...all I am, is a mere star in a galaxy full of constellations.”

The raw sob that rips from your chest is a surprise to both you and Gojo.

“Tell me who cares about a star that burns out and explodes?” your voice is barely above a whisper as you turn around to face him.

For once in his life, Gojo Satoru can’t joke, fight or fuck his way out of a situation. A strange weight has been on his chest ever since he saw your eyes. The light and joy stripped out of them as he found himself staring back at his own reflection. 

His eyes glance down at the dip of your collarbone, the arch of your shoulder that he wanted to reside in forever, now covered in small scars. He knows who hurt you. 

He pulls you closer to him, tangling his feet with yours, the strip of metal around your ankle clinking at the movement. Perhaps it was a huge mistake to have bought you something so carelessly, knowing that the eyes of a few dozen enemies followed him wherever he went. 

He finds himself at a loss for words, opting to convey his emotions through touch instead as he melds his lips with yours. You sigh into his mouth and he kisses you even deeper, almost desperately as if trying to pass over his own breaths to you- as if trying to bring you back to life. He finds the taste of salt on his tongue and the wet drops falling onto his cheeks makes his flesh burn. He doesn't know whose they are as he continues to try and cling onto the shell of what was once a whole person. 

“Please” he finds himself mumbling as he pulls you even closer, heart cracking as you continue sniffing into his chest. 

“It hurts- it hurts- so much” You’re sobbing now, his own body shaking in tandem with yours.

Who is he to deny you when you look up at him, the broken plea leaving your mouth, 

“Make it stop please.”

---

Gojo finds the cold metal of his own initials pressing against the side of his face as he hoists your legs over his shoulder. His fingers are pressing down against your sensitive nub, spreading around your slick before he pumps two of his fingers into you. You buck your hips up, cries escaping you as his tongue licks your clit, suctioning it into his mouth as he increases the pace of his fingers.

You’re cumming undone within seconds, begging him to fill you up. He’s never so easily given in to your demands, but tonight, it’s as if he’s only there to serve your wishes. The sickening thought of getting hurt again just so that you’d get this treatment creeps up in the back of your mind. 

You moan as you feel him line his thick girth with your entrance, the tip catching onto your sensitive bundle of nerves as he rubs it between your dripping heat. He leans forward, pushing your legs up and safely tucking them against your chest, before crashing his lips against yours. It’s messy and rushed; tongue against tongue, spit drooling out as he pushes himself inside of you in one long stroke. The burn of it has you groaning into his mouth, hands moving to tangle into his hair. His thrusts are deep and angled, the feeling of it settling deep in your belly. 

“Fuck- you look so-fucking-pretty underneath me like this”

His words of praise are muffled against your lips, further drowned out by your moans as one of his hands moves down to play with your clit. You’re screaming his name as the coil in your stomach snaps, his own restraint breaking as he finishes, painting your walls with his seed. 

It’s not the first time you find yourself screaming and moaning that night. His cock is inside of you in one way or the other through the entirety of the next few hours- whether it be deep down your throat as his hands pull your hips down to his face, moaning at the taste of himself leaking from your cunt - or stretching the walls of your puckered asshole, the lube he pumped in with his slender fingers dripping out as he presses you to the shower wall, a hand coming forward to fondle your tits as his face falls onto your shoulder, grunting into your ear while he pistons in and out of your tight hole. 

You can barely move a muscle by the time you’re done, body and mind numb from both the exhaustion and overstimulation as he pulls the covers over the two of you, limbs entangled with each other’s, skin against skin, his hands rubbing circles onto your spine.

“No one’s ever going to hurt you again.” 

You’re barely conscious as he whispers that, humming and burying your face deeper into his cozy heat as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You do not notice the solemn drop of moisture that escapes his eye, falling onto your cheek, a thumb brushing it away just as quickly, as if it was never there. Just as he wishes he could brush away his own existence from your life- no- just as he was going to.

“...I promise.”

---

When your eyes flutter open, they are not met with the moon.

Instead, the light of the rising sun casts a rosy hue across your room. And for once, you do not feel cold as you spread out your legs to take more of the space on the expanse of your empty bed. The sunlight does not feel like a curse anymore, even if the nostalgia of the moon’s glow stays buried somewhere deep in your heart. 

But at least there’s no more crying going to bed alone each night; no more hours of scrolling through social media looking for someone who doesn’t exist; no more one night stands and low grade hookups trying to fulfil the ever-growing void in your heart. 

In fact, you find yourself going out more, singing along to songs in the shower once again, even making friends with a regular trio that starts coming into your bakery every other day. They told you they’re college students too, all around your age, and you find yourself smiling a little more than necessary at one of them, even if a pair of ocean eyes floods the back of your mind each time that you do. You’re still hurting and healing, but at least you are moving forward. 

“At least he kept his promise”  You find yourself thinking as you climb out of bed, sighing in disappointment at the clinking of charms around your ankle. 

—-

“At least I kept my promise.” 

It had become Gojo’s new-found mantra. Every time he saw you drunk out of your mind at a bar, deftly bribing the bartender to replace your ordered shots with water instead. Every time he saw a random body pressed to yours, their tongue exploring your sweet mouth as you pushed them into your apartment. And especially that one time he found himself standing over the half-beaten body of the man who had tried to grope you on the bus. 

“At least I kept my promise- at least she’s safe.”

He knew his actions were of a mad man. Even though he took care of the problem which had hurt you in the first place, he still found himself paranoid. Following you around every other night, making sure you were still here- still alive under the same sky as him, under the same sun and moon and stars. He told himself he was doing it for you- even if he found his heart swell every time he saw the familiar glint of the silver trinket around your ankle.

-----

“No way!” You find yourself laughing around a mouth full of mochi.  

“No- I swear he likes you, he just doesn't want to admit it, you know how he-” 

“What are you two talking about?”

You both immediately snap your mouths shut as he returns from the restroom, sliding into the seat on his side of the booth. 

“Nothing!” you reply in unison. 

“Anyways, do you want me to get you anything else? Something that this idiot wouldn't shove into my mouth?” You joke, tapping your pen against the notepad. 

“Hey! I just wanted you to taste how delicious the mochi was!”

“I know- I made it!”

A loud cough breaks your banter with the light haired boy, 

“I-I do actually want to ask for something”

“Of course, what can I get you? The ginger tea you like?”

“Well- what I want is-” he pauses, and you don’t miss the mischievous glint in the eyes of his friend sitting across the table. 

“I’d like to take you to the festival at the park.”

You’re halfway through writing it down on the notepad before you realise what he’s asked, your head snapping up to see the slightly flushed tint on his cheeks as he glares at the howling boy across the table. Your own face heats up as he looks towards you expectantly. 

“You don’t have to if you-”

“Pick me up at 4”

“Oh” butterflies race in your stomach at the smile that he gives you, “...okay, 4 it is.” 

------

Weeks go by and you don’t realise the slow mending of your heart. Your broken pieces coming together each time he holds your hand, each time he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, each time he whispers words of affirmations into your ear, and each time he comforts your shaking body, apologising for kissing your brow- even if he doesn’t understand why it made you cry. 

Eventually, you learn to not mind being just a mere star in the vast expanse of the cosmo.

You didn’t care because he looked at you like you held the universe in your eyes, cradling your face with such gentleness as if you were precious china. You didn’t care because when his lips came down onto yours, it felt like the collision of stars- your own little supernovae in the curve of his cupid’s bow. You didn’t care because when you woke up, you’d find him peppering kisses across the purple constellations he left the night before. 

You didn’t care because you never woke up cold and alone anymore.

------

“I’ll be back in just a second.” 

You find yourself saying as you move your head off his lap, waving to your other two friends, their own counterparts lounging beside them. 

“Is everything okay?’ 

He’s always so tender- except for when he has you splayed across the bed on your stomach, hips thrusting into yours as he tells you what a good slut you are for him- just for him. Heat crawls up your face at the memory from a few nights ago. The fingers wrapping your hand snap your mind out of its perverse refuge. Looking down, you find concern-filled eyes staring back at you. 

“Yeah, I just want to take a walk alone by the beach- get some air.” You reply, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips.  

The sound of the waves lapping against the shore in the dark and the fresh sea breeze on your face is refreshing. You make a mental note to thank Nobara for dragging you onto this trip. You stop as you find a cozy spot in the sand, giving you a perfect view of the moonlit sea.

You don’t know how long you sit there, thinking of a particular set of emerald eyes and long lashes, your smile faltering as the promise ring on your finger grazes the forgotten metal on your ankle. Your face remains neutral as you unhook it, even if it feels like cutting your own hand off, but that’s all there is to it - familiarity and nostalgia. There’s no blackhole in your chest, ready to open up and swallow you whole, there are no tears shed as you bury the piece of junk into the sand, and there is no looking back as you walk away, back into the arms of your precious ‘gumi. 

Gojo stands at the rooftop, one hand clutching the sand covered jewellery, the other pulling down a side of his blindfold as he watches you entangle yourself in the arms of another, laughing as he places a kiss on the top of your brow. You’re happy, that’s all that matters- still, the irony of the situation pricks at him - especially after all he did to keep you away from his world. 

He had initially found himself at a loss for words when you had told him that he was the moon, and you, just a star. If you were to ask him again, Gojo would agree, but with only half of it.

He may have been the moon, but you were a galaxy full of stars and planets that harboured dreams and wishes he could never fathom. His mind kept flickering back to the constellations he littered your body with as he now watched his own disciple press kisses into the crook of your neck. 

Nonetheless, he found his own lips twitching upwards- almost tragically, but the warmth in his chest was real as he saw the joy on your face. You were right; he was the moon after all. He had shone as bright as the sun itself despite not having any light of his own. Now he stood there watching the same light reflect off the dark-haired boy who held you in his arms, and suddenly, it all made sense.

Perhaps he should have found another way back then. Perhaps he shouldn’t have underestimated his ability to be able to protect you. Perhaps- 

it didn’t matter now. 

perhaps at the end of the day, the moon was nothing but a dreamer.

© suna-reversed — all rights reserved. please refrain from modifying, translating, reposting of any kind. plagiarism will NOT be tolerated.

[littlelovelyspiderling]

Venom’s Vengeance

i saw venom: let there be carnage and like 5 seconds later i wrote this. i’ve never written venom or eddie brock before so eeehhh we’ll see how it goes. SPOILERS if you haven’t seen venom 2 yet or any of the spider-man: nwh trailers!!

After being dragged into the MCU universe, Venom wants to kill Spider-Man, but Eddie makes him heal the wounded hero instead. Upon binding to Peter Parker, Venom learns of a new weakness humans have, and realizes there are ways other than biting your enemies' heads off to exact revenge...

word count: 6,367

____________________________

“LET US EAT HIM!”

No! Let him go!

“MUST DESTROY HIM! TEAR HIM APART! MAKE HIM SUFFER FOR ALL THE PAIN HE’S INFLICTED ON US!”

Venom! I said let him go!

With a guttural roar, Venom flung their captive against the slimy sewer walls. The kid gasped upon impact and slid to the floor. It took a few seconds of scrambled floundering for him to stand, palms braced against the wall to keep him upright, his whole body trembling in fear.

“W-what the hell are you? Why are you trying to kill me?”

The shudder in his voice cut Eddie to his core. Normally, he and the alien lifeform mirrored each other’s emotions, one side eventually succumbing to the other’s will in order to maintain their bizarre yet symbiotic relationship. But ever since they’d seen that spider-guy on the TV, things had changed. Venom had been ignoring his host’s desperate attempts to calm him down and tame his wild temper. Eddie hadn’t even had time to figure out what the hell had happened in their beach house two days ago; once the symbiote got Spider-Man in his head, then eventually in his sights, a darker side of him had taken over, one that Eddie was struggling to keep at bay. Right now, it was taking everything in him to keep the alien from ripping the kid to the shreds. Right now, the symbiote was pulsing with an unbendable, blind rage.

My thoughts exactly! Eddie shouted from inside Venom. What’s wrong with you? Why do you want to eat him so badly?

“SPIDER-MAN KNOWS WHO WE ARE! SPIDER-MAN KNOWS WHAT HE’S DONE!” Venom screeched. He stomped forward, balling his massive hands into fists. “AND FOR THAT, THE SPIDER-MAN MUST DIE!”

No! Eddie yelled, forcing their legs to a halt. Let’s talk about this! He’s just a kid!

At that moment, Spider-Man bolted toward the mouth of the tunnel, feet splashing through muck and sewer water. But Venom launched a glob of black goo at him before he could turn the corner, knocking him back into the wall and trapping him in place.

“Agh! What is this?” Peter cried, wriggling uselessly beneath the sticky net. His eye lenses went wide as the giant monster approached, spindles of drool stretched between its impossibly sharp teeth, its long tongue slithering from its maw like a pink eel. It was every child’s worst nightmare come to life. Spider-Man turned away in horror, his voice breaking. “P-please! I didn’t mean to bring you here! It was an accident!”

What? Eddie exclaimed. Wait—listen to him. Just stop for two seconds and listen to what he has to say.

The alien bellowed in protest and stomped their feet. “YOU WOULDN’T BE STOPPING ME IF YOU KNEW WHAT HE’S DONE!”

“What...what who’s done?” Spider-Man ventured to say, still shaking. “What I’ve done?”

Eddie knew the kid could only hear what Venom was saying, which was likely making being kidnapped and attacked by a man-eating alien monster even more confusing and terrifying than it already was. He took a deep breath and spoke in a calm, collected tone.

Tell me, then. What has he done to you? How do you even know this guy?

“SPIDER-MAN IS A SYMBIOTE KILLER! A HEARTLESS, TREACHEROUS, BACK-STABBING HOST! EVERYONE KNOWS HE DESERVES THE CRUELEST DEATH IMAGINABLE!”

Peter audibly swallowed. “Symbiote? Host? What are you talking about? I haven’t killed anyone!”

“SHUT UP!” Venom roared, spitting flecks of saliva all over Spider-Man’s mask. The kid shrunk back with a whimper. “MILLIONS OF VERSIONS OF SPIDER-MAN ACROSS MILLIONS OF UNIVERSES HAVE BETRAYED US! AND YOU BEAR THE TRAITOR’S NAME AND COSTUME! WE WILL CHEW YOU UP AND SPIT YOU OUT PIECE BY BLOODY PIECE, AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN, JUST LIKE YOU HAVE DONE TO US!” The corners of the beast’s mouth lifted into a sickening grin. “BUT THEN WE WILL RE-EAT YOUR CHEWED UP PIECES. WE DON’T LIKE WASTING FOOD. EDDIE SAYS IT’S NOT GOOD FOR THE ENVIRONMENT.”

Even with a mask on, Eddie could sense the terror beating its way out of the poor kid’s chest. He had to reel Venom in before things got ugly.

Easy, V, Eddie warned him gently. Just because a version of Spider-Man has hurt you doesn’t mean that this one has. Right? I mean—I won’t pretend I understand all this multiverse mumbo-jumbo, but hey—you saw his picture on the news. He looks, like, twelve.

“DOESN’T MATTER! ALL SPIDER-PEOPLE MUST DIE! THEY ARE ALL TO BLAME!”

Peter’s fear-gripped mind fought to understand the monster’s words. “Spider...people?” he said cautiously.

Now that’s not fair, Eddie continued. Under that logic, shouldn’t I want all symbiotes to die? Your kind have killed a lot of my kind, after all. Remember how much I hated you when we first met? But after I took the time to actually get to know you, I started to like you. Now look at us—symbiotic partners, saving the world as the Lethal Guardian. That never would’ve happened if I hadn’t given you the chance to prove yourself.

Venom paused for a moment, grappling with his host’s aggravating words. The heat of his rage was beginning to wane. “BUT—BUT THIS IS DIFFERENT! EVERY SPIDER-MAN HAS TREATED VENOM LIKE SCUM BETWEEN HIS TOES! THEY ARE IRREDEEMABLE SHITBAGS ONLY GOOD FOR EATING! NOTHING ELSE!”

But how do you know that this Spider-Man isn’t the one redeemable one you’ve been waiting for, if you won’t even let him prove you otherwise? You only ever saw humans as disposable hosts until we met. But now you know there are good ones out there who are worth protecting. He gazed at the terrified teen through Venom’s eyes. He looked so small from the alien’s towering viewpoint. Have you ever actually met a Spider-Man before?

“...NO.”

So you’re really going to let those greasy assholes back home tell you how to think? Come on, man. Gotta think for yourself, form your own opinions on things.

A long, low growl rolled from the alien’s throat. Eddie moved his fingers to unclench their hands, and Venom begrudgingly complied.

Give him a chance to show you he’s better. Please. For me.

Gradually, his growls tapered off somewhere deep in his chest. Venom strode toward Peter, narrowing his eyes, licking his chops. Spider-Man squirmed to get away, but there was nowhere for him to go. The beast stopped an inch away from his face. Its breath was hot, wet, and reeked of rotting meat.

“Please, please, p-please don’t eat me,” he begged.

In an instant, Venom reared back his fist and punched the wall a few inches from the kid’s head, making him flinch and yelp.

“GAHHH! FINE!” he grumbled. “BUT ONCE YOU SEE HOW REPULSIVE HE IS, I’M YANKING HIS SPINE OUT OF HIS THROAT!”

Eddie sighed with relief. Peter, however, looked like he might vomit.

“Who…are you talking to...?” he asked uneasily.

Brock shrugged inside the suit. Let me out so we can both speak to him.

The alien huffed in defeat. In one swift motion, Venom’s monstrous form peeled back and shrunk away to reveal a very sleep-deprived but friendly-looking man inside. He wore ragged jeans and a leather jacket, had kind eyes paired with a shy smile, and it was such a stark contrast to the giant toothy demon, Peter blinked hard a few times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating the transformation.

“Hey there,” the man said with a nervous wave. Peter blinked again.

“What...the hell?” he breathed.

“Sorry about all that. My friend can be a bit dramatic. Beneath all the teeth and bloodthirstiness and slobber, I promise he’s an okay guy.”

“You…he…” Spider-Man’s jaw hung open. For once in his life, the web-slinger was at a loss for words. “You were inside that freaky monster thing? Where did it go?”

“DON’T CALL ME FREAKY!” the creature’s deep voice suddenly roared. A snake-like appendage appeared on the man’s right shoulder, and Venom’s grisly teeth and pupil-less eyes sprouted at the end to form a smaller (but just as horrifying) face. “YOU’RE THE FREAKY ONE!”

“Holy shit,” Peter croaked. “Am I tripping balls right now? What the hell is going on?”

Eddie tugged the tiny Venom face away from Spider-Man’s and gave it a few pats. “Down, boy. Have a little sympathy. Kid’s clearly going through a lot right now.” The man offered him a small but genuine smile. “You’re Peter, right? Peter Parker?”

The young hero winced at the name, as if it physically hurt him. He stared at the ground without answering.

“I saw you. On the news. I don’t think I have the full story, but…” Eddie stepped closer, causing Peter to stiffen a little. He knelt down to his eye level and pinched the corner of his mask. “Do you mind if I take this off? I already know what you look like, and I think it might help my friend not want to eat you so much.”

Spider-Man was silent for a moment, his wide, bug-like eye lenses difficult to read. Then he sighed, letting his shoulders fall slack and his head droop a little.

“Whatever.”

Eddie hesitated, waiting for him to offer something else, but he didn’t. So he went ahead and pulled the Spider-Man mask off his head, revealing the soft, battle-scarred face underneath. It was even more jarring in person—how painfully young and innocent this allegedly infamous superhero actually was. At the same time, his big, brown Bambi eyes looked haunted with trauma far beyond their years, and his pale skin was striped with numerous gruesome wounds: some fresh, others still healing. Eddie’s heart twinged.

“I STILL WANT TO EAT HIM.”

Peter blanched in terror. Eddie scoffed, shoving the alien aside.

“Can it, Venom.”

Something like curiosity slowly overthrew the kid’s horrified expression. “Venom?” he repeated, glancing between the demon head and Eddie. “Is...that it’s name?”

“YOU KNOW MY NAME, SPIDER-MAN,” Venom snarled. “JUST AS I KNOW YOURS.”

“I’m not so sure he does, bud. I don’t think Peter here has ever met any of your kind. He’s only been alive for twelve years.”

At that, the boy scowled. “Twelve? I’m sixteen, dude. Come on.” The newfound spark in his eyes died in an instant, however, and he let out a weary huff. “Didn’t you see that on the news too?”

“We’ve only been in this weird, jacked up version of reality for a couple days, so V and I are still trying to catch up on things.”

“And Venom is…what, exactly? Sentient tar? A possessed boa constrictor crossed with an oil spill?”

“He’s an alien and I’m his host.”

Peter gave a shriveled laugh. “Oh my god. First lizard guy, then lightning dude, then Halloween man, then doctor tentacles, and now an actual alien? How many other Spider-Man-hating psychos are out there? And why do all of you want to kill me, but I've never even heard of any of you?”

Eddie frowned in thought. “You mean we’re not the first guy you don’t know who’s tried to kill you for no reason this week?”

“You don’t even break the top ten list,” Peter said miserably. His gaze shifted to the serpentine alien face. “Although, as far as themes go, yours is by far the weirdest. And scariest.”

The man’s expression softened. He reached forward and touched the black sludge holding Spider-Man in place. “V, can we get rid of this please?”

A grumble rose from the terrifying alien. “FINE. BUT IF HE TRIES TO RUN AGAIN, I’M BITING HIS HEAD OFF.”

The kid sucked his lips to his teeth. “Noted,” he squeaked. “No running.”

With a hiss, Venom lunged toward him and bit into the black net, ripping large chunks away and gobbling them up. Peter winced every time those long, demonic fangs grew near, shivering at the thought of them latching around his throat.

Once he was free, Spider-Man dropped to his feet. Now that he was stagnant and in full view, the severity of his injuries truly dawned on Brock. No wonder he’d been so easy for Venom to capture. The kid looked like he’d been hit by four buses, a semi-truck, and maybe a couple of messenger bikes. With knives for wheels. That were also on fire.

Peter’s eyes darted between the worm-like alien head and the man it was attached to. He’d seen a lot of strange beings in his short time as Spider-Man, but this was on a whole new level of freakish. Peter tried not to let his bemusement show on his face, but Eddie could discern the kid’s apprehension from the beads of sweat along his brow and the tension in his muscles.

“I’m sorry you’re dealing with all of that. Kids like you should be worried about homework and acne and—”

“DO NOT APOLOGIZE TO—!” Venom started to bellow, but Eddie grabbed his tongue to silence him.

“—dating, not being murdered by grown men playing dress-up.”

The alien gagged and bit his hand, eliciting a long string of curses from his host. Peter stared between the two perplexedly.

“I’m not…” the teen began, looking offended. Then he sighed. “It’s not like I stopped dealing with those things. Now I just have to deal with them, you know, on top of vengeful costumed murderers.” His eyes fell to the floor. “It’s my fault, though. I was trying to fix something, but instead I made everything a billion times worse. Like I always do.”

There was an exhaustion weighing over the kid that no sixteen-year-old should have to bear. Not to mention the many bloody wounds etched across his face and body. A familiar knot formed in Eddie’s stomach. Spider-Man needed their help.

“OH, BOO-FUCKING-HOO,” Venom taunted him. “YOUR PATHETIC LIES ONLY MAKE ME WANT TO EAT YOU FASTER. COME ON, LET ME PUT HIM OUT OF HIS MISERY.”

The kid backed away from the alien’s demented smile, his cheeks reddening slightly.

“Stop being a bully,” Eddie scolded the symbiote. “You’re not hurting him. In fact, you’re going to do the opposite.”

Venom grimaced. “THE OPPOSITE?”

“What does that mean?” Peter asked nervously.

Eddie tilted his head to the side. “You’re badly injured, Spider-Man. My friend here has healing abilities. If you let him, he can fix you right up, lickety-split.”

Spider-Man blinked, then wrinkled his nose. “Seriously?”

“WHAT?” Venom cried. “NO WAY! I’M NOT HEALING HIM!”

“Yes you are,” Eddie insisted. “Because while you’re healing him, you can look into his thoughts and see that he’s telling the truth, and then you’ll realize the animosity you hold against him is totally unwarranted.”

The symbionts went silent for a moment, grumbling in a contemplative manner. Peter looked just as unconvinced as he did.

“Look at my thoughts? Yeah, no thanks. I don’t want that thing anywhere near me—especially in my head. My privacy’s already been violated enough as it is.”

Venom’s expression shifted to a look of malicious delight. “AND WHY IS THAT, LITTLE SPIDER? AFRAID I’LL FIND SOMETHING THAT WILL MAKE ME WANT TO TURN YOU INSIDE OUT?”

“Yes!” the kid yelped. “Precisely that!”

“Enough, V.” Eddie gave the alien a playful noogie on the head. “If you don’t heal him right now, then we’re not watching any more Acorralada.”

Venom wriggled out of his hold and sputtered in disbelief. Eddie had clearly struck a chord. “BUT—BUT WE JUST GOT TO THE GOOD PART!” he protested.

“I know,” Eddie said.

“MAXIMILIANO JUST FOUND OUT THAT DIANA IS PREGNANT!”

“I know.”

“WE CAN’T STOP NOW!”

“Then heal him, you melodramatic bastard!” Brock demanded through a laugh. “Heal him, and we’ll watch as many episodes as you want tonight.”

Venom licked his teeth in a way that made Peter’s skin crawl. “YOU DRIVE A HARD BARGAIN,” he said, slithering closer to Spider-Man. “FINE. I WILL HEAL THIS FILTHY LITTLE WORM. BUT IF I SEE THAT HE’S LYING AND HAS IN FACT TORTURED AN ALTERNATE VERSION OF ME, I WILL DISEMBOWEL HIM.”

For a moment, the teen didn’t appear as terrified as that statement should have rendered him. He stared between the parasite and its host, a wrinkle forming along his brow. “You two have a weird relationship,” he observed.

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “You don’t know the half of it,” he insisted, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Peter gripped his upper arm where blood was leaking from a deep cut through his bicep. “My, um…my aunt watches that show,” he murmured hesitantly.

A grin touched Brock’s lips. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, then gave a strained chuckle. “I can’t stand it. It’s so over dramatic and unrealistic.”

“YOU HAVE ZERO TASTE,” Venom gurgled. “YOU’RE SUCH AN OCTAVIA.”

Eddie laughed and shrugged. “I think unrealistic drama is the entire point. But hell, you were probably a baby when that show first came on the air. Which makes you way too young to appreciate the raw sexual tension between all of the characters.”

That drew a small snort out of the kid, which brought a smile to Eddie’s face. But a frown was quick to reclaim Peter’s features.

“Why do you want to heal me all of a sudden? Why the change of heart?”

Brock lifted his hands into the air. “For the record, I never wanted to kill you. It’s my alien friend here who has some weird multidimensional beef with you. And you swear you’ve never met him before?”

The kid shook his head dismally. “It’s just like the others. All of them showed up out of nowhere and started attacking me.” His hand moved to his side where part of his suit had been torn away, along with a chunk of his flesh. “The weird thing is, it felt like they were after Spider-Man, but…how do I put this? Not necessarily me. Not me as Spider-Man. They all kept referencing things and people I know nothing about. It’s like…like they want to kill the idea of Spider-Man. Their idea of Spider-Man. It’s all so bizarre.”

He grimaced sharply and leaned against the wall, gritting his teeth to stifle a moan of pain. Dark circles ringed his downcast eyes, and his face was growing paler by the second. Eddie inched closer to him.

“That’s a shitty situation to be in. How about we let Venom heal you, and then we can try to work through all this insanity together, yeah? That sound good?”

The young hero lifted his gaze to his. A flicker of hope touched his expression that mirrored Eddie’s. Then, just as quickly, the flame died, and his eyes fell to the floor. He released a shaky breath. “No. I can’t—I can’t trust you. I can’t trust anyone anymore.” He licked at the split in his lip. “If you’re not going to kill me, then please just let me go.”

Eddie sighed. “No offense kid, but you look like shit. It’d be irresponsible of me to let you go without patching you up. I know we caused some of those injuries of yours; let us fix them.”

Spider-Man swallowed, then pursed his lips. His eyes wandered back to the symbiote, who looked just as eager to rip his face off as he had when he’d been actively attacking him.

“What, uh—what exactly does he have to do? To, you know, heal me?”

Venom sneered. “THIS.”

The alien lunged at him suddenly, unhinging its jaw like a python and swallowing Peter whole. Peter shrieked in terror as the black maw consumed him, dousing everything in sticky darkness.

“Aaaagh! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my—”

It was all over him: spreading across his costume, engulfing the entirety of his limbs. It was in his eyes, his brain, his organs. He fell hard on his rear, trembling in horror, watching the black sludge creep up his arms and coil around his shivering fingers.

He expected it to hurt, to dismantle him, to make him want to hurl.

But instead, it felt…good?

Great, even. Like, eerily so. His strength felt renewed—maybe even enhanced—and he could feel the biting pain of his wounds gradually seeping away. As the black monster absorbed into his suit and out of sight, his rapid breathing slowed. He unclenched his fists, relaxing into the feeling of the symbiote repairing his physical form.

“Whoa,” Spider-Man breathed.

“YOU SCREAM LIKE A LITTLE BITCH,” Venom’s ferociously deep voice cackled inside his head, making him flinch. “BUT SPIDER-MAN’S STRENGTH…HIS POWER…I REMEMBER IT WELL. SO TANTALIZING.”

“Can you hear him too?” Peter asked Eddie, tapping at his temple. “That is—beyond creepy.”

Eddie chuckled lightly. “Yeah. Takes some getting used to.” He nudged the kid’s knee with his foot. “But you’ll be better before you have to get used to it. Look—your injuries are already closing up.”

Brock was right. Every bruise, burn, gash, and scrape was fading right before their eyes. Peter lifted his arm towards his face and watched the cut on his bicep cinch itself up and melt out of existence.

“I’m assuming that means you saw that he wasn’t lying and has never met you before. Right, V?”

The alien huffed sourly. “YES. HE HAS NEVER EVEN HEARD OF MY KIND UNTIL TODAY. I WILL NOT EAT THIS SPIDER-MAN. FOR NOW, AT LEAST…” He paused, humming in thought. “WHY ARE HIS MEMORIES SO…SHORT?”

“You can see my memories?” Peter sputtered out, gripping the sides of his head. “Stop looking at my memories, man!”

“Short?” Eddie repeated curiously. Then the realization struck him, and he snorted. “Oh, right. You’ve never bonded with someone as young as him before. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, bud. Spider-Man is a child. His memory is short because he hasn’t been alive for very long.”

“AH,” the symbiote said. “I CAN SEE NOW WHY YOU DIDN'T WANT ME TO EAT THIS ONE. HE HAS LOTS OF DUMB VOLATILE EMOTIONS GOING ON INSIDE. SIMILAR TO YOU, BUT WITH MORE CONFUSION AND STUPIDITY AND HORMONES.”

“I resent everything being said right now,” the teen pouted.

“BUT HE HAS EDDIE’S SAME DESIRE TO HELP THOSE IN NEED. EVEN THOUGH MILLIONS OF YEARS OF HIVEMIND INSTINCTS ARE TELLING ME I MUST EXACT REVENGE ON SPIDER-MAN, I WON’T HARM HIM.”

Peter swallowed and hunched his shoulders. “Uh…thanks?”

“Glad to hear it,” Eddie said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “See that? Conflict resolved.”

A shudder ran up Spider-Man’s spine. “Ugh. I can feel it inside me. It’s like he’s invaded every cell in my body.”

“I HAVE,” Venom stated proudly. “BUT YOU LIKE THE FEELING. I MAKE US STRONGER.”

Tendrils of inky black goo began to bubble up from his costume and spread over his skin, starting from his chest and then fanning outwards. The slimy creature slithered between the fabric of his suit and his flesh, inflicting Peter with a sensation he had not anticipated. He bit his tongue at first, thinking he could withstand it without causing a scene, only to jolt when Venom reached his belly. Goosebumps flared across his arms and up his neck.

“THE OTHER SPIDERS RELISHED IN OUR POWER TOO. BUT I WILL NOT MAKE THE SAME MISTAKES THEY DID. I HAVE ALREADY FOUND MY PERFECT HOST, SO DON’T GET ANY IDEAS ABOUT—” The alien went silent momentarily, interrupted by an unexpected onslaught of odd thoughts and muffled sounds coming from the boy he was bonded to. “HOLD ON. WHAT IS FUNNY? WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?”

Eddie lifted his gaze to Spider-Man, surprised to see him cupping a hand over his mouth with his eyes squeezed shut. Even with half his face covered up, he could tell he was smiling.

“Ihi’m not,” he squeaked unconvincingly through his fingers, his shoulders bobbing up and down.

“YES YOU ARE. YOU CAN’T LIE TO ME.” The alien continued to traipse across his skin almost unconsciously, inching dangerously close to his sides and neck. “YOU BETTER NOT BE LAUGHING AT ME. I CAN EAT THE LUNGS RIGHT OUT OF YOUR CHEST IN ONE CHOMP.”

Peter shook his head briskly. “I’m nohot! I swehear! It’s just—you’re just—ahagh!” Tendrils of alien goop curled underneath his ribcage, brushing him like ice cold fingers and making him cringe. “Quihit crawling on me!”

Venom’s miniaturized head suddenly bloomed out of Spider-Man’s chest and sneered at him, causing the kid to recoil. “WHY? EDDIE DOESN’T MIND IT.”

Peter stared sideways shyly, avoiding both of their gazes, a tingly heat rising in his face. “Well I do! It feeheels—weird. And creepy!”

“THAT DOESN’T EXPLAIN WHY YOU’RE LAUGHING.”

Eddie watched the kid’s cheeks flush pink and bit back a chuckle, realizing what was going on. “Come on, V,” he called, trying to preserve the teen’s dwindling pride. “Kid’s all healed—no need to traumatize him any further.”

Venom’s snake-like appendages suddenly rushed up Peter’s neck and ears, making him squeal and curl into himself like a turtle. “Ahack! W-what are you doohooing?”

“MY MOVEMENTS ARE MAKING YOU LAUGH? BUT YOU CLAIM YOU DON’T LIKE THE FEELING. I DON’T UNDERSTAND.”

Spider-Man puffed out his rosy cheeks, cupping his hands around the nape of his neck. “Uhugh. It tihickles, okay? Your freaky lihittle gloop tentacles climbing all over my skin.” He pulled at the black sludge sticking to the underside of his chin. “So could you please gehet off me already?”

“TICKLES?” the alien repeated. “WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?”

“Oh boy,” Eddie snickered. “I’m guessing that kind of thing doesn’t exist where you’re from.”

Venom shook his head, then looked to Peter expectantly. Peter blushed at his feet.

“Well, uh…it’s a bit...hard to explain.”

“IS THIS ‘TICKLES’?” he asked, wiggling tendrils of himself against Spider-Man’s sides. The superhero yelped and hugged himself around the middle, giggling shrilly.

“Ahaha! Yehes! Now cuhut it out!”

“WHY? DOES IT HURT YOU?”

Peter spluttered. “Wehell…n-no…”

“IF TICKLES DOESN’T HURT YOU AND MAKES YOU HAPPY, WHY DON’T YOU LIKE IT?” Venom shifted his physical form around Peter’s midsection as he spoke, eliciting bubbly, high-pitched laughter from the poor teenager. Eddie couldn’t help but smile at the humorous scene. After everything he’d been through, the young hero had looked so defeated both on TV and in person. It was nice to see him grinning and giggling for a change. For what was probably the first time in a long time, the boy appeared joyful and carefree. The way kids his age were supposed to.

“I’m nahat h-hahappy!” Spider-Man cackled. “Lahaughter is—invahaluntary!”

Venom let out a laugh of his own. “I LIKE TICKLES. THEY MAKE YOU MAKE FUNNY NOISES AND SQUIRM AROUND LIKE A LITTLE WORMY.”

The alien jumped from Peter back to Eddie and started moving across his original host’s body. “HOW COME EDDIE DOESN’T REACT THE SAME WAY?” he asked, sounding disappointed.

“Guess I’m just not as ticklish as Spider-Man,” Eddie said with a shrug, smiling at the poor teen as he struggled to catch his breath. Peter held his tummy as he stood up, panting and flushed and too cute for his own good. “It’s just the way humans are. For whatever reason, some of us are more ticklish than others.”

Peter huffed irritably. “Okay, yeah, but like—I’m not…not that ticklish.” He ran his hands over his ribcage. “It’s just—I mean, you’ve gotta be crazy for that not to bother you! It felt like hundreds of frozen spiders were crawling on me!”

Eddie rubbed at his chin. “Maybe you’re just really sensitive? ‘Cuz that’s definitely not how it feels on me. People do tend to be more ticklish as kids, after all.”

Spider-Man grumbled under his breath and crossed his arms, shifting his weight between his feet in a restless, flustered way. “Whatever. Um, thanks for healing me, I guess—”

“EDDIE IS NO FUN!” Venom interrupted him, reforming on his host's shoulder with a fiendish grin. “I WANT TO MESS WITH SPIDER-MAN SOME MORE!”

The kid stiffened, then reddened, backing away and shaking his head, nervous giggles already building behind his lips. “N-no, no—Eddie, dohon’t you dare let it—”

Before he could stop him, the alien launched itself off of Eddie and splattered across Peter’s chest. Spider-Man tried to pry it off, but the slimy creature slipped through his fingers and melted through his suit in the blink of an eye. Venom went right back to tickling Peter’s sensitive sides and tummy, this time with far more vigor, sending the poor teen into hysterics almost instantly.

“Noho—nohohahaha!” Spider-Man belted out, hugging his stomach and falling back against the wall. “Oh shihithaha!”

“WHAT’S THE MATTER? DOES SPIDER-MAN NOT LIKE THE FEELING OF LITTLE SPIDERS CRAWLING ON HIM?” The alien skittered across his skin as he taunted him, reviving Peter’s goosebumps with a vengeance.

“Ehaha—wait! Oho my gahad!” He sunk to the floor, giggling wildly, smiling the brightest smile in the world as he clawed at the symbiote inside his costume. “Gehet off meehee!”

“Venom…” Eddie said disapprovingly, chuckling into his hand. Perhaps if the world could see this side of the young superhero, he wouldn’t have an army of multidimensional enemies after his head. “Come on. Stop torturing the poor kid.”

“TICKLES ARE TORTURE?” Venom exclaimed. “BUT I THOUGHT IT DIDN’T HURT?”

Brock scratched at his facial hair in thought. “It’s...complicated. No, it doesn’t hurt him. But too much of it can make you go a bit crazy.” He nodded towards Peter’s beat-red face. “Can’t you read his thoughts right now? See what he’s feeling?”

Venom purred deeply. “HMM. IT IS A LOT. HE’S SOMEHOW HAPPY, FLUSTERED, LIVID, AND PANICKED ALL AT ONCE.” As he listened to the boy’s laughter echo off the walls of the tunnel, the alien grinned a wide, toothy grin. “I THINK I UNDERSTAND NOW. THIS IS A GOOD WAY FOR ME TO TAKE VENGEANCE ON THE LITTLE SPIDER-MAN WITHOUT HARMING HIM, DON’T YOU THINK?”

Eddie ran his fingers through his hair. “I mean, guess it’s better than, you know…ripping the kid in half...”

“Gehet outta my hehehead!” Peter giggled, palming his face with one hand and hugging himself around the middle with the other. He kicked his legs like a cockroach caught on its back as he rolled onto his side, bouncing with belly laughs.

“HE ALSO KEEPS THINKING ‘DON’T GO TO MY FEET’ AND ‘DON’T GO TO MY ARMPITS,’” Venom observed aloud, making the teen cringe. “ARE THOSE TICKLISH SPOTS ON HUMANS?”

“Noho! They’re nohot!”

The symbiote bared its teeth in delight, vanishing into his costume. “YOU’RE A TERRIBLE LIAR,” he jeered. His goopy body darted in four different directions across Peter’s lanky frame: two crawling up his sides toward his underarms, and two creeping down his legs to his feet. No matter how he squirmed or bunched himself up, Spider-Man couldn’t slow the symbiote down.

“Ahagh! Dohon’t—noho—shit!” Peter gazed up at Eddie as the black alien coated more and more of his body, blushing and teary-eyed. “Please hehelp! Mahake him stahahap!”

Brock pressed a hand to his lips, struggling to hold back laughter of his own. This whole situation was just so silly and bizarre. And the boy’s bubbly giggling was downright contagious. “Sorry, sorry—working on it.” He cleared his throat and pointed a stern finger in the symbiote’s general direction. “Enough, big guy. Time to leave the ticklish spider be.”

“DON’T WORRY, I WILL,” Venom assured him innocently. “RIGHT AFTER I DO THIS.”

Tiny tendrils of alien goo dug into both of Spider-Man's armpits at once, followed immediately by his feet. The frigid, finger-like appendages scribbled under his arms, against his soles, and between his toes, drawing a shriek from Peter’s throat. The kid collapsed into a heap of uncontrollable laughter, throwing his head back and scrunching up his feet and pounding his fist into the concrete until it cracked.

“NOHO NAHAHAT THAHAT!” he bellowed. He shoved both hands into his pits and arched his spine as giggles poured from his lips like a tsunami. No matter how desperately he tried to guard himself, the alien continued to tickle him freely and mercilessly. It felt like millions of evil worms were wiggling against Peter’s most ticklish spots all at once. And he was helpless to stop it.

“THIS IS WHAT SPIDER-MAN GETS FOR HURTING US,” he hissed with glee, relishing in the sound of the young hero’s frantic laughter and the taste of panic in his blood. “YOUR FATE COULD’VE BEEN FAR MORE HORRIFYING, HAD YOU NOT WOUND UP BEING SO DUMD AND ADORABLE, SO BE GRATEFUL.”

“IHI’M NAHAHAT!” Spider-Man howled. He shook his head from side to side and floundered uselessly across the floor. “GAHA—NOHOMOHOHORE! STAHAP IT YOU—Y-YOUHOU—PAHARASITE!”

The maddening tickling ceased suddenly, allowing Peter to gulp down an unexpected breath of relief. Meanwhile, Eddie dropped his face into his hands in dismay.

“Shit, kid. You’ve really done it now.”

“W-whahat?” Spider-Man stammered dazedly. As he sat upright, Venom leapt from his body back to Eddie’s. This time, however, the alien enlarged itself as it spread across its host’s skin, crafting massive muscles and demonic claws. Venom enveloped the man entirely and mutated into his original form—the gigantic hell monster with foot-long teeth and eyes like death who had tried to rip out Peter’s organs. The kid cowered in horror.

“PARASITE?” Venom roared, stomping forward and pinning Spider-Man to the ground. “I’LL SHOW YOU PARASITE!”

Eddie battled from within the symbiote to stop the attack, but it was too late. “Don’t—Venom, wait—!”

But instead of a bloodcurdling scream slicing through the air, a different sound erupted from the super powered teen.

“PfftttEEAHAHAHAHA!”

Hesitantly, Eddie opened one eye. Rather than gouging out Spider-Man’s liver, Venom was using his gargantuan claws to rake up and down Peter’s sides and knead at his midsection. Not hard enough to wound him, but more than enough to tickle the poor kid out of his mind. Spider-Man bucked and thrashed and grappled wildly with the beast’s meaty hands, but he couldn’t garner enough strength to break free of his iron grip, leaving him with no other option except to lay there, flailing pathetically as he laughed harder than he ever had in his life.

“HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT, TINY SPIDER? WANT TO CALL ME A PARASITE NOW?”

“EEEHAHAHAAA!” he squealed. The tickling was too unbearable for his mind to comprehend or his lungs to bear another second. Venom’s claws switched between scribbling all over his torso and drilling into his hip bones and rib cage, driving Spider-Man absolutely insane. The kid’s piercing, boisterous laughter started being punctured by violent hiccups, which was just as cute as it was pitiful.

“Now this is just cruel,” Eddie snorted. Even though he enjoyed hearing the teen laugh and seeing him smile from ear to ear, he could tell he was rapidly approaching his breaking point. Only Venom could turn something as playful and innocent as tickling into a torture weapon of this scale.

“MERHERCYHY!” Peter begged. His laughter went quiet for a few seconds, interrupted every now and then by bouts of squeaky hiccups, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as silent giggles racked his tiny frame. It took all of his remaining energy to punch the next three words out of his chest—a last-ditch effort to liberate himself from this tickling nightmare.

“IHI’M—GOHONNA—DIHIHIEHEEHEE!”

A moment later, Venom’s giant claws lifted off of his belly, and Peter thought he might faint from relief. He rolled toward the wall with his arms glued to his sides and his knees tucked against his chest, gasping for air and giggling breathlessly.

“TICKLES CAN KILL PEOPLE? WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THAT?”

“It’s a figure of speech,” Eddie explained. “But the kid clearly needs a break. His face is practically the same color as his costume.”

Venom stared down at the wheezing superhero and felt an odd sense of endearment rise inside him. It was the same feeling he felt towards those chickens Eddie had gotten for him to eat. They were simply too adorable to kill.

“Eheh…uhugh…” Peter giggled weakly, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Oho god…my sihides…”

“I LIKE THIS SPIDER,” Venom decided, leaning down to ruffle the teen’s hair a tad too aggressively. “CAN WE KEEP HIM?”

The giant black suit shrunk back into its host’s body, leaving Eddie standing over the very winded hero. “No, we cannot keep him. But we can help him defeat these costumed freaks who’ve been roughing him up.”

Slowly, Spider-Man raised his head, still dizzy and out of breath, but gradually beginning to recover. “W-what?” he panted, pushing himself off the ground and into a sitting position. “You’re...gohonna help me?”

“If you want us to, yeah,” Eddie replied. “It’s the least we can do after all the nonsense we just put you through. You seem like a good kid, and our speciality is helping out good people.”

“AND EATING THE BAD ONES,” Venom added.

“No,” Eddie retorted, then grimaced. “Well, not most of the time, anyway. Special circumstances only.”

Peter chuckled hoarsely, gripping his achy diaphragm. “I could use the help,” he admitted, “as long as you promise to never pull anything like that ever again. I’d much rather be beaten to a pulp than tickled to death by a giant space monster.”

Venom sprouted from Eddie’s shoulder and grinned menacingly. “WHATEVER YOU SAY, LITTLE SPIDER.”

The boy released a long breath, giggly butterflies still dancing in his belly. If this was what it took to overcome the insane predicament he’d gotten himself into, he supposed it might be worth it.

EXCEPT FOR SPECIAL CIRCUMSTANCES, the symbiote whispered inside his host’s head. RIGHT, EDDIE?

Eddie chuckled quietly. “Sure, V,” he whispered back. “Special circumstances only.”

“Huh?” Peter said, blinking up at him. “What did you say?”

The man smiled at the young superhero warmly. Perhaps this was the reason they’d been brought to this universe—to lend a hand to a kid in need. To him it sounded like a pretty just cause for the Lethal Guardian to take on.

“Nothing, kid. Now put that mask back on. We got our work cut out for us.”

[myherowritings]

welcome to the family

SUMMARY. After mistaking the guy on your lockscreen as your boyfriend, your grandmother knits him a sweater to welcome him into the family. Childe sees your tweet about it the next morning.

PAIRING. celeb!childe x reader

WORD COUNT. 1.0k

GENRE. celeb au, loosely based off a tweet

A/N. small drabble because i kind of got excited at the thought of celeb au childe o.o also like...have u listened to his english va sing those cheesy songs? i absolutely love it HFJKGHG pls enjoy xx sof

You weren’t a fan of the celebrity with the title Tartaglia, alias Childe, real name unknown to the public.

Definitely not a fan.

The only reason you knew even that much about him was simply due to social media blowing him up as the infamous white boy of the month. And from there his fame only grew. (Though you had to admit, he was at least more interesting than the previous other candidates.)

You weren’t a fan, but you couldn’t deny he deserved the recognition he received. His acting was pretty captivating, his singing voice pleasing to the ear, and his body... Well, his body...

“Earth to Y/N,” your mom called, drawing you out of your rapidly spiraling thoughts. You were visiting your family home for the weekend and you were currently in the living room with your mother and grandmother, watching bad reality TV and snacking on junk food. “You’ve been spaced out today. Too busy thinking about your boyfriend?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Huh?”

Like most grandparents, your grandma seemed to have a special radar to let her know when her grandchildren had a potential suitor at hand. Just the mere mention of the word made her perk up. “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah! I don’t know why they were keeping it a secret from us, but I saw the picture on their lockscreen,” she whispered to your grandma conspiratorially, loud enough for you to hear. “He’s a cute guy with ginger hair.”

The picture on your lockscreen off a cute guy with ginger hair… You were only half-embarrassed to recall that it was a picture taken from Childe’s outdoor picnic photoshoot where the poses they made him do attempted to paint the image that he was there on a date with you. His clothes were casual and his smile was familiar.

You absolutely hated that marketing strategy but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t willingly fall for it each time.

But again, you weren’t a fan…

Oh, who were you fooling? You were halfway from breaking and making a Childe fan account if your dignity didn’t get the best of you.

“Childe? He’s—”

“Your boyfriend! My grandchild finally found love in this world?” asked your grandmother, teary-eyed as she completely ignored her favorite trashy reality show on the television to get a better look at you. “I’m so happy for you! This is so exciting.”

“Grandma, wait—”

“You have to bring him home and let us meet him,” she rushed on animatedly, giving you no time to squeeze a full sentence in. “No, before you do that, let me make him something for you to give to him! What size is his shirt? Is that a picture of him? Oh he looks nice and strong! I’ll knit him a turtleneck. You give it to him the next time you see him, okay?”

Your grandma ran to get her knitting needles and yarn, leaving a whirlwind in her wake as you stared open-mouthed at the spot she once occupied.

That was how you ended up going home the next day with a brand new turtleneck sweater your grandmother made for your non-existent boyfriend.

The situation was so bizarre, you decided there was only one thing you could do: Pull your phone out as you sat on your bed to tell Twitter about the events of your weekend.

— ✩ —

It wasn’t everyday Childe woke up to check what the top tweets of his tag were on Twitter.

Okay, that’s a lie.

It was everyday.

He had an image to keep, after all. And it interested him to know what others had to say about him, despite how bad that might actually be for his state of mind.

Childe didn’t like deceit, but showing some parts of himself to only some people and other parts to others wasn’t lying. It was self-preservation. Everyone had a persona of sorts, and he preferred for his to be intact. What was the point of showing everyone every side of him?

He knew who Childe and Tartaglia were. He knew who Ajax was. As long as he knew, he’d be alright.

Was it a lonely path? Maybe. But it paid well and made his family proud. What more could he ask for?

Acting may not be as cool as being, say, a toymaker as his younger brother would proclaim, but at least he got to travel the world and explore places he never could’ve before. And the cute fans of his were also a definite bonus.

Childe continued scrolling through his phone when he stumbled upon a tweet that seemed to be gaining numbers quickly. It was posted only a few hours ago last night (his time, at least) by what looked like a personal account.

@y/n: Y'ALL WTF my mom saw my lockscreen (which is a pic of childe) and told my grandma that he was my bf and then my gma got so excited she knit him a WHOLE SWEATER and told me to give it to him. how could i break her heart and tell her he’s just a celebrity i like omg

@y/n: here’s a picture of the sweater she knit. isn’t it adorable? i almost feel too bad to just wear it myself though hjfkhg [Attachment: 1 Image]

A surprised chuckle escaped his lips as he looked at the picture of you holding the cream-colored turtleneck up, the large sleeves covering most of your body in the photo. You were right. The sweater did look adorable. As did a certain little fan of his who was also featured in the image.

Without giving it a second thought, he began to type his reply.

@TartagliaOfficial: Why wear it yourself? Didn’t your grandma say it’s meant for me? :( It’d be a shame to disappoint her.

In only a matter of minutes, he refreshed the page and found your name in his notifications. For some reason, he felt a rush of adrenaline flow through his veins as he waited for your tweet to load.

@y/n: am i being punk’d or r u asking me out???

Childe laughed to himself, exiting the tweet thread so he could click on the private message icon on your profile.

This would be fun.

[aruuq]

Tokrev boys + tongue piercing – headcanons

characters: mikey, draken, inupi, koko, sanzu [separately] x gn!reader

summary: some short headcanons with some of my fav tokrev boys reacting to you getting your tongue pierced for the anniversary of me getting one. cheers to every bad bitch with one and every that wants one – it’s worth it, trust me, i’m an expert

genre & style: fluff, headcanons

word count: 1.2k

notes: it’s very self indulgent, since i made it only, because it’s been a whole ass year since i’ve got my done. also, pls, interact with me more. i want to talk to you more, but don’t want to spam you with tons of posts and,,,, just please, i’m open for any headcanons and thirsts, and memes, and literally everything in my mailbox…..please.

warnings: not proofread, piercings (obviously), unsafe way of doing ear piercings (it’s barely mentioned, and it’s only in sanzu’s part), it’s all sfw, but in mikey’s part there’s mention about some make-outs

Manjiro “Mikey” Sano

when he first sees you with a metal ball in your tongue, he’s curious, immediately throwing questions, one after another, asking about every little detail.

how does it feel? does it hurt? can you feel it on your palate? since the ball is made of metal, is it cold? don’t you feel like you are going to swallow it? aren’t you constantly hungry because of it? each question being dumber than the previous one, but he’s just curious so you get it.

for a moment he even considers getting one too, because he thinks that you look amazing with it and he wants to look amazing too. but after you tell him that by the swelling on the tongue you actually can’t eat a lot of food for at least a week, he finds it unacceptable and brushes this idea off

i think that after your tongue is fully healed mikey would forget that you even have it pierced. welp, maybe he would remember during make-out sessions, but besides that, a blank space, my s/o having a tongue piercing?? bizarre.

he only remembers it when you’re focused on something, sticking your tongue a bit from your mouth. then he always approaches you and does a quick blep with his tongue, brushing against the ball. and then he goes away as if nothing happened

Ken “Draken” Ryuguji

when you first told him about your plans to make a tongue piercing, he didn’t care about this idea much. he thought that it wouldn’t affect him in any way, plus it was your decision about your body, so even if he didn’t like it, he wasn’t going to forbid you or persuade you not to do it

he’s a respectful man after all

when he sees you in a slight pain and inconvenience, he feels a bit guilty for not trying to persuade you not to make it, but it’s only because he hates seeing you in any inconvenience, it just breaks his poor heart, even tho he wouldn’t admit to it.

that is why he makes you soups and smoothies, and makes sure that you don’t forget about rinsing your mouth with chamomile, hiding behind his cold composure, telling you that if it wasn’t him, you wouldn’t do it yourself. yeah, yeah, just admit that you are worried, you dummy

after it’s healed he finds it extremely attractive and cannot keep his eyes off you. the way you swirl your tongue when you speak, a metal ball reflecting with every word you make. or the way you stick out your tongue after a playful fight with him, and he sees that you decided to change the colors or the shape of the jewelry. draken hates himself for the way he reacts to this stupid little thing, but at the same time he thanks heavens for not dissuading you from this idea

Seishu “Inupi” Inui

he knows from the beginning about your plans. as the responsible man that inupi clearly is, he decides that he wants to be with you as you get your tongue pierced. he’s scared that something might possibly go wrong, and he wants to be there if you need him.

the next day, during his lunch break at work, he reads everything that he finds necessary to know when you get your tongue pierced. inui makes himself a shopping list, ready to buy you a supply of baby food for at least a month. fortunately, he consults it with you and convince him that it is not necessary

this fantastic and amazing human being just wants to make sure that you are fine. staying in the piercer’s room, he holds your hand tightly, a pack of tissues in the pocket of his jeans for the possibility of you crying, painkillers in his backpack ready for the service, and fruit mousse hidden in the car as a reward for you being very brave

i’m sure that inupi changes his diet to match yours, because he doesn’t want to upset you, when he eats food you are not allowed to eat.

after your piercing is healed, he buys you jewelry that matches colour with your clothes for every major event that takes place in your friend group, and then he brags about it. he likes to spoil you and he’s not ashamed of it

Hajime “Koko” Kokonoi

this handsome young man is intrigued when you show up in front of him in his office, sticking your swollen tongue with metal jewelry in it. you haven’t told him about your plans so he’s a bit surprised, but he’s definitely not complaining. after all koko sees it as an opportunity to tease you

definitely the type to buy (this dumbass cannot cook for shit, just look at him) your favorite hot/spicy/deffo-not-liquidy meal and eat it right in front of you, just ‘cause he knows that you are forbidden to eat it

no.1 meanie… but not for long

a few weeks later he actually gets one too. no, he didn’t plan to do this at all, it was an impulse. you send him a picture of yourself with your tongue stuck and he somehow decides that he wants to match with you. also, yes, you can make fun of him now, the tables has turned, laugh at him that he cannot eat anything, make him suffer

after both of your piercings are healed, koko turns into a freakin’ instagram model, doing shit ton of pics with your tongues stuck, matching jewelry standing out in the photos. the idea of you both matching was what motivated him to do this piercing in first place, and he wants to show it to the whole world lmao

Haruchiyo “Sanzu” Akashi

this little bastard is excited when you show off your new piercing. he’s like hey, show me, show me more, it looks so cool! y’know, he himself has eight holes in his ears only, i’m sure he’s a big fan of piercings

sanzu immediately suggests that he will get a matching one. even on the same day, or the day after. he just wants to share this experience with you to the fullest. he wants to feel the same as you feel, even if it’s pain and discomfort. he’s not scared of it, he craves for these stimulus. everything what brings him closer to you, makes him happy.

i’m sure that he didn’t even do the needed research so you need to tell him how to take care of the piercing, and even discipline him to do so. his ear piercings look like he did them himself, in the bathroom at 2am with a safety pin, which, oh irony, wasn’t safe. somehow they didn’t get infected and sanzu thinks that this strategy will work with the tongue piercing too

please, nanny him to rinse his mouth with chamomile or he’ll get ouchie ouch time and we don’t want this here

when the time to change the bar for a shorter one, sanzu pops up with a whole bag of different bars and balls, with infinite colors and shapes, that he bought online in the meantime. he’s adorably stupid, but at least you’re sure that you have jewelry for every occasion.

[raggaraddy]

hello if you want you can ignore this of course but I was wondering what would vampire Hoseok do if he found out someone turned oc? Your fics are amazing by the way!

Bitten to death

A/N: Thank you for your request :) It was fun to write. However I took it less as a reaction, and more of a story prompt. So it's not exactly a conclusive answer to your question. I hope you still like it, though ^-^ 💜💜💜

Summary: You thought you knew everything about Vampires but when you wake up one you learn there are some important things you did not know. And it's only going to let worse once you learn why you were turned.

Trigger Warnings: Blood, death, maiming, choking, violence, mind control, abduction, yandere themes.

Vampire! Hoseok

It was like a horror story within your already horrific story. Some man you've never met before broke into Hoseok's house when only you were there. While you screamed and fought and instinctively called for Hoseok, he covered you in bites unlike any other you had felt before. Ones that made you suffer as if fire was coursing through your veins. You wish that you could say you were strong enough that your fight had some kind of impact. But in truth, it was over after only a few seconds. And it was in those few seconds that you felt your chest burning and your breath fill your lungs for the last time.

Waking you're met by the stranger hovering above you. Your head aching and your body throbbing in ways you had never experienced before. With a quick glance, you can see everything around you, and that does mean everything. Every single little detail. And the information is overwhelming.

Your mind feels as if it's breaking from everything you're taking in. For as far as you can see there are pallets and long isles of shelves lined up, the contents on every rack crystal clear. You can hear the sound of his shoes on the concrete and the dirt gritting underneath, and how each peak of sound travels and bounces off the farthest point in the warehouse. Even the smells, there are hundreds of them all hitting you at once. A few you know like the fragrance of the treated wood or the oils stain, but others you couldn't guess at. It's as if all of your senses are on high and you have no way to focus them.

Despite your panic, no matter how much you want to run, you can't. Laying on your back with your arms spread out to either side of you and your legs held together, you're being bound by the thinnest most delicate length of silver chain. Though, it's not tied. It's only draped over you, but still holding you as if it were stronger than any steel. Burning you as if it were touched by the sun.

You may have only seen a few newly made vampires before, but you have still been around them enough and know enough about their existence to recognize how and why your body feels wrong. And absurdly you can't help but feel betrayed. This was not supposed to happen to you. It was the only safety you got from belonging to someone who was called The Immortal King, and The Origin of Cruelty. No one was supposed to be foolish enough to steal from him, and most importantly, no one was supposed to be able to hurt you. But now because Hobi didn't keep you safe, he's now lost his blood supply and you've lost your humanity.

The stranger snaps his fingers, the sound bursting in your eardrums making you groan and wince as he repeats it. "Focus your attention on just this one sound. On just the sight of my hand. Feel the air around it." He coaxes you, snapping again. The noise echos dozens of times, ricocheting off every wall. The dull thud of his fingertips hitting his palm only sounding the once though.

Opening your eyes your concentration goes to the hand held above your face as he said, the space around it blurring. On the back of his pointer finger on an otherwise porcelain complexion, you notice a small patch of dry skin just below his knuckle. Clear blue-black defined veins wrapping the back of his palm. He clicks his fingers again and you catch the sound of friction from the way his finger rubs down his thumb, feeling the most minuscule shift in the air created by his motion.

The pinpointed attention helps for a moment, but then you shift your eyes to his face and the explosion of information overpowers you again. His hold comes around your neck keeping your head from turning. The tight pressure on your throat while stifling your movement, nearly makes you smile. There's no airflow to restrict. Your chest isn't heating, your body isn't convulsing trying to breathe. Even in this tense moment, you can't help but find it humorous, thinking how many times over the years had you wished for this exact thing when Hobi had squeezed the air from you.

"Watch my eyes," on his words your vision becomes immersed in them. They're piercing blue. Made up of streaks of white interlacing with a clear sapphire shade, like thousands of threads made out of the purest tropical ocean. A transparent irregular line encircling his pupil, and beyond that every distinct strand blurs together with the others until it reaches the shadowed grey edge that holds the circular shape. Slowly his jet black pupils dilate, stretching and filling his entire iris till every trace of colour is removed. As if transfixed, you're unable to close your own eyes, a flooding of bright light filling your field of view. The strength of it is so intense that the tendons in your sockets ache and your eyes begin to water. Tears rolling down the sides of your face, cresting in your ears.

"Apologies, you are only my second." He confuses you with a vague explanation you did not ask for. The black finally receding into its natural size. Your own eyes scrunching as you try to blink away the soreness. The bizarre occurrence leaving you feeling drained of strength, filling you with anxiety caused by the uncertainty, which is only worsened by the glimmer of triumph in his gaze.

Searching past him to the ceiling your brain is again processing the whole image instead of the sum of its parts. The strain in your head slowly fading, your tight held muscles releasing as everything begins to normalize. You don't know what he did, but it seemed to help.

He doesn't back away, continuing to invade your personal space. Although, the way his fingers are trailing along your skin while you're restrained on the floor is still not the worst thing he has done to you. Seeing as he killed you.

"I had almost given up hope that Jung Hoseok would love." His hand daintily caresses along your neck and up your jaw. Your eyes shutting as his fingertips run over your lips. "I began to fear it might not be something possible for him." He divulges, his touch still aimlessly wandering.

The way he speaks you can feel his vailed anger. Despite his soft words, this is not someone who cares about Hoseok's wellbeing, this is someone who hates him deeply.

"However, you restored my lost faith. And for that, I would like to thank you, Inamorata."

He thinks Hoseok loves you? Is he crazy?. He's possessive of you, that is all. Even in moments of deception or weakness when you had told him that you loved him, he's never said it back with any sincerity. And he has never said it of his own accord.

"Sir," your eyes reopen. "I think you've misunderstood. These," you weakly gesture to the silver, each slight movement searing the links deeper into your flesh. "aren't necessary. We are on the same side. I hate Hobi, more than anyone."

"Truly?" He asks tilting his head to the side. His white hair messily hanging across his forehead.

"Yes," you nod trying to insist your point. "He's kept me locked up for years." you chuckle dryly. Finding it nearly risible that all of this is because this man believes in a fantasy.

"Well then, you are free to rise," he nods resolutely. Plucking the chains out of your melted skin as you grit your teeth. The sound of the sizzle on his own skin baffling you as to how he can even lift them.

Sitting up you gently pull your limbs in, inspecting the blistered and bloody marks. The skin on your wrists already starting to intricately knit itself back together.

"Come here." The stranger calls from a rested place on one of the pallets to your right.

Standing, it is a bit hard to walk with your ankles still cut up but you make it to him decently. Looking around you, you can see the sun streaming in from the high windows that line the whole length of the warehouse. It's enough to light up the otherwise dark space, but with the sheer size of this place, the beams of sunlight do not get close to the two of you in the centre. Still in the middle of the day, it means Hobi can't get to you. Not easily at least. So you're on your own for now.

"Kneel." He instructs plainly. And you follow, lowering onto your knees in front of him. Your only thoughts are of escape. You may be in your first minutes as a vampire, but it should be simple to move quickly. It always seemed like something that came easily to them. "Inamorata, you will call me Master." he declares abruptly.

"Yes, Master." You smile confusedly. Inamorata? Why does he keep calling you that? You're unsure if it's a name or a title, but it's weirding you out.

Your face drops, your heart thumping, realizing what you said. The words you just spoke replaying in your head. You hadn't meant to say that.

Why did you say that?

In fact, why had you knelt? Why were you doing what he said at all?

With a gaped mouth you climb back to your feet. "Look, I think-um." You start not knowing what you want to say.

"Kneel." He orders again more forcefully yet with a knowing, jovial smirk. You shake your head hard, staying upright. You're not going to let him order you around. He has to be kidding.

Your brows furrow, your mouth drops open, and your forehead tightens as your knees bend against your wishes. You drop back into your knelt position. Grunting as your jaw clenches, your fingers digging into your legs, doing your best to resist without success.

Your eyes go wide in shock.

"Good. Now stay there," his voice makes your stomach drop. But your muscles relax, your shoulders dropping and your bottom lowering on your calves. Your body resting in this position.

This is nothing you have ever seen before. It's nothing that you knew was possible. It shouldn't be possible. On top of all the horrible advantages they already have, you're sure you would have known if mind control was one of them!

"How?" You gape, shaking your head in disbelief. "Why?"

"Why?" a smile fills his face, "What you have told me is far different than what I had heard." He stands and turns, tapping his foot against the top pallet sending it and its boxed contents flying. He grabs at the bottom slats of wood underneath and drags them closer to you with a horrid screeching on the concrete. Sitting back down he is now much lower and much nearer to you. So much so that his legs spread straight out on either side of you. "See, I had heard stories of the self-proclaimed King of Vampires, who had fallen in love with his human pet. That he kept her close, kept her safe, and drank from her exclusively."

"That's not love." you interrupt with a scoff, "That's imprisonment."

"Well, let us see what the truth is. Tell me honestly, Jung Hoseok's little Inamorata, do you love him?"

"Yes." You're mouth answers before your mind has time to think. "No!" you instantly correct.

The smile grows larger on his face "And what do you feel about him?"

"I'm scared of him. But I care for him." The words are pouring out of you uncontrollably, your face placifying as you speak. "and I miss him when he isn't home."

"And does he love you?"

"I think so, yes." You wish you could make yourself shut up! Your calm tone drops and you bite your jaw trying to take back your own body, growling as you do. "No! He doesn't." you snarl in a rapid shift.

"You think so? Then my last question; Do you want him to love you?" He asks satirically.

"Yes," The word slips out. Being accepted joyously from him. "You can't just make me say anything you want!" you shout. Your body is rigid and stiff as you think to stand with nothing happening.

"I did not," he chuckles, "I made you say what you believe is true."

"No, you didn't! Tha-" his finger raises to his lips shushing you, cutting you off like your voice had disappeared.

That is not how you feel! Hobi may have gotten better as time has gone on, but he is still cruel and malicious and heartless. The only thing this man is doing is speaking to your primal brain. The part of you that gave into its survival instinct and it's the part that you fight every day to repress so that you stay in control. You can't love him, it's not possible.

"Ha, you are far more amenable than my last. I can hardly feel any resistance." He mocks, tapping his temple. "And I recall Jung Hoseok trying to move heaven and earth to break free. Even Mansueto struggled to contain him. But you," he reaches down holding out his hand and you follow his gesture, your body moving independently to accept it. "You are a broken little thing."

You don't understand his ridicule. You're not moving consciously. Your own mind isn't connected to your actions. So you can't fathom how your body is even reacting, let alone how you should be able to fight it.

"Stop." You complain, your voice coming out with far less strength than you had intended. "Look, Hoseok doesn't have my blood anymore, okay. So just leave me out of whatever fucked up feud you have you have going with him."

"No, that is not enough." his tone becomes suddenly harsh. He lifts his hand and you stand as he raises it. "He stole someone precious to me and he must feel the same agony of loss."

"You're wrong." you swallow, working to overcome your nerves, "I'm sorry, but you just are. He doesn't love me. I'm not precious." You try to reason, seeing your pleas falling on an unreceptive man.

"We will see."

The sun has barely set before you hear commotion beyond the metal walls.

You had tried over and over to pry information from this man, to convince him to let you leave. But you were unable to gather so much as a name from him, and clearly, you failed to be let go. After a certain point of ignoring you, he stopped you from speaking altogether. Not allowing you to say a word until he permits it. More than that though, he filled your head with many instructions. Telling you how to behave in anticipation of Hoseok's arrival.

100 meters in front of you the locked doors are ripped off their hinges, a dozen men and women pouring into the warehouse with inhuman speed. But as if time slows down your eyes adjust and you can see them, see their movements with full clarity. Hoseok comes in last and straight down the middle into the open square that you all occupy. And you must admit, you are genuinely happy to see him. Now you just want him to hurry up and get you out of here.

The man steps forward to meet them while you are sat on the stack of pallets behind him. Your only instruction at this time is to sit quietly and wait for him to call you. Hating the feeling of being restrained by your own body.

Watching them all lineup versus a single man, you find it comical how outmatched he is.

Hobi always said that when he got tired of playing with your human body, he was going to turn you. And he was furious if anyone robbed him of even your smallest reactions, so clearly, he was going to be beyond pissed that someone sped up his plan, and took your death away from him.

"That's mine," Hoseok puffs up his chest, looking past the man's shoulder to you. 

The only thing that's confusing you, though, is if this man knows who The Vampire King is, why he didn't expect to be met with hell on earth, and why he didn't prepare better.

"Jung Hoseok, always so impolite. Do you not think you should greet an old friend after so many years?"

"We can talk all you like, Kol," Hoseok snarls, finally giving a name to your killer. "Once I get my property back."

"I think you'll find this is my belonging now." he chuckles in a brief pause. Hoseok's expression darkens, his eyes becoming murderous. The fury around him actually making you shiver. "Do you like the modifications I made? She is much more durable now."

Supposedly, Hobi's already noticed your change, because he doesn't look at you again. Instead, the two men have an intense staredown. All of the vampires on his side looking ready to kill on a word.

"And far more obedient. Come here," Kol calls you, holding his hand out at shoulder height for you to take. Moving automatically, you jump down from the stack of wooden pallets placing your fingers on his palm.

Unable to stand the rage on Hoseok's face you look down, just missing the exact moment he charges. But you see an instant later as he is thrown back like a paper doll into four stories of shelves, his weight bringing the metal, the shelves, and the products down on top of him as the whole structure collapses. His men looking as startled as you to see Hoseok so easily discarded.

Before the toppling construction settles, Kol breaks from your side and an incredible, horrible scene breaks out. His speed is something you can't follow, even now. You only see the trail of destruction when he stops. One after the other, he made his way through half of the vampires, ripping them apart. Literally tearing some in two halves. Decorating the square with blood and innards.

The others are as belated and overwhelmed as you, only just having the sense to react as his blurred image stops. When he advances again, this time he doesn't use his quickness for an advantage and simply ploughs through them. They attack all at once, and still as they grab and strike at him, their forces barely move him. And his response is terrifying.

You can only bear to watch the first one. Kol's fist driving through a woman's chest, the horrid cracking of her ribs as he tears it back out making you want to scream. But his orders have you completely silent. Instead, you close your eyes, sealing your hands over your ears. Trying to block out the violent sickening sounds of his destructive rampage.

There's a last thud before it falls quiet again. Your eyes springing open to see as horrific of a sight as you had imagined. He's dripping in blood. Drenched in it. And Hoseok's people are strewn in every which way. Not a single one having survived.

Sauntering through the sea of dead bodies, he makes his way to the side where Hoseok is unmoved, tossing away the beams and panels as if they were nothing. Grabbing him by the ankle, he drags him from the rubble into the clear space in front of you. The man you once thought of as the most powerful in existence, and his troupe of vampires, was completely demolished in mere seconds of work. And you can only watch on with your body shaking. Your hopes of rescue decimated. Your chest aching with worry, even for Hobi's sake.

"Now that it's a more intimate number of us, should we talk?" Kol releases him, brushing past you as he sits where you had before. His action triggering an instruction he provided earlier, forcing you to follow him and kneel at his feet.

Sitting up, Hoseok rubs the back of his hand against a large gash under his eye. The ferocity not having left his mannerisms. "You disappear for 90 years, and you show up to what, gimmie a blood bath." His laugh falls into a grimace as he stands himself back up.

"I was created in the 13th century and you brought infants to a fight with me. What did you think would happen?" Kol asks scornfully.

"I was hoping they would do a little better," He smirks, shrugging off their deaths. "Okay, that's my bad. But still, that doesn't tell me what you want. Or did you just want to remind me that you're still alive?" He taunts, his sardonic nature returning, "Remind me that you're still pissed and you can kick my ass. Good job. You put on quite a show." he smiles, his tongue running over his fangs as he gestures around at the gruesome display. "But she," he points to you with two fingers, bitterness lacing his next words, "is worth nothing to you."

"Oh, she is worth everything to me," Kol slides forward, his hand brushing down the back of your neck, "because she is worth everything to you."

On those words, you get the most heart-wrenching sight. A pang of insecurity shows up in Hoseok's eyes. Uncertainty and something so close to fear. The smile fading as he looks him up and down.

"I am curious, though, Vampire King, do you think she will detest the Sire bond as greatly as you did?" he punctuates the question, tugging your head back by your hair. "If I treat her as Mansueto treated you, how long do think until she breaks?"

With immense speed, Hoseok splinters one of the wooden crates near him, lunging at Kol, aiming to drive the shard into his heart with a roar. But he's caught before his hand ever plunges forward. Instead, Kol takes the sharp wood and spikes it into Hoseok's stomach. Continuing to dominate him with a solid blow, knocking him off his feet, smacking him into the concrete in front of you. Stepping down, he swings his foot punting Hoseok in the chest hurling him back among the remains of his fallen creations.

You had thought if you ever saw Hobi being handled as roughly as he treated you, that you would enjoy the Karma of it. But seeing him so easily immobilized is making you sick with fear and mostly sadness.

With Kol having stood, you're no longer bound on your knees and you scramble to your feet. You want to run to Hoseok's side but before you have the chance Kol drags you into him, his hand wrapped around your waist, his other crudely brushing the hair from off the side of your face.

"Call out to him. Tell him your every feeling." He hushes the order in your ear.

"Hobi!" you yell, not sure you would have even needed to be compelled to want to shout for him. "Get up, please. I'm scared. I wanna go home!"

"Go to him," Kol releases you and you sprint to his side, hardly able to slow your sudden frantic speed.

Doubled over Hoseok is bleeding profusely. He needs your blood- but you can't do that anymore. And you have no idea what to do. You don't know how to help him or how to get out of here. He's the one that is supposed to keep you safe.

Coming from behind you, Kol bends down shoving you out of the way to lift Hoseok by the throat. "Stop!" you follow their movement, hanging on Kol's arm. "Stop! Please." But you have no effect. Instead, he jerks the wood dagger out making Hobi yell in pain.

"Do you recall what you said as you killed our Sire?" Kol whispers maliciously. "You told me that 'I will get over it'." Releasing him, he lets Hoseok plummet to the floor and you drop with him trying to catch his weight. "In 100 years from now, I'll let you see her again and you can tell me if you were able to take your own advice." he smiles spitefully.

"Hobi," you whine lowly. Brushing his hair from his sweat and blood wet forehead. "I don't want to go with him. Rather the devil you know, right," you softly chuckle, trying to pull his energy back.

Even though you know the both of you have no chance at the moment, you guess you're just looking for an affirmation that he isn't going to let you go and let this other man keep you for the next century.

"Please," you whisper, your waterline filling with tears.

Reaching towards you, Hoseok's hand constricts around your throat, pulling you into him like he has countless times before.

"You're mine," he growls through pained grunts. His anger lessened, distress replacing it. But he gives you the answer he could see you searching for.

"Yes," you nod subtly. Closing your eyes as you lean further into his hold.

"Get up," Kol orders, interrupting you.

Despite his tightening grip, you pull away from Hobi, standing as you were told. The elder vampire taking your arm leads you away through the bodies to the open doorway.

"Say goodbye Jung Hoseok," Kol calls back, leaving him injured and alone, making you wish more than ever that you could pull back. "And do not worry, I'll take very good care of her for you."

[elephart-hi]

Worthy of a Queen | Jurdan Canon Compliant AU

AU: Jude decided to take Cardan in small doses during The Wicked King. Lovers AU

Summary: Jude was a fool for try to best Cardan here. She may be a cunning spy and a swords master but the bedroom and lovemaking was his domain.

~~~

“Shall we continue?” he asked in a voice of innocence that certainly seemed akin to lying with how far innocence was from his intentions.

~~

Jude had underestimated Cardan. She got her prize, she had won the battle, but he was going to win the war. With that miserable thought in mind and her pride boiling with anger she spat out her response, “fuck you.”

Cardan’s chuckle was dark and dangerous as he said, “with pleasure.”

Rating: M is for mature and mad filthy (but ends sweetly) (I try to trick ya in the beginning bare with it)

AN: This is my first ever fic!!!! And of course, it's Jurdan and of course, it's smut. No one is surprised. Shout out to Amber and Hannah for being my beta readers and convincing me to post this. And shout out to @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 who's beautiful writing made me go fuck it and sit down and write something myself which I've always wanted to do, so thank you keep being wonderful.

Please let me know what y'all think! I have ideas for a whole fic for this so if you want that tell me.

Inspired by these sketches and this

set during the Wicked King

warnings: hair pulling, spanking, and light bondage

AO3

As she lay sprawled out on her hands and knees, dirty, sweaty, and out of breath, it was clear to Jude Duerte that pride was her hamartia. She could have everything that she needed if she would only concede but stubbornly she refused to. Her pride wouldn't allow it, no matter how desperate she was.

Instead of the glory, she assumed she would achieve that night she lay there pathetically at his mercy. Something she deeply detested. She detested it almost as much as the smirk she could practically hear on his full lips as an infuriatingly cocky laugh rumbled out from deep in his throat. A laugh that had her toes curling and her seeing red and seething. Just as most things that came from his lips did.

Jude gritted her teeth together as she futilely attempted once more to get him to relent but the ironclad grip on her hair did not loosen and she was met with another rumble of laughter followed by a resonating smack of skin against skin. Her cheek stung from the impact and the slap made her burn red hot. The blow would surely bruise.

She hated him for this. Absolutely loathed him for it. She could easily beat him in a fight, have him on his back with a knife to his throat in less than ten seconds if she wanted. He knew that as much as she did. He probably relished in the knowledge of it, of having her here like this when she could easily best him. But she couldn’t now. Not if she wanted what she came for. Tonight her only option of getting what she needed would be to play nice. Something she was not fond of nor good at. Something that she absolutely did not want to do. Jude wanted nothing more than to make him see red as she did at that moment.

In her anger and frustration, Jude let his name snarled from her lips, “Enough of your stupid games Cardan” she nearly spat the last syllable out.

She was met with another slap, its impact sent her reeling with a groan slipping from her mouth. She hated to give away that his blow affected her at all; that groan was a loss for her. He hummed at the sound she made. Satisfied that her patience was running thin. Happy that he was getting to her. He knew he was winning. He gripped her hair tighter, tugging her head back and her lips pulled into a sneer. She could hear that fucking smirk again as he murmured into her ear with the buttery voice of a lover, “What games do you speak of my darling Jude?”

She struggled again but to no avail. The ‘my darling’ getting to her just like he knew it would. Oh, it made her burn. “You know what I’m speaking of!”

All that he smugly replied with was “Do I?” a small quip from his devastating lips.

She knew he was toying with her. Responding with questions to avoid having to speak in truths. A common trick of the fae used to deceive those around them. But Jude was having none of it.

“Give me what I want, Cardan!” it was a vicious snarl from her lips. He stilled completely at it and she knew it had been a mistake to let her temper fly. She knew he would only give her what she craved if she played by his rules and losing this prize was not an option for her. She couldn’t afford it. Jude was absolutely desperate.

He leaned in close to her ear once more and in a hushed whisper that sent a shiver, not unlike a premonition, down her spine and said, “all you have to do is ask Jude. But make it pretty, befitting of the king of fairy,” his words were an infuriating echo of what he had said to her not so long ago at the summer tournament after she had bested him in the war games. He had gripped her hair like this then too. But Jude doubted she would best him tonight.

She hated it. She hated him for this.

“Go fuck yourself,” she spat at him. He gripped her hair painfully tight this time and slapped her ass harder than he had before. The combination left a series of moans spilling out of her.

He drank up her cries like it was the fine wine they had drunk from the bottle which sat empty next to their dinner on the discarded tray situated on his bed next to them. The gaudy fabric of the comforter cushioned both of their knees, his tucked under and between hers, forcing her legs to be spread wide for him.

“But then I’d have to stop fucking you, my sweet nightmare. And I know neither one of us would want that” he looked down to where he was buried to the hilt in her, still and unmoving. His free hand massaging her red and sore butt cheeks that were bruising from his earlier abuse.

“Especially not after you were dressed up so divinely for me tonight. That dress was just begging to come off wasn’t it?” He hummed as his free hand went from massaging her sore bum to teasing her right above the nub between her thighs. So close to where she desperately needed him to be but giving her no reprieve and only making her more desperate. Jude bit her lip, refusing to respond, her stubbornness digging its heels in, so Cardan continued on.

“I could tell how wound up you were when you showed up here. With a pretty blush already on your breasts and the sweet scent of your arousal coming from your skirts with every step you took towards me.” The dress in question laid discarded on the floor beside his own clothes. It had been raven-black to match his hair, hugged her curves and muscles like a second skin, and was dangerously low cut. Definitely not her usual attire, definitely wasn't subtle Jude realized with embarrassment. Both of their wardrobes had been removed in haste not far into their dinner. The buttons of Cardan’s ridiculous blouse scattered the tiles beneath the bed, having been ripped from the fabric as Jude rushed to undress him in her lustful frenzy.

“So unusually kind of you to bring dinner and wine for me, to ask to eat in my company. I know it was all just an act to get me to fuck you, Jude. The least you could do for me is beg for it,” he whispered dangerously, his voice thick with his arousal.

Jude flushed again, this time in shame from his words. That he truly thought it out of her character to be kind. It was true of course. Jude wasn’t a very kind person, not after what she had lived through. But for some reason that was beyond her, she wanted him to think highly of her. She wanted him to think she was kind. And most bizarre of all, she wanted to be kind to him. Perhaps fairyland was driving her mortal mind mad after all.

“It wasn’t just to get you to bed me Cardan,” Jude answered ashamed of how breathy it came out, ashamed of what she was about to say, “I did want to enjoy your company tonight. I brought you dinner and wine because I thought it would make you happy.”

Jude would be damned before she begged him or anyone for anything. But if he wanted sweet words from her she would give it to him at this point. His free hands had moved upwards from tracing around her clit and had gone to circle her breasts. From time to time he would give them a brutal squeeze. More taunting but no release. Jude was a bundle of nerves wound up painfully tight. She needed her prize and she would be getting it if it was the last thing she did. She just wouldn’t beg for it.

To her surprise, he landed another searing smack to her backside sending her sliding forward and had him pulling her back onto his cock by her hair. Jude’s toes curled on the mattress, more moans spilling from her lips. She was beyond keeping them in at this point, the wine they had drunk making her dizzy, or perhaps it was just him doing that. The lust fogged her brain more than the alcohol did. She tried to slide forward again so she could push back onto his delicious length, rock hard and throbbing within her, but he held her hair tight, keeping her in place. Still no release in sight.

“Dirty mortal liar” Cardan spat at her, not believing her wishes to make him happy. Landing another brutal blow on her bum. Cardan had confessed to Jude in the court of shadows that he was no killer, but that didn’t take away from his cruel nature. He wasn't being gentle with her. Jude didn’t want him to be.

The spanking was a mercy compared to the torture he had been forcing her to endure. The sharp slaps gave her friction and reprieve from his cold refusal to please her in the ways she craved. And now because of her earlier outbursts, he remained buried in her gut unmoving and wouldn't move an inch till she begged him to. Before at least he had been in motion albeit it being painfully slow. Sliding in and out of her aching core, still slick and throbbing from his earlier ministrations with his mouth. He had spent longer feasting on her than he had on his meal, now cold and forgotten. He had tortured her with his tongue, bringing her to the edge of precipice but never allowing her to tumble over the peak into blissful oblivion.

She thought he would finally give her release when he slid his gloriously thick length inside of her but still he only taunted her. Slowly he would slide in and out of her, mocking her with what she was desperate for. He would pull out to his tip, her hair locked in his ringed hand keeping her in place while he eased back into her wetness at a punishingly slow pace. All the while knowing she was desperate for more. Each strike to her ass had been a godsend, pumping red hot arousal to her system while his little endearments, ‘my Jude’, ‘my sweet nightmare’ spurred her on. Cardan knew she secretly loved to hear them. Knew she loved hearing him call her ‘his’. Knew it made her think of all the things he could do to claim her as his; with his hands, mouth, and cock.

But they were far too alike the two of them, Cardan as prideful and stubborn as she. Jude could feel him pulsing inside her. A pounding throb in time with his heartbeat. She knew it had to be painful at this point, he was torturing himself as much as he was her. But that was part of the thrill for him. He loved the powerplay, loved toying. He wanted to come out on top; Jude couldn’t let him.

“I may be a liar Cardan but I didn’t just then. I want to make you happy.” Jude was panting as she spoke. She would never live this down. She couldn’t bring herself to care though. It was the truth. She wanted it as much as she wanted him at that moment. She hadn’t been able to rid herself of the guilt of tricking him into the crown and chaining him to the throne as well as her command. She wanted to see a smile on his face rather than the sneer that lived there most days, as breathtaking as he was with either. Jude wanted Cardan to be happy and she wanted to be the one to make him feel that way. Especially after she was the source of his misery. Although it wasn’t as though he hadn’t been the source for much of hers in the past. That alone was the only thing that kept her from begging him to give her what she so desired. That she was horny enough to even consider begging him, if he was deserving of it, was something she didn't want to think too much about.

“If you wanted to make me happy Jude,” he said her name like a curse, his frustration with her stubbornness evident, ”you would beg for me.”

She felt a ghost of a touch tickle against her arm then flee away an instant later. She peeked down as much as she could with Cardan pulling her head back like he was. Below, his tail was coiling and uncoiling. Whipping back and forth sporadically. Like a cat’s would while it attacked its prey. Before, he had the laziness of a cat who had caught a mouse; a cat that was toying its food before devouring it. Now he was agitated and ready to strike. Jude could use that.

At her refusal to respond to him Cardan tisked and lamented “well if you have nothing to ask of me, my goddess of death, then I suppose we are done here.”

He started to pull out of her as though he meant to leave her there as a panting, aching, mess with no release in sight. Her prize to be lost. She felt his tail whisper next to her arm again, just as he slid his tip out, and with the desperation of a mouse fleeing its captor, Jude latched onto his tail and ripped him back, slamming his raging length deep into her. Hard. The cross between a groan and a whimper that escaped from his lips, and the toe-curling feeling of him slamming into her made her mad with desperation and giddy with power. Jude wasn't the mouse anymore. She was a lioness; she was going to feed.

“You’ll do well to remember who put that crown on your head, My King. Begging is out of the question and will be until you are worthy of it,” she purred at him. “As your sechel, I’d advise you to please me and do it well. But, and more importantly,” she said as sweet as the fruit of the everapple tree, “As the Queen of Shadows and master of your fate I demand you do it,” she finished with a smirk, using the word ‘demand’ instead of ‘command’, so there was no true magical power over him to do so.

“And Cardan,” She said glancing over her shoulder, his grip on her hair had gone slack enough for her to do so from his shock at her actions and words, “Do make it worthy of a Queen.”

Her bravo started to wear off as the giddiness faded. It was in that moment, staring into the Achingly beautiful face of the High King, whose midnight black orbs burned like fire threatening to consume her that Jude realized her mistake. From the look of the wickedly sinister grin on his sinful lips, Jude knew would be getting her prize after all… and then some. Cardan had been playing nice until now, in hopes she would be nice in turn to him. Now that he knew there would be no such thing he was more than willing to unleash himself on her relentlessly.

What a fool she had been to forget one of the first rules of fairyland: Be careful what you wish for.

Jude would be lucky to be able to sit down or move for the next week without being sore if their last row together was any indication of how the rest of the evening would play out.

Cardan’s grip on her hair tightened again and used his free hand to trace a single finger up the curve of her spine, sending goosebumps flying in its wake. He pulled her up against his chest by her hair. Her head resting on his shoulder now, breasts pushed out to the world and peeking from the chill in the room brought on by his change in mood. Being the High King gave Cardan control over the weather and such things; no more nice Cardan who gave her sweet endearment, this was the Cardan she was most familiar with, his face the picture of icy rage.

Her breath plumed in clouds from the frigid temperature and ruffled the raven black hair sticking to the sweat on his brow. She shivered from the cold. He was so devastatingly beautiful like this it made her head spin. The sneer on his face made her toes curl knowing she was the one who had put it there.

His voice was murderous as he murmured, “Give me back my tail.”

Her grip on the thing tightened as it tried to lash out of her grip. His tone only stoked the fire burning in her gut, the heat fighting the chill of the room.

She felt the giddiness bubble up in her again, the same feeling of fear mixed with excitement that she got when she taunted him at school. The feeling of taking a dare.

“Fuck me like you were told princeling and perhaps I will,” she referred to him by the same mocking title his late siblings would call him by, all of them being more than a hundred years his senior and already have established roles in the kingdom, while he was hardly 19 and had still been in school with no real power. She was deliberately placing him beneath her by calling herself a queen and him only a boy prince, despite him being two years her senior. She felt the smugness tugging her lips when she heard his breath come out ragged and slow. He was going to great lengths to keep his temper in check, still not wanting to let her win. But Jude could taste her victory, her toes curled and her gut tingled with sharp electricity boiling there. An almost hysterical laugh bubbled up her throat, knowing that her next words would send him over the edge.

“Or perhaps you don’t know how to please a woman, hmmm?? Were all those ballads about you being a good lover just pixie dust in the breeze? Maybe the musicians of the court were just flattering you so that the fine people of fairy would think that you were actually good for something.”

It was an obvious lie and they both knew it, Cardan has had her screaming his name, soaking the sheets, and has made her a blubbering mess, nothing more than putty in his arms, much to her own shame. But the lie was an insult to his manhood nonetheless. He would have to fuck her senseless now, his honor and pride would demand it.

His grip on her hair tightened as the room rapidly started to heat back up, getting hotter by the second. Cardan was pissed now. He used his free hand to trace the curves of her body following his hand with his deadly stare. He took in every inch of her, from the blush on her cheeks that burned so bright it went straight down her neck and chest and spotted across her full breasts which were heavy and aching from her arousal. He took in Jude’s toned stomach and muscular thighs appraising them as though they were one of the powders he frequently took as though he hadn't had a dose in far too long and was itching for it. There was a furious hunger in that gaze. The stare of a recovering alcoholic glaring at the bottle before he dived to the bottom of it. Furious for even wanting it, furious for going back to it, furious for having said no to it for so long when it felt so right. He was going to give into Jude even if she didn’t beg him for it. He was pissed about it.

His tracing hand slowly inched towards the numb of nerves between Jude’s thighs, her hair tugged back on his shoulder allowed him to hear the airy sigh that befell her lips, tickling his hair. Her airy moan sounded like one someone would heave when they stepped into a steaming bath after a long day of hard work, easing their aching muscles. That wouldn't do at all. There would be no easing for her. If she wanted to step in that tub then Cardan was going to shove her in and force her head under the water and keep it there till she was thrashing for air. If she wouldn't beg him to start, then she would have to beg him to stop.

Cardan leaned in and whispered to her ear, using all of his willpower to keep his temper in check, “Fitting for a Queen you said hmm,” the words sent shivers running down her spine, had her walls clenching around his cock that was still buried in her, to her great dismay still not in motion.

Cardan paused to take a breath and for a moment the whole room stilled as though his magic had quieted the very air around them, as if the whole kingdom was tingling in anticipation, silently waiting to see what happened next. Even the roaring fire that was crackling in its hearth just seconds prior didn’t dare to make a sound, lest it invokes the wrath of the wicked king. The only noise was Jude’s ragged breathing in eerie contrast.

Cardan’s words eased out in his exhale, resembling the sickening woop in the stomach one gets when falling from large heights, “How's this for fitting?”

Jude’s eyes were blown wide and then forced tightly shut as he unleashed himself onto her. The sounds of the room roaring back to life around them were completely lost to her as the brutally aching bliss filled her to the brim. The sensations were overpowering her, overwhelming her senses after being denied it for so long. The feeling of his length filling her to the brim combined with his sinful hands, one tugging her hair the other rubbing her nub; It was too much. Cardan’s hand was brutal in its attack on her clit, rubbing her relentlessly right where she wanted it, just the way she liked it.

The act alone was more than enough and already toying her towards the edge of release. Cardan knew Jude’s body far too well. He had spent plenty of time tracking all her tells, tracking every breath she took while she lay beneath him from the first moment she welcomed him into her bed. His dark hungry eyes always locked on her taking everything in. Cardan was a fantastic lover not just because he knew how to please any woman who passed his way, but because he went to lengths to perfect his craft for those who stayed.

Jude realized with no little shame that he had been saying something to her but she had missed it because of the roaring in her ear. Her cheeks went impossibly pinker when she realized it hadn't been roaring, but her own moaning. She hadn't even realized she was doing it so overcome by her arousal after being denied all night. She glanced up at him and all she could stupidly say was, “huh?”

He barked a laugh, his head thrown back; he loved making her like this. Knocking Ms. Know-it-all off her pedestal, making her dumb-founded and drooling. Such a sharp contrast to her usual stoic demeanor. He leaned down close to her face, slowly licked up the dribble of spit hanging from the corner of her mouth. Then with a wicked smirk on his sinful face, one that promised nothing but trouble, he went to her ear and snickered, “you’re as soaked for me as you were when I shoved you into that river mortal.”

As he said it he rubbed her just so, sending her shuddering relentlessly into an orgasm around his unmoving cock. The orgasm shattered her mind and made her see white, then instantly red from the fury his word sent her into. She hated that he made her come while he said that. Knew he had done it on purpose to piss her off. Knew it was the damning truth since no lie could fall from his fairy lips. Bliss, anger, and shame all swelled within her swirling together and muddling her mind in ways fairy fruit never could. Jude felt as though she might fade into the very magic of fairyland at that moment for surely if one could be magic itself, this would be how they always felt.

Jude couldn’t even get a word in back at him for what he said because he slammed his mouth against hers before she could recover enough to form a coherent sentence; licking and drinking up her moans like it was his only purpose in life. His other hand moved from restraining her hair and wrapped around her middle, pinning the arm holding his tail to her side in an ironclad hold and pinning her body against chest; his hand reaching up to attack her breasts. Switching back and forth between one and the other, he would alternate massaging and pinching her nipples with painful precision. His other hand was still working her clit sending her rolling from one orgasm into the next. The combination of it all was so overwhelming she cried out into his mouth as she squirted all over his hands, soaking their legs and the sheets beneath them. Jude was awash with shame and bliss, leaning her full weight on him to remain upright. He hadn’t even begun to fuck her properly yet, Cardan was still buried within her throbbing painfully from denying himself and she was already a stupid mess in his arms. The shit-eating smirk on his face told her that he was thinking the same thing.

Jude was a fool for try to best Cardan here. She may be a cunning spy and a swords master but the bedroom and lovemaking was his domain. Her legs quivered beneath her, hands limp at her side. Cardan released his hold on her, sending her falling ungracefully forward onto her chest and face. He laughed at her mockingly, “and now the sheets are nearly as soaked as your clothes were that day.”

Jude’s blood boiled and she wanted to turn around and slap him. But as she went to move she found herself unable to. While she hadn’t been looking, brain hazy from her orgasms, the roots from the tree atop the hill had curled their way down the bedposts and snaked their way across the sheets wrapping around her wrists binding her in place. Another display of his kingly magic. Jude tried to figure where she went wrong, one moment she was the one with power and now here she was again, completely at his mercy and more so than before. The answer to her question flicked back and forth in the periphery of her vision, his tail moving again like a lazy cat playing a game it knew it was going to win. He had made her come so hard she completely lost her senses and touched the stars and managed to release her one and only advantage.

“Thank you for returning my tail to me sweet Jude,” he said, noting her coming to this realization. His hand returned to her hair pulling her head back as much as he could while her hands were bound. He shifted, leaning forward shifting his body causing his cock to finally move within her once more; it was enough to make her lose a breathy moan. Oh! The frustration she felt with herself! She was a fool for him and it was humiliating. His other hand went back to massaging her bruised bum as he chuckled darkly behind her.

“Shall we continue?” he asked in a voice of innocence that certainly seemed akin to lying with how far innocence was from his intentions. Jude was still miserably horny, and not even the two earth-shattering orgasms he had given her were able to satiate her need after all the torture he had put her through earlier. She craved him desperately but her wounded pride couldn't bear to ask him to go on. She tried to shift her bum against his length again, the same attempts she had earlier, knowing it was just as futile now as it had been before. He laughed at her, slamming his palm hard against her ass just as he had done each time before.

“Excuse me, your majesty,” he purred, mocking her for calling herself a queen while pumping into her once, twice. Teasing her, making her nails dig into the bound palms of her hands in ecstasy, “I believe I asked you a question, my queen.”

Another endearment. Him calling her his. His queen. She squirmed again, willing him to please her but he held fast.

“Last chance Jude,” he murmured in her ear, leaning all the way forward so his cocked filled her completely, “Beg for mercy and I’ll give it to you,” the smirk was as present as ever in his infuriatingly sexy voice.

Jude had underestimated Cardan. She got her prize, she had won the battle, but he was going to win the war. With that miserable thought in mind and her pride boiling with anger she spat out her response, “fuck you.”

Cardan’s chuckle was dark and dangerous as he said, “with pleasure.”

He slammed into her unrelenting: brutal and hard. Jude was going to have to skip training tomorrow because of this, her body would be too sore. She hated missing training and it made her furious at him. Perhaps she just liked being made at him, she thought as he hit her spot over and over again making her see spots. She went to bury her moans and cries in the covers, still damp beneath them from when she squirted, but he pulled her hair back forcing her to cry out into the room for him to hear.

“Moan for me Queen Jude,” he gruffed out viciously, riled up and ravenous after having to wait so long himself to have her, “let me hear how worthy this fucking is of you hmm.. this is what you wanted wasn't it? A good fucking? It's what you came here for.”

He was relentless, Jude was biting her lip trying hard to not give him what he wanted. The wet sloppy sound of their bodies joining together echoed in the room in time with the slapping of his pelvis against her ass. It was debauched to hear how sinfully wet she was for him, the wet slapping making it painfully evident just how ‘worthy’ his fucking was. She groaned through her teeth and he yanked her hair hard forcing her mouth open. Her moans came spilling out, pitching each time he thrust his body into hers.

Cardan was groaning with her now. He was getting close if his sporadic thrusts were any indicator. The knowledge that he was getting off to her made her walls clench around him and her toes curl in pleasure, forcing a groan from deep in his throat to spill out. It was otherworldly, doing this with him, so many emotions, sensations, and feelings all swirling together in a messy lustful haze that left them rutting like savage dogs by the end of the night. They hated each other, didn't they? How could they keep coming back to each other like this? Why did this feel so right?

He pulled her hair back hard making her back bend almost painfully towards him, her wrists straining against the vines that bound her; training was definitely out of the question this week. She could see his face now, brows pinched, eyes dark, sweat dripping off of him while his mouth hung open. He was devastatingly gorgeous like this. He leaned down and kissed her as he landed three sharp blows to her ass with his other hand as he pounded into her relentlessly. She squirted again seeing stars as another orgasm ran through her. He smiled a brilliant smile down at her for it. So beautiful that she all but forgot her pride existed as she said breathily, “I didn’t come here just to fuck you Cardan, I swear it,” blush burning her cheeks at her confession, “I wanted to make you happy.”

She felt emotions shining on her face, ones she always buried but she didn’t mind it. Jude was mad with pleasure, drunk on his kiss, his scent, and sensations. Jude was drunk on him. Caution was lost to her.

Cardan’s eyes went wide at her words and he released her hair suddenly. A swear was a serious thing in Fairy especially one made to the high king. The vines receded from restraining her and he unsheathed himself from her aching core. She was met with a jolt of horror at what she had done, what she had said, in fear that she had upset him.

The panic was quickly replaced by confusion as he rolled her onto her back with tender hands and then leaned above her positioning himself between her legs with one arm bracing beside her head while his other hand came up to tenderly caressing her cheek. His cock was positioned right before her entrance, leaking with precum. He clearly had stopped right before his climax. What on earth compelled him to do such a thing?

“Is that the truth?” he said in a breathy whisper, chest still heaving from their wild fuckings, still trying to catch his breath.

All Jude could manage was a small nod.

His eyes searched hers, looking for something. Jude didn’t know if he found what he was looking for but after a moment he slowly slid into her again staring into her eyes. She wanted to look away, his gaze was too much as he slowly and sweetly slid their bodies together, again and again. He was being tender with not a rush in the world. A different kind of fire started building within her. Instead of a burning inferno like earlier, this one was the slow-burning of water set to boil. His dark gaze was searching, consuming. His beautiful face slack in awe as he looked at her.

“Beautiful,” he murmured like wonder spilling out of him. Jude snapped her eyes shut to it, to what she felt. She felt naked for the first time today despite having been freed of her clothing for the better part of two hours now. The way he was holding her, the way their bodies slid together, it terrified her, the emotions it stirred up. He cooed at her then, fingers caressing her cheek, “Jude,” he said sweetly, “look at me Jude, it's okay.”

She scrunched her eyes shut further at his words. He stilled, pulling away from her. He heaved a sigh, that sounded so much like hurt and disappointment. Quickly, shyly her hand reached out to the ringed one on her cheek just as it went to pull away. Softly Jude said, “Please-- Please don’t stop.”

Jude mustered all the courage she had, reached into the well of fearlessness she had obtained from living in fairyland, and opened her eyes. Dark pools the color of midnight stared back at her, full of swimming emotion. It was overwhelming, confusing. She wished she knew what he was thinking, wished she knew if this meant something. There was so much fear in her and she knew he could see it all on her face. She was so scared of this, “Please Cardan, keep going. Please. I-- I beg you.”

The smile that graced his shocked face was beautiful and hesitant like the one someone might make if they thought something was too good to be true. She shocked herself with the plea, she had never thought she could long for someone the way that she did at that moment. She wished she knew what he was thinking. She peeked to his tail in hope of gaining some insight, but it was wrapped around her calf, the furred tip seemed to be caressing her. She looked back up at him. Cardan was smirking, but it wasn't mocking, it seemed… endearing almost. But that couldn’t be. He clearly knew why Jude looked at his tail, knowing she liked keeping an eye on it because it made him easier to read. The crinkles beneath his eyes gave away happiness and his smirk tugged into a dazzling smile.

Jude’s heart was pounding so hard it almost hurt. He ran his hand down from her cheek to her chest, feeling how fast it was pounding. His smile only grew, as he leaned down and nuzzled his nose against hers. Jude let loose a breath she didn't know she had been holding, it came spilling out of her like an airy laugh, her lashes fluttering at his closeness. He was being so sweet, it threw her off guard. She peeked into his eyes once more, she didn't really know what she was looking for in them. But she knew what she did not find there: his arrogance, his cruelty, and his wickedness.

There in his dark eyes, she saw something she didn't understand yet. Saw something shining there that she knew reflected back in her own. Confusion mingled with an emotion she had never known before. She realized she didn't understand a lot of things, about life, fairyland, and him. From the look in his eyes, she realized she didn't need to understand everything. And with that realization, she wasn't afraid anymore. She peered into his eyes unabashedly now, Belkin’s words from in the Isle of the Forgotten rang in her head:

“to mortals, the feeling of falling in love is similar to the feeling of fear.”

But what do mortals feel when they stop falling. What happens when they were wholly in love.

Jude didn’t know, and she didn’t care to know. She didn’t need to understand everything, she didn’t need to understand what she felt. She needed to just feel it.

If nothing else, Jude felt safe here in Cardan’s arms. A feeling that she had long grown unaccustomed to thanks to the cruelty of her life. She looked at the man before her, so similar to yet so strikingly different from the boy he was under Belkin’s thumb. This was a man who she wanted to make happy. And despite his uncanny ability to frustrate her, he had the uncanny ability to make her happy as well. He made her forget her pride and she made him forget his own. Neither caring who came out on top anymore. Maybe it was just the sex, maybe it was something more. She didn’t know and somehow that was fine.

With those thoughts singing in her head, Jude Duerte leaned up and kissed Cardan Greenbriar soft and slow, allowing all the things she kept buried within her to come pouring out. Allowing all the things she didn’t understand to pour out with it because perhaps Cardan didn’t understand it either. Perhaps they could learn to understand it together.

So that night, Jude waved the white flag and she made love to the King of Fairy.

[junowritings]

HELLO, DARLING 💕💕 I'm here to bust in and ask for some sweet, sweet Twst fluff! May I have some Ruggie, Azul, and Deuce reacting to thier fem!s/o protecting them in a fight?? Maybe some dude trying to swing at them and their gf gets in the way and protects them! Pls give me the good, much love and you're amazing 💕💕💕💖💖💖

First request! Thank you so much honey I am always happy to provide some peak content~! I had way too much fun with this and it shows lmao but I hope you enjoy~! 💖 💖 💖

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Ruggie

♡ Ruggie’s used to stepping on a few toes and tails with his antics - he’s a little trickster at heart but it’s all in good fun, he swears! It’s just unfortunate circumstances that perhaps one or two people sometimes get caught in the crossfire of his schemes, never anything too serious, but enough to leave more than a few people grumbling about it by the time things actually get sorted back out. Rarely do things ever actually spiral out of Ruggie’s control, and even if they do, chances are no one stays too mad at him for too long...most of the time. The times they do? They tend to get a bit out of hand.

♡ When a group of students attempt to corner him on the way back to the Savanaclaw dorm, he isn’t even sure what’s got them so heated - they start cussing him out, ranting about how he must think he’s such a wise guy, getting so cocky and not knowing his place. He’s not phased by what they say at all, if anything he’s not fussed in the slightest and would probably make a comment about them coming up with something more original if he could get a word in their bickering. It gets tiring real fast, and Ruggie’s looking for an out before these guys have even finished talking.  

♡ Sure, he could use his unique magic in this situation, but given that it would only affect one of them and more than likely piss them off even more in the process, it wouldn’t do much to save his hide right now. Three against one hardly seems like a hard fight, but if Ruggie is even remotely concerned about the odds it doesn’t show for a second, instead - chances are, they’re just gonna yell it out of their system and then storm off so he can go back to what he was doing. Arguably, that just makes them angrier, and soon enough their heated bickering becomes thinly veiled threats, as though they’re trying to rile him up into instigating something - they want a reaction, an excuse to justify starting a fight, but Ruggie’s not naive enough to fall for that trick. 

♡ When he doesn’t, one of the students finally snaps, lunging forward and snagging the collar of Ruggie’s uniform, bunching it up until he can feel knuckles pressed against his throat and he has to tilt his head up to avoid the fist curling underneath his chin. As the other hand rears back, the laid-back smile on his face becomes strained, and Ruggie squares the guy with a pointed stare as though waiting to call their bluff on actually taking a swing. He doesn’t get the chance to find out, as in the next moment the hand’s gone from his collar and Ruggie finds himself looking at the back of a blazer as a new voice joins the scene - one that he recognizes.

♡ He can’t see your face from this angle, but he can hear the hostility in your voice as you square up to the three boys, standing to your full height as you curse them out and order them to back up, asking what the hell they thought they were doing to your boyfriend. And just like that, those three hotheads dissolve into cowering pups right before his eyes, all bumbling words and awkward shifting as they try to talk their way out of the situation they’d been caught red handed in. They’re doing a poor job of it, and you’re clearly not buying it as you fold your arms and fix them with a scowl, taking a step forward as you move to completely shield Ruggie from their view. 

 ♡ Ruggie can count the amount of times someone has actively gone out of their way to protect him on one hand, so the situation is as bizarre as it is entertaining. He feels a smug kind of pride at hearing you declare the word ‘boyfriend’, and hearing the anger in your voice is enough to convince him that it’s for the best to let you handle this whole thing. Still, Ruggie just can’t help but peek over your shoulder as you tear those guys a new one, shooting them a shit eating grin and enjoying the way that their expressions twist into grimaces, pissed but unable to do anything less they risk even more of your rage.

♡ All you have to hear is one of them mention ‘putting him in his place’ for your expression to visibly darken, and all three of them know that they’ve messed up at the sight of your face. You barely even have to feign lunging at them to get all three of them to bolt, just about toppling over each other as they flee down the corridor and round the corner, effectively vanishing from your sight. Even then you wait a beat, listening out for their footsteps until you can’t hear them anymore before you allow the tension to fall from your shoulders. Ruggie thinks that’s the perfect time to chime in, resting his head on the shoulder he was peeking over as he snickers.

♡ “Shishishi~! Did you see the way they ran? Talk about spooked!”

♡ You find yourself chuckling along with him as you look at him out of the corner of your eye, watching his expression carefully before you shift around to fully face him. The first words out of your mouth are words of concern, asking him if he’s okay and if they hurt him in any way. He’s quick to brush off any of your worries, giving you a non-committal shrug and assuring you that he’s fine - he’s dealt with way worse confrontations before, so it’s not skin off his hide now that they’ve scampered off. 

♡ You’re not entirely convinced, he can see it in your face as you regard him - you seem to want to press the question on those ‘worse confrontations’, but after a moment you seem to drop it. Instead, you reach out and attempt to straighten out his collar and tie, though both are still a wrinkled mess by the time you’re finished; even so, Ruggie seems to appreciate the sentiment, and that lax grin from before is back as he slides out of your grip. He’s still gotta get back to the dorm, but it wouldn’t hurt to have company on the way back, if his new ‘bodyguard’ wants to tag along~

Azul

♡ Azul’s no stranger to people’s ire - he’s gained more than a few enemies over time, having his fair share of scorned patrons cursing his name before he’d even enrolled at Night Raven college. He’s learned quickly to gauge whether someone’s just blowing off steam or if they’re a serious threat, and he learned even quicker how to deal with those situations accordingly; after all, it’s bad business if you’re busy being hounded by clients looking for a bone to pick. He’s got countermeasures in play, and a few backup plans if things become too dicey for his liking, but he’s fortunately rarely had to use them barring one or two troublesome incidents thanks to the Leech twins.

♡ Floyd and Jade have, of course, been a big help in handling these little confrontations whenever they arise, having nipped most of them in the bud before they’ve even had the chance to darken the doors of the Monstro Lounge, so there’s been a relative peace in the place when people are there to have a good time rather than try and start fights.

♡ Things come to a head when someone actually manages to slip through into the Monstro Lounge, and Azul comes out of his office to the sound of someone shouting his name in a tone that sets the precedent that this is not going to be a peaceful interaction. He sees their face before they even turn to face him - expression twisted up in anger and hands balled at their side as they glare daggers at the other patrons, as if trying to discern if the dorm leader is sitting amongst them. Azul recognizes them immediately, and, upon realizing that the twins aren’t present in the lounge, rationalizes that it’s up to him to smooth things over before they end up disturbing the other patrons and causing too much of a disturbance. And so he plasters on his most neutral, unassuming smile, and greets the new ‘client’, watching them whip around to face him as he steps forward to talk to them.

♡ Azul already knows what they want to talk about - of course he does - he’s learned to keep track of every face that passes through those doors and his interactions with them. And yet he allows them to talk, and get what they want off of their chest; talking to them like this isn’t going to get them anywhere, and it appears they’re more in the mood for yelling than they are for actually talking. So he allows them to rant, if only to calm them down enough until he deems them rational enough to listen to what he has to say; and after a moment this seems to actually have done the trick, as the yelling soon quiets down in frustrated grumbling, and the eyes once drawn to the scene from nearby tables begin to return back to what had previously caught their attention. That’s when Azul finally speaks, extending an offer to finish this conversation back inside his office - after all, he’s sure they didn’t come here simply to make a scene when there’s a peaceful resolution to be reached, right? 

♡ It’s with that thought in mind that leads Azul to a momentary slip in judgement - turning his back on the troublesome patron and begins to walk back towards his office, expecting them to follow him. Which they do, with a raised fist. He doesn’t hear them storm after him, but what he does hear is the gasps from onlookers as they watch the person in question rear back their hand, fist aiming right for the back of his head. It should have connected - afterall, they were close enough to have landed the hit, but it never comes.

♡ Instead, a sharp shove at his back has Azul’s stumbling, and not a moment later, he’s spinning around to see what’s going on and finds an unexpected sight. The patron’s sprawled out on the floor, cradling their face in both hands and swearing up a storm as they rock back and forth, nursing what looks like a solid hit to the nose. And towering over them is none other than you, blazer discarded and sleeves rolled up to the elbows as you shake off the hit from your hands, winding up your shoulders as you stare daggers down at his would-be attacker. It doesn’t take a genius to discern what’s just happened in the span of just a few moments, but Azul’s suspicions are all but confirmed when you snap at them to just try and punch him again - watch what happens, you dare them.

♡ Anger flashes across the patron’s face, and for a second Azul truly believes that he’s about to watch a brawl break out between this troublemaker and his girlfriend as both make a move to jump the other. Thankfully for all involved, they don’t get the chance to see that show, as not a moment too soon the twins are there to intervene and split it up before any real fight begins. Jade’s hands are on your shoulder, guiding you back gently but firm enough to ensure that he can pull you away from this fight if you try to push the issue; you reluctantly follow him as he backtracks over to where Azul is standing, still grumbling about it under your breath. Floyd, on the other hand, is all too eager to take care of the one still cradling their face, sporting the beginnings of a bloody nose as they’re hoisted up onto their feet and promptly directed to the nearest exit.

♡ Azul makes a note to deal with that person later - though he’s got a sneaking suspicion that the twins are already well on their way to taking care of that in his stead as Jade leaves to rejoin his brother once you’re standing face to face with their dorm leader. For now, he turns his attention to you, watching you huff and rub idly at the hand you’d punched with as the beginnings of an apology tumble from your lips. 

♡ You didn’t mean to get involved and cause so much of a scene, but when he’d turned away and you saw the person rearing back to sock him, you were up from your table and swinging without a second thought. You couldn’t just sit there and let him get hurt, what kind of girlfriend would that make you if you did! You’d never let him get hurt as long as you were around - that was okay...right?

♡ The passion behind your voice is enough to convince him that you mean every word, and you can see his expression soften a little as he takes your hand into his own, thumb brushing over the scuffed skin of your knuckles, red marks becoming visible as a testament to the force behind your punch. Your expression twitches with a flash of discomfort - looks like you’d underestimated the force on your hand; Azul’s not surprised, going above and beyond was a penchant of yours that had gotten you this far, and perhaps what had led to you worming your way into his heart in the first place.

♡ At your expression, Azul gives your hand a pat before taking a step back, using the hold to guide you. He certainly doesn’t mind the protective streak - in fact it’s a rather endearing trait, one that deserves proper compensation in return. But the first order of business is getting that hand tended to, and Azul makes that his priority as he leads them to follow him to his office, pleased when you fall into step with him and follow his lead. 

Deuce

♡ Honestly, with how much of a protector can be over his friends, Deuce is in desperate need of someone just as willing to square up for him. He takes their safety seriously, even though part of him knows that realistically they can all take care of themselves just fine if anything actually happened. That still doesn’t stop him from wanting to step in whenever things get dicey, especially whenever it comes to you or your friends, and that either becomes a sweet sentiment, or the bane of your existence depending on how many altercations this ends up dragging him into.

♡ Maybe it's because of this that a fight was bound to break out sooner or later, but for what it’s worth, this one wasn’t actually caused because of him - it was because of Grim. That feline had a habit of breaching people’s boundaries, and sure enough it was just a matter of time before things escalated into a fight before anyone even had a chance to figure out what had even happened. Deuce wasn’t around when it happened, but the sound of yelling had caught his attention and led to him looking into the passing hallway trying to figure out what was going on. He recognized some of the voices, he swears it, and sure enough he finds the owner of those voices right in the center of the hallway, a small circle of people getting into each other's faces.

♡ Both sides are yelling, and at the sight of Ace and Grim smack-dab in the middle of the bickering, Deuce finds himself getting in-between them if only to get the one guy waving his hands around away from his friends before someone got slapped. Almost immediately there’s a hand in his face, an accusatory finger jabbed in his direction as all that anger at his friends is now squared directly on him. Deuce feels himself getting angry the more this guy screams into his face, cutting him off every time Deuce tries to get a word in; it’s clear that he’s not going to get any answers from this guy any time soon, so he calls to his friends behind him, ignoring the shout of ‘Hey, don’t ignore me!’ directed at him as he does so.

♡ Deuce looks away for a second, talking to Ace over his shoulder to try and find out what started this whole thing in the first place, when he feels someone grab a fistful of hair and yanks. Pain blossoms through his scalp and he hisses, a hand flying up to snag the wrist of the guy and wrenching it forward, digging his fingers in to force him to let go only for the hand to grip tighter. There’s another sharp tug, and Deuce can see Ace and Grim diving forward to help him from the corner of his eye, their shouts of protest only seeming to anger the guy more as they round in on him.

♡ But someone else gets there first, and just like that the hand is being wrenched from Deuce’s hair and he hears something go sliding across the floor. Turns out it’s the guy, whose expression is a mix of anger and bafflement as he tries desperately to reach for something behind him - no, someone. There’s a hand wound into the back of the guy’s blazer, hoisted up enough that he has to arch to go along with the item of clothing. The guy tries to reach behind him, but every time another hand peeks out from behind him to swat it away with ease, eliciting frustrated whines when the guy realizes he’s stuck.

♡ Deuce’s face must be priceless as he takes in the scene, watching a familiar head duck out from around the guys shoulder and flash him a grin, giving him a thumbs up. He hadn’t even seen you in the crowd, did you jump in when you saw him getting hurt? A part of him feels bad that you’d seen it happen in the first place, but that’s soon quashed when you turn your focus back to the guy who’d swung, who by this point had lost the gumption to keep swinging and was now just waiting for you to release your grip.

♡ You give it a few more seconds for good measure, before you allow your hold to loosen and you step away, still giving the guy a cautious glance as you move to stand in front of Deuce, Ace and Grim in a protective stance. There’s a beat of tenseness, waiting to see if the fight is going to start back up again, but when the group starts backtracking, retreating to who knows where else, it’s clear that at least for now things have been resolved. And with that out of the way, you turn your attention back to the boys, sticking Grim a pointed stare as you huff out that you’re talking to him about this later. 

♡ Then you turn your focus over to Deuce, and he immediately straightens up under your attention waiting for some kind of comment about the confrontation, or maybe a warning for him to be more careful. You take his face into your hands, and though confused, he follows along with your movements as you urge him to look down; he doesn’t know what you’re doing until he feels a hand smooth through his hair, easing the tousled hair back into place as you ask him if it still stings. Your tone is soft, and Deuce finds himself flushing as he hurriedly reassures you that it doesn’t hurt - it’s fine, really! You’re not entirely swayed, but the moment is broken when you hear Grim make a gagging noise telling you to stop being so weird. And just like that your attention is back onto Grim again, fully prepared to choke him with that damn bow as Deuce straightens back up, carding a hand through his hair and trying to will away the pink flush beginning to rise to his cheeks.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Wei Wuxian comes back from the Burial Mounds with the inability to lie. Somehow it seems to be a curse inflicted by Suibian- Sandu?- who is not amused by wwx's decision to just give his core away.

Thank you! <3

“You cannot do this to me,” Wei Wuxian hissed at his sword.

His sword did not respond.

This was not a surprise, since it was a sword, and yet Wei Wuxian was convinced that Suibian was to blame for his current dilemma. After all, what else could explain such a very specific issue tied directly to his golden core other than the only other thing he had allowed a direct tie into it?

Besides, everyone knew that spiritual weapons were temperamental, in need of careful care and consideration, and Wei Wuxian had, well, more or less done the one thing that meant he was going to have to give up using Suibian. It made sense that Suibian would be angry enough to curse him.

Also, when Jiang Cheng had handed him Suibian and their hands had been on it at the same moment, the sword – Wei Wuxian would swear – had very briefly vibrated, as if in response to a command.

And ever since then…

Well.

Listen, it’d be one thing if he walked out of the Burial Mounds without the ability to lie, okay? A weird churning compulsion to tell the truth, originating deep in his belly right where his golden core had once been before he’d given it up...yes, it would make sense. It would be – weird, incredibly so, but it wasn’t like his particular brand of demonic cultivation had much precedent, what with all the other variations involving a great deal more murdering people to harvest their power. Not to mention the whole idea of cultivating post-golden core; that wasn’t exactly something that had happened many times before!

So that would have made sense. Since it was new, it was reasonable that there would be side effects, even bizarre side effects.

It was not reasonable that the side effect in question – the inability to lie – had an area of impact that tied directly into the presence of one Jiang Cheng.

No Jiang Cheng? Wei Wuxian could be as free with the truth as he liked.

Jiang Cheng somewhere in the vicinity but not immediately present? He started tripping up on it. Strange restrictions appeared on his tongue, choking him; there seemed to be no logical sense to them or to the way they wove in and out of his speech, presumably depending on where Jiang Cheng was standing at any given moment. Why some exaggerations were acceptable while others were considered untruths and thus forbidden, Wei Wuxian had yet to figure out.

Jiang Cheng standing beside him?

It was time for Wei Wuxian to keep his mouth shut because every word that passed through his lips had to be weighed and found truthful as if he were standing before the judges of the dead.

That was all bad enough, of course, but recently even omissions had started burning at his lips, and that was just very much not on.

“It’s for his own good,” he argued, pleading, beseeching. “You can’t make me tell him. He would only be hurt if he knew!”

Suibian did not respond.

It was, after all, just a sword.

Even if it was currently behaving more like a backstabbing dagger.

(Nie Huaisang would have said that the sword wasn’t acting like anything at all.

Wei Wuxian had circuitously brought up the issue to him on one of his rare visits to the safe back line, reasoning out of sheer desperation that Nie Huaisang was the only person he knew that was gullible enough that he could tell the whole story to him without risking him figuring out the entire thing.

Nie Huaisang had laughed long and hard at it – Wei Wuxian couldn’t really blame him, since he’d claimed it was a story he’d seen in a play and if it had been happening in a play he would’ve found it funny, too – and then said that the playwright had missed the obvious answer: that it wasn’t the sword at all.

What could it be other than the sword, Wei Wuxian had asked.

It’s all in his mind, Nie Huaisang had said. He feels guilty, so he’s doing it to himself, and he’s blaming the sword because it’s the only other thing that he feels guilty towards. What else could it be?)

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng called, and Wei Wuxian grimaced, hastily hiding Suibian away so that he could pretend to have forgotten it back at camp - so that no one would ask him to use it. He’d apologize to it later. “Are you ready to go?”

“Physically yes, emotionally no,” Wei Wuxian called back, and heard Jiang Cheng snort like a pig with amusement – at least someone was getting something out of this, and no, he wasn’t counting Nie Huaisang.

He didn’t especially want to go, didn’t want to have to be constantly on mental alert to make sure he didn’t blurt out something stupid and life-destroying, but what could he do about it? In the end, he went.

Jiang Cheng looped an arm over his shoulder. “More Wen sect to kill,” he said, briefly looking tough and serious and even, dare Wei Wuxian think it, manly, and then promptly ruined it by smirking at him with exactly the same sort of dumb face he’d used that one time they'd planned on slipping dye into the water Uncle Jiang used to use to wash his hair. “Emotionally ready for that?”

“Comparatively speaking, yes,” Wei Wuxian said.

Jiang Cheng shook his head. “I’m not going to ask what’s going on with you, because if you wanted me to know, you’d tell me,” he said, demonstrating surprising maturity, and possibly also the receipt of advice from the crumpled letter he’d shoved away half-hidden; Wei Wuxian wondered who Jiang Cheng was corresponding with that would dare give him advice like that. “But – you’ll tell me eventually, right?”

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian said impatiently, and then blinked, surprised at himself.

If he’d said it, here with Jiang Cheng so close, then it must be the truth.

He would tell him.

Maybe not immediately, but – eventually.

When he’d agreed to the golden core transfer, did all those things to keep the secret from Jiang Cheng, to make sure he didn’t know, he’d thought he’d take the secret to his grave. He wanted to. He still thought it would only hurt Jiang Cheng to know what he’d done – Jiang Cheng would take it all the wrong ways, doubt himself, blame himself, hurt himself, when all Wei Wuxian wanted was for him to be happy and healthy.

But – Suibian or no Suibian – he couldn’t lie right now.

And if he couldn’t…eventually, one day, Jiang Cheng would ask.

Something would happen.

He’d find out.

If he did it in an unguarded moment - when Wei Wuxian was drunk, perhaps, or over-tired after battle, or punch-drunk after a close encounter - that would be the worst possible thing. He wouldn’t be able to plan out how to phrase it or how to couch it or how to reassure him; it would be nothing but betrayed looks all the way down and Jiang Cheng storming away and all attendant disasters. He’d have to quit the Jiang sect and go live on a mountain out of sheer shame, and that sounded awful even if he could probably con one of those quiet-loves-solitude types like Lan Wangji into joining him. 

And so the only thing to do was…

“Hey, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian said. Attempt the impossible. “After the battle today, can we – talk?”

“Of course,” Jiang Cheng said, brightening up like the sunrise. “Any time.”