#fuck it's just. it's such a lonely place.

[sold2vlaykz]

I love you more than you do.

(Yandere Millionare E/Ex X FEM! reader!)

Prompt: Your older E/Ex bf can not get over you, has not and tonight he’s come back to claim you as his!)

Warning!! Mild angst, stalking, CNC kiss, towel nudity mentioned, loser reader!, word pretty mentioned, older male yandere.

It was late, you usually did things like this. Stayed up all night despite having school/work tomorrow, you’d spend hours on social media, discord, just because you had nothing better to do with your life.

Your relationship with your family was backwards, sometimes they loved you next they did not.

He hated seeing you sad, the tears rolling down your face as they belittled you. Belittled his sweet little girl.

He wanted to kill them, rip their throats out.

But he couldn’t because he knew it’d hurt you, despite the luxury of a life he could’ve given you after he knew that your pure heart wouldn’t have accepted it.

“I fucking hate this shit.”

You cursed at yourself, arguing with some nobody online while he watched you from your window a gift in hand.

Of course he could’ve watched you from the cameras but it was never better than the real thing.

Of course he’d deal with who you were arguing with later, whoever it was, was soon to be dead on a platter.

But tonight was all about you.

Tonight was the night, the night you’d see him.

You stood up, closing your phone before rubbing your temples and heading to the bathroom. He stood there for a second, waiting maybe a minute or five before he heard the shower water begin to run.

He climbed up the rails into your bedroom window , being quick to hide himself away in a closet.

Your family was away, everyone had something better to do than to be in the house with you.

The smell of you surrounded the room, he’s ashamed to say but it made him horny. He’s only ever been this close to put the cameras in or steal things.

Minutes flew by and there you were. Standing in all your glory in a towel.

Before you dropped it he stepped out, your eyes went wide in surprise as a scream left your lips. It wasn’t long before he covered your mouth with his gloved hand.

He pressed his gun to your back, a smile crept to his face as you trembled.

“Another word and I’ll blow your shit straight off.”

He was lying through his teeth, he couldn’t kill you. God he’d rather kill himself but hey you didn’t know that.

You nodded quickly, his hand slowly moving away from you.

He picked you up and placed you on your bed, careful not to drop the towel. His hands traced your face, then your towel slowly unraveling it.

He didn’t want to fuck you, well not without your consent at least.

You began to cry, whimpers leaving your lips thinking that your dignity was about to be ripped away.

“No, shh. I’m not gonna’ do anything. Just wanna’ feel you.”

His voice was deep, rolled of the tongue so effortlessly.

His hands went down to your stomach, squeezing the skin just to get a feel, cupping your breast gentle, rubbing your thighs. With each move a whimper left his lips, as if he was getting off on just rubbing you.

“Who are you?”

Your voice was cracked and shaky, almost a whisper despite no one being home.

“I’m your husband.”

He spoke blankly, your eyes widened at the golden ring on his finger. You were confused, maybe this was all just a bad dream. None of it made sense.

Well at least not to you, to him you were married. He got your parent’s signature on a contract not too long ago, they were all drunk after a party and stupidly signed a paper not knowing what it was.

Now you were his, all nude and pretty. Sitting there just for him.

He opened your laptop, immediately faced with the discord screening.

He grabbed your hand before pulling you softly towards him, sitting in a chair while pushing you into his lap.

“Won’t be needing this anymore”

You watched him factory reset your whole computer, everything erased. Your whole lonely loser life, crushed.

You didn’t want to seem phased despite the shake in your bones. He looked up at you, looking you in your eyes as if waiting for a response.

“Why are you doing this.”

You heard him groan at your question, before snatching your phone from in the desk. He clicked on your messages before going to the deleted.

“Mm, baby you really don’t remember me?”

He went on a number that was at the very bottom of the list, before recovering all that was gone.

With you on his lap and one hand on your thigh he began to scroll, thousands of messages from almost three years ago. By the looks of it, he was some guy you used to E-date. Until you inevitably blocked him because of the age difference between you two, the jealousy, and possessiveness-despite how much he evidently cared for you.

“All of this, and then you left me.”

His grip tightened, jaw clenched.

The balls to come here without a mask, knowing he wouldn’t have got caught. His gun on the opposite side of you, he just kept staring at it.

“But I forgive you, you couldn’t have done it on purpose.”

A lie he told himself, he began to dig into his pocket. Whatever it was had a circular shape. And god you hoped it wasn’t what you thought it was. In the midst of all his shuffling he pulled out a ring.

As much as you hated to say it, it was beautiful.

Covered in diamonds with a ruby in the middle, gold decorating the rims.

“I remember how you said you loved the color red, despite it being a last ditch effort to have a favorite color like everyone else did.”

Considerate, despite the breaking and entering, the threats, the gun. He already had the contract, all he needed was your finger.

His eyes stared like daggers into yours, gray stubble decorating his clean cut facial hair.

“Marry me. Just like we promised all those years ago.”

You could tell it wasn’t a question, it’s either you said yes or you thought he’d blow your fucking head off. When in reality if you said no he would’ve just stalked and harassed you until you had no choice but to say yes. Or kidnapped you-

“Do I have to?”

He froze, nails practically digging in your skin through the gloves.

He picked up the gun before pressing it to the side of your ribcage.

“Do you?”

Is all he said his voice a low growl. A soft yes left your lips, and all was subsided. A smile grew wide on his face from ear to ear as if he didn’t have a gun to you.

“I knew you loved me.”

He placed a kiss on your neck, eyes full of absolute joy. He put the gun down and grabbed your face, facing you toward him. Devilishly handsome with the mind of a psychopath.

“Do you know how much I’ve done to get here, from killing your boyfriend, murdering your teacher, even killed that celebrity you were obsessed with. Just to have you now sitting in my lap with a ring on both of our fingers.”

He kept covering you in soft kisses, you on the other hand trying hard to ignore the bulge in his pants.

“I’m sorry, it’s just your so pretty angel.”

Angel, that name ran through your mind like alarms. The day it fell down when he hacked your account and deleted every man from your phone.

“I’m sorry angel I just don’t know what got into me.”

You knew you were going to have passion marks, didn’t know how you were going to explain them to your parents.

“I love you.”

He kissed your lips, he stood up with you in his arms and placed on you the bed. Lips not daring to leave yours.

“Stop-” you mumbled out.

His eyes dropped, sadness filled them.

“It’s me sweetheart, your husband. All those times we said we wanted nothing more but to hold eachother.”

His hands made their way around your back and pulled you closer.

Nose to his area, making the size difference evident.

He grabbed your chin and tilted your head up.

“You can’t run from me, even now if you call the police they won’t catch me and we’ll end up right here.”

He began kissing your neck softly once again, each kiss deepened. He dragged a moan from you despite you wanting to not enjoy it, he knew how to make you feel good.

“Does that feel good baby?”

He knew it did, you could hear his chuckling under your moans, under his slyness.

“We don’t gotta’ do anything. Just wanna’ kiss you.”

He brought his mouth back to your lips, and sadly. You kissed him back, God. You felt his hard on grow the more you kissed him, his loud moans and whimpering just by your subtle touch.

“Say it, say you love me.”

He stopped and looked at you with desperate eyes, despite what he’s done you know how much he’s done for you. The money he sent, the gifts he bought, the reassurance and pure love he gave.

“I love you.”

-“mm fuck.”

God he was getting off by just your words, he turned around and covered his face with his hand. Trying his hardest not to touch himself to your voice like he used to.

“I fucking love you, you don’t know what you do to me.”

He groaned before coming back towards you, innocently kneeling and putting his head in your lap like a lost puppy dog.

Covering your thighs in soft kisses. He dug into his other pocket before pulling out another ring more expensive than the already pricey one.

“I almost forgot, that one was for engagement.”

And you knew, you were in for a hell of a ride.

[maikelfist]

Working Title: Man With Big Dick Fucks His Precious Boy

Okay so I had the weirdest, most random ass idea for post-breakup BuckTommy and it just got more and more random the more I kept going. It's all over the place, I kind of rushed near the end, I have no idea where I was going with this. I would call this a fever dream more than I would call it a fic but it's here now so might as well throw it at you guys PS: Don't get fooled by the working title, this is more sappy than sexy Edit: There's on updated, more refined version of this on ao3 now

Buck's sex life went from mind-blowing, life-changing and so-so-active to absolutely nothing in what felt like seconds, and unfortunately, his libido hasn't gotten the memo yet. He'd been advised to throw himself out there again multiple times now, but every single cell in his body recoils at the idea. I'm not your last, I'm your first. Yeah well, we'll see about that.

It feels like a no-brainer to start watching gay porn since that's what he's currently missing the most. He jerks off to a handsome guy—the hint of cleft in his chin may or may not have been the reason Buck clicked on the video—fucking into a pretty twunk, and honestly, Buck is having a good time. It’s only when tears begin to swell in his eyes after he comes with Tommy’s name on his lips that he realizes he should not do that again.

The next videos he watches pointedly feature plump bears and dainty twinks, but even then, Buck can't help but make comparisons. Can't hold a rhythm, not attentive enough, where are the reassurances?

Buck comes to a visceral, gut-wrenching realization: Every single guy he considers will have to measure up to one Thomas fucking Kinard from now on.

So.

No gay porn for Buck anymore.

He moves to het videos, and the second realization of his latest porn binge hits him a lot quicker. There is absolutely no way he will ever be able to go back to regular straight sex again. Buck is very, very bi, and even relationships with women will have to be queer from now on.

Of course, porn isn't reality, but being confronted with the exaggerated heteronormativity of it all—the idea of fulfilling a society-given role after Buck learned what things can feel like when he's allowed to be himself—makes his stomach churn.

Living in a post-Tommy world is not an easy feat.

In between baking like he's preparing for an apocalypse, Buck keeps going down a rabbit hole of trying to find porn that would help him take his mind off Tommy.

Luckily, after browsing the most obscure, likely virus-infested websites the internet has to offer, Buck finds a video that instantly becomes a staple in his tabs—a comforting presence whenever he feels lonely, which these days is all the time. He doesn't even bother closing it.

As long as it took him to find the video, it’s quickly forgotten when Tommy and Buck make up.

The reunion is messy and like a balm for Buck's wounds. It is filled with tears and Tommy's ability to make difficult conversations feel easy—something Buck had desperately missed when Tommy chose to walk out of his life. It’s a skill Tommy can apparently lose when he’s petrified with fear. Buck vows to chip away at all of Tommy's worries now that Buck is aware of them. Now that Tommy lets him.

It's strange and not surprising at all how much like coming home it feels to have Tommy back. How easy it is for Buck to cook for them in his kitchen while Tommy looks for something they can watch later on Buck's laptop.

"I found this documentary about hyper-regional food," Tommy says.

Buck perks up from the herbs he's cutting. "Like Threads of God? Do you know that only three women in Sardinia know how to make that type of pasta?"

Tommy hums at that. "Sounds like we don't need to watch it."

Buck laughs and lowers his eyes to the herbs again. "No, I want to. But isn't there a new part of that car restoration series you like?"

"We can watch that later." Tommy emphasizes the last word in a way that makes another part of Buck perk up.

Early in their relationship, they found out that there are few things that can make Buck relax and fall asleep quicker than the sight of competent hands making old things look new to the rhythmic sound of metal being hammered and ground. This means Tommy has to make sure it's him that gets to tire Buck out before the video has a chance to. Thankfully, Tommy seems to be fine with Buck never reaching the end of any of the restoration videos he likes.

Tommy makes an intrigued noise of interest that breaks Buck out of his musings. "Ooor we can watch this."

Buck listens to the sounds of shuffling and smacking, confusion furrowing his brows before recognition seizes him by the throat.

"Oh my God!" The parsley Buck is holding ends up somewhere in Nirvana as he hurriedly frees his hands to grab his laptop. "OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod—" Since when is closing a laptop so fucking difficult?

Tommy lets him fumble for a moment, a teasing smirk playing at his lips. It’s infuriating how he waits until Buck, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked, finally meets his gaze before speaking slowly and deliberately, savoring each syllable.

"Woman With Dragon Dick Fucks Her Precious Girl."

Buck is glad he wasn't cutting chili because there's no way he can stop himself from pressing his fingers into his eyes as he whines, "You don't have to say it out loud!"

"I simply appreciate the originality of the title."

God, why was Buck a firefighter when he couldn't even do anything about his face being on fucking fire?

"Look, I missed you, and I couldn't watch gay porn because they either reminded me too much of you or they weren't you, and regular straight porn was tedious, so I found this feminist porn site, and I didn't feel bad about supporting them, and please, please don't judge—"

"Evan." Tommy says his name in a way that allows no ifs and buts. "I'm not judging." Buck has learned to hold his breath when Tommy speaks to him in that no-nonsense sternness. It's a Pavlovian reaction that sends shivers down his spine. Tommy raises his thumb to the birthmark on Buck's temple, gently brushing it as his voice softens. "I'm taking note." Buck exhales shakily and leans into the touch.

Tommy reaches for the laptop, opens it, and enters the password that Buck shared with him even before they broke up. He moves to stand behind Buck, arms wrapped around him, as he hits play again.

The titular precious girl is on all fours, purring kittenish noises into the mattress as the woman kisses her neck and shoulders, murmuring sweet nothings into her skin. She's fucking her strap-on in between her thighs, making sure the dildo rubs against all the right spots.

"The shape is interesting," Tommy observes. He glances at Evan, unsure of what kind of reaction his comment will provoke. Maybe some more bashfulness, maybe a sweet sigh similar to the ones the girl is making on screen while the dildo enters her.

Instead, Evan turns to him with an excited smile on his full lips. "Yeah, right? I found this website. Wait, hold on—" Evan pauses the video, opens a new tab, and Tommy is hit with the sight of colorful, artfully crafted fantasy dildos. Handmade, apparently.

Evan starts rambling about which ones he finds the most appealing, what media they're inspired by. Tommy has never heard him talk this much about pop culture, and no one is ever allowed to know that Evan learned about Avatar this way. Chimney would get an aneurysm.

Having Evan in his life means being in a constant state of whiplash, and Tommy has learned that he wouldn't have it any other way.

Tommy keeps in mind which ones Evan pointed out and makes a mental note to take a look at the cock sleeves the store has to offer before gently nudging Evan back to the porn.

"What else do you like about the video?" Evan relaxes back into him as they keep watching. Tommy can guess what Evan might find hot about it, but he would like to hear it from Evan before making assumptions. He also just wants to hear Evan, period.

"I like— I like that she's sweet to her? Most of the time, women in straight femdom porn are just mean, like men being dominated by women is automatically degrading. I don't like that."

Tommy hums in acknowledgment, enjoys the small gasp he receives as he dips his fingers into a gap in Evan's button-down shirt, playing with the trail of hair on Evan's stomach. That Evan likes sweet talk isn't new information, but hearing it is always nice. "Keep going," Tommy encourages.

"But she's also kind of… possessive about it? She calls her 'my treasure' a couple of times. I love it when she does. It's like—it's—she—she's—"

"Cherishing her?"

Evan sighs and nods, rubbing his temple against Tommy's.

Tommy leans in, noses at the pulse point of Evan's neck as he goes in for the kill. "Claiming her?"

Evan's moan sounds like it was punched out of him, and Tommy barely has enough time to hold onto the laptop to keep it from being dragged down as Evan turns to kiss him.

Tommy braces himself, gathering more and more courage with each kiss before he makes claims he prays to whatever God might be listening aren’t wrong. "You want me to hold on to you? Make you mine and never let go?"

A heart-wrenching sob escapes Evan's mouth, and Tommy swallows it greedily. "God yes, please!"

Evan keeps pressing pleas against his lips, and Tommy desperately wants to give in, but there is just one small thing that needs to be done first.

"Evan, the thing you're making, can—can that wait?" The last time they allowed themselves to get distracted while cooking, Evan kept pouting afterwards over the food being 'ruined'. In an attempt to cheer him up, Tommy had said that he couldn't tell the difference which had just made things worse. He wouldn't make that mistake again. There are many mistakes he wouldn't make again.

Evan utters a dazed noise before clarity settles into his features. "Oh. Yeah. It'll just marinate."

Tommy nods and moves to turn off the stove, Evan clinging to his side. He returns his attention to Evan, fingers playing with his curls.

The stove was a short distraction, but long enough to ensure that Tommy's next words are spoken with all the gravitas they deserve. "My treasure."

Another broken sound escapes Evan's throat as he burrows into Tommy and continues what they started.

Tommy hates breaking things, but, God, does he love repairing them. He knows he has a lot to make up for, and he will do it happily. If that means wiping away his boyfriend's tears and indulging in his trauma-induced dragon kink, so be it.

[hai7ani]

Main masterlist | cw smut, objectification, story happens when reader is still a sex worker (details of reader's experiences working in the field is included), read at your own risk

The way you love me (be my baby)

i.

Sex with Rindou is different, you think.

He's not like the other men who pays you money for a quick fuck, or even booking the whole night with you on special occasions that they decide to splurge on drugs and sluts at the club.

They slap you around like you're just some toy meant for their pleasure. A lot of them share one bad habit in common, you notice 一 that they like leaving their wet condoms on your thigh after they finish, never bothering to dispose of it in the bin, and sometimes even going as far as snapping a quick photo of you despite the club's T&C's and against your will.

You're quick to learn that this is all you're worth for. You're fast to drill it in your head, accepting the fact that you are simply just a girl put into this world for sex and pleasure. A worthless toy that anyone gets to play with if they simply have some money or enough influence to get a membership for such prestigious club owned by a reputable organisation.

That's all you are to them: a toy.

But to yourself?

You're not exactly sure on what you are.

Nights are lonely in your room even when you're surrounded by people.

It's men, most nights, but there'd also be a few older women who'd visit the club every once in a while. Lonely, yearning women who are just as empty as you on the inside, aching to feel something 一 just anything at all 一 in their hearts. You can see it clear in their orbs the second they get to feel your touch on their skins 一 a kind of void in their eyes that you don't think you can fully understand, but could still relate to in a way.

Sometimes many men would also come together and loom over you as you cry. Not from pleasure, but from pain. They are always very harsh and demanding with you.

And as always, you didn't think that sex would be any different when you come face to face with a man in a seemingly very expensive suit waiting for you in an equally expensive hotel room. Long, lilac bangs fanning over his brows and he's a bit tanner than the rest. He has bored, doe eyes that turn bright as soon as they land on your figure playing with your fingers by the door, piercing bullets into your wavering soul as you stand before him and introduce yourself as a replacement for Sakura-chan.

And when you finally dare to look up into his eyes when he doesn't reply a word, nor a simple response to your introduction, you manage to recognise him very swiftly.

He's the owner of the club that you work for. Basically your boss, and the bigger boss of Freida.

Haitani-sama.

You hadn't expected for him to be so... quiet, and soft as a person. He's silent when beckoning you over with a hand from the edge of the bed, and still is when pulling you even closer to himself, placing his palm so warmly on the back of your thigh. His touch is demanding and at a place of absolute power, but he isn't abusive with it. His purples are bold, strong, and pinkish lips stained with wine slowly curling into a small smile while he gaze so deeply into your wide, glossy eyes.

You don't really remember much about your first time meeting him.

You remember talking with him, touching him as per your job's demands, and suddenly you find yourself straddling his hips, hands gripped tightly onto his shoulders while you pant and mewl into the air, cheeks flushed and your head thrown back, as he pistons a few thick fingers into your pussy, occasionally bumping and rubbing your clit with his palm so sweetly under the hem of your long dress and he's kissing down the valley of your breasts.

You've always thought that sex is meant to hurt.

But it is different with him together.

Every night when he returns and somehow chooses you each and every single time, you finally get to feel something in the empty shell that people call 'a heart'. It burns like gasoline in your chest when you feel it coming, but it is something that you find yourself longing for so feverishly on the nights he isn't visiting.

He asks for your legs to fall off his hips 一 to let yourself go and simply enjoy the moment with him 一 and he never hits you for pleasure like what you're used to being treated. He likes fucking in doggy, but always ends the night slow with missionary because it's what you're more comfortable with 一 based on your body language that he'd read through like an open book the first night with you.

He lets you cum as many times as you want, even going as far as making you use your big girl words to ask for it sometimes.

He gave you a voice 一 something that you've never got to have for yourself, and he lets you use it as much as you want with him. As loud as you want.

He never tugs on your hair or pulling your head back and forth whenever you have him in your mouth. It's degrading, and men tend to enjoy it a lot. But he doesn't do that very often, you notice 一 doesn't seem very into the whole blowjob or mouth-fucking thing despite the extreme pleasure he feels, and prefers having his dick inside of you and getting you both off with it.

You like that it's this way with him, that there is never any pain on your end. Guilty as charged, you treat it as an escape sometimes, even though you know damn well that you shouldn't be getting too close or intimate with a paying, returning customer.

Not to mention that he pays really well, too 一 always giving you way too much for your services, and never stealing photos or leaving behind his trash like the others always do either.

You come to learn fairly quickly that his first name is Rindou. Before this piece of information that he'd handed out to you way too early in your exchange, you've only known of him as Haitani-sama. Sometimes you'd call him Sir out of habit, but he prefers that less to Daddy. He fucking loves it, too, actually, and sometimes you'd resort to calling him just that for the whole night because you're not too sure on what else to say.

And sometimes he'd even request (or more like demand, considering that he's the fucking boss of the club you work for) to take you home with him a few nights, and when Freida-baba (all the girls in the club call her that) tries explaining that maybe it isn't such a good idea 一 since you do have returning customers who have booked the next few nights with you 一 he pushes up the bid with two extra zeros in his payment and watch as her eyeballs fall out of their sockets in amusement, but always with sternest, because Haitani Rindou is a man who always get what he wants.

And she'd agree every single time, because there is no way a woman like Freida would be able to reject so much money from selling just one girl and also saying no to her boss' wish.

The subtle things he does to you 一 for you and with you 一 makes your brain go haywire sometimes. And on some days, you seem to find yourself patiently, yet eagerly, waiting for his return to the club, just to be able to pleasure him again out of your own will.

Hanging around the lobby like a school girl waiting for Senpai to finish playing basketball at the court to pass him a love letter, and always finding chances to knock on Freida's door asking if Haitani-sama will be visiting anytime soon...

You can't help it.

ii.

"You know, brother," Ran places his glass on the table after taking a huge sip.

"That slut you've been seeing一"

"She has a name."

Rindou shoots back almost too fast. His brother widens his eyes a little at his words, but leans back into his seat, expression turning amused when he finds it a good motivation to keep going. He hasn't seen this sight since forever, where Rindou is being protective of a girl he's fond with.

"You've been obsessed with her lately." Ran comments. Rindou only swirls his own drink and watch with bored eyes as the ice melts from the heat, but with an impatient heart.

"She's not good news, you know."

Ran grabs his iPad from the side, scrolling through a few documents through the files app 一 the bright screen reflecting on his face 一 before pausing on one and handing the tablet over to Rindou.

"The girl's covered in debt, head to toe." He juts his chin to the screen as the younger reads through the file. His expression remains the same as before 一 still so nonchalant, still so boyish like a teenage boy who doesn't really care for what his mother says.

"She's only here for your money. Can't think of any other idea on why she's stuck to you like glue." He grins. "And that sweet little smile she's always throwing your way, damn. No wonder you're so obsessed."

It's more of the opposite, really 一 but he doesn't make a refutation to prove his brother wrong. He's stoic when he locks the screen after scanning through your background check, before throwing the device on the coffee table with a soft roll of his eyes, letting out a breath through his lips.

"I know."

Truth is, the man's already had his right-hand run your profile for him since the night you'd first met, after being so enamoured by you that he really wants to know everything about yourself 一 even the smallest details about you that you don't even realise. Rindou is already aware of how deep in crippling debt you are 一 a result of having a father with a deadly gambling addiction since you were just a baby and a mother who's addicted to heroine for the longest time ever 一 that no matter how much money you make in your lifetime selling your body and becoming entertainment for lustful men, it'll never be enough.

"But nii-chan," he pauses to look his brother in the eye. There's daggers in them despite him being family.

"She's my girl."

The grin on Ran's face only grows wider as he swipes away a fallen strand of hair breaking through the gel, after hours of being away from home.

"I'll do what I want with her."

He thinks it's fine if you're gonna break his heart and use him for his money. He has money. And at least he'll know that he'd felt good being with you during your time together 一 getting to dive back into a sweet little romance he hasn't felt in years is something that he thinks he's needed so feverishly this whole time.

"That's alright. But still, I'll have you know," Ran trails off his words to lean forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees to look at his brother, face turning serious.

"Love is an expensive thing to afford for people like us."

iii.

He hasn't been visiting you lately.

It's already been three weeks since his last return to the club, and you've long lost count on how much time you've spent moping around the lobby, pretending like you're cleaning up and assisting them on welcoming clients, when in reality, you're simply waiting to see if it'd be him walking through the glass doors this time.

The first week he stopped coming, you've just assumed that it was simply because he was too busy and drowned with work. You know it isn't easy running a club that sells pussy and bags filled with drugs slid under glass tables on the daily 一 having to constantly worry about the feds and possible snitches in the organisation is not easy work that simply anyone can handle.

On the second week that he still doesn't visit 一 even to the other girls in the club 一 you start to grow impatient and worried that perhaps something terrible has happened to him, considering his line of work. But you still see his right-hand that he keeps close around the venue sometimes, and nothing in particular seems to be off about his boss' lack of appearance recently.

On the third week, which happens to be today, you've resorted to retreating into the hallways and dragging your feet when you walk 一 sometimes peeking into rooms to see if he is perhaps inside 一 hoping that he'll miraculously turn up again like he always do.

You so desperately hope that soon you'll finally get to see him walking through the main door, all suave and handsome, and then you'd get to jump into his arms while he holds you close and kisses you and一

"Haitani-sama, would you like another drink?"

Your feet pauses.

Your head turns, scouting for the source of the voice with shakey eyes and hands一

There he is.

Perfectly healthy and legs spread widely on the expensive sofa gripping a glass of whiskey, a side of his lips curled into a handsome smirk. He's surrounded by people 一 a few men and their women, and一

"Haitani-sama, thank you for choosing me tonight." Sakura-chan giggles so sweetly into his ear, all pressed into his side on the sofa like she means something to him, and he's looking at her in the way you've grown used to being admired at, too.

Something bubbles up in your chest as you watch the scene unfold before your glossy eyes 一 that Sakura gets to be by his side for the night, that he didn't come to see you as promised 一 and it's plainly uncomfortable, to say the least. You don't know what else to say. A sticky feeling you haven't experienced before glued onto the walls of your heart, a chain filled with thorns coiling around your poor, beating flesh, stabbing you as it tightens even more一

You turn around.

It's hard to force a smile when a girl passing through the halls greets you goodnight, but you still manage a weak one for her somehow before walking back to your room, eyes bored into space.

You're left with a silence so deafening and empty when you sit on your bed, palms scrunching up the soft material of your dress as you let out a long breath through your dry lips.

It breaks your heart the more you think about it 一 a feeling so suffocating that you don't know what to do to make it go away 一 as you keep replaying scenes of the nights he'd claim you to be his favourite girl when he'd fuck you so beautifully in his room, limbs all tangled up in the sheets.

A favourite one amongst the many, obviously.

Your eyes water and your heart tightens any more in its confines as you bite on your lip and feel your nose souring up一

Silly you, thinking that you actually mean something to these people.

You're just a replaceable toy.

iv. cw: light daddy kink

You're nose deep into your book on the couch when he finally comes to visit for the night.

"Did you miss me?" His voice is deep, teasing, and smuggled with alcohol when he speaks. His tie and belt are in his hands and a few of his buttons are left undone 一 and he leaves them on your bed when he walks over to you.

You're silent when Rindou stands before you seated on your chair and you shut your book with a harsh pang in your chest.

He smells so much of her that it irks you to the core. A rosey, floral perfume that only one person you know uses on the daily, now covering a man head to toe that you find yourself desperately unable to tear away from.

You hate feeling like this so much 一 so helpless and falling deep into a void 一 but you still push away the ache of your heart and showing him a smile so sweet that you hope he doesn't notice.

You still allow yourself a moment to indulge in his warmth when you melt in his arms as he holds you close. You still cheat yourself into thinking that he cares when he sucks on the spot just beneath your jaw that never fails to make you fold.

You still want to believe that you're different among the rest 一 that you still mean something to somebody, that you're not just a worthless toy that people get to play with when they're bored一

You want to believe that you're lovable, too.

You're just a girl who wants to be loved.

"Mhm." You hum into his neck as a reply.

His touch is electric on your hips when he moves you both to bed, while he lays you down so gently on the mattress with drunk but gentle hands.

You help to remove his suit when he hovers above you and you only reach your neck up to peck him gently on the lips when you're finished.

He's obviously very drunk tonight when you hear the low hum full of want that he lets out when you cheekily move away from his attacking lips, and there's a lot of kisses exchanged between you two when he catches you after that 一 from forehead kisses that shows how much he adores you to sweet little eskimo kisses that feels way too intimate for a relationship like yours, to sucking on each other's tongue as you slowly tangle yourselves together under the blanket.

You feel so, so comfortable wrapped in his arms while he tickles your neck with his nose. It's so warm in here compared to the frigid feeling in your heart when watching the two of them all cuddled up together on the couch一

There it is.

It's clouding your head again.

Your smile wavers a little against his skin and it's harder to act like nothing's ever happened before.

It's hard being pressed under his weight as he sobers himself up by indulging in your kisses, while in reality your mind is constantly flying back and forth between letting things be and swallowing your own heart to excusing yourself for the night to go cry in the toilet一

"Something's bothering you."

You twitch a little at that. Rindou is already staring at you with his eyes half-lidded when your own flicker swiftly back to his figure resting on your chest.

"Hmm? Nothing is wrong, Sir." Your voice is extremely soft tonight, he notices.

And for some reason your response rubs him the wrong way. He clicks his tongue, a bit unsatisfied, and moves himself off your chest to rest on the pillow next to you.

But he still pulls you next to him nonetheless 一 clement hands combing through your locks with his five fingers so sweetly as he admires your pretty face.

"What's wrong?" He pushes you even closer to himself with the hand looped under your neck. "Tell me."

A thumb of his own finds its way rubbing on your bottom lip and you feel so mushy when he looks at you that way again, though you still remain silent at that.

"C'mon, tell me,"

He hands you your voice again with a wide open palm.

"My pretty girl."

And you take it with you.

You embrace it this time.

"I saw you with Sakura-chan earlier."

He sighs through his nose before nuzzling at your cheek, a teasing smile on his lips. "That's what this is about?"

He shifts you both a little when you don't respond, choosing to bury yourself into his neck and sulk. He doesn't force you to look at him, though. Still so sweet when he coos and comforts you by rubbing on your back.

"I didn't fuck her, you know. I was only with her for a couple hours."

You smile. "It's okay, you don't have to explain to me, Sir. I was simply waiting for you to visit again. I was worried, but you're okay."

Rindou doesn't like that this is your response to him when you've just hung your obvious jealousy out for him to see. His chest pangs with something unexplainable when you pat on his back instead when in fact, you're the one who's feeling hurt.

"I didn't fuck her." He affirms again, a little stricter but full of sincerity this time. "Why do you think I didn't call you out with me today?"

You shake your head, biting on the inner corners your cheeks as you listen.

"People don't go around flaunting their treasures, no? At least not rational ones," he pauses to nibble at the fat of your cheek, beckoning you to please look at him again一 "that's just asking to be robbed."

"I was with business partners and I don't want them to know you're mine. That's dangerous."

You don't know what's so dangerous about being known as Haitani Rindou's favourite girl, because you want to be known. You want to be shown off, too. You want to be flaunted around proudly, like you're not just some man's dirty little secret that he'll bring to the grave.

But you're sure he has his own reasons for that.

You slowly remove your face from his neck to sniffle.

"And I still came tonight, yeah?" He rubs on your lids, playing with your lashes gently as you nod.

"'Cause I wanted to see you, pretty."

When Rindou spots the light gloss over your eyes and you cutesy lips turn pouty and you're looking at him like he'd just broken your heart into pieces一

He folds.

"I'm sorry, baby."

It's a first, he thinks to himself 一 that he's apologising for being with another girl to the girl he still doesn't know what exactly she is to him, other than the fact that he likes having her around a lot.

"No more of that, yeah?" He cups your cheeks with his hands as he hovers over your face, thumbs caressing your skin as you start tearing up, sniffling.

"Daddy's all yours."

He leans in to smooch on your lips.

"It'll only ever be you by my side today onwards."

A hand of his grabs onto your wobbly ones to place it right where his heart resides, feeling it beat beneath your palm through the layer of his shirt. It's erratic 一 full of panic and heartache the minute your waterworks start, because he hates seeing you cry, especially when it is because of him.

And then he pulls your hand back up to his lips to kiss on your fingers, his purple orbs not once breaking contact with your own, as you whimper and reach yoir arms oit to pull him into your chest, swallowing him into your soul.

Yours and yours only.

Rindou smiles.

How is a girl like you ever going to break his heart?

Stupid Ran.

this 2 love bug's trope summarised: love at first sight but with juicy lore 🔇 this is so poorly written but i dont wanna keep it in my drafts any longer since the year is ending and i really want to post something

[drowning-in-paragraphs]

NOT AGAIN

jude bellingham x exgf!reader

warnings: english is not my first language!

summary: Jude and you are stuck in an unending cycle and every time you swear it’s over, you both end up right back where you started—burning through the same old patterns, unable (and honestly, unwilling) to break free. The marks left on each other’s skin are proof of the nights you can’t forget, even though you both pretend you’re done, neither is ready to fully let go. This time is no different.

PART 2: IT TAKES A MESSAGE

The room smelled faintly of him—of Jude—and the realization hit like a freight train. The sharp tang of his cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the lingering scent of sweat, skin, and sex. The sheets beneath you were a tangled mess, still warm, sticking to your legs in places that made you shudder with realization. The ache between your thighs was a sharp, humiliating reminder of just how far you’d gone. Again.

Not again.

The curtains were drawn, allowing thin rays of morning sunlight to stream in, highlighting the chaos of a night neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Your eyes fluttered open, and a quick glance around was enough to reveal the evidence of chaos: your white dress was slung over the back of a chair, dangerously close to sliding off. His jeans were crumpled on the floor, one leg caught under the bedframe. A lone heel of hers lay on its side near the door, the other God-knows-where. A broken wine glass lay near the edge of the nightstand, its contents dried into a dark stain on the wood.

A low groan came from your left, and you didn’t have to look to know it was him. Jude’s familiar weight pressed into the mattress, his bare skin radiating warmth against your side. Just for comfirmation, you turned your head ever so slightly. There he was.

Your ex boyfriend, shirtless, turned as if shielding himself from the glaring truth of morning. His dark curls were tousled in a way that used to make your heart race but now only made your stomach churn with regret.

Lies.

There he was, stretched out on his stomach, the sheet barely covering his hips, his back on full display. You’d left marks—angry red lines trailing from his shoulders to his lower back, faint bruises blooming on his biceps where your fingers had dug in and now you understood the ache between your legs.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, louder than intended.

Jude stirred, his curls an unruly mess against the pillow, and his eyes cracked open, squinting at you like the sunlight offended him. “Good morning to you too,” he grumbled, voice still thick with sleep.

You sat up abruptly, clutching the sheet to your chest like armor. The motion pulled the fabric tight, revealing fresh bruises along your collarbone and a particularly dark one on your shoulder where his mouth had claimed you. You’ll discover them later. Now, you yanked the sheet higher, as if that could erase the evidence of your nakedness surrender. “We have to stop doing this.”

Jude let out a short, humorless laugh, rolling onto his back with a wince. His dark eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, something flickered in his gaze—regret, maybe. But it was gone as quickly as it came. “No shit. You think I planned this?”

You glared at him, but your cheeks betrayed you with a flush. “You literally showed up at my door last night.” you shot. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Not open it?” he suggested, though there was no bite in his tone. “Especially not dressed the way you were”

You glared again at him, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he propped himself up on one elbow, the sheet sliding dangerously lower on his hips. Your eyes betrayed you for a split second, flicking downward, and his smirk was immediate.

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed.

“Am I?” His voice was lazy, almost smug and continued in laying your bed.

You ignored him, scanning the room for your underwear. It wasn’t on the chair, the bed, or even near the door. Your cheeks flushed as you realized it might still be—

“Looking for these?” Jude’s voice interrupted your thoughts, and you turned to see him dangling the lacy scrap from one long finger, a crooked grin on his face.

“Give me that,” you snapped, snatching it from him and shoving it on hastily.

Jude sat up fully now, the sheet forgotten as he leaned back against the headboard, his chest on full display. More marks—faint purple bruises and red nail trails—dotted his skin, and the sight of them made your stomach flip in a way you hated. He looked down himself and unashamedly: “You really outdid yourself this time.”

“Well, don’t you dare complain. You were the one provoking it.” You replied avoiding his gaze.

He snorted but shook his head.

“This has to stop,” you said firmly, though the words felt hollow.

Jude looked at you, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “You’re welcome, by the way. I was definitely aiming for ‘good morning, Jude, thanks for rocking my world again.’”

Again.

Your cheeks flamed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

His gaze flicked to your bare shoulder, where the faint bruise was forming—a mark of his lips. “Yeah, okay.”

Your glare could’ve melted steel. Instead of retaliating, you were careful to keep the sheet wrapped around you. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of looking at you, not after…

"This is the last time, then."

“Yeah, because that’s what we said the last time.” Jude swung his legs over the side of the bed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “And the time before that. And—”

“Okay, I get it.” you cut him off abruptly. The sheet slipped, and you scrambled to keep it in place, earning a raised eyebrow from him.

“You’re acting like I haven’t seen it all before.”

“Good for you, Jude,” you shot back, your words tinged with sarcasm.

“Good indeed,” he replied, his gaze lingering a little longer than necessary, a playful yet knowing look in his eyes.

You busied yourself with finding your clothes, each piece a reminder of the tangled web you two couldn’t seem to escape.

The sound of his phone buzzing broke the silence. Jude glanced at it briefly, his jaw tightening before he flipped it face down. Wow, okay. You didn’t ask who it was. You didn’t care. At least, that’s what you told yourself but in reality, your heart thudded at that action of his.

You pulled your dress over your head, the fabric clinging in all the wrong places. It was wrinkled, evidence of how hastily he’d peeled it off you the night before. Your fingers fumbled with the zipper, frustration bubbling over as it refused to cooperate.

Jude stood, fully unashamed in his boxers, and crossed the room to her. “Here,” he said, reaching for the zipper.

“I’ve got it,” you snapped, stepping back, but he caught your wrist gently.

“Just let me help.”

The intimacy of the moment made your chest ache, even as you stood rigid, refusing to look at him. His hands were steady, his fingers brushing the bare skin of your back as he tugged the zipper into place. You hated how easily he could disarm you and he hated how much he wanted to.

“There,” he said softly, his voice far too close to tender.

“Thanks,” you muttered, pulling away and slipping on your shoes.

He watched you with an intensity that made you skin prickle. You could feel his gaze tracing every inch of you, and you hated how it made you want to stay. To forget the world outside and crawl back into that bed with him.

“Why do we keep doing this?” you asked, your voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

He sighed, pulling on his trousers. “Because we don’t know how to do anything else.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and uncomfortably true.

You’d never been good at being a couple—fighting over stupid things, the jealousy, struggling to meet each other halfway. But being apart? That was proving to be even harder.

You turned to face him, arms crossed over your chest. “We’re terrible at this.”

“At what?” He met your gaze, his dark eyes searching yours.

“At being exes.”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, well, we weren’t exactly a shining example of a couple either.”

You hated how he could disarm you like that, with a quip and a lopsided smile. Jude hated how much he wanted to pull you back into bed, no, into his arms, even as every rational part of him screamed to leave.

“Maybe…” you hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip.

“Maybe what?” he prompted, his tone softer now.

“Maybe we should actually try to stay away from each other.”

“Yeah,” he said, running a hand through his curls. “Yeah, we should.”

But the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his fingers brushed yours as they reached for the same piece of clothing—it all said otherwise.

You dressed in silence, the tension between you palpable. As he slipped on his jacket, you glanced at him one last time.

"Jude?"

"Yes?"

“Don’t text me,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, but there was no conviction in his tone. “And we are mutually blocked from everywhere...” he wanted to say.

Jude left without looking back, the cool morning air hitting him like a wake-up call. The walk of shame felt all too familiar, and yet, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that it wouldn’t be the last time.

Because no matter how many doors you closed, there always seemed to be a crack left open, just wide enough for one of them to step through.

[vicariousresearcher]

cw: 18+, ghost sex, invisible, wedgie(?) Researcher!Reader who follows a voice in the abandoned fortress, chasing it into an old war room. Whipping your head around as you try to find the entity you barely saw glimpses of. Ghost!Gaz who finds the pretty little researcher wandering through the ruins and knows he has to get at you fast if he wants to be first. Plus he’s so much nicer than all the other guys :((

“I’ve been so lonely here.” A voice purrs at your ear, a presence suddenly behind you. “You’ll keep me company won’t you?”

You don’t even know how it ended up like this.

Bent over the war table with your cheek squished against the grimy war table, journal abandoned with the pen still clamped between your fingers. Ink scrawled down the page as the thoughts got fucked out of your head.

And the hands, so many hands. Cupping and pinching and groping. Six is what you concluded initially but with how utterly covered you are there has to be more. Phasing between the thick, warm layers of clothing to send body wracking shivers from the cold. Two dimpling into the fat of your ass to keep you open for him. Another thumbing over your rim just to see you jump when he presses too hard. One cupping your nape to keep you pinned against the table. 

Not that you were going to move. For research's sake of course.

You can’t even tell if you’re shivering or shaking from the fucking he’s giving you

“You should be a lot more afraid, little lamb.” He grins as he looks down at your screwed up face. Punctuated by the choked moan you let out when he tugs at the waistband of your panties, tightening the fabric to rub against your needy little clit.

Cock spearing you open against the table. Fully clothed, fabric barely disturbed but your pussy was gaping to accommodate his length. Both fascinating and had you dripping at the possible imagery. Gaping beneath your layers, folds spread over his invisible length.

The coil in your belly is heating up he fucks into you. Wetness dampening your panties as he continues to tug at them, forcing the fabric to squish against your oversensitive clit. It has your hips bucking, rolling onto your toes. You don’t even know if it’s to get away or to get more friction.

Jolting against the table as his thrusts become erratic, hands gripping you firmly to hold you in place. Choked moans coming deep from your chest as your orgasm is melting into your pelvis, ready to grab you by the throat.

Then you’re shaking, eyes clamping shut as your pussy flutters around his length, stuttering his last few thrusts before he sputters to a stop.

You're boneless against the table, mind all muddled as the hands disappear. A weight settling over the arch of your spine, a pair of arms bracketing over your own. Heaving chest against your back, goosebumps imprinting his touch into your skin.

“You’re a fucked up little thing, aren’t you?” His voice sounds almost breathless(?) You note that in some corner of your head.

“Oh the others will like you for sure. Be careful, little lamb.”

The presence disappears, leaving you with that foreboding warning and something dripping out of you.

[penny-anna]

travelling home after christmas today

checking my tickets this morning to make sure everything is in order. realise i somehow booked a 2-stage journey with a change at Doncaster rather than a direct ticket.

aw fuck. :(

report this to my sister who suggests trains might not be running as usual. assure her that it's definitely my fault

arrive at station. my train is at 13:03. there is also a direct Edinburgh train at 13:00. longingly watch the direct train depart. :(

my train is somehow running 5 minutes late in spite of starting at King's Cross?? wym you're running late. you haven't been anywhere.

anyway this is a problem bcos i only have 11 minutes to change at Doncaster.

train also doesn't start boarding until maybe 2 minutes before scheduled departure. there are around 200 people trying to board. we are not leaving at 13:08.

finally leave at around quarter past. yeah i am not making this connection. i didn't have a seat reserved so no great loss.

notice that the app now says my connecting train is delayed due to 'overcrowding'. ehh i don't think i want to get that train anyway.

the connecting train isn't delayed enough for my to catch it. phew, i think, bullet dodged!!

the next train to Edinburgh arrives. it was also delayed leaving Kings Cross for the same unclear reasons as my original train. it's booked solid but the screen says there are seats available in coach C so off i go.

attempt to board the train. the vestibule is so full of people that im honestly not sure i can fit.

manage to fit. oh fuck. oh this is not a good train to be on.

various people are scouting out coach C in seach of seats and come back without. decide to make a trip myself as they were a couple and i'm a lone traveller so might have more success.

i have my big rucksack on + an extra bag so im just barging my way through there. there's people standing in the aisle. way unpassable.

return to the vestibule.

someone has left a very large buggy in the vestibule, unfolded, seemingly abandoned, unbelievably in the way.

someone suggests that we could fold the buggy. everyone agrees this is a good idea but no-one is the buggy's owner.

i ask if anyone knows who the buggy belongs to and someone points to a woman halfway down the carriage, beyond a bunch more standing people.

people are needing to get through to the bathroom. attempt to put myself on the other side of the buggy to clear a path. almost get stuck bcos w all my bags i am just so so large.

manage to get to the other side of the buggy and take off my backpack so i'm not taking up so much space. add my backpack to the luggage piled in front of the luggage rack.

someone returns from the adjoining vestibule with news of more space for luggage, suggests we move the buggy

collectively manage to get the buggy's owner over. she tells us she is travelling alone with 5 children. now feel kind of bad about being annoyed by the buggy.

buggy is too wide to go to the next vestibule without being folded. she say she can't fold it because it's got bags in it and there's nowhere to put the bags.

it's pointed out that she can put the bags in the other luggage rack where there is (apparently) more space. the buggy is removed and we all have space to actually move around.

my rucksack is at constant risk of fallling off the luggage pile and it's on the other side of the carriage door so not much i can do. another passenger is kindly keeping it in place for me.

also a problem w standing on long haul trains is that they are just not designed for it so there's nowhere to hold on and i almost fall into people several times.

okay we are coming up on York. maybe, i think optimistically, a bunch of people will get off at York (it's a big station) and things will improve

ohh god things do not improve

more people pile into the vestibule including a couple with a very large suitcase and a baby

suitcase has nowhere to go except the middle of the corridor. couple debate whether they should just get off the train and find alternative transport. woman says (reasonably) that she doesn't want to stand holding the baby for 3 hours to Edinburgh.

before they can come to a conclusion the train leaves

predictably the vestibule is now home to a crying baby

a man comes out of the coach w a bag from the buffet service. asks politely if he can get through so he can go back to his seat.

oh we are SO sorry but you are going to be here a while :(

manage to get my rucksack properly onto the luggage rack :)

after a while the man w the buffet car bag says that at the next station he's going to get off the train and back on at the next entrance in hope of getting back to his seat

we wish him godspeed. he gets off the train. never see him again. i hope he made it.

we are now not far from Durham. very large man w a very large bag comes through, smacks everyone with his bag, and then almost dislodges my backpack taking his suitcase out from underneath it

announces confidently which side the train doors will open on.

ok we have a shot here. on my previous recce i noticed a whole group of seats marked reserved to Durham. tell myself that i must act swiftly and decisively when we get to Durham.

by this point im having significant foot pains from too much train standing.

we arrive at Durham. the big group mentioned leaves and then a reshuffle commences

family of 5 kids mentioned previously (remember them??) are moving to take over the vacated table. observing events it looks like there's going to be 1 free seat left.

there's 2 people closer to the seat and i can't just barge past them BUT they are together. ask if one of them wants the seat.

they do not want the seat!!

move swiftly & decisively to take the seat.

it is covered and i mean covered in popcorn but i will take what i can get at this stage.

from beneath the seats me and some other helpul passengers retrieve a dropped pair of gloves, a hat and a toy Sonic the Hedgehog which we return to their owners.

finally sit.

take off coat put in eye drops begin drinking delicious 7up i've been carrying since kings cross etc.

at the next stop the person in the other seat leaves and am joined by another of the group from the vestibule. we sit and quietly read our books :3

[icallhimjoey]

eddie?! 👀 did you say EDDIE?!?! 👀👀👀👀

i DID say eddie! i had a tiny idea that fit the version of eddie ive written before (and the only version of eddie ive written before) and so... here we are. i am: so sorry. Wordcount: 6.6K

---

Let’s Go Home

(find all other parts of this story here)

“Let’s go get him.”

You sound very determined for someone completely unsure of how to handle the situation. It’s difficult to watch someone so deeply unhappy struggle with parts of their past they can’t seem to get a grip on.

“I… what?” two wet, red-rimmed eyes stare back at you. Confused. A little annoyed.

“Yea. Come on. Let’s go. We’re packing our bags and we’re going to go pick him up and bring him back here.”

Eddie doesn’t get it. Frowns, entirely unsure of who you’re talking about.

“Steve’s already here… and Wayne is coming here for Christmas, we don’t need to–…” he looks so tired.

“I know we don’t need to.”

It always happened when the days got a little shorter. When the nights got colder and Christmas loomed. When happy, wholesome family moments would be advertised all over the world, and it all became glaringly obvious – once again – how that was something Eddie never got to be a part of when he was little. Not until Wayne took him in and tried his best to make the holidays special in his own way.

No matter how hard Wayne tried, though, the bitter aftertaste of abandonment and loneliness was impossible to get rid of.

Eddie would never admit this to Wayne, but celebrating Christmas just the two of them felt just as pathetic and lonely as it had done when he lived with his parents still.

Different.

Definitely not as traumatizing, which was good.

But still dreary, and sad, with a lot of playing pretend that he was okay and happy and fine.

He was never okay and happy and fine.

Still isn’t okay and happy and fine.

That’s not Wayne’s fault, Eddie knows, and he feels like a shitty person because Wayne always tried his best. Did what he could. It just never quite worked.

Christmas would roll around, and Eddie would get depressed.

That’s just what happened.

Eddie would slip into sadness, scary thoughts intruding happy places they weren’t allowed to settle into, but he’d not yet learnt how to tell them to fuck off. To leave him alone. Didn’t know how to get the uninvited guests out of his house, and felt powerless as he watched them settle into his living room. Nothing he could do about it.

Somber, pensive moments would slowly stretch until they covered most of the day. Mornings were the happiest, still. He’d wake up after falling asleep eventually, never managing to slip into dreams before 3 AM, and for a moment, he’d forget. The short amount of sleep would have him tired enough to not remember the reality of his life for a second, and in those moments, it would just be you in bed with him and that would be the only thing in existence.

It’s awful to feel reality set into someone’s body mid-hug.

You wish you knew how to keep it out.

Over the years Eddie had learnt he had to vocalize his feelings. His thoughts. Knew that a burden shared was a burden halved, but knowing things in theory didn’t make them easier in practice.

“What can I do? Let me help.” You’d whisper, and Eddie was lucky you’d known each other for so long. There were no worried questions of are you okay, or a concerned soft hey what’s wrong.

You know he’s not okay, and you know what’s wrong.

“You, here. That’s all you need to do.” Eddie would murmur and he’d pull you in to hold you for a short while. And sometimes, that would temporarily fix him.

There is part of Eddie that honestly thinks if he doesn’t think about it, that it’ll be okay.

If he ignores it for long enough, it might go away by itself.

He’s lucky that sometimes, it does.

He pretends that the foundation of shit that he’d been given for his life hasn’t got all the cracks in. The house he has tried to build on top might shake a bit in the wind, but he can convince himself that the strong support beams that have been put in place will make sure the whole thing doesn’t collapse.

But it’s getting closer and closer to Christmas, and he’s sinking deeper and deeper into everything that’s dark, and cold, and uncomfortable, and painful, and scary.

Everything is designed to make people feel happy around this time of year, and he’s in LA where the sun shines all year long and it doesn’t even really get cold at all. Not like it gets cold in Hawkins. The days don’t really get that much shorter, and he can go outside in a T-shirt and be fine. But maybe that’s precisely the problem right now; there’s no quick get inside the house, and no let me warm your hands up for you.

The comfort of a frozen nose that get nuzzled back to life is unattainable in LA.

“Can you go to another meeting? Would that help, do you think?” you silently ask him one evening, hidden under the covers and too tired to stay awake for much longer, even though you know Eddie’s wide awake next to you. He’ll toss and turn for a couple more hours after you’ve drifted off.

“Yea, of course. I should.” Eddie is quick to reply, but you know he doesn’t want to.

Talking about his addiction with strangers when he’s trying his best to pretend it’s not there will just make things worse, he thinks. Logically, he knows it probably won’t, but there’s always that fear.

“Can I join you?”

You feel how Eddie shifts in bed, probably to take a look at you, but your eyes are closed and you’re about to fall asleep. This isn’t the time to fall into a conversation in which he asks you why on earth you would want to hear a lot of people you don’t know talk about a lot of drastic measures you don’t need to know people let themselves be pushed to sometimes.

So instead, you feel a kiss press to your temple, and he whispers, “Sure you can.”

At first, Eddie doesn’t say much in the meeting you join him for. You mostly listen to issues other people bring forward, and try to think of things you’d do if Eddie was the person speaking. If he was the one with all of those problems. How would you help?

How would you fix it?

When a kind, soft-spoken voice asks if there’s anyone new who wants to share, a lot of eyes fall on you, and you shift in your seat. Sit up a little. Feel Eddie squeeze your hand in his which could have meant, it’s okay, you can tell people why you’re here, but instead it means, I got this.

Eddie talks.

Tells everyone about how he feels like he’s deep in a depression and that he doesn’t really know how to get out of the dark pit he’s fallen into.

How it feels like he’s five years old and stuck in a small dark room, and he’s feeling all over the walls but can’t locate the light switch, and the longer he’s looking, the more he starts feeling claustrophobic in there.

You make the mistake of asking him if he can call out for help.

“Have you tried asking? Maybe someone else can turn the light on for you…”

Eddie breaks down, elbows on his knees, face hidden from the group as he looks at the wooden floor boards through his tears.

It’s not your fault.

Eddie doesn’t expect you to understand the feeling of being so utterly helpless and alone that he knows there’s no use in even trying to call for help.

No one would’ve answered.

You scoot your seat closer to his, and lean into his side as you wrap an arm around his back, fingers curling around his shoulder. It’s nice. He needs it. He also knows there’s thirteen pairs of eyes on him and he doesn’t know how to tell you that no matter how hard you’ll try, you won’t be able to actually fix anything.

“Let me turn the light on. Let Steve, or let Wayne– Robin… we can all help turn the light on. We’ll fly Wayne out, Robin too, and anyone else that you want. They can all move in, we have the space for it. Just… please, let us turn the light on, Eddie…”

It’s the fucking sweetest thing he’s ever heard, but he can reach for the light himself now. He can find it in the dark, and he can turn it on. The problem is that it doesn’t make a fucking difference.

Turning a light on now doesn’t change anything about his past.

Eddie gets asked if he has anything more to share. He sniffs and wipes his face with both his hands before he sits up and leans back and says, “Thank you, but um, no. I don’t. It’s this time of year, I guess. I know it’ll pass.”

You hold hands, fingers intertwined, as you listen to everyone else share more of their own personal issues, and when you leave Eddie puts his arm around you and pulls you close to kiss the side of your face. He tells you that he loves you, that he’s glad that he came, and he thanks you for coming with him.

You can see in his eyes that none of it helped.

Eddie lets himself sink deeper and all you can really do is be there for him. Be there when he wakes up and be there when he goes to sleep. You give him the gift of routine. Of healthy meals. Of pleasant walks outside. Long showers after.

It helps.

But it doesn’t fix anything.

You try your best at damage control. Talk to Steve. Call Wayne a lot.

And it helps.

But about two weeks later, Eddie starts isolating.

He had never isolated before.

Not like this.

He’s in his home studio, hyperfocussing on four seconds of a song he’s working on, and when you interrupt to tell him you’re going to go to bed, he says he’ll come up in a minute. He just needs to figure this bit out. “I’m so close, I can taste it.” Eddie smiles a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and for a moment you think Eddie’s going to let you listen to his work in progress. He always asks for your opinion, but this time he doesn’t. He just looks at you with a smile that’s just there for reassurance until you leave him alone.

At 5 AM you get woken up by Steve, who softly says, “You need to come downstairs…” and leads the way for you.

“I got up to pee, and the bathroom is right above the studio…”

You find Eddie in the exact same spot, going over the exact same four seconds of music.

He looks like he’s being tortured, barely able to keep his eyes open. When you gently pry the guitar from his hands, his breathing changes, and you think if he would have had the energy to sob, he would have cried like a child.

“Let’s go to bed, Eddie.”

Eddie lets you take him upstairs, but then locks himself in the bathroom and when you ask if he can let you in, all you can hear are soft sniffles whilst the shower runs.

It’s then that you decide.

Something is different this time around.

Something deeper has bubbled up, and you know whatever you are doing here, in LA, to help him simply will not be enough.

You establish a plan and pull out two suitcases that you place onto your bed. You’re going to pack your bags and you’re going to go get him.

It’s clearly necessary.

Eddie is no longer letting you comfort him and you’re scared that the next step is going to be a relapse.

“What are you doing?”

“Let’s go get him.”

“I–… what?”

Eddie hasn’t slept, and his unwashed hair is wet from the shower he’s sat in for a while, and you’re very calmly and methodically folding clothes into a suitcase. You might as well be speaking in a different language right now.

“Yea. Come on. Let’s go. We’re packing our bags and we’re going to go pick him up and bring him back here.”

Eddie slowly moves to sit down on the bed, and he looks at what you’re doing for a moment before he sighs and softly says, “Steve’s already here… and Wayne is coming here for Christmas, we don’t need to–…”

He stops speaking when he sees your slight smile.

“I know we don’t need to.” You say and Eddie doesn’t like how you look at him with so much care in your eyes. He doesn’t think he deserves it.

Doesn’t deserve you.

“Do you want to bring both of your black hoodies?” you then ask, not giving him a chance to question what’s happening, and so he just goes, “Yea… yea, sure.” before he lets himself fall backwards onto the mattress where he shuts his eyes.

You let Eddie sleep for as long as sleep will hold him. Pack up both suitcases and let Steve help you book travel back home.

“Do you want to come?” you ask when Steve is on the phone to a travel agent. He is listening to the woman who’s reading him back information he’s just given her, so he can’t answer you, but he reaches out and holds your hand whilst you listen to him book two tickets to Indiana.

When he gets off the phone he reaches for your other hand as well and says, “I’ll watch the house.”

You give him a slight frown. “You know he’d love you to come with us… Wayne says Hawkins is covered in snow. We could watch Christmas films in the trailer… get Robin and run across Lover’s Lake again… or, call Dustin and, I don’t know, Eddie could challenge him to a snow ball fight and they could play–”

“Dustin’s 26 years old.”

“Yea...” you frown at Steve. “So?” you sound desperate.

Steve huffs a laugh as he rubs his thumbs over your hands. He grimaces a little before he says, “No offense, but… he doesn’t need us out there. Of course you’ve got to go with him, but every other person is going to be one too many.”

And Steve’s right.

The next day, Steve joins you outside as you’re about to leave. He hugs Eddie for a long time by the trunk of the car, and you know they’re softly talking to each other. You can only see Eddie’s back, and Steve’s face is hidden by all of Eddie’s curls, but suddenly you can hear Eddie laugh before he pokes Steve in the side.

You get hugged next.

Eddie doesn’t sleep on the flight. Just stares out the window and gets lost in thought. You know he’s not entirely sure of why you’re taking him back to Hawkins, but he’s also not asked about it again.

When your rental car stops in front of Wayne’s trailer, you turn the engine off and sit in silence for a moment as you both just… look at it. It’s four in the afternoon, but it’s getting dark outside already.

Forest Hills.

A surprisingly large lot of land that holds about twenty-four sporadically placed trailers; some of them neatly lined up, others facing whichever way. Wayne’s trailer was one of those ones, placed diagonally to the road, surrounded by dry grass for most of the year which was now hidden by a thick layer of snow.

Momentarily, everything about the image that you’re looking at looks like it’s 1987. Maybe 1988. You can easily envision a younger version of yourself running up to that same front door, it swinging open before you could even get up the steps, Eddie bursting through just to throw you over his shoulder and haul you inside.

“We’re here...” you break the silence, stating the obvious, and find Eddie’s hand to squeeze.

It’s a little silly, but it looks like he’s scared.

“Did you tell him we were coming?”

“Wayne?”

Eddie turns to look at you, slightly confused because, yea who the fuck else?

“Yea. I called Wayne.”

You watch how Eddie takes a breath. Watch that information settle within him.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

And Eddie does. Doesn’t want to do anything without you, ever.

But he takes a shaky breath and says, “I’ll come get you in a second.” before he opens the door and gets out of the car.

Footsteps crunch in the snow, and you watch Eddie, hands in pockets, rush up the steps to what used to be the trailer that he lived in with his uncle. The trailer that he found home in when he was about seven years old and Wayne had decided that his bedroom could actually be Eddie’s bedroom instead for a while.

A while turned into fifteen years in the blink of an eye.

You watch Eddie hug Wayne through the window. It’s another long embrace, but this one doesn’t part with boyish grins and jabbing fingers. Instead, you can see how Eddie goes limp in Wayne’s arms a little, and when he goes to pull back, Wayne just… holds on.

Just a little longer.

It feels a little wrong to be watching them like this, chin perched on the steering wheel, fingers hidden in your sleeves. It feels especially invasive when you see how when they eventually part, the first thing both men do is bring their sleeves to their faces to dry what has become wet.

Then, Eddie steps away. Slowly walks towards the room that used to be his bedroom, and he goes alone.

Good, you think.

That’s good.

Wayne didn’t understand at first, when you told him over the phone. That you were coming over for a strange, but important visit. But this was good.

It takes a while.

Your fingers start to lose their feeling a little as you wait in the car, but it’s fine. You are not the priority right now.

When Eddie eventually emerges from the trailer, you get out of the car, and wait for him to call for you. A, come on. Come inside. It’s fucking freezing out here.

Instead, you get silence. Eddie doesn’t stop walking to wave you over.

He makes his way all the way over to where you’re stood next to the car, and then, he hesitates for a moment.

Eddie can’t look you in the eye.

“Everything okay?”

You know it’s not.

“He um…” Eddie starts, voice trembling. “He’s not here.”

“What?”

Eddie moves closer to place a kiss to your temple, eyes looking away, over the top of the car, across the trailer park. “He’s not here. I didn’t find him.”

Eddie steps around you and gets into the passenger seat, and for a moment, you stand with both shoes in slush whilst you try to think of what to do next. When you look back at the trailer, you catch Wayne through he window. Gives you a smile and a wave.

For a moment you contemplate running over, up those same steps, to ask what happened inside. Maybe Wayne has answers to questions you keep asking yourself.

Before you can, Eddie roars the engine back to life.

You give Wayne a wave back from where you’re stood and round the car to get into the passenger’s seat. You can talk to Wayne later.

Back inside the car, you put your seatbelt on and look at Eddie for a moment. He’s got one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the gearshift, and he’s biting his lip as he stares into space.

“If he’s not here…” you start pensively.

“It’s quite the drive.” Eddie answers, unmoving.

“We have the time.”

“I don’t think we’d make it back here before midnight.”

“Hey,”

Eddie turns his head to look at you.

“We have time.” You repeat yourself and place your hand on the back of his head where you softly scratch your fingers into his hair. “You good to drive?”

You don’t get an answer. Instead, Eddie puts the car in reverse and starts backing out. Just before he’s about to fully leave Forest Hills Trailer Park, he stops the car, even though there’s no traffic to wait for.

“I can drive if you want me to–”

“N-no, that’s not it. I can drive, but I…”

Eddie stares. Looks at his hands and just sits in silence, going through it. Then suddenly, he takes his seatbelt off, opens his door and quickly says, “I’ll be right back.” and he runs.

Left in a car with a running engine and a wide open door, you turn in your seat to watch Eddie’s breath leave him in white clouds as he runs back to the trailer, back up the steps, back inside. You’re too far away to see in the windows now.

It only takes a minute.

When he comes back, jogs down those steps in the snow, he looks a little lighter somehow. Like running back towards the car is a little easier.

Eddie gets back in the car, and he’s all loud inhales and rough exhales, hands rubbing together because it’s cold and he just ran through the snow, but then he looks at you as he puts on his seatbelt and he smiles.

There’s tears in his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“Had to tell him it’s okay. That I’m okay.”

Somehow, Eddie is beaming and solemn at the same time, but you’re happy that something has changed a little. That he seems to get it. You sink into your seat a bit more when Eddie pulls onto the road and starts heading south.

Eddie told you once, years ago, that he used to live in a motel before he came to Hawkins. How that’s all his parents could afford, and even then, they were always fighting with the front desk about money. Always late on payments.

It was just one big room, and even though it was just him, his mother and sometimes his dad, there were always people in their room. Strangers. Friends, his mother would tell him. Sometimes she’d even tell him, this is your Uncle Frank, and Eddie would be forced to shake the hand of a man he had never seen before and would never see again.

Eddie spent a lot of his early childhood confused.

He spent a lot of his childhood hiding.

Afraid.

Alone.

He wouldn’t ever trust anyone. People told him one thing and then they would laugh together and they would do something else.

Adults were evil, and yet the world was made so that adults were the ones that had to look after him. That made the decisions. That told him, go play outside, even if rain was coming down hard, and Eddie would have no other choice but to listen. To do as he was told.

He was only a little kid.

When Eddie was seven years old, he got kicked out of the room at eight in the morning and got told to not come back until they were ‘ready for him’.

Like he knew what that meant.

No one had told him how to tell time.

Eddie didn’t go to school.

But he knew that being sent outside meant that he had to go find his own entertainment for a while, and so he did.

Eddie was seven years old when he came back around lunch time with skinned knees and grass stains in his shorts, and there was commotion.

Lots of people.

People in uniforms.

A cop car.

A kind woman who asked him if he had lost his way. If she could help him get home. Eddie had just smiled and said, no thanks, and had tried to hide in the spot where he always hid. Adults were not to be trusted, Eddie knew. No matter how kind they looked.

Eddie was seven years old when he got pulled from his safe space, his little hiding spot, kicking and screaming, and got brought over to Wayne’s trailer. He’d never been back to that motel room again. Had never even gotten close.

The sun has fully set by the time you pull up outside of an old, run down motel that looks like it should’ve been torn down ages ago. Most windows are boarded up, paint on the walls is chipping and what used to be a light-up sign has been torn down.

It’s a dump.

Just trying to imagine someone growing up here has you choking up.

Little four-year-old Eddie running around these grounds? In dirty clothes too big for his body because nobody was feeding him right? Being exposed to things no child should ever be exposed to, simply because his bedroom was also the only room they had?

Before you can let it make you cry, you hear a faint chuckle beside you.

It’s small and weak, but it’s a chuckle none the less.

“I remember this place much bigger,” he says, like it’s funny. “There’s only like… seven rooms.” Eddie counts.

You’re momentarily unsure if coming here was a good idea. If facing this reality of his past is going to be doing him any good. If it won’t just break him down even more. But then Eddie turns to look at you and says, “Come, let me show you.”

Eddie visiting the place where he spent the first few years of his life turns into him giving you a surprisingly pleasant tour of the grounds. He recounts the other people that lived there, the rooms he wasn’t allowed into. How there used to be a soda machine here, and how sometimes the older kids would ask him to get them some cans for free, because his arms were small and skinny enough to just sneak them out the bottom.

It’s easy to skim the surface of this place like this.

To make it about showing you around instead of sinking down past the layers of self-protection that would have him walking around here with wobbly legs.

Yea.

This is easier. Better.

All of the doors are locked, but it doesn’t take much more than a good shove of a shoulder for the locks to give way. For the wood of the doorframes to splinter.

“Entering the Forest Hills way.” Eddie grins, and you suppress a smile. It’s a lie. Forest Hills is full of all honest, all hard-working people. But, it’s still a trailer park, and thus, the joke is funny.

Without much care, Eddie easily manages to open every door he comes across. It’s dark everywhere you go, none of the lights work, but the streetlights out front provide you with plenty of it, and your eyes quickly adjust.

Eddie shows you the laundry. Breaks into a little back office. A supply closet. Some other motel rooms - some that had semi-permanent guests staying there too, just like he used to be one. And some that would have overnight guests that didn’t know about the draft that would make the door slam so hard, you’d lose your fingers if they got caught in between.

It’s almost joyful, how Eddie talks about his memories. He hasn’t got many, he was so young, but every time he comes across something he remembers, he seems pleasantly surprised at his brain’s ability to bring it all back to him.

But then, when you eventually stop outside room number five, he pauses.

Stops.

Stares at the doorknob.

You can feel how his entire demeanor changes, and even though it’s painful to witness, you know that this is why you came here. This is the whole reason you drove all the way out here.

Eddie takes a good, deep breath but doesn’t move otherwise. Just keeps his eyes locked on a rusty old doorknob to a locked door of a room that probably looks exactly like all the other ones Eddie had already shown you.

“Is this where you lived?” you ask, doing your best to make your voice sound as neutral as possible. You don’t want to scare him off. Don’t want to trigger something.

Eddie nods, a barely-there up and down movement of his head, and then he goes for the doorhandle, rattles it weakly.

Keeps staring at it.

“Door’s locked.” He croaks, like that had been a problem for any of the other doors.

But it does make sense.

You understand that the person who opened up all those other doors was Eddie in his thirties, showing you around.

The person staring at the doorknob now, was Eddie as a child.

Afraid to go inside, unsure of what he was going to find there.

Not strong enough.

Maybe only just tall enough to even reach.

But, you were strong.

You had witnessed how a little force had gone a long way with these locks, and after giving Eddie a second to maybe ask for help, because God, you really wanted him to realize he could just ask for help, he doesn’t ask for shit, and you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Before Eddie even registers you taking a few steps back to get a running start, the wood of the door has already split from the blow of your shoulder.

“Oh my G–” Eddie jumps, both arms reaching out to grab at you and to pull you close. He makes sure he holds you where you ran into the door, large palm cupping over the curve of your shoulder, and he rubs the skin there. Which helps, because, you’re not really hiding the fact that Jesus fuck that fucking hurt very well.  

Despite the sting, there’s a moment where you both see the humor in what just happened, and looking at each other, you both let huffs of laughter escape you.

“Are you crazy? What you do that for, huh?” Eddie pretend scolds.

You shrug, “Forest Hills way.”  

The comedic relief is so welcome, but it’s short-lived. You see from up close how Eddie’s expression drops. He goes from looking at his insane girlfriend with all the love he’s got for her spilling from his eyes, to looking over your head into the dark room where he used to live, and it all slips away.

You wait by the door.

Want Eddie to do this alone because you think it’ll be better that way.

You also truly don’t know what to do, so it feels a little safer to just… wait outside. You wouldn’t know how to help anyway.

Just like when you were outside of Wayne’s trailer, it feels a little invasive to look at Eddie as he silently takes slow steps inside and looks around. At the same time, you can’t really look away. If he’s going to break down and fall to his knees, you want to be there within a second to pick him back up.

Eddie trails slow fingers along a dresser.

Takes careful steps towards a nightstand of which he opens and then closes the drawer.

“Huh…” he comments. Looks around the full room again, sees it in different light as he stands in another corner, the lights from outside showing him different parts of the room.

He disappears into the bathroom for a moment before he steps back out, and he looks… confused.

Surprised, maybe. A little dumbfounded.

He gives the room another glance, and then turns to find you watching him in silence.

“This is really weird,” Eddie comments, both eyebrows raised.

“Yea? How so?”

“I don’t know… it’s different. It’s not like I remember. I think… I don’t know, I think my mind made this room the most terrible place ever in the world, but it’s just… it’s just a room. There’s nothing…” Eddie twirls on the spot, “Yea, it’s just a room. Nothing’s… nothing is scary.”

You swallow audibly, and hesitate before you speak.

“It’s not scary.” Eddie concludes again before you can say anything, and he raises both shoulders at you in a long shrug, like he’s trying to convince you that it’s all right.

You’re not the one who needs convincing though.

“Is, um…” you start, and you clear your throat, entirely unsure of how Eddie is going to react to your question.

After visiting Wayne, you think he gets it now.

He gets why you took him back to Indiana.

Eddie has let his eyes fall on a weird piece of wall art he doesn’t remember, something that maybe they added to the room after his parents had been kicked out, and he’d been taken away to go live somewhere safer.

“Is he here?”

“Huh?”

“Is he in here, somewhere?”

It takes a moment of Eddie looking at you before he fully registers what you’re talking about.

His gaze drifts towards the closet next to the bathroom door.

It’s shut. Both bifold doors closed.

Eddie stalls for a moment, and then he raises an arm to open one of the doors before he drops it by his side again.

The closet’s empty.

It seemingly comes from nowhere, the way your lips suddenly quiver. How your eyes well up with tears so quickly. You have to cover your mouth with your hand to remain silent; this isn’t about you.

Eddie is slowly taking it all in, looks around the inside of the closet. The stains in the carpet. The peeling wallpaper. The mismatched hangers, a couple plastic ones amongst a couple more wire ones. And then he looks up and finds the the little yellowed piece of string that hangs down from way up high.

He reaches up and pulls it.

An audible click is heard.

Nothing changes though.

No light springs on.

Eddie pulls it again. Softly smiles. Pulls it a couple more times.

Click, click.

Click, click.

Nothing happens.

You’re about to burst with a violent sob when you see how Eddie, entirely in his own thoughts, inside of his own memories, slowly steps into the closet and closes the door behind him.

You hear the clicking of the light a couple more times, and need to step away.  

It’s too much.

The visuals of a tiny little malnourished Eddie hiding in a closet unable to reach the string of the light in there is going to make you hyperventilate if you’re not careful, so you have to take a walk.

It’s fucking freezing but hot tears trail down your cheeks as you hurry back to your rental car.

It doesn’t take much longer for Eddie to step outside, leaving the place where he spent the first few years of his life. His long legs carry him over to you quickly.

You can tell that he’s holding back sobs until he’s close enough to crash himself into you.

Arms wrap so tightly, they almost hurt. Bodies wrack with silent sobs until deep breaths calm the both of you down.

It takes a good while.

Eddie is first to pull back, and whilst cupping your face, both his thumbs wiping underneath your eyes in a bid to rid you of your tears, he manages to squeak, “Found him.”

“Yea?” you ask wetly. Hopeful.

This is why you came out here.

To find the small version of Eddie who, even as a toddler, knew that calling out for help was a waste of time because the calls would go unanswered.

To take him home.

“Turned on the–” Eddie throat closes up before he can even say it.

“Turned on the light for him?” you finish for him, and he just nods as he presses his lips together to keep them from wobbling.

Eddie goes in for another hug, hides his face in the side of your neck and grounds himself there.

You can feel how he’s actively trying to steady his own breathing.

It works, eventually.

“Did you…” you start, still holding him, but falter for a moment.

“Did I what?” Eddie asks, sniffing loudly, pulling back after you nudge your nose into his hair.

“Did you take him with you?”

It’s such a silly question. Eddie can’t help the smile that carefully plays at the corner of his mouth, and his eyebrows scrunch up as he looks down at you. He can dissect the question that pops up in the back of his brain for the fourth time today another time. How can he even begin to figure out why he deserves someone like you in his life?

“I did.” He confirms, and you let the breath you were holding escape you in a shudder.

He doesn’t think he deserves you.

“Good.” you smile, and maybe things are starting to look up, a little. Maybe the universe is slowly starting to make amends with Eddie. Is starting to apologize for all the shit it put little Eddie through in this godforsaken place no one should spend more than a single night at.

“Let’s take him home then.”

Eddie cries.

Thought he was done, but he’s not.

He lets you press kisses to the skin just underneath his eyes as he closes them.

He lets you open the car door and help him into the passenger’s seat.

Lets you drive all the way back to Wayne’s whilst he cries, because this is the second time little Eddie makes this trip, from the motel to Forest Hills. But this time he’s not scared.

He knows he’s going to go to a better place.

A safer place.

To a person who will try his very best hand at proper damage control. Who’s got a nice trailer, and a room that will get turned into his own bedroom three days into his stay.

To a person who will join Eddie in the closet for those first few nights. Who will just bring him food in there, have their dinner hidden away together, and who won’t force him out.

Who will play silly games with him in there, until the trips to the bathroom feel safe enough to do on his own.

There’s never other people in the trailer.

Just them.

Safe.

Eddie cries as he remembers more. Thought he had forgotten almost everything, but he remembers so much. He can’t talk about anything yet. Not now. His voice won’t let him. But that’s okay. You’ve got the radio on and need to focus on the road, and you’re taking him back to Wayne, and all he really wants to do is sleep.

And you just drive, and hold Eddie’s hand as he clings to you, and this is good.

It’s good.

Little Eddie deserves the fucking world.

You think so.

And you know of a handful of people who would wholeheartedly agree.

Slowly, you think Eddie might start to understand where you’re coming from.

He was never okay and happy and fine.

Still isn’t okay and happy and fine.

But the light has been switched on.

There’s light now.

He might one day be okay and happy and fine, and that’s something that before today was the most difficult thing to grasp.

“We’re taking you home, kiddo. I got you.” Eddie whispers, soft enough so only he can hear it over the engine and the music coming from the radio.

“Let’s go home.”

---

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Add yourself

[multiplicationdivision]

Beach Body

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The beach was a perfection like nothing the town of Rusty Coast had seen in the last recorded memory. Gone today were the rocky waves lapping amidst thick fog and heavy crashing of the winter fishing season. The air from miles out was still and comfortably warm from the coming summer, a fact that would’ve made it feel lonely if not for the steady rhythmic pound of waves accompanied by the rise and fall of cackling gulls and the occasional sneeze of a seal somewhere in the distance. Somehow in this cove the frigid pacific water was warm, the curls of seafoam lapping up the beach onto their feet before sinking back in with the countless bubbles of hidden sand crabs.

Rhett could already feel himself baking in this sun, although that was no indication of the sun today. Being a Irish man in California was just a fact of burning sometimes, not that getting pink in just a couple of minutes was ever fun. Worse when your company seemed to only relax in this secluded place’s warmth, his two housemates relaxed as they moved set up their towels and awkwardly drag their single board onto the sand.

Evan was the darkest one out of all of them, although a few quarters of non-stop accounting classes certainly pulled as much color out of him as possible. Same with Oliver, who’d once discovered this beach ages ago when he’d had the time to surf.

Now they were a house graduated, each of their degrees piled on their kitchen table and only the evidence of the work it took to get them being the scrawniness of their muscles and the near complete translucence of Rhett himself. It had felt like years before physical activity was even an idea in their heads, but it was felt now.

“You struggling Oliver?” Rhett called out to the guy clearly coming apart at the task of pulling the massive surfboard across the rocky tidepools. Even the crabs seemed slightly worried for the guy, having the mind to leave a large berth for his flailing. It was odd to imagine Oliver used to surf on that board nearly everyday and Rhett and Evan couldn’t help thinking that it was slightly pathetic. It was paired with their affection at the “please ignore me” look on the guy’s sweaty face, although sharing a bed with the guy would likely ensure it.

“Fucking idiot” Evan sighed in the direction of the ever-stubborn Oliver, as he sat down, shrugging off his shirt and kicking off the converse that had already gotten heavy with sand. His body wasn’t much to look at these days to a passerby, but Rhett was a long-practiced connoisseur in enjoying what others were too shallow to appreciate. He let himself lean back into the guy, against the familiar warmth of the guy’s chest and the slight unpleasantness of the man’s chronically cold hands.

Evan was ever his particular brand of affectionate as he whined in displeasure “Dude your damn Nikes are getting sand on my towel”, his tone already betraying that he was saying it more for himself than Rhett. Rhett wasn’t in the habit of undressing himself these days and teasing Evan was as fun as it always was, although the idea of exposing more of himself to the sun than necessary was an equal component. Instead, he just grabbed a handful of sand and released it onto Evan’s head, watching the man sputter in annoyance.

“Evan, I think you have some sand on your face” Oliver said casually at the amusingly enraged man and the self-satisfied smirk of Rhett. The surfboard sat just a couple feet from the tidepools, Oliver having stealthily abandoned the task to the small company of crabs now crowding his old board. They guy was soaked with sweat and probably a tumble in the same tidepool, judging by the sandy mud on his shorts and a lost sandal.

Not that he would need the cheap cloth sandal being carried off by a crab in the distance.

They weren’t a foolish group having come here expecting to surf as they were. Hell they weren’t even dressed for it, Rhett in his jean shorts and the others in old basketball shorts. Not that they’d be dressed in much soon anyways, judging by the impatience tenting Oliver’s shorts, matching Evan’s own defiantly pressing against Rhett’s hand even as Evan tried unsuccessfully to douse Rhett in sand himself.

“Weathers so perfect boys that we could just spend today without any of that extra business” Rhett said jokingly, although he didn’t stop Evan from hooking his thumb under his shirt and wrestling it off of him just like they had so many nights this week.

Oliver enjoyed the sight and stretched, slipping his own athletic shirt off with a groan. His own little play on Evan’s weak mind judging by Evan seeming to slip at the distraction at the sight.

They’d gotten so far from the awkward pairing of roommates they’d been at the start of their college careers. Evan a supposed straight guy, Rhett a closeted bisexual and Oliver a nervous gay man. They’d been roomed together in a dorm their first year, some fluke leaving them three guys with a single bed. A month of two of them sleeping on the bed and then Oliver and Rhett had begun to share on their nights. A month after that and somehow Evan found himself tangled in their little pile, his sleeping bag rolled up into the corner.

Class was just too much to not have good sleep to stave off the exhaustion. That had been a good excuse before administration caught up to the fluke and got them a new bunk. At the time they hadn’t even really discussed it before the bunk was just another shelf, full of papers and junk.

Evan was no longer a self-described straight man, although one has to abandon the title when they start feeling FOMO after catching their bedmates sucking each other’s dicks after a cancelled class. Especially so after the six or seven-hundreth time of giving and receiving the act himself.

So they’d stuck together through all of college’s trials and tribulations. Found themselves a big enough flat with a single bedroom, each of them feeling some sense of their internalized homophobia act up even in the apathetic face of a apartment manager who couldn’t give a shit about what three college kids got up to in their spare time. Their separate closets seemed to merge after some time, initially just with the excuse of all the wasted space. Not that Rhett ever really cared about their collective image as platonic housemates, but it had taken the other two sometime to stop fixating on whose hoodie was who’s. You gloss over the lube visible under the bed enough times to your basketball friends and suddenly it seems like a wasted effort to care if your mixed up the underwear. Hell, they were even close enough in sizes that they could just wear whatever, although Oliver had become the defacto buyer. He’d bought every bit of clothing that now was now in a growing sandy pile beside him.

A anxious glance by Evan to their surroundings and the three’s jean shorts and black pair of boxers were tossed into that pile, leaving Rhett a self-satisfied hard naked man, the pair of Oliver’s Nike blazers he’d been wearing scattered around them.

“Completely private beach Evan” Oliver comforted, slipping his own shorts off and having no boxers to remove, the man never bothering to wear any when it was just them. A particularly unfortunate habit when he was packing so much, his oversized cock having been a particular distraction when they’d gotten Chipotle on the way. It wasn’t big enough to escape his shorts, but it had been enough for eyes to keep glancing the way of the thing’s attempted to escape the torn up synthetic fabric.

“Sorry I’m not an exhibitionist like you fucking perverts” Evan said as he awkwardly tried to sightlessly pull off his own shorts, struggling to do so under the weight of Rhett and the overwhelming draw of Oliver’s cock, now standing like a flag pole. It was especially ironic of a statement given he’d been the one to suggest this entire thing. What they were doing could’ve been done in the privacy of their own home, could’ve been done with no risk of someone witnessing it.

They’d done it like that so many time before, letting the process be done with closed blinds and locked doors.

Oliver had looked so empty as he’d looked at his surfboard this past three months though and Rhett had been especially pissy so many times in public when Evan had brushed off contact. Oliver couldn’t care less with how Evan acted beyond their bedroom but Rhett was right. Doing what they were doing on a private beach wasn’t much of a advancement in Evan’s fight against toxic masculinity, but the effort was enough to bring Rhett’s frustration back into his shit-eating grin that always marked him when he was at his happiest and horniest. Certainly helped get Oliver back into fighting order as well, the guy clearly very turned on himself, but more so looking at the surfboard more often than not, eyes glazed over with what was definitely the three’s evening after this.

Truth be told, Evan was a fucking pervert himself, so as much as he wanted to make his boys happy, he was also kind of turned on by the being out in the open on the beach thing. Rhett could see through him just like always, nudging him to look at his own sizable cock before giving it a single stroke before happily watching the static reach Evan’s brain.

“Our guy’s got his mind already so far in the gutter huh” the ginger man said at Oliver with a exasperated expression. Oliver just laughed, as if his shorts didn’t lay beside him wet with pre-cum.

“Getting ahead of ourselves isn’t he” Oliver said, bending down over them, cock nearing the positoon where it could easily slid into either Rhett or Evan if he wanted to. Both would be very receptive to the idea.

That wasn’t what was happening though.

“Just fucking get on with it Oliver.” Evan snapped, fighting every urge he had to wrestle the two others into the ground and fuck them himself, lest he physically explode. “Do you have the trunks or not”

Oliver’s practiced seductive face cracked before he rolled his eyes, accompanied by Rhett’s vocal disappointment at not continuing to mentally screw with the man he still held down under his own weight. Oliver was always the reasonable one of the three, but not enough to ever stop joining Rhett’s campaign at teasing their partner

“Fine, fine, yeah” Oliver said as he got back up, wandering over to the pile of clothes to fish into his short’s pockets. “You better have prepared them right”, he said, pulling out the fabric within them as Evan almost re-activated his mini rage at the idea of having not done their preparations right.

Four years in the running and he’d gotten fucking good at the spell.

The fabric wasn’t anything special. Just a pair of trunks, blue and white and much larger than their size 34 waists. A pair of swim trunks made for a man triple their size. The only hint of something peculiar about them being the mess of symbols stitched into the waistband.

The first year it had been a messy affair, borne of an accident with a strange grouping of strange people and acquisition of a relic of a necklace, with symbols embossed into its chain. The second year and a bad experience had been one they’d recreated when curiosity overtook locking that necklace in a lead box in their kitchen. The third year and Evan had a ge course of old witchcraft to get him through the process of amateurly experimenting with the situation, trial and error leaving him something like an expert in the only supernatural thing they’d ever witnessed. Year four and each of them had studied those symbols long and hard, seen every way their group shifted and changed the outcome.

Back at home a small collection of boxer briefs had the symbols stitched into it. It had taken an embarrassingly long time for them to figure out sizing up them to avoid going through a pair every time, but practice makes perfect. They’d had a while to figure out what fit them best after their little rituals, evident by the backpack in the jeep full of an outfit that would most definitely fit them when the day was done.

Evan looked at the never worn swim trunks shed a cloud of sand before watching Oliver ball up the fabric and throw it at the two, Rhett lazily catching it. The Irish man lifted the waistband up, making a show of inspecting the symbology before Evan snatched it from his loose grip.

Just a swipe of the runes by it creator and the stitching began to heat, a shine of blue tracing the threads. It left a pressure to the air, particles of blue lifting off as energy subtly wafted from the spell.

Evan could tell when Rhett was excited by the way he stopped a limp mass weighing him down. There was something in the energy that was intoxicating to the guy, although he’d always been proven to be susceptible to the sway of the supernatural. The guy had been the one who’d almost been snatched by the strange folk they’d stolen the necklace from, almost making Evan speculate if there was something magic too loved about the guy. The symbols were something reminiscent of Gaelic, so maybe this was all down to fairies.

Or maybe it was just because Rhett never hid how much he loved this shit. It bled into each of them as they could almost feel his movements echo into their own. Rhett’s hand coming up to held hold the trunks and move them past their feet, helping focus Evan’s motion as every touch of the symbols on their skin felt like pure twistings of nervous system madness, feeling their cells open up with every reprogramming of the runes into their bodies.

Oliver watched with rapt interest, hand on his cock as he watched the points at which the two’s feet stuck together, the skin already latching on and binding the feet into the same motions. Evan’s heel sinking into Rhett’s, the two tones of skin initially meeting like oil and water before blending into a gradient. Evan’s melanin leaking into the joining points and travelling outwards in all directions.

They managed to remember to move the trunks up further, even as the feeling of nerves joining brought their brains to jelly. They’d done this ritual so many times, yet Rhett’s skull still swum as he felt 20 toes move instead of his typical 10. It was worse when he could feel the sensation of sinking twice over, feeling the feet begin to sinking further into their counterpart. It was impossible to describe, the paradoxical feeling of one’s body in itself.

The runes dragged against their legs and they were magnetized between the two men. Calves gluing to each other as their feet further merged, the feeling of their feet feeling the insides of their counterparts like they were a skinsuit ready to be filled. The toes aligning, yet not having enough space to fit within each other and instead forcing the mass to expand outwards with no where else to go.

It left a pair of men joined at a pair of large feet, their calves merging as their tibias converged, muscles physically joining and building upon each other.

Oliver found himself unconsciously stroking his dick, only coming to from his studying of the way the legs converged by the look of Evan, having forgone the effort of continuing pulling up the trunks longside Rhett, the two having failed to will past the need of their body to release the pressure building up. The magic’s effects clashed with neurons, inevitably ending in the body concluding a massive pent up amount of arousal, always leading to the brain to forget the task at hand and begin furiously attempting to cum in anyway possible.

Not that cumming could help when the magic’s effects on cells made a refractory period non-existent. It was an effect that continue on post transformation, a reason they could never really do school work alongside maintaining the spell.

The two failed in their willpower and gave way to attempting to the impossible, Rhett hungrily grabbing his cock and pumping it as Evan failed to reach his own with Rhett on top of him, yet still connecting through his fading brainpower that a suitable hole was perfectly aligned with his cock.

Before the two could get two carried away, Oliver leaned over them and grabbed the trunks with a tight grip before pulling them up, feeling the runic power hot on his skin.

It was too much too soon for his boys, but that was always inescapable. The very fact that it had to be done is what left Oliver enjoy it so much, seeing the symbols leave after images of energy as they slid up. Watching Evan and Rhett’s eyes roll back as their thighs and waist burrowed together.

It was one thing to feel one’s leg hair scratch against the nerves of another’s skin, but it was mind melting to feel a cock sink far further than it should’ve into the body. Just one thrust and Evan’s cock sunk like it was moving through wet clay, dragging against Rhett’s entire prostate in a long torturous moment. It was headed for Rhett’s cock, destined to fill the thing in a way that its nerves wouldn’t be able to define.

Oliver watched the two be unable to fully commit to the motion before he knew it was his right to join, just when the two felt they’d reached the climax, Evan’s cock still not aligned to shove into Rhett’s. Oliver would help, but his route was going to be selfish.

It was often easier to fit their cocks together by size, like a matryoshka doll. Evan’s cock into Rhett’s bigger one, Rhett’s into Oliver’s monster. Well fitting sleeves, nestled within each other.

Fuck if that wasn’t boring though.

Oliver lifted up his transcending partners abdomens enough to shove his his feet under them through the waist band that was already tight around their conjoined waist. He’d always had the best strength of mind out of the three, but even he bulked underneath the weight of the runes nuclear energy deciding that it would be easier if his legs just slide directly into his partner’s, like he was sliding into a particularly awkward pair of pants. He steadied himself by tightly gripping Evan’s shoulders as he pushed himself in, feeling hugged from all sides as the mass of the conjoined body pressed in from all sides.

He powered through, feeling his feet finally squeeze past the ankles and wriggling his toes into their proper position just as the bones of his partners invaded and fused into his body, dissolving his flesh into its own and reconnecting his brain to the feeling of the combined mass, warm sunlight on legs that were now a perfect blend of their skin tones, Oliver’s ankle tattoo bloom up into the skin as if it had always belonged there.

When his waist finally locked into place he could feel his cock slide against Evan’s, the sensation bringing enough clarity to the guy’s mind to begin to object to what was going to surely burn out his mind. It was an entirely to simple of a motion for Oliver to twist his barely merged waist to slot into Evan’s cock before pressing into Rhett’s, holding up as he strained his neck over the two as he listened to them moan, almost in complete unison.

Rhett’s cock and Evan’s beneath it stretched as Oliver shoved his massive cock into them, forcing their skin to expand to his length, feeling his testicles join Evans before fusing with Rhett’s, leaving a sensation of overstuffing before an almost blue ball sensation of the balls combining took over.

One of them cursed and then the puzzle pieces connected, nerves finally aligning as Oliver and Evan’s cocks dissolved and then reformed Rhett’s cock into a combination of the three, a olive erection framed by dark auburn pubes. It was long enough for both Rhett and Evan to immediately take to it, their brains finally having a outlet for their raging desires as Oliver continued to fight falling into the hormones filling them all. 3 times of the testosterone pulsing upwards alongside the multiplicatively nerve dense cock sending waves of euphoria up them.

Rhett and Evan gave a final pump of their cock before their right hands stuck together, palms fusing to leave a many fingered hand that was soon pouring in a tide of semen that seemed to endlessly flow, most assuredly ruining their towel.

With no where else for the symbols to touch, the energy would always pour up into the body, allowing a respite in the overpowering sensation.

Rhett could feel his mind come back to him as he lifted up his fused right hand to his face, watching the cum drip off as his number of fingers decreased as the copies fused together. He could feel Evan help him control it, both of their brains moving it together. They’d been a chaotic tumble of limbs the first time this had happened, the necklace having been tried on by Rhett one fateful day leaving Oliver to discover the chaos made up of the Irish man and Evan.

They were pretty sure that necklace had been intended as a curse, but now they fused harmoniously, the nerves entangling and their brains having gotten used to moving as a group. It let them do such impressive things as move their legs together halfway through the ritual, or wipe off their massive hand of an absurd amount of cum.

The energy amassed in their cores and they let themselves press into each other, Rhett and Evan sinking into Evan’s chest. They could feel their ribs slot into each other and the spines line up before slowly fusing like they were being zipped up. Their hearts layered upon each other, not bothering to fuse as they settled into always pumping away impossibly from within each other. It would be the final evidence of them being separate people, feeling the slight asynchrony of the three’s hearts on each other.

Evan and Rhett lifted up their combined hand to feel it pump as their body reshuffled, the heads coming to comfortably line up instead of being lined up back to front.

“God I never want this to end” Evan choked out through their fusing lungs, feeling the quick pump of their separate hearts against each other. It left their cock harder than ever, already rearing to go, but Oliver was able to stop his endlessly horny partners with a simple slipping of his hand into their large shared arm. It was simply a glove and so much easier than the legs, feeling the knuckles crush together and the joints melt together. It was awfully trippy feeling his much smaller left hand in comparison to the much larger right, the sheer difference in muscular power astronomical.

They always ended up practically superhuman and it was only so long before that feeling of pure power was enough for them to forgo separation altogether. Oliver hoped today was the day that happened, with all their obligation and responsibilities behind them.

He wrapped his left arm around Rhett and Evans and before long they were a single indistinct mass, bundles of arms beneath a singular skin that fluidly aligned, the muscle and bone weaving together into a suitable match for the right. Both arms melding further until the shoulders finally completed merging, leaving the three with the unified need to stretch, feeling the back crack as tension released up the spines.

They were now one three headed body sitting on the sand as the waves crashed in the back. They hadn’t even needed the stimulation to let loose into the swim trunks, another massive volume of cum dripping out. Rhett gasped for them all before they stilled, heads beside one another with Evan in the center, Rhett taking the left and Oliver on the right.

They’d stayed at this stage before, letting the magic settle down before removing the fabric containing the symbols. It was a quite enjoyable thing, to be so fucking massive yet still completely themselves. Half of the reason why they could work so perfectly to stand up and stretch as they were now was built on winter and spring break experimenting with every way they could be multi-headed. They’d alternate who was in what position, testing which person had dominance over the limbs (the answer being random every time). Now Evan seemed to be the lead as he reached into their trunks to provoke yet another burst of cum that would leave all three dizzy, half falling over back onto the sand.

“We’ve gotta go further” Rhett said, holding onto the ball of energy in their chest. It was a reminder more so than a demand, all three having wanted for this final step for a year of class.

It wasn’t a privilege when they were still pretending to be three separate people. When they explained themselves as a throuple to hosts of acquaintances, the words ringing false every time.

They found themselves in sophomore year in each other. Experimentation had led to a point so far that to come back had felt laughable at the time. How they’d separated that first completion had been a miracle and every division felt worse and worse with every repetition. They couldn’t do a thing like this during their school years because there was always a risk they couldn’t differentiate back into three people enough to return. It got harder every time.

Even now they felt the absences in their minds. Memories they recalled remembering but that had returned to the rightful skull upon separation. Rhett’s forced enrollment in baseball as a teenager that only was looked on with fondness by how Evan’s and Oliver’s neurons fawned over how adorable he’d been. His own guilt towards never being enough for his distant father flung to the dark recesses of his brain as the memories of Oliver and Evan’s sweet upbringings gave him a childhood he could enjoy. Oliver’s endless tainting anxiety banished by the ever-present encompassing of others into his most private closed off spaces, handing off old traumas to be soothed by brain tissue that wasn’t trained to fixate on it all. Instead, Evan’s self-confidence overlaid it alongside what felt like the man’s overpowering appreciation for all things Rhett and Oliver, enjoying every tiny quirk and flawed complication to the two, which wouldn’t disappear but be revealed as a treasured peculiarity that had never actually been as awful as they’d thought. Evan himself could feel the shame he’d always kept dull under Rhett and Oliver’s life and then suddenly they’d be complete. Free.

It was hard to pretend to be anything but incomplete after that, so when their massive hands began crush their heads together, none of them could tell who was ordering it.

One would expect the sound of melons cracking or gore. Something about the head just made one expect it to burst, especially now when the pressure built but didn’t seem to relieve. But then the ball of energy moved up their spines and the runes flared.

Any physical sensation was overpowered the moment their brains connected. The feeling of their spines and necks pushing into each other or the sensation of their heads forcing together, rendering their jaws inoperational and their breathing stilted.

Evan felt like he was a river between two oceans, but that wasn’t right. A river flows from one to another, yet lives flowed between him and into him. He remembered so much.

He remembered painting, months upon months of painting. Sketching and ripping and sculpting as every form of his artistic expression fell upon the idea of a third. Life drawings of men and woman all left purposefully without, sections of their body removed with the only evidence in the silhouettes of the heads, faces, arms, fingers and feet they once had. Abstract art his professors had complimented him for time and time again, although he failed to communicate that they were still incomplete. He simply didn’t have the parts of him who were so good at detailing those missing pieces at the moment.

The information tilted into the man with red hair and he felt his emotions come back to him. He hadn’t felt this way in a year, every bit of feeling back where it belonged. He knew he should’ve always felt this way and that when he hadn’t he’d been numb. Not depressed, but not all there. The part of him that hadn’t been the red-haired man at the time was left with too much feeling, overcoming him in every way. Had that part been the angry and desperate part he thought he’d been? It was a ridiculous thought now that he remembered how it was ridiculous. He remembered having felt so much and having loved himself for that exact reason. He remembered missing the clarity of feeling that way and he was relieved that he could feel it again.

Oliver was the last to remember that he wasn’t Oliver any more. Was white light the thousand of hues contained within its wavelength or was it in the end its own energy. The answer is that there was never any actual color, it was an illusion. Oliver had been Oliver up until he remembered that Oliver was an illusion. A vague identity formed up by interests, hopes and dreams that had always hoped to be shared. To connect and to be validated in every way. Laid out and dissected on a platter for the ways that its purposes were true. To form even grander arguments to the validity of its existence and being based on a mountain of new evidence. The man that was Oliver understood.

He wasn’t Oliver, nor Evan, nor Rhett. They were him, but the opposite wasn’t true. They were pieces of this man the moment they first come together and to be anything close to independent people after that was an act. It was feeling like he did now that was why he could only be himself when he had the long time it took to tear himself into pieces.

His face swam and he knew the hue it would return to, the dark auburn he could see looking down at his pubes. He could feel the roughness of his facial hair, back to having the potential of being thick as evident by the stubble across his face. He’d let it grow out one summer, now remembering how handsome he’d felt as the memories condensed. It was another reason he couldn’t imagine doing this again, feeling his life as himself scatter amongst his pieces. The three would remember bits and parts of a better existence, but the information was too divided to ever be enough.

He stroked his cock under his swim trunks and remembered just why he wasn’t overcome with masturbation all this time, all his willpower now firmly in place. It would feel better anyways with other partners now that he couldn’t possibly feel jealous of himself with other people. That was simply a ridiculous concept he realized for the 3rd time again.

He felt normal which was always a trip because his components thought he felt strong. In actuality they were just so frail that to be him felt like being a god. Being whole was a hell of a drug, but he certainly looked like a fair bit like a god now. Muscles back to a fairly sufficient degree, although he’d certainly need to work on them again. Growing incredibly scrawny in three bodies could only contribute so much muscle to the whole again, but he’d always been quick at gaining muscle.

The surf was loud and his surfboard was floating in a tidepool a bit away, the oncoming tide causing it to rock back and forth. He remembered being so pitifully cute struggling with it watching from third person and his hearts pumped in asynchrony, the only argument against him having always been just himself. The contradiction felt good oddly enough and he felt turned on by the thought of himself. It was pretty offputting being a narcissist in such a way, but jacking off in a mirror was a activity he had done too much to care about. He had a great excuse for studying his body for all the ways he was handsome and maybe he talked to himself far too much, but how couldn’t he. He’d been formed by a love for himself and who was he to deny himself that.

He flexed, feeling his body move like it should, all ducks in a row. The runes against his skin settled and just a little motion on the purposefully loose knot holding the embroidery together was enough to tighten it the symbols into meaningless nothings. His hands came back sticky of course, but it wasn’t anything the surf could fix.

The waves were perfect for a man like him, the perfect height and the perfect rhythm. They fell in gigantic spiral that he would paint later now that he could remember just how mathematically the angles combined and the paint could set. Now he would grab his surfboard easily underhand and dive into the waves, remembering just how much the feeling was incredible. He stay here till the sun set before likely airdrying (considering he’d completely ruined the towels), towing his surfboard to his jeep and pulling out the backpack full of clothes that he’d worn last summer. He’d go home and meet the eyes of the still apathetic apartment manager who’d grown used to seeing him replace the three boys she was equally apathetic to.

He'd never been able to be permanently himself and there was a league of challenges to get there. For one, a new closet fitting the style his components had grown for him over the past year. For two, a solution to combining the legal and emotional connections of three men together, although he was smart enough to probably achieve it all with magic. He’d worried about it when he hadn’t had all the pieces to know it was probably pretty simple.

He would enjoy his day here and go home to sleep back in the same singular bed. He’d wake up the next day and he’d continue waking up the next day forever as himself. It was how he was supposed to be.

Just Everett

[cosmic-expressions]

⋮ ♯; ⤷ CAN'T HELP IT, I JUST MISSED YOU .ᐟ

ANON SAID: saw you opening ask and the caelus tag 👀 i just HAVE to. so.... imagine waiting for them at the express while they're in a longg mission, missing them so much you just gotta wear their jacket/clothes and sleeping on their bed because you miss their scent. then one late night they came back exhausted, beaten up and pent up from the long weeks of not meeting you. only to see you bundled up under their blanket and wearing their clothes, too big on you, with not much anything under .....you can take care of the rest ;P it doesn't have to be Caelus only! any character tbh. or how about both Caelus and Dan Heng 👀👀 anw tysm! i understand if you don't reply to this <33

caelus x fem!reader; smut; petnames (good girl, princess, baby, dear, etc); f!masturbation, unprotected piv; foul language(???) // dan heng x fem!reader; smut; petnames (sweetheart, sweetie, etc), praise (i guess??); fingering, handjob // caelus x fem!reader x dan heng; smut; petnames (mix of those listed above); oral (f!receiving), f!masturbation, lmk if other warnings apply a/n: mb it's so short but I every time I try to think about it more my brain just says adios amigo so. yeah. that's that on that. enjoy

CAELUS ―୨୧⋆˚

he’s tired. pent up. the mission was tough and stressful but thankfully it’s finally over. so now he can finally meet with you, his beloved good girl, the one he loves to hold, loves to touch, loves to have close–

“baby?”

his voice has you all excited, making you gasp softly and get up from his bed in seconds. you just throw yourself on him, nuzzling into his neck and placing soft kisses in the crook of his shoulder, all while smiling.

“welcome back,” you murmur, voice gentle and loving, just like your touch. you speak something more, but caelus doesn’t register a word; all he can focus on is your outfit. his t-shirt apparently serving as your nightgown with nothing underneath, successfully revealing your hardened nipples and…

“were you touching yourself just now?”

his tone is soft and somewhat teasing; he doesn’t mind you playing with yourself because he does that a lot as well, all to the thoughts of you. but knowing you were in the middle of it all while wearing his clothes and doing it on his bed…

“i missed you too much- couldn’t really help it, dear…” you murmur back with arms still over his shoulders and with your lips glued to his neck.

“missed you too, lovely- fuck!” caelus groans and throws his head back, almost cumming in his pants when you gently palm his painful bulge. you’ll be the death of him.

he doesn’t waste much time undressing, moving frantically just to get to touch you as quickly as he can. and when he finally does, oh aeons, his brain short circuits.

“oh- fuck! cae-caelus-!” you moan desperately when you finally feel your beloved boyfriend filling you up with his cock, throbbing and rock hard; no matter how hard you try, you and your fingers are not enough anymore to make you feel as good as with caelus.

“shit-! princess, i missed you so bad, you know? you and your- fuck- and your pussy, and your lips, and your-” he and his gleeful mumbling are quickly muffled by the sloppy kiss you two share. you’re moaning into each other’s mouth, kiss soon becomes a mess of tongue and saliva. “princess, i can’t- can’t last long, gonna-!”

his thrusts are all fast and needy, yet you still feel the love emanating from him. even if he’s humping and drilling his cock relentlessly into your wet and tight hole, he still can’t get enough of you. he’s on the edge, almost crying from joy because he’s finally with you.

caelus indeed doesn’t last long and neither do you, but that doesn’t stop both of you from staying up the whole night, messing up the sheets with sweat and cum. 

DAN HENG ♡꒱

poor archivist came back stressed and lonely, needing your company (and maybe something else) to recharge his will to live. so it’s no wonder he joins you on his bed, laying down beside you, ready to snuggle up and cuddle–

but then he notices.

“you’re back!” this quiet and tired yet still joyous little squeak gets dan heng out of his haze. he’s staring at you in awe and something else, something primal but also loving, all while you cuddle up to his chest, arms splattered over his shoulders.

“y-yeah-” is all dan heng can muster up to say, too enamored by the sight of his hoodie on you, paired with those pajama shorts that always drive him insane. his arms quickly snake up around you, holding you tight against him while a sense of possessiveness and sweet need washes over the poor man. “sweetheart- is this? my hoodie?”

“i just couldn’t help myself- i missed you too bad…” with a slightly nervous chuckle, you hide your face in his chest and explain, too bashful to look at him. “you were away for- too long and i got too… um- i just couldn’t stand existing without you around.”

your lovesick gaze and the shy smile you give him melt dan heng and his heart on the spot. his arms tighten a little around you, hands soon making their way to your waist, hips, and then under the hoodie.

“i missed you too, sweetheart- so much,” dan heng starts, breathing in deeply as he tries to swallow up the needy whimpers threatening to escape his lungs. but as much as he tries he fails, the urge to kiss your cheek and lower taking over him. “so much i- so much i couldn’t stop thinking about you all the time- aeons, you’re perfect-”

his big, warm hands trailing over your skin underneath the hoodie cause shivers down your spine. aeons, how you missed his touch.

your lips soon meet, melting against each other; the sweet kisses are what you missed, though it’s not the only thing…

“fuck! sweetie, stop moving like that-” dan heng groans when you instinctively start to move your hips against his, getting worked up after weeks away from each other. “i can’t- think when you do that-! sweetie, i-”

“i need you inside, dan heng!” is what you whine out as you get up a little, enough to take off your shorts and underwear. “i missed your touch and- and you so much, baby! please, put it in-”

you don’t have to tell him twice. with his hands fumbling with his belt, he manages to unbuckle it and take off his pants just enough to free his growing hard-on.

“aeons, you’re perfect.” dan heng murmurs again, voice breathless as he touches your wet entrance, one finger pushing in; how he loves the feeling of your tight, gummy walls!

no matter what you tried, or how many toys you used, all you managed to do is just edge yourself; there’s nothing that can make you cum like dan heng does. not even your fingers. with weeks of edging, crying in sexual frustration, it’s no wonder you unravel in seconds thanks to him and his touch.

humping yourself on his finger, you take in a shaky breath, one that’s a clear indicator of your orgasm approaching.

“that’s it, sweetheart, let go…” dan heng coaxes, breathing heavily as well just to moan and whimper when you reach for his leaking cock. “fuck-! aeons, you’re amazing…”

the touches become desperate yet loving, the need for pleasure from each other increasing with each thrust and palming motion. so whipped for you, dan heng continues to please you with everything he has, just for you to love him back, showing him your feelings through those intimate touches and actions. that’s how you spend the entire night, reconnecting with each other in the deepest way possible.

CAELUS + DAN HENG ₊˚✧ﾟ.

they are so clingy every time they’re with you in your bed, so it’s no wonder you’ve been yearning for their touch throughout those long weeks. and it’s no wonder you’re snuggled up in dan heng’s blanket with only caelus’s t-shirt, fingers deep in your puffy and needy pussy. so into your frustration, desperate to feel at least a bit of pleasure they always provide you, somehow you don’t notice those two men creeping up into your room with their keys.

“well, well, well, what do we have here?”

your body jolts in surprise, the familiar and husky voice working you up further. and when you see the other man’s calloused hand gently taking your fingers out of your hole, you just can’t help but wiggle your hips a little.

“needy little thing, eager to get wrecked again…” caelus hums into your ear while dan heng rubs your folds with his fingers at an agonizing pace. “we missed you, pretty. so much. can’t wait to empty myself in you-”

whining and clenching around nothing, you start to rock your hips slightly, pulling caelus in for a deep and desperate kiss, tongues dancing in frantic choreography.

“haah-! d-dan heng!”

caelus takes the opportunity and forces his tongue into your mouth, all while your edged and wet pussy is being eaten out by dan heng. as the dark-haired man sucks gently on your clit and pushes his rough finger inside your hole, you and your mind melt immediately; that is what you’ve been craving for. paired with their greedy hands groping and squeezing the soft flesh of yours, it’s simply heaven.

“missed you so bad, princess…” caelus breathes into your ear, as he lowers his head and kisses his way through your neck to your collarbone and lower… just to leave a small, purple bite mark right between your breasts. “we’ll take it slowly, but aeons- don’t think we’ll let you out of the bed so early…”

[part of @pixelcafe-network ]

[main-mlist] [hsr-mlist] [ko-fi] [askbox]

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Heyyy!!! Hope this ask finds you well! I’m looking for all the Alpha Stiles fics! Long and smutty, if they exist! Please and thank you so much!!

Sure.

Wild Heart by giidas (KatushkaK)

(1/1 I 2,301 I Mature)

“And no, I did not get us a room,” Derek adds, just to be sure.“Let me get us one, then. Any preferences?”Derek lifts his eyebrows and gives Stiles his best are-you-being-serious-right-now look.Stiles honest to god laughs out loud, startling Derek by clapping him on the shoulder and saying: “Oh, I like you already, so much sass!” and then goes off to procure a key to a room.

My Alpha, My Pack, My Family. by Ladyofthe_Alpha

(7/? I 12,303 I Explicit)

Derek finds himself is a position where every Alpha wants him. Will this mysterious powerful Alpha help him find his place in his pack? Or will he be another Alpha looking to get an in with the powerful Hale Pack?

You're All I've Ever Needed by siriuslyuptonogood

(6/? I 14,047 I Explicit)

Stiles Stilinski has never needed Derek Hale, but Derek Hale has always needed Stiles Stilinksi.

"I don't need you, Derek" sent Derek away from Beacon Hills, back to New York, and he would like to think he's never looked back. He hasn't gone back, at least. Maybe he never will. He's happy in the city, has tons of hot, kinky sex with hotter-than-the-sun alphas, is completely satisfied. He doesn't need a pack. When one alpha breaks it off, there's another to replace him. It's New York. There are 8.5 million people. He's not worried. He's not lonely. No, not him.

Except, he's thirty-three, and it's been seven years since he left Beacon Hills, seven years since he's had someone in his life longer than three or four months at a time. He isn't sure what he needs anymore, but he has a feeling it definitely isn't this.

When the Tables are Turned by BeniMaiko

(5/5 I 16,690 I Explicit)

Derek has to deal with a newly bitten Stiles.

You Gotta Roll with the Punches by quicksylver28

(12/12 I 34,787 I Teen)

Stiles Always thought that he was pretty well adjusted for a kid.When his best friend Scott had an asthma attack when he was six, Stiles said 'ok' and held his hand through it. When his mother dies when he was nine, and his Father's soul mark crumbled off his skin like ash, he said 'ok' and picked up the broken pieces of their lives. When his soul mark blossomed on the skin just above his heart and he realizes that his true loves first words would be "FUCK OFF", he said 'ok' and braced himself for having his heart kicked in the ass.

We're The Wild Ones, Raised By Wolves. by halelujah

(12/? I 54,290 I Mature)

"Your uncle not only killed people, he bit Scott unlawfully and without his consent, he also put a big, red target on our backs." Stiles continues calmly, folding her arms across her chest. She can't help but glare. "An action that I'm now going to reap the repercussions for."

"He wasn't yours to kill!" Derek rumbles, icy blue flashing in his eyes. "He murdered Laura!"

She sees the decision in Derek's eyes before it even turns in his mind that he should attack. As she watches Derek's muscles twitch and tense, she lets out a sharp bark, one that tells Scott to stay out of it, before she meets Derek head on, eyes burning crimson.

[Or the fic where Stiles has always been a werewolf, an Alpha and female.]

Who Are You Really? by mercury_caduceus

(11/11 i 63,021 I Mature)

After hiding his werewolf and Alpha status since his mother died, Stiles runs into Derek and they work together to find the Alpha killing people in Beacon Hills. [Set in Season 1. Alpha!Stiles, Beta!Derek.] I will be continuing this slowly.

White Rabbit by BlueEyedBetaMeow

(13/? I 84,272 I Teen)

When Stiles begins to piece together that his friends are avoiding him, and why, he begins to wonder why they ever saved him from the Nogitsune to begin with. When a terrible turn of events takes place in the Preserve, and the only thing that can save him is the bite, will the pack forget the misgivings between them, or will he be left to suffer?

Underneath by groffiction

(43/? I 190,576 I Explicit)

AU, where Stiles gets bitten by a Cyger – a type of rare Weretiger around the same time Scott gets bitten by Peter. Confused and more than a bit freaked out, they both are naturally suspicious when Derek shows up out of the blue. Still, there is something about the moody, aloof werewolf that both intrigues and draws Stiles to Derek like a moth to a flame. But, everyone knows that if you get close enough to touch flames, you get burned. However, with the promise of love, is that burning sacrifice worth it? And how does a Weretiger and a Werewolf even work as mates? Very loose canon through season 1 and season 2 of Teen Wolf. Might have some things from Season 3, depending on where the story leads.

[hyperions-light]

Rook’s notes on the Lighthouse/Caretaker for the codex ask!

Thank you for asking! [Codex prompts here] These are very fun so far!

- This place is alive? Moves to accommodate guests, changes layout. Many places accessible using acrobatics. Some inaccessible currently (tried, dangerous).

- Seems to have assigned me Fish Room. Think they are watching me (good?). Able to rearrange furniture but not request more. Annoying.

- Solas lived here? Depressing. No wonder he’s so miserable. Found weird, sad little room with his stuff in it. Going to ask him if he’s bored in the Fade Jail next time. Maybe he will be less annoying if he has something to do? Can try to mentally recreate books, maybe.

- There’s a. Ghost? Demon? Spirit? Asked Bellara, she says spirit. Very turquoise, many eyes, bad clothes (do spirits wear those? Ask Solas). Seems helpful? Provides gondola rides and is more polite than gondoliers in Treviso. And it’s free!

- Spirit is in Lighthouse now. Very cryptic, even more than Solas. Wonder if that was a requirement in Arlathan (ask Solas). Still not dangerous. Seems to help with accessing new parts of Lighthouse. Asked why I couldn’t just go everywhere now, got vague nonsense. Ugh.

- Should bring random Crows + civilians here to see if it does anything. Viago? Might be funny!

- Found out Library is covered in depressing murals of things Solas regrets. Probably impolite to bring up. Does he like being miserable? I don’t cover my walls with all the missions I fucked up. Strange, sad, bald man. Going to ask him if he wants to play cards next time. Maybe letting him win would cheer him up.

- Manfred is my new best friend. We’re exploring the Lighthouse together.

- Who’s Felassan?

- Solas says to stop contacting him about unimportant things (no).

- Spent indeterminate amount of time trying to convince Lighthouse to replicate animal habitats. Did not work and Davrin looked concerned.

- Was having Davrin show me how to carve animals (looks fun) but got distracted by Assan and impaled my hand. Davrin was upset about this. Said it was fine, but he insisted we visit Emmrich. Discovered Lighthouse speeds magical healing. Worth it.

- If I start bringing cats here will it make a room for them?

- Tried bringing cats. One almost floated away. Do NOT bring Neve’s favorite.

- Bellara and I were using the magical floating ornaments above her room for target practice, and one of them suddenly exploded! Practical applications?

- How come no one else ever visits Varric? Tried to ask Harding if she’d been to see him, but she didn’t hear me? Strange. Visit more-- maybe others will come with? He must be lonely in there.

- Remember to ask Solas if he needs to eat. Think I could manifest Lucanis’ paella if I tried hard enough.

- Taash and I are going to try and build some traps. Borrowed explosives from Antoine. Think Lighthouse is sentient enough to identify intruders if I talk to it.

- Tried to ask the fish about Solas. Maybe they saw him while he was here?

- One of the wisps left Neve’s room suddenly, so we followed it around-- they are DEFINITELY the ones moving people’s stuff. Also maybe causing books to appear? Neve says we need more evidence.

- Emmrich said Harding made the plants grow because she loved them (of course she did). Going to ask her to make me taller via caring about me.

- Sat in the pantry for a while trying to talk the Lighthouse into manifesting a new bed for Lucanis, now that Spite isn’t a problem. Convinced nobody can sleep on that thing. No luck. Try carrying couch from library?

- MANY, LOUD objections to Taash and me building traps. Still think it could work, but promised Davrin I’d return explosives. No one here lets me have any fun (except Taash, Bellara, and Spite).

- Spent a while trying to see if the Lighthouse would let Harding move any of the giant floating chunks of rock. Also attempted exploding arrows + asking politely. No luck.

- Emmrich brought Johanna’s skull here! Amazing! Asked Emmrich to carry my skull around with him after I die so I can see new stuff. Did not understand the reasons he said he couldn’t. Will keep bothering him.

- Friends keep leaving things in my/the fish’s room. Need more drawers.

- Lace says Taash and Bellara can put up memorials to Cyrian and Shathann in her garden, if they want. Think it’s a good idea. Emmrich agrees.

- Made it to the top of the Lighthouse! Made Assan promise not to tell the others how to get up there. Reminds me of the rooftops in Treviso.

- Makes sense now, why Varric never got his own room. Going to put his stuff in Lace’s garden. I think she would have liked that.

[sitp-recs]

please, whenever you get time to read some more and refresh your sirius x harry or remus x harry fic lists 🙏🏻 i gulped em all down and im craving more. as always, im so thankful for everything you do on here, and i hope you're enjoying your holidays!!

thank you, you too! Christmas with the family was a bit hectic but I’m finally back home and ready to rest 🙌 sadly I don’t have more Harry/Remus recs besides this list as I’m not familiar with the ship, but I’m starting this Harry/Remus/Sirius long fic after seeing it recced by @thistlecatfics and I’m so excited! I was sure I had a Sirry list but couldn’t find it, so I took this opportunity to create one. Enjoy :)

Flying in Place by @lqtraintracks (E, 1.6k)

Once they'd all gone, Harry turned and leaned against the countertop. Sirius stared at him from his seat at the table, long legs stretched out. They both listened to the others' voices retreating, their footsteps going slowly up the stairs.

Mischief Managed by @maesterchill (E, 1.7k)

Nothing has been said, nothing solemnly sworn, but they both know what's going to happen. They've known from the minute Sirius suggested this weekend away by the beach.

Sirius' Mark by lq_traintracks (E, 2k)

They may only be together a few months, but the mark Sirius leaves on Harry's life will last.

hold infinity by @the-invisibility-bloke (E, 3k)

There’s something to be said for a lapful of eager, writhing boy, and that something is hell yes. If only that boy were sober.

Slip Free of My Grasp by lq_traintracks (E, 3k)

I don't want to be bad for him. I want to do bad things and still be, somehow, inexplicably, good.

Just One More Secret by marguerite_26 (E, 3.8k)

A dog can be a lonely young boy’s best friend.

New Gods by @thecouchsofa (E, 4k)

It rocks Sirius to his core every time he thinks about it, because they aren’t the same – Harry and James. Sure, Harry pushes his glasses up with the knuckle of his pointer finger. James used to do the same thing when he had dirt or sugar or random potion essence on his hands. Other people do that too. Sirius has never seen it, but they do.

Nipple Clamps and Cinnamon Buns by lq_traintracks (E, 4.5k)

In which Sirius is horny, Remus is scandalized, Harry is sort of caught in the middle, and everyone else is oblivious. Happy Christmas!

Pigment by @wynnefic (T, 5.7k)

Sirius makes a promise to Harry during the war. Three years later, he keeps his word.

Reach Back by @sorrybutblog (E, 6k)

Hermione gets her hands on another Time-Turner. Harry uses it to go back to 1994 and suck Sirius’s cock.

A Light That Never Goes Out by @wolfpants (E, 6k) - Sirry + Draco

Sirius returns from the veil five years after he dies and five years younger than he was when he fell through it. When he and Harry decide to escape the dreary confines of London and Grimmauld Place in search of somewhere where they can breathe, they bump into someone completely unexpected.

There's love if you want it by RedHorse (E, 7k)

“I’m going to love it,” Sirius admitted more softly, grasping Harry by the hips, bruising. “Seeing you all shaking and spread out. Getting a good look at how you take them, one by one. And I’m going to hate it,” he added, bending his head to hide his gritted teeth against Harry’s neck. He smelled sharp, sweaty and clean. “Seeing other people touch you, have you. God. I’m going to be so proud and so furious and so fucking turned on.”

what remains by sirci (E, 8k)

The war's over; Sirius and Harry have settled into Grimmauld Place together. But the past still remains, and Sirius sometimes can't help but reminisce.

Face to Face by @ruinsplume (E, 18k)

Sirius really hadn’t meant for this to happen.

periculum by the_invisibility_bloke (E, 25k)

Harry needs someone to take control. Or maybe he just needs Sirius.

[roarrrgame]

I’m insanely patient for some things so I never hated the Fade quests in DA as much as a lot of people do. Plus I’m a mage the Fade is my bread and butter! Though I do dread going into the Fade a bit and would mentally prepare myself every time I have to go in there.

So when I played the Fade quest in Inquisition the first time and found myself in the Fade. While running around I was thinking, the Fade is tough but this time I feel much better because my friends/companions are doing this with me!

Because in previous games you either have to go in there alone, for your Harrowing, to save people etc, or have your companions betray you in there, ouch. (One reason I don’t dislike Anders or think he’s out of control is because him as Justice didn’t betray me unlike others, also presumably because Hawke is a mage she was able to stop Anders from killing the girl by telling him she’s not possessed or something).

But this time I have people I really like with me! Including my favourite mages, Dorian who also went through the harrowing (this bit is meta because my Inqy is Dalish lol) and Solas who is THE expert on the Fade.

Then it dawned on me - does Solas not feel lonely when he explores the Fade? He’s so excited about the Fade, and spends so much time in the Fade, but the Fade is a daunting place for most of us, so I naturally wondered if he’d get lonely too.

It was just a thought coming from my meta experience with the games, and because I was romancing Solas.

Then not long after, when I was carelessly looking through the writings on each of the tome stones, Solas’ biggest fear literally shocked me.

“To die alone”!

It did not make sense to me at all at that time, because I did not pick up any clue the writers left on Solas’ relationships with others (things go over my head oof). I just felt pleasantly surprised that it echoed my earlier thought and sympathetic to Solas.

It makes much more sense now I’ve played the game and the next one twice and things finally began to sink in (lol).

In one of his banters with spirit!Cole, he sounds so fucking sad when he pleads Cole to preserve his life carefully because spirits of positive intentions are so rare and prone to harm.

In “All New, Faded for Her”, I did not even notice how fucking sad he was the whole time from realising his friend was turned into a demon to grieving alone afterwards and even considering not to come back.

I also did not even realise that was the point when he soft locks commits to Lavellan or announces his respect for the Inquisitor. Because he cares deeply about friendship and spirits and people that he sees “humanity” in, and he does not want to be alone despite believing he must.

He even tells Tal-Vashoth!Bull that he still has the Inquisitor, he still has him! The Solas who so many people believe is racist against all races, especially the Qunari and Dwarfs? And people say his approval for helping people or stance against slavery is out of pity or only theoretical.

He followed Mythal and got a body even though he really didn’t want to, because he wanted to be with Mythal wherever she went. When the found the broken orb he looked so fucking sad, because he knew he’d have to kill Mythal now in order to continue their duty.

The other time he looked extremely sad was of course when he hard locks breaks up with Lavellan. If you ask are you kidding me he looks so defeated. I always jokingly think romanced Lavellan is so pathetic, now I think Solas is so pathetic too. It’s not wise to love someone undeserving, it degrades someone who has otherwise remarkable qualities to someone unworthy, and it twists these qualities into negative traits. Such is the hell that is humanity.

[misayani]

Thanos smut hcs? LOL TYYY🩷

— THANOS SMUT HCS

◜ featuring ... thanos (choi su-bong  / player 230)

𔗨 author's note — mmmh first male x fem reader on my blog. probably the most lewd ive written so far AND -!!!! i just realized that my anonymous asks werent on until someone pointed it out, so theres that.. i turned it on!! [lowercase intended]

warning: smut & slight angst [it's thanos, expect the worst]

- bondage..... whew starting off strong !!

- literally doesnt give two shits. he would use zip ties to tie your wrists for all he cares. 

- his apartment is nasty as fuck

- dont even get me started on the fucked up couch he has in his apartment with disgusting stains that are probably permanent at this point 

- spits in your mouth mid fucking

- would sometimes spit the ecstasy pill from his mouth to yours 

- cigarettes after sex? nah, cigarettes during sex.

- and to you, it makes the experience even better

- the thing is, when you're high, you won't give a fuck about anything that's happening around you

- public sex !! he's the type to shamelessly fuck inside clubs

- would blow the smoke directly onto your face as you cough

- loooves to cum on your face. not on your stomach, not inside, not anywhere else but your face.

- he loves it messy and dirty. he feels pride just from seeing you in front of him kneeled down and face covered with his cum

- degrading.

- you will NEVER hear even a single praise come out from this man's mouth. even after you give him the best head he's ever had

- angry sex, mostly caused by you getting hit on by someone else and just thanos being possessive 

- its no biggie though, he's just giving you a small reminder who you belong to <33

- man's a sadist. he would just laugh at you for crying because of overstimulation

- your safe word won't work on him the first time you say it. second time, he'll act deaf and will continue pounding into you. although when he sees that you're clearly in distress, he'll make considerations and will pull out and make you suck him off instead

- if you're being too hard headed and bratty during sex, 100% he'll slap you across the face hard so you'd finally get your shit together

- doesn't care whether you get yourself off or not. all that matters to him is that he gets to cum and thats it.

- im sorry but he knows nothing about aftercare

- he would just stub his cigarette, throw it somewhere, and fall straight to sleep

- you'd stare at his sleeping figure blankly with no thoughts inside your head

- but you felt empty and lonely. not realizing yet that such a small pill can change someone's way of acting.

- you truly deserve better.

thanos' breathing slowed, deepening into his sleep. you lay beside him, body still tingling from the overwhelming sensations he gave you just earlier. silence swallows you, leaving you staring blankly at his peaceful face.

it's strange—the way your chest feels so hollow, an ache you couldn't quite place, like you'd expect for something that was never going to come. he'd been so alive just moments ago, what the hell happened? now he is gone, lost into unconsciousness, leaving you alone in the weight of aftermath.

@misayani

[majoryeager104]

Villains

Summary: You never thought you’d run into a villain, and yet here you were realizing you were about to go on a date with one.

Dabi/Touya x gn!reader

Warnings: language

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Eggs in a pan, sizzling quietly as the sound of the news on tv blared from the living room. You didn’t pay it any attention, busy making breakfast for your siblings, who were staying with you at your apartment for the holidays. Villain attacks was all you heard, and it wasn’t something that surprised you all that much. In a hero society, there was bound to be some villains.

so you didn’t really mind. After all you had much more on your mind. Taking care of your siblings till your parents come pick them up, having that little hangout at your friends place, and lastly heading out for that dinner date with the guy you’d really hit it off with while Christmas shopping. The two of you actually spent a while hanging out and going store to store before he asked for your number, and since then you’d planned a nice date.

You didn’t mind, until you turned the corner and saw said villains on the television while your kid brothers watched.

till you saw video of the villain that was throwing large bursts of flames at authorities and heroes

till you saw the familiar face of the man you were set to go on a date on tonight.

holy shit.

he’s a villain.

you almost dropped the plates, but you quickly set them at the table and called your brothers over, and while they happily ate your eyes went straight to your phone on the counter.

you walked into the kitchen and grabbed it, going over his contact info, the texts between you, everything. How could you not have known? The news was saying he was a prominent and dangerous person, but you’d never seen him on the news before. Maybe you should have been paying attention. Maybe you should block him. Call him and ask? Fuck no, he could very well kill you. What if he realized you didn’t know and was messing with you? Toying with your emotions or preying on innocence? He didn’t seem like that kind of person when you met…

you sighed, rubbing your forehead in frustration. There was no getting out of this. If you didn’t show up for the date, he might assume you realized who he was, and from there who knows what could happen. The only thing you could think of doing was showing up and acting like you had no idea about what you saw of him this morning. But for now, you were going to focus your energy on getting your siblings home and meeting up with your friend.

——

a few hours later, after some nail biting and checking your messages to see if he texted, you dropped of your siblings and headed to your friends place. She was smiling at you from the door, something that in your mood, you could not reciprocate.

before you even realized it, you’d managed to tell her everything you’d learned about him. Needless to say she was shocked, stirring her tea with a deep frown.

“wow…this is bad.”

“really? I didn’t notice”

she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You know what I mean, y/n! You really have no options but to go out with a villain…or you could lie, but-” “that could still lead him to believe that I know! I can’t risk him doing something to my family”

there was awkward silence for a moment before she finally spoke up again.

“what if the guy was just really lonely?”

“…what?”

She stood up, walking closer and sitting next to you

“you know, he could just genuinely want to go on a date with you. If that’s the case you might be able to get through the night and still turn him down. If he doesn’t know you know, but you turn him down for other reasons…”

she shrugged, but you got the picture, looking up at her “you’re right! If I go but turn him down afterwards, he won’t suspect anything. I showed up didn’t I? He’d have no reason to believe I was aware of his…criminal activity.” “Yeah, I’m sure he thinks you’re too normal to go on a date with a villain” “hey!” “It’s true! You’re decently average. Your very personality would make your unawareness make sense. You’re too sweet to date a ‘bad guy’”

you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you set down your tea

“alright i get the picture…guess i gotta get ready”

——

with your friends help, you got ready for the dinner date, and showed up right on place where you planned to meet. The two of you would walk to dinner, and then-

then you weren’t sure. And to make matters worse, it was quite the remote area in the city. The streets were scarily quiet, and he hadn’t shown up yet. You looked around worriedly, checking your phone.

“you lookin for me?”

That familiar gruff that you initially found so attractive now sent a shiver up your spine. You couldn’t help but yelp in surprise, turning around to look at him. He laughed, his scarred eyes crinkling at the corners. A look you found so interesting was now terrifying knowing what he was capable of. A villain. A killer. Your date for the evening.

Hands in his pockets, he walked closer to you, his narrow blue eyes scanning you with a smirk. “You scared me, Dabi!” You smiled awkwardly, trying to act a fool. It seemingly worked, because his smirk grew a bit wider as he tilted his head. “Yeah, this part of town is a bit shady…lots of weirdos around here” he glanced back at you, holding up an arm. You reluctantly took it, the two of you walking together as he continued to speak. “Sorry about that. We’re goin to one of my favorite spots, and it’s close by. Didn’t mean to worry you. I think you’ll like it though, it’s nice there.”

You nodded as you walked along with him, your eyes nervously darting between him and the sidewalk every so often. He didn’t seem to notice this though. In fact it seemed like he was too busy trying to impress you to notice how tense you were. Maybe your friend was right. Maybe he really was just lonely.

you shook the thought from your mind. He was still a criminal, no amount of sympathy could make his actions better, right?

The two of you made it to the restaurant. It was a small shop off the street. It seemed very traditional, run by a small family. You both ordered the same thing- cold soba. You rather liked it, and he seemed rather cheery to know that.

He was smiling and talking with you the whole time, just like the last time you two met. With how happy he seemed, you’d never know otherwise what he’d done.

“need me to walk you home? You got a ride?”

he asked you the question so quietly as you two walked out of the restaurant. You blinked up at him, reluctant to answer. “I- uh…I’ll be fine walking back” “you sure? This part of the city is dangerous at night”

his brow was furrowed so deeply he seemed genuinely worried. What the fuck was going on.

“no really, I’ll be okay” you smiled, backing away a bit. He watched you for a moment before sighing, rubbing the back of his neck before finally speaking, his words making you freeze.

“you saw me on the news this morning.”

Such a simple question phrased like a statement, because he just knew something was up. He did notice how tense you were all night, he was just hoping that your nerves were because you liked him back.

You didn’t say anything, frozen in place as you stared at him, wide eyed. He nodded, looking at the ground as he walked closer, the thud of his boots making you twitch.

“you know…I really didn’t want to scare you…but you can block me if you want, I don’t care. Do whatever…whatever makes you happy.”

He was so awkward when he spoke, barely making eye contact with you anymore. His shoulders were slumped, his gruff voice sounded defeated. He glanced back up at you as you still stayed silent, his brow raised.

“what? Ya think I’m gonna hurt ya? I’m not that crazy.”

you sighed in relief, but stayed quiet, still unsure. You watched him, how awkward he seemed now, the almost sad look on his face. You finally spoke, your voice hushed as you blinked up at him

“why…did you want to go on a date with me? I’m normal, and you’re…”

he laughed at this, a deep, hearty laugh, as he smiled down at you.

“that’s exactly why I like ya. Anyways, I gotta head out… you know, villain stuff” he winked, walking past you to leave.

“By all means, if you want to, block me. Or don’t. Your choice”

and with that, he was gone, leaving you confused, nervous, and blushing.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

[ultraericthered]

OK, I get all this but....I can't help noticing the shots being fired at Jimbotnik for his showing in the latest movie, and I think it's being done in a way that is very misunderstanding and misleading in regards to that character and what happens with him in the movie. This feels a lot like the similar misrepresentation of Eggman's arc with Sage in Frontiers (though with that one, I more understand the misgivings since the in-game execution and Ian Flynn's scripting of it in the English version were legitimately detrimental to Eggman), this idea that if any iteration of Eggman shows vulnerability, insecurity, and any form of care for another person, he fails at villainy and is not the wholly cartoonishly evil egomaniac he's meant to be. Nonsense.

For one thing, being "secretly insecure" and yearning for attention applies to mainline canon Eggman too. Recent games like Frontiers and Dream Team have alluded to it. Yes, Eggman has the most insanely inflated self-image and a massive ego about his greatness in all areas, but not only did he build that up as a psychological coping mechanism response to insecurity and self-conciousness as a boy, he went and decided he wouldn't be completely content with his life and his work until he forcibly made the entire world acknowledge his greatness by conquering it, to force the global masses attention onto him to give him validation for all the things about himself that he'd fallen in love with already. A secure person, even a secure narcissist, would not do this. If they already think the world of themselves, what should they care if the world goes on not thinking the same? But for Eggman, his self-obsession on its own can never be enough. Not even loyalty and efficiency from his robots makes it enough for him. He feels the compulsive need to place himself higher above everyone else in existence and make all those lesser others worship him as their better, and to eliminate anyone who'd not comply with him and who'd dare try to stop him, especially if they insult him and break his beautiful machines.

On Jimbotnik in particular...to claim he was "desperate for love" doesn't really mesh with what the film trilogy showed us. The films version of Ivo was never desperate to be "loved": he was lonely and secretly harboring desire for companionship, and he expressed that the way he did because of two factors: growing up as an orphan who never had real parents or ever knew of his family and their history (thus not knowing what his place in life was supposed to be, so he charted out his own course), and developing an ego so swollen that he could never see anyone else who might potentially give him such companionship as being worth his time and efforts to be with and talk to in any way that's not patronizing, as they're viewed by him as being so inferior to himself. It was the deliberate parallel drawn between him and Sonic since Movie 1 - Sonic responded to his own loneliness by seeking people out and eventually embracing family and friendship, while Ivo responded to his loneliness by distancing himself from all those "inferiors" in favor of giving all his time and love to himself and his machines, and actively antagonizing those he did have to interact with to assert just how high above them he belived he was, rejecting family and friendship as an unneeded folly.

Which is where Jim Carrey also playing Gerald pays off. In Gerald, Ivo not only finds a blood-related family member he'd never known he had, he finds another person who was actually alike to himself. Had Gerald been his grandfather but otherwise had zilch in common with Ivo, Ivo likely wouldn't give a fuck about him. It's the fact that Gerald was an evil, arrogant, manic, creative and ingenious scientist like himself that touched Ivo's heart - he finally had "another half" to play off of and have a relationship with, as though his own reflection were alive as its own existence. It's still fueled by Ivo's narcissism and belief that no other person is "worthy of him" unless they're just like him, evidenced by how quickly he chose Gerald over Stone.

"Isn't really evil or enjoys being evil" can absolutely never be said of Jimbotnik, the man who makes a military vessel into his "secret evil lab", makes robots he calls "badniks", dances to "Where Evil Grows", wants to enslave humanity to serve his machines and take over all that he's able to, and proudly declares his work to be "diabolical evil". He's a very self-aware, sociopathic bastard, as Eggman's meant to be. Not being AS evil as mainline canon Eggman doesn't erase this.

Lastly..."can be completely changed in a second by the power of love and family?" That is not what happened with Jimbotnik. Like, at all. Ivo was an egotistical, megalomaniacal sociopath from when we first met him all the way to his death. The film never says or shows that Ivo "turned good" before sacrificing his life or that Agent Stone's love for him or his love for Stone changed him in any significant way - he just made a choice to do the right thing for others as his final act, even if not for entirely pure reasons. It's a parallel to Sonic making the choice to spare Shadow rather than kill him, and Shadow making the choice to let go of his hatred and vengeful desires in favor of fighting alongside Sonic to save the planet instead. As Ivo makes his choice, he remarks that "if he can't take over the world, might as well save it", acknowledging he's adapting to circumstances he doesn't like but it's too late to change them; if he could have his way, he'd still prefer to achieve world domination and enslave humanity, but if he absolutely must save everyone and everything instead, he can at least do it in stlye and in a way that gets the attention and reverence of others. And as for Stone, the tell that Ivo can't fully let go of his ways even at the end is that he calls Stone not his friend, not his lover, not his true family or anything like that, but "his syco-friend." Like the sycophant element is the only reason Ivo has to accept Stone as a "friend" of any sort, suggesting Ivo can never value anyone who doesn't value him first and foremost, who doesn't suck up to him and stroke his ego and make him tasty lattes. So Ivo dies as a man who judges the worth of other human beings by how well they service him. Even in his final moments of living, he makes it all about him and positions his and Stone's relationship as "all give" on Stone's end and "no give" on his own end aside from the sacrifice he's making for the world at large that Stone happens to be part of.

Jimbotnik is not THE Eggman, but he never really had to be. He's an alternate canon adaptation and a damn fine villain in his own right.

I can't believe people think making Eggman into a depressing pathetic failure and secretly insecure groveling woobie loser incel that's miserably desperate for love, with the only reasons he's evil being due to mommy and daddy issues and bullying, isn't even really evil or even enjoy being evil, and can be completely changed in a second by the power of love and family- is actually a good and preferable characterization for him

I'm so happy game canon Eggman isn't like that at all. That he really has immense genuine self love and confidence, that it's not "Woe is me why won't anyone love me", instead being like "YEAH I'm the fucking best smartest and sexiest person ever and I know I deserve the world and you WILL worship and serve and obey me if you want to live lol" His true self love and confidence and entitlement is his entire motivation instead of a sob story

^ His self praise and confident full of himself laughter and stride, this is a man who truly believes he's the best fucking thing on the planet and deserves it all (and he's so right lol)

You can always see his immense passion for his evil and ruling the world and deep belief in his self love and superiority, with his wide grin of absolute glee, jolly laughter, and energetic enthusiasm. He doesn't need validation, he KNOWS he's the best and DEMANDS everyone else to acknowledge what he already knows, it's why he wants to be worshipped and praised by the entire planet and rule and run it his way

It makes him so fucking charming because he's a major asshole and does super evil fucked up shit but he's so damn passionate about it and having such a blast you have to adore him for it. That's what makes him lovable and it's so much better than the scenario of if it was just because he's so pathetic and insecure and desperate and sad that have to feel sympathy and want to fix him. He has real qualities

I'm so happy that Eggman isn't going anywhere because he's the one true main Eggman in the games and that's never gonna change. The passionate evil genius who genuinely loves himself so much that he feels he deserves the world literally and loves trying to accomplish it with fun diabolical evil. And his passion, enthusiasm, and unshakable confidence keeps him dedicated to accomplishing it because he truly believes he can do it

That's my boy and I'm so happy that he'll always be here to stay 🥰💜