#its fine!!!!! i just think he should have been his own guy instead of just being There

[cherrychilli]

18+ Eddie Munson x F! reader, best friend! Eddie, friends to lovers, dry humping, nipple play Summary: Eddie turns up at your house one night and in need of help so you show him how far you're willing to go to help out your closest friend. WC:4K

For the most part you were indifferent towards Jeff Parker. Neither of you ran in the same circles and he was usually the type to keep his head down but add a little alcohol to the equation and the guy turns into a regular Jay Gatsby — all over indulgent and the life of the party. You just wish that party wasn't taking place 15 feet away from your bedroom window.

It was all the drunken hollering and the thumping music that kept you up that night, bone-tired after pulling double shifts at work. It was the police sirens blaring an hour later that ripped you out of a dream just as you were finally able to doze off with your head buried beneath your pillow. And it was the tapping on your bedroom window that came ten minutes later that made you spring up and nearly shoot out of your own skin.

"Eddie! what the hell?", you whisper shout into the darkness of your bedroom, recognizing his shaggy haired silhouette crouched behind the glass and backlit by nearby streetlamps.

You figured he must have climbed up the lattice to get up onto your roof as he begins to point urgently at the lock on your window, mouthing at you to let him in.

Kicking off your covers, you quickly make your way over to the window and unlock it for him, pulling it open and stepping aside to allow him to barrel roll into your room and heave a heavy sigh of relief.

Sprawled out on your carpeted bedroom floor, Eddie pants the exertion away and you leave him there to rest, connecting the dots yourself.

"I told you to stop dealing at parties", you deadpan, shaking your head in that world weary way you often slip into when it comes to Eddie but all that seems to do is trigger a grin that makes him look suspiciously chipper.

"Got to make a living don't I?", he replies from the floor, his hair all wild and fanned out in an unruly halo of frizz and curls.

It's far too late at night for you to be bothered enough to get into it with Eddie so you simply roll your eyes at him instead, making sure to shut your window to keep the chilly night air from seeping into your warm, cozy room.

The music that'd been playing next door has finally been silenced, you're pleased to notice but as you look out the window you see that the patrol car responsible for making Eddie and several other partygoers disperse and hightail it out of there remains parked in front of Jeff's house.

"I'll make a move once the fuzz's gone. I'm parked a couple blocks away so it should be fine", Eddie explains casually, able to anticipate your concern but you keep your eyes fixed on the car and its flashing lights for a moment longer, chewing on your bottom lip.

The thing was, in a town where almost everyone had it out for your best friend, you weren't too fond of the idea of him driving home at this time of night with his pockets stuffed with illicit party favours. Hell, Eddie often gets pulled over in the middle of the day by asshole officers hoping to book him on a possession charge. And since the trailer park isn't exactly closeby, the likelihood of him running into another cop and getting pulled over seems way too high for your liking.

The thought of it alone makes your stomach plummet. You just didn't want to see your closest friend getting into any kind of trouble. Especially if you could do something to help prevent it.

Turning away from your window, you eye Eddie intently while he glances up at you from where he's still laid out on his back, his breathing even now that he's managed to catch his breath.

"I think you should stay the night. It'll be safer that way", you tell him plainly.

Though most of your room is draped in darkness, Eddie's lit up in a column of orange light that pours in through your window so it's easy for you to make out the way his eyebrows rise up and disappear behind his bangs, his eyes growing wider too as he props himself up on his elbows to look at you.

"Y' sure?", he asks and you can feel him studying your face closely, looking for any signs of doubt or hesitation.

You know he'll find none though. Sure, this is all very spur of the moment stuff but you have no reservations about having Eddie stay over. Exactly the opposite.

"Yeah. But be quiet, okay? My whole family's asleep", you tell him as he begins to pick himself up off the floor, face beaming as he grins at you and steps closer to where you're standing.

"Ya big softie. All worried about me, huh?", he posits, tipping his head to the side in a way that at any other time, you might have considered cute. Right now however, all he's managed to conjure is annoyance given how little sleep you've had tonight.

So you narrow your eyes at him, the rest of your expression flat as he makes the mistake of bringing his face closer to yours, giving you the opportunity to reach out and pinch his earlobe between your thumb and forefinger, twisting the soft skin until his teasing grin deflates and he throws up his hands in surrender.

"Fuck, uncle, uncle!", he calls out while keeping his voice as low as possible, face pinched in pain and looking all kinds of helpless before you decide to let go with a pleased scoff, a small smirk playing on your lips too.

Eddie rubs a hand over his newly freed ear, his gaze wandering away from your eyes, seemingly sizing you up before he takes a step back, no longer within your reach.

"By the way...", he utters cautiously, his gaze returning to your face when another smile curves his lips.

"Nice get up".

Confused, you take a look at yourself, your face turning warm as you tug down on the hem of your oversized t-shirt, hoping in vain that Eddie hadn't caught a glimpse of the panties you've got on underneath when he was down on the floor.

Though he doesn't confirm it, the look on his face says it all — that overly pleased smirk and that telltale glint lighting up his deep brown eyes. It irks you for just a moment before you surrender with a sigh.

"Eddie, I'm too exhausted for this. Please, can we skip the teasing and just go to sleep?"

A look of vague disappointment flashes over Eddie's face when you're able to quickly brush aside your momentary embarrassment, padding over to your side of the bed, no longer concerned with how much of your bare thighs might be on display before you pull back the covers and get in.

"C'mon, get in already", you urge him to join you as you motion to the vacant space on the left side of your bed, fighting off a yawn in the process because your eyelids are starting to feel heavy again.

It's Eddie who looks a little rattled now as he eyes your bed, his fingers fidgeting with the zipper on his jacket with restless uncertainty before he rids himself of it, setting it on your desk chair before he bends down to begin unlacing his shoes in the dark.

You hear him struggle while he's crouched down, whispers of 'shit', 'fuck' and 'god fucking damnit' said loud enough for you to hear while you giggle at him, feeling a bit more at ease now that you're reminded of the kind of dork Eddie is at his core — sharing a bed should be no problem.

You've already turned over, your back to Eddie and your cheek resting on your pillow by the time you feel him slide in under the covers next to you, mattress dipping under his weight.

"I'll take off before your folks get up, I promise", he says to you and you hum back a sleepy 'okay' in reply, nuzzling into your pillow.

With that out of the way and both of you settled in bed, you thought that would be the end of it until next morning but sleep doesn't come as quickly as you would like.

For the next couple of minutes you can feel him readjusting beside you, tossing and turning and you already know why. In the interest of getting back to sleep you interrupt him. "Eds, just take them off already", you mumble over your shoulder at him, causing him to freeze.

"You want me down to my underwear?", he whispers back at you and though your back's still to him you can feel the incredulous expression he's got on his face as his eyes bore into the back of your head.

"It's fine. I'm in mine too", you tell him with a seemingly unbothered huff though if he'd had his palm pressed to your chest and just above your heart he'd know you're nowhere near as calm as you make yourself out to be.

A moment of silence elapses before he finally answers.

"Mkay"

You feel him move around, catching the sound of his zipper being pulled down before he's shucking his tight jeans off, relief apparent in his tone when he settles back in bed now that he's shed the tight denim.

"Night then", he whispers to you as you do your best to stifle the warmth swirling in your belly.

"Night", you answer, eventually drifting off to sleep at last.

~

"Shit shit shit shit shit"

It's the first thing you hear when you begin to wake up, blinking several times to clear your blurry vision before you can take a look at your alarm clock.

6.30AM. The sun's just beginning to rise and you grumble under your breath as you turn over to face Eddie, figuring now's the best time for him to make his way home.

"What the hell?"

You squint at the boy who appears several shades paler than usual, his eyes all large, looking like some kind of cornered animal with a pillow shoved over his lap.

"Um, are you okay?", you sit up in bed, your back against the headboard just like Eddie's.

His eyes dart nervously all over the room, seemingly preferring to focus them anywhere else besides on you and that only leaves you feeling even more confused.

"Okay so- the thing is...I can't exactly leave right now", he mumbles sheepishly to you, the corner of his left eye pinching into a slight twitch.

"Why? are you okay?", you ask, yet to catch on as to what seems to be troubling him.

He looks positively torn with his teeth worrying his bottom lip and a light sweat forming at his temple. "Fuck. Okay. Please don't hate me. It's just that— I have no control over it, okay? it just happens sometimes in the mornings, you know? and- and I...oh god you think I'm some kind of perv don't you?"

You can only blink at Eddie as he brings both hands up to cover his eyes, his neck stretched taught as he leans his head back until it thuds softly against your wall, letting out a defeated sigh.

Looking down at the pillow placed over his lap, you're finally able to guess what the problem is, your belly swirling with a familiar flash of warmth again, same as when you listened to him taking his jeans off last night.

"Oh...well, I don't think you're a perv. It's uh, natural? you can't help it", you tell him as calmly as you can manage, wanting him to feel better by lightening the weight of shame and guilt he's currently shouldering.

Hands still on his face, he parts his fingers enough for him to peek at you from between them. "So you're not mad?", he whispers, watching you closely to gauge your reaction.

You shake your head softly, trying your best not to let your eyes drop back to the pillow in his lap like you might be able to see right through it. You want to see right through it. Badly.

"I'm not mad Eds. I promise".

With another deep sigh, he seems to be more at ease now that he knows that he hasn't upset you, letting his arms flop down at his sides.

"I don't know what to do" he whispers and you can hear how torn he is over the whole situation as you catch the helpless little quaver to his tone.

"What do you usually do?, you ask, your thoughts all frazzled and crowding your head way too quickly than you can manage to comprehend them.

Eddie says nothing, turning to face you with a pointed look, quirking an eyebrow up high at you.

"Right.. dumb question. sorry", you admit.

A few beats of silence commence as both of your minds work, passing over bad idea after bad idea before you turn to back to Eddie again.

"I mean, you could just use my—"

"I can't just jerk off in your bathroom with you sitting here", he stops you quickly and firmly though not unkindly, making you realize that no matter what you try to come up with, he's probably already thought of it first.

"Eddie we have to do something about it", you maintain, sparing a glance at your alarm clock as it reminds you that he's only got a limited amount of time left to leave before he risks getting caught by your family or a neighbor seeing him clamber out your window.

You think about it long and hard, one particular thought echoing louder than the rest in your mind. You try to will it away but it only takes up more space in your head until it's all you can think about, taking in a big breath before you decide to share it with Eddie.

"If you want, I could help you", you tell him, nervously picking at your fingers in your lap.

"...What do you mean?", he asks, looking at you suspiciously.

You shrug. "Y' could grind on me".

There's a pause that seems to drag on much longer than you would have liked, both of you staring into each others eyes, unblinking.

"I can't do that — feels like I'd be taking advantage of you or something", he finally breaks the silence, making you feel somewhat wounded that he'd turned your offer down even though you know he's only trying to be a decent friend. You wish he'd give it a rest.

"Would it help if I took over?", you offer next, steeling yourself in the case of him turning you down once more.

"Sweetheart...please don't tell me you're just fucking with me."

"I'm not I promise", you answer firmly.

"I...are you sure? I mean really 100% sure?", he asks again.

You can't help but roll your eyes at him, slipping your legs out from under the covers to straddle Eddie's thighs all while his jaw falls slack at the sight and feeling of you on top of him, your fingers curling around the pillow still resting on his lap.

"I'm sure. Are you?", you ask him before proceeding though if you were to guess, you could read the answer off his face with ease.

"I...yeah", he squeaks, eyes all big and round like he's in awe of the way you've taken the lead.

"Okay then. Let me get rid of this."

You toss the pillow aside to the spot you'd formerly occupied, gulping down the lump in your throat with some difficulty when you set your eyes on the tent in his striped boxers. The way it strains against his underwear, it's easy to guess he's both thick and lengthy under that thin veil of cotton and the more you look at it the more it feels like the room is starting to tilt and spin.

It's the kind of thing you've thought about in secret a fair amount, you and your best friend doing things that you wouldn't ordinarily do with someone who was just your friend. You pull yourself closer to him, laying your hands on his shoulders as you balance your core over his bulge, carefully lowering yourself until you're pressed up right against his clothed cock. Both of you release a shaky breath at the feeling, him, because you feel so warm and soft and you, because he feels so warm and firm.

"Put your hands on my hips", you tell him next, liking the way his cheeks pink up in response as he places them on you gently, sending a wave of goosebumps all along your body.

You start slow, grinding yourself on the ridge of his cock, unable to help the way your pussy flutters as you drag it up near Eddie's tip and back down close to his balls, working your way up to a simple rhythm.

"How's that? is it good?" you ask, making sure to check in with him.

"Shit yeah that's...that's good. Keep going", Eddie starts to firm up his grasp on you, guiding you, encouraging you to pick up the pace, all the while you try to keep secret the way your stomach tightens up with so much heat, your pussy dripping plenty with slick.

"Eddie..."

"Yeah?"

"What are you thinking about?", you ask him as you notice the the way his brows have begun to knit together, the same way they get when he's concentrating on nailing a solo on stage.

"I don't think I should uh answer that", he answers cautiously, disappointment making your lips push out into a little pout.

"Please. I wanna know", you ask gently, melting his resolve with your pleading eyes

"...M' thinking about your tits", he grits out, looking like he ought to be ashamed about it. You figure you have a way to fix that.

"Do you want to see them? would that um, help?"

Your offer hangs in the air for a few seconds as you finally manage to catch your clit the right way along Eddie's clothed cock, your toes curling while pleasure blooms inside your bones.

You no longer make a strong effort to hide the way that humping his cock is making you feel either, that it's not just him who's getting off here and maybe that's why Eddie manages to convince himself that it's okay to take this next step with you.

"I want to see them — yeah", he manages to croak out, his fingers twitching with so much excitement around your hips. He's thought about it too — the two of you like this. How could he not? when you're the only one who's ever cared. When you look the way you do. When you're soaking through your underwear and his with your nipples already hard as they show through your shirt.

How could he not want you?

With Eddie giving you the green light, you take your hands off of his shoulders and pick up the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and off as you toss it behind you, uncaring of where it might land.

"Oh my god."

To you it might have felt like a quick undressing but for Eddie the world slows down to a crawl. He sees it all; the subtle way your breasts bounce and shift with your movements, the way they slope and rest on your chest, rising and falling with every breath and the way your perky nipples react to the cold air in your room, pebbling before his eyes.

"You can touch them if you want", you notice the way he's looking at them, feeling his cock jump under you.

"Christ, you're trying to kill me", he answers all hoarse.

To you, there's no greater compliment, your smile widening into a grin. Carefully, you guide him this time, prying his hands away from your hips and encourage him to cup his hands over your tits instead, moaning when he begins to press into the soft flesh, squeezing and massaging them.

"That feels good", you whisper, hips still working as you drag your drenched clit along his cock. "God, Eddie I've— I've wanted this for so long", you sigh dreamily, the truth spilling out much faster than you can try to swallow it all back down, all because you're so weak for the way those big, wide cinnamon eyes of his are staring back at you.

Your core's all sticky now, panties practically pasted to your skin in that messy way that usually has you eager to peel them off. Though as much as you'd like for the both of you to rid yourselves of all the tacky cotton between you, to be completely bare with each other, you don't want to mess up the rhythm you've fallen into, your clit pulsing and throbbing as you ride Eddie's lap.

"Honey... are you telling me that we could have been doing this from the start?", he asks, slightly anguished. He continues to gently pulling and pinching at your nipples while he keeps his eyes locked on yours, hushed grunts and groans falling from his parted lips.

Your hips are moving faster now, bed squeaking beneath you both, not that you care about your family hearing it — not right now — not when you're so close.

"I— I guess. Yeah", you gasp out when he pinches your right nipple, his left hand falling back down to your hip to guide you.

"You know how many times I've thought of you like this? how many times I've had to picture you on top of me just to get me through the day?, he asks, pulling and pushing you along his length with fervor.

"Why didn't you say anything?", you whine back.

"C'mon. We both kno— know you can do better than—"

Despite almost reaching the peak of your climbing orgasm, you dig your nails into the hand Eddie's got fixed on your hip, forcing your knees into your mattress to bring you both to a halt.

"Don't ever say that. Don't ever say that because it's not true", you place your hands on his cheeks, caressing his face gently. "I only kept my mouth shut incase you didn't feel the same about me...I didn't want to spoil what we already had. I couldn't stand it if you didn't want to be friends anymore..."

"Baby—", it's his turn to cradle your face, thumb making gentle circles on your cheek. "You could never lose me", he tells you, soft but firm and then you feel a pull and you suppose he must feel it too because you're both leaning in, faces closer than they've ever been before, lips grazing each other before you're sharing a kiss with your best friend for the very first time

It's gentle at first, both of your fingers weaving into each others' hair, a soft nip here and there before growing more hungry when Eddie's tongue meets yours. Both of you moan and whimper into each other's mouths, sloppy and messy, your heartbeats turning rapid when you eventually have to break for air, Eddie in need of the same when your lips part with a sticky click and he leans back to rest against the headboard again, panting. Any longer and he'd have cum from the kiss alone.

You catch your breath first, the corner of your mouth picking up into a lopsided smile. "Now are we going to make up for lost time or what?", you challenge him, both of you beaming with bright eyes and brighter smiles.

You pick up where you'd both left off, your hands on Eddie's shoulders and him, one hand on your hip, the other on your right breast, squeezing your soft skin, flicking your nipple because it makes you gasp and he loves hearing the sound of it.

"Please tell me you're close" Eddie grunts, sure to leave marks behind on your hip in the shape of his fingers. You were looking forward to admiring them in the mirror later.

"G-getting there. Wanna go faster— is that okay?", you make sure to ask, his answer coming through when his left hand slips down to find space on your other hip, pulling and pushing you along his length quick enough to make you squirm on his lap as your clit drags on him just right.

"Eddie— feels perfect...I think I'm gonna-"

"Please—" he cuts you off quickly with a ragged huff, his eyes wandering away from the wet, sticky stains that'd developed on both your underwear and his, pausing on the way your breast bounce and jiggle before fixing on your your eyes. "Please cum. I wanna watch you."

Your body begins to move on instinct as it chases your climax, eager to reach it this time than let it slip through your fingers twice. You're closer than before because it feels even better when you begin to lean back, your hands coming to rest on Eddie's thighs behind you. Your chest puffs out while you start to bounce yourself on Eddie's clothed cock, your puffy clit grazing against the stiff underside of his shaft, dragging dragging dragging until your eyes squeeze shut and it happens. The force of it wracks your body, overcome as your whole body quivers, and shakes, your pelvis twitching and jerking — and Eddie watches it all closely and unblinking.

In all his years of settling for quick glances and sly peeks at your body like those times your cleavage showed above your neckline or your bare legs and thighs were displayed whenever the weather called for a pair or shorts or a skirt, Eddie's never seen a more beautiful sight than the one he's taking in now — The way a light sheen glistens on your face, neck and chest, your swollen lips parting, releasing whimper after moan, your hair a little wild and beautiful and your panties drenched and ruined.

Eddie reaches out and brings you close, wrapping his arms around you as your chests meet and you fold into him, burying your face in his neck, whimpering and whining as your clit aches with oversensitivity though not enough to ask him to stop.

He's close by the sound and feel of it, so you grit your teeth and let him buck up against your poor soaked cunt, over and over as you drink in every grunt and groan. You want him to feel good too, unable to resist helping him tip over the edge. You let your tongue slip out from between your lips, licking the salt by his pulse point and letting out a little whisper to unravel him completely.

"Go on, cum for me, Eddie."

A guttural groan rumbles out of his throat just seconds later. it's instantaneous the way pleasure flares white hot at the pit of his stomach, shooting all the way up and raining down on the rest of his body like fireworks.

Though you're yet to feel Eddie inside you, yet to have your walls stretch to accommodate his shape and length so that you don't miss every little jerk, twitch and throb before he spills hot into you, you're still able to feel the effect of Eddie's orgasm. His body shudders and twitches underneath your weight, your pussy feeling warmer and wetter where just under it, Eddie's cum spurts rope after messy rope into his underwear, the cotton becoming saturated with his spend and transferring to your panties.

In the moments following your intense mutual pleasure, the both of you remain entangled in each others arms, sitting in the damp mess you've made of yourselves while you fight to catch your breath. It's Eddie who manages to break the silence first.

"...Do I have to go?, he whispers to you, one warm hand stroking your back gently.

"Do you want to go?, you ask softly against his neck, nuzzling against his skin.

"Not if I can stay and be with you"

You smile hard, chuckling against his skin. "Then stay. I want you to stay too. Y' can hide out in here"

"Yeah? I'm your little secret, huh?", he teases, his lips kissing your temple

"Only for today", you reply.

"Oh?"

You gently unstick yourself from Eddie so you can look him in the eyes, brushing his sweaty bangs away from his bright eyes before you cradle his cheek with one hand.

"Tomorrow I'm telling everyone we know that you're mine"

[alchemistc]

Once again I need to get off my ass and go work but instead all I'm thinking about is Them:

Buck's mostly got his breathing under control by the time he hears the side door slide open, and he adjusts his weight automatically, tips his chin as he straightens his spine, tugs at the bottom of his suit jacket like that will fix the wrinkles he'd made bending at the waist for the last ten minutes.

"Buck?"

He's turned away, thank god, so Tommy can't see the wince.

"I'm fine," he says, annoyed with himself and the world at large when it comes out wobbly. "Go back ins-." When he hears the door click shut again he takes a moment to hope Tommy's just left, again, but -

No such luck.

"That door locks from the inside," Buck murmurs, and tears his gaze away from the gentle expression on Tommy's face. There'd been a cardboard box wedged up in there by whatever line cook had been out here smoking when Buck burst through the doors, and the guy had left it with a warning about how insanely large this building was and how few doors along its perimeter were unlocked, and now the broken down box is somewhere beneath Tommy's left foot.

Tommy tries the door anyway.

It doesn't budge. "We could just call Eddie," Tommy says, and Buck feels the ire rise in his throat.

"Eddie's not here," he spits, and it feels like a knife under the ribs. Everyone fucking leaves, eventually. "Call your date, if you want. I'm walking."

Buck heaves himself up from his lean against the brick, takes two large strides to make it past Tommy and keeps going.

He should have known better than taking Bobby at his word that this stupid gala would be worth his time. So far he's dodged conversations about the curse of the 118, spent an unbearable five minutes smiling blandly at Gerrard before he could excuse himself, and tossed two numbers written on raffle tickets into the trash in his mad dash through the kitchens because apparently Tommy had been chosen as the rep for 217 and he looks fucking good in his suit, and he'd been pretty sure they'd be spending this Christmas together, until last month.

He's twenty yards down the alley when he hears footsteps catching up to him. Light, brisk - he's jogging to catch up and Buck doesn't want to deal with -

"Not my date," Tommy says, and Buck curses his own body for automatically slowing to allow him to catch up.

Buck snorts. "Okay." The guy was older - than Buck, at least. Grey around his temples, fat lips and clever eyes that caught Tommy's mid-sentence and sent them both into quiet hysterics.

"Buck, would you just -."

He's close enough to reach for Buck's arm, so Buck wrenches it away before he can make contact. "Don't call me that."

December twenty-third is one of those weird days where the world doesn't quite work the same. Traffic is heavier or lighter in weird places, people with nothing to do wander the streets or hole up in their homes making too much food and watching weird holiday movies, and even in LA it gets chilly enough at night to need a jacket. This one isn't doing shit to keep Buck warm, but the anger catching in his throat sure is.

"It's your name," Tommy says, exasperated.

"Not to you." Buck stops dead in his tracks, watches Tommy take another three steps before he realizes he's alone. When he turns, Buck doesn't allow himself to turn away from his gaze. Annoyance isn't a new look - Buck has tested the waters enough in six months to know intimately exactly how far he could push it before Tommy stopped indulging him.

He looks upset. Frustrated. Tired. Hot as fuck. Buck sort of wishes he'd do something about those first two.

Something other than walk away.

Tommy sighs. Runs a hand through his hair, and the sides aren't as high and tight anymore. There's a piece curling over the tip of his ear and Buck wants to tug at it, slide his fingers in there and tuck it back. "That was Sal," he says, and Buck flicks through the sadly small Rolodex of names Tommy has mentioned in the past. Another boundary Buck hadn't realized was a brick fucking wall in the way of getting to know his boyfriend.

Ex.

Sal. He'd been at the 118 with Gerrard, in the early days. Before Chim and Hen, before Bobby. He'd been the one to prompt Tommy into filing a complaint against Gerrard even though he'd been scared out of his mind to do it.

"I don't care."

He does care, is the problem. He cares so much. He's got a pile of fruit cakes and half a dozen pies sitting on his kitchen island right now that prove it. He can't seem to stop caring.

Tommy looks sceptical.

Buck brushes past him again, keeping his strides long. Tommy's the same height, but both literally and metaphorically he's always struggled to keep up when Buck had somewhere to be.

At least the panic attack has passed. Maybe he could take up running, as a cure all, instead of the weak ass recovery period he usually takes that involves him drinking a bottle of water and staring at the same spot on the wall until he sees stars.

So, fine. Tommy hadn't brought a date to the work function it was entirely possible Buck would be at six weeks after breaking up with him and disappearing into the damn wind. He'd bubbled Buck seven times that Buck knew of, and he hadn't brought a date.

Fine.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You looked -."

Buck had watched Tommy wheeze with laughter and curl a hand around the dudes - Sal's - wrist and he'd felt like maybe he was gonna throw up. Like six months and the something he'd been working his way up to defining hadn't meant a damn thing. Like Tommy could just move on like he seemed to think Buck could.

"Doing great, Tommy. My best friend is moving to Texas and the man I thought I could -." Buck clears his throat. Shuffles sideways just a bit because Tommy is keeping pace now and his cologne is familiar and devastating. He doesn't have anything inside. Once he rounds this corner he could just order an Uber and go home.

There's nothing keeping him here.

"Eddie's moving?"

The no contact thing had extended to everyone at the 118, apparently. At least Buck wasn't alone in that.

Buck digs out his phone, slows his pace just enough to pull up the app he needs. He can feel Tommy's eyes burning a hole in the side of his head.

"Yeah, well. I'm getting used to people leaving at this point," he says, filling it with as much ire as he can. His voice doesn't wobble this time.

"Buck."

It's soft, this time, same inflection as when he'd cage Buck against a counter and lick into his mouth. "Don't worry about me, Tommy. You made it a point not to."

"That's not fair."

Buck couldn't care less. He's spent six weeks on a depression baking spiral and now he wants to go home and destroy every bit of baked goods he's made that are still left.

It only takes a few taps. They're surging prices, but that's not exactly a shocker.

He'd really thought the next time he saw Tommy he'd just be sad. Maybe he'd feel a little wistful about all the moments they'd shared that had meant something to Buck even if they hadn't meant the same to Tommy.

He wants to swing a fist, if he's being honest. He wouldn't. Not ever. But the desire is there and he hates it.

"Buck, could we just -."

"Stop calling me that!"

"I pay a mortgage, Evan!"

Buck can't remember Tommy ever raising his voice. It's - weird.

"I'm forty years old and I own a house and you asked me to move in to your loft after you told me you admired me." The emphasis isn't lost on him.

His ride is three minutes away.

"I got it the first time, Tommy. Haven't sucked enough cocks or done enough tests to know what I really want, so. Go enjoy your evening with Sal and -."

"That is not what I said." Cool, calm. Infuriating.

"Well that's what I got from it, so clearly we were never on the same page. I wanted a future with you and you've been eyeing the expiration date the whole time so -."

He's definitely not expecting Tommy's lips. But there they are, on his, and Buck's stumbling back, fully expecting the sharp crack of the brick at the back of his head as Tommy surges forward with him, only Tommy's hand curls around his skull at the last second and takes the brunt of the landing. His mouth opens on a groan and Buck licks up into it. Their noses clash and rather than shifting for better positioning they just press closer. Tommy's free hand finds the soft give of Buck's waist and his thigh finds purchase between Buck's legs and -

"You're willfully misunderstanding me," Tommy says, lips on Buck's jaw, heart pounding under Buck's hand, his breath ghosting along Buck's cheek.

"Never really gave me the opportunity for clarity," Buck bites back, and Tommy huffs, rolls his hips, tucks his forehead into the juncture of Buck's shoulder.

His pulse is pounding in his ears and there's a cloud of Tommy Tommy Tommy obscuring his senses.

"Do you still want that?"

Buck's phone dings in his hand.

His ride is here.

"Not if you're just gonna walk away again," Buck bites out, and shoves. Hard.

It barely moves Tommy, but it's enough to slip out of his grasp.

He doesn't glance behind to see if Tommy follows as he pulls at his suit jacket again and rounds the corner to try to catch - he eyes his phone - Sheri before she cancels the ride on him.

Doesn't stop him from hearing the footfalls behind him while he searches out the blue Honda Civic.

[roosterforme]

Go Big or Go Home | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Once your husband gets going, it's hard to reel him in again. Now that you've told everyone that you're pregnant, you realize he's always going to go a little over the top for you and the baby. But you let him get away with it, because nothing feels quite as important as the love he has for you.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight angst, pregnancy topics

Length: 2000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

You sat in a lounge chair on your back patio, sipping some Gatorade in your oversized sunglasses and watching your sweaty husband doing yard work. He started out an hour ago with a shirt on, but he discarded that in favor of showing off his glistening torso for your entertainment. At least that's what you told yourself. 

"Roo! Come take a break!"

Bradley turned and looked at you as he wiped his brow with his forearm. "Sweetheart. No breaks. I want to get as much done as I can around here now so you don't have to worry about it later."

You sighed. He was going to wear himself out with projects leading up to his deployment. You loved that he wanted to leave you without a dripping faucet in the kitchen and without weeds in the backyard, but sending him off away in a few days if he wasn't well rested was going to spell disaster.

"If I need something done while you're away, I'll call Jake or Cam."

Bradley scoffed but dropped the rake he was using and headed your way in his low slung jeans. "I can't let another man do my yard work. That absolutely goes against guy code." He started to lean down for a kiss, and he smelled so good, you moaned before he even touched you. "Hey now," he said with a smirk, pausing a few inches from your lips. "I have an idea."

"Tell me," you whined.

His smirk grew. "Something that might successfully lure me away from my projects?"

"Yes, we can fuck," you told him immediately, but instead of kissing your lips, he chuckled and dropped to his knees next to your lounger and ran his nose along your shirt. 

"Hold that thought, because we will be doing that later." He nudged the shirt fabric up until his lips met the bare skin of your belly, kissing his new favorite spot on your body. "Hey, little Nugget," he whispered, and your heart melted as you ran your fingers through his sweaty hair. "Think Mommy will go for our scheme?"

You laughed. "You're scheming with the baby? Already?"

"Oh yeah," he told you with a serious nod. "Here's what we're gonna do."

"This should be good," you muttered as he kissed you one more time before pulling your shirt back down.

"How about instead of chores, we spend the rest of the day shopping for baby stuff?"

You took a deep breath and let it out slowly. You were just barely into your second trimester, and it felt early to be buying too many things at this point, but the eager look on Bradley's face had you agreeing. "I'll let you pick out one thing."

His eyes lit up, and you should have known what was coming. "Let's make it five things."

"Bradley," you groaned, and he started kissing your lips in earnest until you giggled. "Fine! Three things! Final offer!"

"Sold."

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

"I love this store," Bradley said as he held your hand and walked around the enormous baby depot.

"You've only been here one time!" you reminded him. "And we were shopping for a gift for someone else's baby."

He recalled that day perfectly. It was when you and he both admitted you wanted kids, and he hadn't stopped thinking about expanding his family with you since then. "I still love it," he said, pulling you toward the baby clothes. He desperately wanted to buy his child their first outfit, but he didn't know what would be suitable. Something told him he'd know what he wanted when he saw it.

The main issue he was having right now was your libido. He'd skipped a shower in favor of coming right here, and somehow you seemed even worse than usual. Even more wound up. "You smell so good," you whispered, pressing yourself against him as soon as he stopped to look around. Even as he throbbed for you, he told himself he needed to stay on task.

"Baby Girl, I will let you do anything you want to me," he swore, and your eyes glittered. "Later. After I pick out my three things for the Nugget."

"Well, hurry up," you whispered, running your fingers low on his abs while he looked at some onesies. "I'm horny."

He kissed the top of your head and guided you along. "I know you are. I won't leave you hanging." And he wouldn't. He'd be gone soon, sent away to some undisclosed location for some undisclosed amount of time where he'd have no access to you or the Nugget. He'd give you everything you wanted and needed right now, but this little shopping trip was something for him. He needed this. There was always the fear in the back of his mind that he might not return. 

"These are cute sunglasses," you mused, still running one hand along his body. "Little aviators."

Bradley felt like his insides were going to melt as you held up the tiniest pair of sunglasses he'd ever seen in his life. "Holy shit," he muttered when you handed them to him. "These are fucking adorable, Sweetheart. Good find. Our baby is going to look so damn cool."

"What did I tell you about swearing so much?" you said as you rubbed your face on his shirt. Bradley knew you were a ticking time bomb at the moment. He needed to make his selections and get you out before you started to whine for him.

"I'll fucking behave," he replied, making you laugh. And that was when he saw it. The perfect onesie. His child needed to have it. He made a beeline toward the shelf and snatched it up as you followed behind him.

"That's cute!" you said, running your fingers along the airplane and the clouds that spelled out Aim for the Sky. The clothing sizes went by months, which was very confusing to him. Surely the baby wouldn't be growing that fast? Needing new clothing every few weeks?

"Just to be sure," he muttered, grabbing the onesie in several sizes. "Okay, that's item number one of three."

"Technically that looks like four items to me, Bradley. Why are you getting so many onesies?"

"In case the Nugget grows at super speeds. I'm going to want to take a million photos of this outfit."

When he gave you his saddest eyes, you groaned and said, "Fine. Nugget's first outfit has been acquired. Pick two more items, and we can go home and get in bed."

With a grin, he started to lead you around the store. He wanted to get the baby a toy, but he wasn't sure which would be the best. Jake had been telling him about everything he wanted to buy for Jeremiah, and some of it sounded fun, but once again, he wanted the Nugget to have something unique. One of a kind. Only the best shit for his kid.

"Oh my god!" he exclaimed, thrusting the onesies and aviators into your hands and running to the end of the aisle. "That's it!" He was hitting the enormous box with his palm over and over again. "Look at this! It's perfect!"

"Roo, it's five hundred bucks, and the baby won't even be able to use it for a few years," you warned, but it was too late. He was already sliding the box from the shelf and carrying it to the front of the store. "Bradley!"

"It's one of my three items! Now help guide me. This thing is massive."

With great joy, he paid for the orange Bronco Power Wheels and carried the box out to his full sized blue Bronco and fit it in the back while you held the bag containing the onesies and sunglasses. "I am so afraid to ask what your third item is going to be," you said as he struggled to make the box fit. But he had an idea. He'd had an idea for ages. It was part of the reason he had been trying to clean up the backyard a little bit more and even out the soil next to the shed.

When he closed the tailgate, he kissed your forehead gently. "There's nothing to be afraid of," he said calmly as he buckled you in the passenger seat and leaned down to kiss your belly. "The Nugget and I know exactly what to get."

You rolled your eyes and then asked what he was scheming up now. You asked the entire way home what he was going to buy, and he was only able to finally distract you once he had his clothes off in the bedroom. "Don't worry about it, Baby Girl. Worry about the fact that you won't be able to walk straight in half an hour."

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

Bradley never told you what else he was going to buy, but later that night, you had the suspicion that it had already been purchased. You spent the evening with him out in the garage, sitting on his bench press and eating a bag of pretzels while he put the Power Wheels together on a tarp on the floor. 

"Can't leave the baby out," he muttered as he screwed the doors on. "Now we all have our own Bronco."

He looked adorable, his hair messy from how you'd had your fingers tangled in it, and the eager look on his face was something you'd desperately miss when he was gone. "The box says ages three to seven," you reminded him before you bit into a pretzel, but he just grunted in response. "And what if the Nugget doesn't like Broncos?" you asked just to tease him, earning a glare in response.

"The baby will have impeccable taste," he muttered, turning the page in the instruction booklet. "Broncos and hot sauce and airplanes."

You waited a few seconds until he looked very distracted, and then you softly asked, "What's the third thing you bought?"

He hummed as he located the set of screws he would need for the hood. "You'll see soon enough. It's being delivered tomorrow."

Tomorrow was Monday. He was leaving on Wednesday. "It's not something big that will need to be assembled like the Power Wheels, right?" He had the guiltiest expression on his face as he turned to look up at you. "Right?" you repeated. "Bradley!"

You got your answer the following morning when you were squeezing into your new uniform pants which were a size larger than your old ones. You were dreading the thought of having to start wearing a maternity uniform to work and went with new pants to buy yourself some time. You froze with your zipper halfway pulled up and called out to Bradley in the kitchen. "What's that sound?"

"Uh... it's the third thing for the Nugget being delivered," he replied, and you immediately headed for your front door and the repetitive beeping sound coming from outside. "Don't freak out," he said as he came up behind you as you wrenched the front door open. 

Bradley had already seemingly moved both Broncos to the street in anticipation of the forklift that was moving wooden pallets wrapped up in plastic onto the driveway. "Do I even want to know?" you whispered as the forklift backed up to scoop another pallet off of the truck that was parked in the middle of your street. 

He wrapped his arms around you from behind and let his hands rest on your bloated belly while he nuzzled your ear. "It's a thirty-seven piece jungle gym playset for the backyard."

"A thirty-seven piece...."

"The Nugget and I both really wanted it."

You pinched the bridge of your nose as your dog plopped down next to your feet, and the three of you watched the forklift make several more trips up the driveway. "Don't you dare try to buy anything else right now. Do you understand me?"

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

Nothing says 'Bradley's child' quite like baby's first Bronco. And he's so precious, he's already built the thing. He's been daydreaming about the playset for long enough that it was bound to happen, too. Let's send him on this deployment and get him back home to his wifey and his Nugget. Stay tuned for more! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

[aezuria]

*ੈ✎ xoxo, gossip girl!

content: leo valdez x reader, percy jackson x reader, jason grace x reader

╰┈▸ back cover: how would gossip sessions with them go?

warnings: cursing, rude humor??

librarian's annotations: doing this instead of requests um

*ੈ LEO VALDEZ

SASSY MAN APOCALYPSE

god hes probably talking shit more than u

"oh her? yeah she was such a bitch like no way she looked at you like that when i said i was so obviously taken!"

"and her hair? has she ever heard of a brush? like, if you're gonna come at my girlfriend, at least make yourself look better so you don't embarrass yourself. oh wait, you can't!"

probably laying on you as he does this, and starts squeezing you tightly

"because my girlfriend is the prettiest girl in the world!"

awww that's cute right?

WRONG this man is so quick with his comebacks its actually insane

does NOT think before he speaks

doesnt hold back, even against you (booo why did ur gf privileges not apply to that)

"leo! can you like, move your fat ass off me?" you groan under him as he lays down with his dead weight on top of you.

"like the fat ass you don't have?"

were you silent or SILENCED

everytime you think he wouldnt take it that far?? oh he will go THERE (but he always makes sure u know hes joking)

doesnt want to invoke your wrath so he apologizes IMMEDIATELY

"fix your hair-"

"fix your face- IM SORRY I DIDNT MEAN TO-"

*ੈ PERCY JACKSON

guys. we cant forget abt the OG SASSY MAN

also talking shit a whole lot more than he should

"uh, she needs to get her act together before she can start coming at others; like-" rolls his eyes for EMPHASIS "who does she think she is, talking to you like that?"

damn, who taught this man sass?

bro was BORN with it or smth

even outsasses you sometimes

if you tell him to get like a snack or something and hes in the mood to just lay down with you, he will huff SO loudly

"ugh, fine!"

gets you extra snacks anyway in case you want more (and drinks obviously)

SO SO INVESTED like he has the WHOLE story down

but sometimes mixes up the ppl if its been a while

"wait wait, so the library girl and the jock are dating?"

"the nerd and the library girl are dating, but the jock wanted library girl."

"that makes a lot of sense, actually."

has tea of his OWN because the sea knows everything apparently

"tobias told me-" percy started.

"who the fuck is tobias?"

"the turtle, duh. anyway, he said that this guy always takes girls to the beach on their first date, to make them fall in love with him or something. like, every single girl he's dated."

"...does that count as a manipulation tactic?"

*ੈ JASON GRACE

will be on your side no matter what

like if you end it with an "it is what it is"

um??? it is NOT what it is hello?

doesnt look like hes listening but hes paying attention to EVERYTHING

like hes "reading" a book but hes been on the same page for the entire time youve been talking

tries not to laugh at your rather creative insults, but sometimes you get a soft chuckle out of him

you take that as a win

once, you caught him listening through the door as you gossiped with piper over the phone

he was SO embarrassed omg

after that, you made sure to tell him all the tea as soon as you have it

"—and he cheated on her with her SISTER. who's like, three years younger than him! like, what the fuck? that's not even all he did!" you sit up, hands playing with the blanket. you think you see him lean a bit closer, as if wanting to hear more. "she fucked his brother in his room, like, her ex boyfriend's room for revenge! okay, that was a bitch move, but was it deserved?"

jason shrugged. "i'd say no one deserves to be cheated on, but he kinda did deserve it."

"exactly!"

[stars-obsession-pit]

So a person requested (in messages) me to write a drabble thing based on this prompt. I’m not really into de-aged characters, but I thought of a way to focus it more on Jason’s reaction rather than the childcare part and felt cool with writing that.

So, uh, hope you like this I guess, @phantomrosereader…

Alright. Alright. Alright alright alrigh—

Nope. They’re still there. Fuck. Jason is not at all prepared to be a father. Nor does he want to show back up at the manor right now carrying two children and be forced to explain all this.

Wait, how did the kids even get there? Who was the mother? Why did they never contact him before?

…Did they contact him before? Can he really be certain he’s not missing any more memories?

He forcefully shook his head. No. No focusing on that right now. He’s fine. No spiraling allowed. He has to deal with this first.

Seriously, fuck. How is he a dad?

He… he should look into the mother. At least then he’d have more to go off of when he talks to Alfred. The note did give a name, but it wasn’t nearly enough to go off of on its own. Danny is hardly an uncommon name. Although, it does seem like a guy’s name—maybe Danny is trans? That would narrow the search down, but would that be enough? Even if he could get it down to just a handful of options, he had no way to determine which Danny was his. The kids seemed to have mostly inherited his own appearance…

Wait, that’s it! Genetic tests!

Despite his strained relationship with the other Bats, he still has access to their resources. A test wouldn’t take too long to give results. And also, it might reveal some other info like allergies he’d need to know.

***

Jason frowned at his laptop as his eyes flitted across the details of the error message. Apparently, some parts of the kids’ genes had been completely unreadable to the scanner and thus it couldn’t form a full profile.

Sighing, he clicked the popup closed. He could at least look at what results had come through. Maybe they’d be enough.

That hope dwindled as he scanned the full data, the corruption looking more dire than he expected. Even if the legible parts did succeed at painting a picture of the kids being related, the swaths of gibberish made meaningfully searching for the mother likely hopeless. However, there did seem to be a pattern to the broke areas. Something tickled at the back of his mind. He felt like he’d seen this before. Could that mean the mother was a meta or alien? Those were on a separate database, so that might resolve the issue. But that would require him to go to the manor, and he was still very hesitant to do that.

So instead, he pulled up his own test results to compare. Maybe they’d let him figure something ou—

He froze.

That’s why he recognized the corruption. Ever since his revival, his own genetic results exhibited almost the exact same pattern of issues.

Oh Hell, did the kids inherit the side effects of the Pit from him?

He looked over at the kids, sleeping peacefully in their seats, and prayed that they hadn’t. He didn’t think he’d be able to forgive himself if they had to suffer through the Pit Rage their whole lives just because of him.

He… he had to go to the manor. There was no pushing this off any longer. This situation was far too big for him to deal with on his own. He couldn’t risk leaving his kids to suffer alone.

Hopefully Alfred with his parenting skills and Damian with his knowledge of the Lazarus Pits (and similar experience of being descended from a user of them) would be able to help. Or if that failed, maybe he could guilt trip Bruce into getting the Justice League Dark to help.

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ FLUIDITY

tw. dubcon, monsterfucking, explicit size kink, interspecies sex, reader has sex pollen like effects, communication barrier, manipulation, yandere (other parts will contain a lot more explicit dark kinks so please read every individual part's warnings!) wordcount. 8.7k

part 1 of —

a/n. ♡♡ thank you so much rhi for keeping me going through this, idk if i would have pushed through if not for you so ily ily ily and this fic is just indulgence as a period piece and a monsterfucking fic but i hope you give it a chance and like it bc there's moresomes a-coming and this is just the beginning so! yeA i hope you guys enjoy mwuah mwuah mwuah ♡♡

tachibana makoto x fem!reader ( x other characters coming)

Dragonflies glint the prettiest, richest silver you’ve ever seen under the right light. The rosy evening sun casts the entire river into a blooming glow— complete with a soft blanket of fog that rolls along the base of the trees. “Your maiden servants worry about you, you know,” a voice softly calls, and the rustle of shrubbery makes you turn.

You don’t really want to know how long the man’s been guarding you without a word. If it were anyone but one of your father’s most trusted men, you’d probably have some distrust. Instead you only pull your knees to your chest, and continue tossing rocks into the babbling brook.

“Lady, it’ll get dark soon. Your parents don’t want you playing out here so late.”

The small area isn’t open enough to lure any visitors. You’d be fine. Still, you slowly bob your head, waiting for him to step away from the tree edge into the river bank with you. “I had a weird dream, only it didn’t feel like a dream.” The reeds sway in the wind, and you almost let the perfect surrounding whisk away the thought. But the man’s hand drops from his sword, and he gives the faintest of nods. “There was a monster here when I fell asleep— one with a huge mouth packed full of teeth. I saw eyes in the water, and hair so long it covered its whole body.” The tart remnants of your delicately applied makeup wash away as you swallow. “I think- it was a yokai.”

“There’s no yokai here, lady,” he patiently responds, and you turn to him better. This time taking a proper look. If the damp hair tied in a bun is anything to go off of, he was most likely called out of his bath to come out looking for you. You bite your lip, apology lingering on your tongue. But that’s where it stays, as the man continues. “There’s monsters only where people don’t go. You needn’t worry.”

“Are you comforting me?” A slight giggle passes your lips before you can help it. “I know you think I’m lying. You don’t believe anything you don’t see with your own eyes.”

“... It’s not for a lack of trying.” He smooths a hand over his hakama, before resting it back on the pristine handle of his sword. The dragonflies buzz over the low edge of the water, and your feet ache a little from the cold. You’d love to ask to be carried right about now, but spare the poor man the effort. It’s the least you can do. After another few minutes of silence and watching the sun disappear entirely below the tree line, he finally clears his voice. “Come on, lady. We should really get back. You’re precious to your parents. You’re precious to us all. I can’t leave you here.”

This river runs from the high mountains all the way through the small lake that borders the gates of your home; and all the way down the lowlands— and it’s said that on the day of your birth the river flooded, and provided the most bountiful harvest of the last few decades. Even as a child, there was no ignoring the gleeful whispering of the ladies, nor the calculated introductions of sons of poorer lords at every birthday or feast. Some day not too long from now you will get married and spread providence over the land… and there won’t be time for napping by rivers or running off half-dressed into the forest.

Somehow, despite the honor, a small part of you goes cold at that. The water glistens under the last of the light— and you take a long look into the deep of it. The eyes the color of hot coals flash through your mind once more, and you start pulling the fabrics of your dresses aside to put your zori back on. “I know it was a monster- but-” The wind picks up when you turn over your shoulder and smile your most genuine smile. “I wasn’t scared, I think. Perhaps it was friendly.”

The guard is quiet as he watches you get up from the riverbank, and sticks a comfortable distance after helping you gently up onto your feet. You suppose he doesn’t really have the heart, or perhaps confidence, to tell you what he really thinks of your childish talk. The barely-there path back to your home has you growing much more tired— as if weights are tied to your legs. You wish you could stay. The moss crunches softly under your feet, and the dewy air starts to feel a bit cold to the touch. Despite everything, it’s always peaceful here. You cast a brief glance up to the man as he pushes the shrubbery aside. His face has a vacant sort of look, until he catches you looking, and his mouth curls up. “I’ll tell your maiden servants to prepare a purifying ritual for you.”

“Ugh, no, please. Anything but that.”

+

“The koi fish aren’t around anymore, are they, lady?” There’s a slight hesitation in her voice as your maid walks up.

You nod, lift your sleeves to brush your fingers through the water and wait. You got them as a present for your coming of age festivities— the most beautiful blue grey with red fins— much too expensive for your liking but a courting gift nonetheless. You’d been quite fond of the walks out of your houses’ walls because of them. The feed floats sadly on the surface of the inlet, where the clear river water shows no sign at all of the normally curious animals. “It seems like they’ve gone.” What a shame.

Your other maiden scans the area, before rushing to help you up onto your feet as she lowers her head. “Should we ask the master to procure some more? We know feeding the fish brings you much joy.”

The girl helps to fix your sleeves again, before awaiting your call. “No, that’s quite alright. There’s no use replacing a gift.” You cast a wary glance at the bay once more, not quite sure what you’re looking for; but fail to find anything out of the ordinary. A sight furrow comes to your brow, before you hike up your layers of skirts- much to the shock of your two servants- and turn to them with a softer smile. “I would like to be alone for a bit—”

“Lady!” one of them squeaks, but you only laugh.

“I am certain, Hitsu. Tell my father I will be home before tea and dinner, and if you could prepare my bath…” The dark brunette has a question on her tongue, but does nod with the same trained properness that you’ve come to know. “I simply wish to walk along the river, I won’t swim. It’ll be quick, I promise.” It’s not a lie. You have no intention of ruining your beautiful, expensive clothing by going any further than a shallow few steps. But there’s a nagging memory somewhere in the back of your mind— 

You used to have so many dreams, all of them now too faint to recall. Both young ladies give each other a look, before eventually bowing deeply and heading back towards the palace gates.

See, that nagging sense that you’re forgetting something important, something crucial, overcomes you. It’s almost impossible to ignore, and you kick off your shoes to tread carefully along the edge of the deep pool of fresh spring water. The moss is soft under your feet, keeping a tight grip on your embroidered silks.

When you were only a few years old, you used to have these dreams. Dreams of drowning, of ghouls and demons. They grew scarcer the older you got, and eventually even the weekly purification spells and chants became declared unnecessary. But where the memories once sat, now only a blank hole remains in your mind. And however hard you try to remember, you can never quite get there. You make it to the sloped edge of the river not much later, stepping up the small sputtering waterfall and a few round stones between stray bamboo— nearly still water pooling at your feet.

It’s chilly, but not freezing. Something scratches in the back of your skull, deep down. It trickles down your neck, and with a steady heartbeat, it breathes.

But you can’t catch the thought, and the harder you try, the cloudier it becomes— eventually you click your tongue and start walking along the water edge up stream. You should look for your fish. If they swam out of the inlet somehow, maybe they’d be around. They are, much like you are, bred for captivity and wouldn’t survive too long on their own. The sun casts warm spring rays onto your skin, walking in much needed solitude. When you barely realize you’ve spaced out, you’ve already made it to a bend in the river where peach blossoms float on the otherwise pristine surface of the water— and despite your previous care, you drop your dress.

The blossoms swirl in slow circles. And a raindrop lands on your nose. 

Arms, wrapped tight around your chest. Claws. Wide lashless eyes.

Something floods your brain so suddenly that you stumble back a few steps and gasp, sucking in a breath.

It was here. You can’t exactly make out what, but your gut recognizes the trees, the scraggly stones sticking out of the water. Your lungs full of water, and hands all over.

Bumps rise all over your back as you look around, and water seeps up along your tarikubi robe. It’s so quiet, and the stillness starts to trouble with each droplet that comes down. But you breathe. You’ve been here, perhaps more than once, and the aching, pressing itch deep in your head grows more unbearable. When a metallic flicker catches your eyes, you glance down. The rain now starts up more properly, and though the trees provide some shelter, there’s no hiding away from the cold as you walk in just deep enough to bend and pick up a dainty golden chain from between the smooth rocks.

It’s fine like thread, and cold to the touch, and though you can’t quite explain it; something about this finely crafted piece is familiar too. Even through the rain and the chills crawling all the way up your spine, you study the necklace closer. The intricate detail is almost too pristine.

A soft splash on the other side of the river startles you— The sudden scare makes you lose your balance and fall back onto your lower end. Hard. The ache immediately has you whimpering, but instead of worrying about the pain, you slowly try to catch yourself on the rocks; pained enough in the motion that you swear — you see a person diving underneath the water edge. Something pale and fast. You scream, and whatever you saw dashes away before you can think about doing different. The blossoms drift off as you scramble back up; your bruised palms sting, and your heartbeat still hammers hard in your throat when the silence returns.

But the blurry flash of maroon hair and fiery red eyes you caught is long gone.

And much too soon, the clouds that had seemed so fluffy and beautiful earlier turn a dreary grey. You turn on your heel and book it back down the river side on bare feet— still clamping the chain between your fingers.

+

The wick of your lantern splutters with thick oil as you fail to catch sleep. Even with the spring weather it’s chilly, with you remaining wrapped under a thick blanket. You breathe a long sigh, and listen to the crackling of the candle beside your bed in the absence of any other sound. The earlier lecture of your father, your mother, and even the normally quiet and collected matron of the house still lingers on your mind— it’s not like you can blame anyone. You wouldn’t be the first stupid, brazen young girl who happened to drown, and despite the quiet lives most girls like you live, you most likely won’t be the last.

You shouldn’t have been out there. Your servants had been ghastly pale from fright upon seeing the state in which you returned, and even the thorough scrubbing and hours-long bath didn’t do much to alleviate the ache in your lower back.

Despite all that, you’re stuck. Eyes -monstrous, unnatural eyes- appear in the crevices of your mind each time you close your own. No amount of prayer makes the longing fade, and the longer you lay here, the deeper they seem to dig into your flesh. Goosebumps crawl all over your skin once more. When you throw your blankets off you, you go digging in one of the woven baskets for the thickest bland garments you’ve got— tying them around your hips until you’re dressed enough to peer out into the hall. The frigid air current howls through the house when you gather your lantern, some woven socks, and after a brief bit of deliberation; snatch the golden chain from beside your pillow.

The palace is quiet at night, an almost eerie sort of calm that is broken only by the soft ‘pats’ of your feet on the hardwood— with the lanterns barely providing enough light to see a good arms length at a time. The wind pushes you forward, nuzzling deeper into the collar of your clothing until you make it outside. Even under the starry sky, there’s no doubt that this is a stupid idea. No good can come from nightly outings — though you’ve seen girls come and go in similar ways under the cover of night, you’re quite sure their purpose was less out-for-trouble than you are now. But what else can you do?

How could you ever sleep soundly not knowing what’s out there.

With only the flickering reflection on the water, you bow before your home— you’d be back soon enough. You love your clan— and you have no intention of getting caught in long lectures twice in a night. The guards at the gates have no way of noticing you as you slip into the brush and cover the lamp from sight, as cold breaths form clouds before your eyes.

Your legs move almost instinctively until you come upon the peach tree, and the pretty white flowers rain down with the breeze. You place the candle by your feet; and hesitate before taking your own seat on a round rock right by the water edge. You’ve never seen a yokai. Not that you can remember at the very least, but if you would have-you didn’t expect to here. Not the river that blessed your birth, or the one who gives everyone life by way of harvest. Maybe what you saw was a farmer bathing, or a particularly pale, large cod— wouldn’t that make more sense. Isn’t that exactly why you didn’t tell your father?

Because naïvity and silly wonder seems better than monsters lurking among the shrub.

Sadly, but perhaps unsurprisingly, a soft splashing in the water sets every hair on your body upright— and your mouth goes dry. It’s so dark. So awfully dark that it’s hard to see even past your own feet, if not for the broken reflection of your candle in the water. You know it's there. You feel it, by the rancid sort of churning in your stomach, the rapid beating of your heart. You swallow the tightness in your throat as best you can. “I’ve come to return your necklace. I didn’t mean to steal it, so I’ve come to give it back.” You wish you could let your eyes grow used to the dark, but without candle light, it’d be so much harder to get back home in one piece.

After just the sounds of the river drag on, you slowly take another breath, and try to bite back the wetness that rises every time you try and fail to find the eyes you know are looking at you. “I don’t wish to harm anyone.” The wind seems to howl harder across the river, and you can’t fight the horrible visions of monsters all around you, just there in the darkness; tightening your hands into fists. “So I wish you would not harm me either. You can have it back.” Your hand shakes when you hold out the chain above the water— not nearly far enough for anything to reach it without coming into your sight. But you’re too frightened to go any deeper, and your lungs tighten.

“Please, I-”

The peaceful spluttering of the water is suddenly disrupted by a much louder splashing, and you freeze up with a sharp gasp, shoulders trembling despite yourself. You don’t dare move any more than that— only after a minute or so of silence, you continue. “Hello? Don’t you want your necklace back?”

The reeds shake in the wind, and one of the blossoms brushes along your cheek as it falls into your crouched lap. Your breathing is tense enough to almost hide the little mumble that reaches back. It’s soft, sweet like dripping honey, and makes your whole spine tingle. “We want.”

If you had any less sense, you’d probably run right back home. But the idea of moving is too terrifying, so you’re stuck rooted in place as you take a breath. The voice sounds young enough, but the Japanese is distinctly older than your own dialect, rolling off the tongue with a vague foreign lilt— and it takes your frightened brain a little longer than you want to process that the voice isn’t simply human. When another little splash sounds a bit closer, you pull your outstretched hand back to your chest. “Can you see me?” Your own voice wavers when trying to make out any shape in the river. Alas, it’s just so dark that any further effort hurts your eyes.

“Yes.”

“I’ve come to give back your necklace. I got scared and took it, I’m sorry. I mean no harm-”

“He told.” The voice is unbearably clear. Almost like it’s being spoken directly into your head, even though it’s just a mere whisper among the rippling water. It’s distracting, and feels ice cold between your ears.

“Who’s he?” you try, biting your lip. The river seems to stare back at you, and you can’t do anything but hope you aren’t making some horrible mistake. Are you supposed to talk to the monsters that go bump in the night? “I- I don’t know where you are, I can’t see you.” Despite the soft, gentle nature of the voice, your heart patters wildly, unable to let go of your fear when there’s another closer splash. You must only be a dozen feet away from each other now, and still you can’t even see past the water at your toes. The voice stays quiet for a while.

“You don’t see is … better.”

You don’t respond for even longer. But for whatever reason, you almost want to agree. Not seeing, he almost sounds like a childhood friend of yours. The soft, honeyed words aren’t so frightening when you can’t see what they’re being spoken by; and you gather your last bit of courage to softly open your palm out again towards the night. “I’ll throw it over to you. Can you catch it?”

“No ‘throw’.” The -whatever- struggles with the word as he says it, before going quiet. You’re not sure if he doesn’t want you to throw it, or he simply doesn’t understand— so you just bite your lip and wait for any further comments that eventually do follow. “You put paw- h-hand.” Then, after another breath, “Come.” With a slight tremble in your voice, you breathe out a little laugh. You are really being asked to be braver than any girl with sense would— dragging your lantern closer over the pebbles until it’s right by your feet. Cursing yourself, you blink back nervous tears, trembling as you hike up the edge of your skirts, just the tiniest bit, and place only one foot into the shallowest part of the river for stability.

Your hand drops halfway outstretched, and you watch the flame where she glints back on the chain.

More splashing makes way for a more disturbing sound once it surfaces, of a body dragging over the shallow of the river towards you, scraping along the blunt stones— and you almost dart away when the sound comes close enough to reach. But your fingertips are almost frozen solid when another hand comes ever faintly into view, and wetness drops into your palm. To call it a hand is gracious, you decide. There’s longer digits, clawed, and webbed between each bony finger, and the wet glossy skin is more curved spike than thumb. The paw slides carefully along your hand, swiping up the chain as it goes— and leaves a cold coating all over your palm that you snatch back too quickly.

It’s unbearable to stay so close to something and not see it now, and you quickly hurry back to the safety of your rock as the same shuffling goes back to the water. Your heartbeat’s in your throat, and you can’t find any polite words to offer it until the yokai speaks again.

“Rin present, with- no, f-for you. You give present back, make happy. I am thank you.” You’re welcome, you think, but you barely manage to paint on a little smile before wringing your hands together and picking your lantern back up for safekeeping.

“I’m heading home now. If I’m not back soon my guards will find out.” It doesn’t feel entirely appropriate to thank it for not killing you when it had ample chance to, so you stay quiet. But there’s also a sense of gratitude that washes over you. Soon you’ll be back in bed like all of this was a dream. That seems right. That seems good. Your tongue lingers on your words. “You … What's your name?” The river bank feels much safer now you’re back on solid ground, and you can see the peach blossoms you almost slipped on.

There’s another long pause, where you almost make a run for it back all the way home, before the voice sounds out again from the dark— sugary sweet in its tone.

“Makoto.”

+

You’re pretty sure you should be questioning your own sanity. Everyone else wouldn’t hesitate to, and after the few restless nights you’ve had, you should be staying as far away as you can. But curiosity, mixed with a slight sense of obligation, has you walking the river bank like a little droplet flowing back to the sea. The quiet, scruffy man following behind doesn’t say much… never does, and you can’t say you dislike it. But you feel the glances your way, distracting you. Soon you find yourself clearing your voice. “You’re wondering why I’m walking this same path again?”

The older man only hesitates for a moment. “No, lady.”

“Sure you are. I would wonder if I were you.” There’s a faint smile that makes its way up, glancing out over the babbling brook to your left as grass tickles your ankles. “Not too long now and I’ll be engaged…” The peach blossoms above are almost done blooming— and you’ve never known your father to be an indecisive man. “Walking gives me a little break from all the fussing attendants, and father's advisors. Which is why it’d be even better if I were alone-”

It doesn’t take much pushback at all for the man to stop in place and give you a little look, resting his hand on the handle of his sword. “Lady.”

“Oh, please Azuma-san, we’ve had this same conversation for years.”

“I am not to leave you unprotected-”

You turn on your heel to face him. “I want to swim.” The stubborn frown on his face doesn’t move an inch, as your eyes go a little more puppy-esque. You have to know, so you have to lie. It doesn’t bring you joy either, but you might go insane if you have to live with questions for the next twenty years barred in some fancy prison of your future husband’s making. “-Swim right here. Without my very expensive clothing getting ruined.” Still that stone wall refuses to budge, and you throw your last bit of dignity into the ring. If this was anyone else you’d never hear the end of your unrefined words. “So I am going to get undressed.”

“—Ag-lright, just quiet. Your servants hear you and I’ll be lynched in the square.” He sighs deeply, rubbing his hand over his scruff, then gives a little bow. He wants nothing more than to roll his eyes when you offer back a self-satisfied grin, but instead takes a few steps the way you came with a stern look. “I’ll ask one of your maiden servants to make her way over here.”

“Don’t tell her to hurry!” you chant back, only taking off the heaviest layer of clothing once he’s out of sight. You lay it safe out of reach, before kicking off your shoes and socks and waddling towards the big stones again. Sure enough, the river here is a lot deeper than it looks. There’s a ledge in the pool that’s dark enough for almost any kind of monster to hide. This at least means your midnight escape wasn’t a total delusion. The peaceful sway of water grass settles when you dip your toes in the water, and wonder. There’s only a brief few minutes where you sit to think, before a slight thrashing once again captures your attention.

Only when you look up, the river is still, safe for a few tiny fish jumping out of the water. You get up, and tie your skirts up higher to inspect. A large maroon shape darts away into the darkness before you can take a good look, splashing droplets all over the river bank— and you hold your breath. You aren’t crazy. That definitely was much larger than any fish you’ve ever seen, and such a brilliant color that nothing but yokai could possess it. Brighter than all the finest silks, shimmering like a mirror. You wait for what could be a few seconds or an hour, before… someone- something else starts coming up from the darkness.

The olive-golden glitter rises so slow you have no choice but to take in another breath, but luckily don’t scare it away. His light chestnut hair is chopped short-ish, and a strangely human face— with cloudy black eyes, and green gashes either side of his neck— where he hovers below the water surface. It’s not human though. The eyes are big, round and deer-like, nose flatter, and his skin seems almost pearlescent. You don’t have the ability to think if you’re brave or just frozen solid. But whatever the case, the humanesque monster seems to stare for quite a while before judging it safe enough to approach.

It’s only then that you get to see the full extent of his body, scaled from ribs down, with a snake-like bottom half that’s at least longer than your entire body, and ending in a beautiful fish-like tail that feathers out in glittering threads. “Oh…” you breathe, and your arms wrap around yourself for protection, but you still don’t move further. Can’t, more like.

The half-man is close enough -and real enough- to feel a bit nauseating. Close enough to set every hair on your body on end and have your heartbeat a wild patter. But it’s the voice that really makes you feel frigid, gulping for air when that soothing tone comes out of a monstrous mouth. Whatever you had expected to see… wasn’t this. You can’t make out if the near-resemblance is comforting, or more frightening. You shiver at the black tongue, against porcelain white teeth.

“You come back.”

Your nod is hesitant, and you fidget with your jewelry in an attempt to calm your nerves. “I- wanted to see who I’d been talking to, that night. I haven’t slept well since then.”

He hoists himself a little further out of the water onto both hands, clawed and boney. “That was you, right? Makoto?” The brunet only gives a single nod of response, and doesn’t take his dark eyes off you for a second. And you want to laugh, though it isn’t too funny. The scene is just so absurd that you have nothing else to do, but laugh. “Isn’t this weird, talking to each other? How come yokai speak Japanese?” your voice comes, and you only hear how childish you sound when it seems to hang over the river without answer.

Out of all the questions you can ask, that’s what is most important to you? Makoto is gracious as he scoots a little closer once again, scraping his long, heavily muscled tail up over the pebbles and stones. “I listen very many year. Always listen, listen woman, listen warrior, listen you.” He blinks, and blondish lashes are the only normality you have staring back at him. “All can’t speak like me. I -hmm, pras-”

“Practice?” you try, and he clearly agrees when his tail pats happily on the ground. When you smile, he grins back wide and kind, his teeth are much sharper than yours. There’s something so human about the look, that you feel your muscles unwind a little further. You suppose, if he wasn’t so strange looking, with the wrong shades and fins here and there; he’d be quite handsome. He’d go over well with the maiden servants in the clan, too. “Many years, huh? Then- How old are you?”

“Hmmm- old. Very…” He doesn’t seem it, though. You avert your eyes when the water flicks over your feet, slowly dropping your shoes to the side. When you look back, he’s gotten closer yet, and is reaching out his hand towards the edge of the water, towards you. Despite your hesitation, and slight disgust— scaly and seemingly frost bitten pale lips, and unnatural greenish marks along his neck that flare out and in— there’s something that makes you want to follow.

A call, or instinct, to glide into the water and feel it embrace you. “You want come in?” he prompts, softly, and you do. You aren’t much of a swimmer even in high summer, and yet. You find yourself closing the distance and reaching out for his hand, letting your fingertips glide along as you get up to your knees into the water, and then get pulled along further step by unsure step. “Good, come.”

“Ah- it’s cold!” you squeak, but Makoto’s fingers wrap around your hand to support you even when you get almost up to your chest into the river, water crawling up your clothing and making your chest feel tight. “Sh- it's so cold.”

“Water not cold. You warm.” Only when he comes up in front of you do you truly notice how much bigger he is. His hands dwarf yours, and even though you’re higher up, his tail is curved aside to fit on the ground so he stares down at you— covering the sun from your view. He towers over any man you’ve ever seen, and his human-esque top half is still much broader than most. Like a hard plane of muscle, marked with thousands of golden freckles that shift in color the longer you look.

Shivers climb up your legs, and the water seeps your energy out of you. Wrapping your free arm around yourself, you rub some heat into your skin. Those pale lashes flutter as he gives you a half lidded glance, and the freckles that also go across his cheeks color a little more amber. “Lady is … cute.” Large hands suddenly slide along your sides up, before dragging over your shoulders and slowly taking your clothing with it, removing one of a few layers as he leans in. “Here, better without.”

“Oh. No- I don’t- think-”

“Shhh. Better, I know,” he seems to get closer, even though you are too busy staring back into the darkness of his eyes to really notice; and let him untie the robes enough to toss it towards the water edge. Then he pauses, and gets up higher onto his coiled tail to pull another layer off and throw it. Until you’re left standing in only your flimsier linen undergarb, and you’re suddenly much too aware of how peaked your nipples are against the scratchy fabric. But his hands slide up along your thighs to start peeling that off too, when you grab for him and shake your head.

Makoto insists. “No cold when not -this.” His hands keep going up even with your pressure on them.

Having a night encounter with a man is one thing, but you don’t know how you’d ever explain this if someone saw. You can’t dart away in a flash and escape the consequences. You have to go home after this. “I need my clothes to go back—” you quickly beg, ignoring the soft pads of his fingers along your upper thighs, “and if people see- Makoto, please.” Your whole body aches with the cold, and though the touch feels nice, it doesn’t seem right. Your nakedness isn’t a simple thing, even if his is.

“Clothes heavy. Water don’t like clothes.” He turns you around and you lose your footing on the stable flooring, arms quickly clinging onto his wide shoulders for support— it does make his point. Your clothes are incredibly heavy soaked, and pull down on you as strong arms ever so slowly wrap around your waist; nose only a few inches from yours. You can’t help it, your face gets hot. Cheeks, ears, nose- everything starts getting a distracting warm glow that you do your best to ignore, pulling your lip between your teeth. Even so, he seems to look down at you with intrigue, water reflecting in the black of his eyes. “What?”

“You’re very close…” you confess, and also try to release some of the tightness of your embrace— but amusement only brings him closer. He tilts his head, before leaning in until your foreheads meet, and the cooler skin consumes you. “Makoto-sama-”

“Human kiss, hm?” He’s so close, and his mouth is right there -and though you have no clue why, you really want to. The thought is almost as real as the air you breathe, feeling his hands roam all over your body through the soaked linen. Your voice doesn’t make it out when you nod, but he still lifts you into his chest, and your fingertips dig into his shoulders instinctively. “Show me how to kiss? You little one -hmm- good- fit.” You can’t help it, in place of physical heat there’s a sort of aching fire that spreads through your limbs the longer you stay close— and once you start you can’t stop.

Your mouth meets his first, lips moving with yours as his arms squeeze tighter; but when your tongue brushes his lips and meets his, he makes a noise. A low sort of purring that rattles his chest, and has him leaning in harder, trying to bury you into his body as your tongues brush and you suck and moan. His taste is mild but his tongue is heavy, and much longer than yours when it slips further into your mouth. Much longer, bigger, and the wetness soon has you feeling like you can’t breathe.

You pull back with a gasp, staring at the way his long tongue brushes along those sharp teeth before he leans in more. “Again.” You try to make some separation between your two bodies, but clearly Makoto doesn’t care for it when he clamps his hand down around your hip and kisses you more, melting to you as his tongue brushes against yours. He kisses like you’re the first and last thing he’s tasted, even when you moan a little whimper at the lack of air. His cold skin prickles against yours, grinding his waist against you slowly as your head pounds. Still, it feels good.

You don’t ever want to leave— and it’s this exact feeling that has you pulling back for air. You must be out of your mind. He stares with a blown out sort of hunger when you say his name again, and run your fingers along his shoulders up a little. “I’m going to get in trouble if someone finds me here- and- it’s not like we can—” Your cheeks get even hotter when you try to say the words, not even sure if he’d understand. Does a yokai’s understanding include human nighttimes? When he shows no intention of putting you down, you bury your face into his chest, feeling even smaller than before.

Though his skin is cold to the touch, there’s an intense amount of heat surging between you two, almost impossible to ignore— and the way you’re positioned against him, large arms caging you against his waist that pushes into you— doesn’t help anything. You can feel yourself get more slick each time you move your legs. He seems to chuckle when you groan- and as if sensing your train of thought, he rubs his nose along your ear and down the sensitive of your neck with a lower voice. “I want see. Human body so little. Want see it.”

That’s the tipping point. Every fiber in your being aches to obey, to let yourself get touched, seen, taken by him— and your mouth drops open a sliver as you struggle to find words. Your feet can’t reach the bottom here, and Makoto seems content to keep rubbing against you in a slow sea-saw motion that makes your center feel entirely hot. And eventually you crack. Blinking up at him, you breathe a faint “okay”, and let him turn you around. His hands are quick in their exploration, sliding under the last layer up your thighs, squeezing every few inches as he goes up. When he gets to your center, there’s a little flutter of his eyes, before those digits slide in and brush over your pussy, rubbing just soft enough to leave you wanting. “Warm,” he breathes, and then pulls you a little closer. “You do me too.”

As he pushes your last layer of clothing open fully and starts sliding it off your shoulders, you allow yourself just a little curiosity. He’s handsome, and he’s close, and you just feel so needy. Your breathing is still short against his chest, but your numb fingers glide down his sides with purpose as the muscles flex under your touch. His chest rumbles when you whine at the prodding and circling of his fingers around your dripping pussy, and you glide your hands down to his tail. The touch feels a little coarse, but he’s warmer there, and when you rub your palm over the area he’d been grinding into your waist, your fingers feel a softer, spongey slit. Makoto hisses when you rub a finger up and down, and you feel more heat burn onto your face. “Here?”

The question is answered when your finger slips in and is all hot, and something bumps you. But he picks you up and with one swift dash, lays you down on the river bank to get up between your legs. You need to open wide to allow him to fit, and can only whine out his name when the weight of his body over yours pushes you into the cold stones. He licks the air a few times, before grunting. You wish you could do anything other than just flush and look away when his hands descend onto your tits and start touching and rubbing, and the pressure leaves you all exposed. But it doesn’t take long for his attention to shift back to between your legs, and now with a better angle, he sinks down to nose below your navel. “Hmn-”

The purring is paired with a flaring of the gashes on his neck, and his eyes roll back. When his hands spread your legs up as wide as you can go, he nuzzles into you, and that long black tongue peeks out to lick slowly. You can’t help it, you moan. Loudly. It feels like a million pinpricks are traveling your body, as the very long, heavy tongue drags a long strip up your center, and then the tip of it laps at the wetness coating your hole— that quickly gets pushed open further with each sloppy lick. His tongue pushes inside you as he sucks and the feeling of something so hot and so- squirmy makes you squeeze your eyes closed. It’s too strange, but you can’t pull back.

Your hands even reach for his head to tangle your fingers in his hair and whine, your back curling from the floor. You’re drenched- no longer just water as your pussy clenches around his tongue that he forces in to lick places you’ve never been licked. Makoto wraps an arm around your thigh to pull it over his shoulder when you curl and wiggle against him- you can’t help it, it feels so good. Everything’s so sensitive, like your entire body’s been doused into hot water and you’re drowning— only difference is, you’re actively longing for more.

It’s better than any drink-induced daze, late night tussle with a stable boy. It’s even better than your own touch and mind, because he’s just so big and you’re so full, so hot. Your hips grind against his face when he sucks again, and his nose brushes your most sensitive area— and try not to let the water into your mouth when you yerk again. “Ah, ahg, Makoto-sama. I can’t- I can’t handle this much, please. Oh dear gods, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Ah-ughhh, f- ah, please -keep going.”

Your lower belly is wound so tight, and even the sound of his breathing against you feels good. You could melt into the floor with how much slick is coating your insides, dripping out of you around the suction on your cunt. And Makoto doesn’t have any intention of moving. Your mind aches— you want more. You want to wrap your entire body around him and come apart— as his large hands squeeze your thighs tight and wrap them around his head like he can’t get deep enough.

The sloppy, wet sounds of his face burying between your legs to stuff you full of tongue, licking and sucking at your sensitive pussy. It has your muscles so tight as you roll your hips against him, and you can’t stop shaking. “Oh, I’m g-gonna cum— I can’t! I can’t. It feels so- gud. Ah, ahh. What is happening?” When your fingers clench in his hair, he lets out a long, animalistic groan as he glances back up. Still his tongue isn’t fully inside you. “I can’t- Makoto, I can’t!” Even though he’s reaching further than fingers can, he’s still able to fold the deft black muscle over your clit and slot his lips around it to suck. Hard.

And your body can’t handle any more. While his heartbeat pulses through his tongue against your clit, everything goes white, your muscles clenching so hard it hurts. And your heart beats so hard it feels like it stops altogether. If you make any noise at all, you can’t hear yourself over the pounding in your head, rattling your body so hard that nothing except you and him exist. Your eyes are shut until you’re aware of how he grunts against you and pinpricks get too unbearable. But he doesn’t stop, lifting your body to his face and allowing you to ride out your orgasm against him for what feels like forever.

When you feel like you can hear yourself breathe again, you unwrap your legs from around his head. “I thought my heart was going to explode. If Hitsu knew…”

Your eyes are teary when they flutter open against the light, and the black abysses that stare back are barely narrowed slits. Dipping his gills into water briefly before getting up above you again, Makoto seems different. There’s something predatory that wasn’t there before. You can’t help but go quiet. As his hands drag your body down a few inches, you swallow. “Are you okay? Sorry. I feel like I should thank you— I haven’t come that hard, ever. I don’t know about yokai but I don’t think I could feel that good.” His muscular body covers most of the river from your view, but you find it almost too hard to look at him. You’re still hot; but your skin feels cold.

His fingers slide down along your side when he lets out a little groan. “Yokai don’t do this.” Then he goes to brush his face and mouth along your throat, and you shiver a little at the feeling. “So pretty. Warm. I like warm. Stay with me?” You let him grind himself on top of you and embrace him the best you can, only fitting around the narrow of his waist, but after just a second you yerk up. Makoto pulls his head back when he notices, and you get another brush against your slit that makes a cold shiver run up your spine. Where the slit sat before, a dick has emerged- and your mouth drops open a little. The thing is vaguely dick shaped, but has spurs at the base like an anchor, is more pointed at the tip; and it also pulses with each breath.

“Pretty warm body, good. Smell good too.”

You can’t help but swear when you avert your eyes, and instead wrap your arms back around his neck. “Oh, fuck.” Surely, this is where you’d draw the line. Right? But the touching of that against you doesn’t make your body react the way you think it should. The prodding along your inner thighs just leaves you feeling empty, like you’d like to start all over again. Makoto grunts out a little breath when your tits brush his chest, before staring down at you.

After a few seconds of studying your face, and probably the heat that’s flooding your features, he licks his lips. “Human men have… hm-”

“Yes,” you quickly say. He smacks his lips and grinds against you again. “They uhm- put it inside.” If the answer shocks him, he certainly doesn’t show it— looking like he’s barely holding back from crashing his face back to yours and turning you over to fuck you like the begging whore you feel like. The longer he just keeps his solid body against yours, the harder it is to ignore yourself getting wet again against the pulsing of his cock. The purring, clicking noise coming from him feels nice, and you pull at him. “You’re not done yet, right? I can do more.”

You angle your hips a little, and try not to sound so desperate when looking up at him for a kiss. “Please- put it inside me. I- I want to feel you.” Your hands slide over the rougher scales down between you two to reach for him, and hesitate a little when his cock is heavy and covered in some sort of slime; and it seems to follow your touch. But you’re too far past embarrassment to truly care, and Makoto groans when you wrap your fingers around him to squeeze softly. “I need you.” You really don’t know what’s wrong with you. You feel like your body’s being torn apart. You want to be filled, fucked full of him, and get pumped round of his kids— all things that you shouldn’t be thinking about. You didn’t with any men you’ve been with. You can’t.

Even though you know you’re being ludicrous, when he goes in for a kiss, you cling onto him hard; digging your nails into his back. You don’t even know if he could fit. His cock is proportionate to him- but it’s big and long and girthy enough to put any man to shame. You should care. You should care that you could regret being filled up to your breaking point, but you’re just so, so desperate. You might die if he doesn’t fuck you. You can feel it. “Please, please, please—”

—You slide a few feet across the floor, angry thrashing scaring you up into a flounder as you breathe in deeply. Makoto’s dragged off of you and down before you can even blink, water splashing everywhere; and you struggle back to the riverbank with wide eyes. Now you’re no longer side by side with another person- no, creature- you suddenly feel the entire ache of the cold water. The shortness of breath, the numbness of your lips and hands and feet. You feel the painful sting of your back where you’ve been sliced by a dozen sharp rocks, struggling to keep your head above water. And you feel the soreness between your legs of having been filled by something too big.

When you get over the pure shock, you notice the struggling has stopped, and you notice your creature’s golden shape next to someone else. They glitter and glint even in the low light of the afternoon, and you furrow your brows. The second shape only gets clearer when the light shines through the water and colors the flickers a blinding maroon. Your tongue feels cold.

Your arms wrap over your chest and cover up the best you can when Makoto surfaces again and gives you a kind smile, but you take a slight step back. His long, pale lashes flutter when he reaches out a hand. “Sorry. Rin don’t want to bleed you.” Your back and your painful scrapes are the lesser of your worries though. Whatever spell you were under, you’ve been snapped out of. You feel entirely strange- enough to have hot tears welling up along your waterline. What the hell have you been dragged into? You were going to… do things with some monster you didn’t know existed until today. Your brain screams and pounds, and your stomach is entirely flipped. But the brunet softly continues. “He don’t like I take you. Can you come here?”

“No.” Your hair now sticks to your neck and chest, and every second you’re out of the water, is one where the feeling comes back to your limbs. Your arms are so heavy as you keep them up. “There’s more of you?” You don’t know what you expected, really. Maybe you should have known. Maybe you should have questioned. But how could you have truly known?

“Yes.” he answers after a beat, and swims up a little closer with a frightening ease. “Shhh, okay. He will come. You stay.” You try to tell him not to, but he dips below the water surface before you get the chance to ask him not to, splashing water all over as he does— and you don’t know what else to do but to stare at the small bubbles that pop as peach blossoms wash over your feet. Before too long, the reddish shape surfaces alongside Makoto. He lingers in the deep of the river however; fiery eyes zeroing in on you without blinking at all. He stays submerged from the nose down, and you can’t help but feel too watched. 

Your heartbeat doesn’t calm when the brunet swims up closer, and you take a little breath. “Who’s that?”

“Rin,” Makoto softly, sweetly answers, as if he was expecting the question all along. He smiles wide like a saint, and you have to ignore the voice in the back of your head that tells you to get back in the water. His hand reaches out though, and you almost want to. Almost. Your arms and back break out in goosebumps. Then Makoto looks back at the other yokai, and gives you a smiley once-over. It takes you a little too long to recognize something else that plays over his features though. A strange sort of knowing, like he’s seeing right through you. “You Rin’s mate.”

You don’t know why you don’t get up and run.

“Come back in?”

Only that the voice in the back of your head gets more unbearable. You wrap your hands over your ears, and try to hang on.

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2023. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[churipu]

HEYYYY!! I’d like to make a request bc ive been thinking about jjk characters especially yuuji when reader shows affection to a stuffed animal/plushie-like cuddling it or kissing it on the head

+bonus points if its a plushie of THEM

AND HOW ARE YOU??? I hope you’ve been having good days lately. Remember to take good care of yourself, take breaks, and drink lots of water <333

𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈 𝐉𝐑 .ᐟ

────── 𝕴 . featuring. itadori yuuji x fem! reader

────── 𝕴 . warnings. yuuji being jealous >:( he's going to throw a tantrum because of you

note. hii nonnie! i'm doing awesome, how about you? i hope you're taking care of yourself, this goes to all of you. hope you guys are staying healthy, drink a lot of water, and sleep well!

"ah, yes. my girlfriend and a plushie of me, very cute!" yuuji spoke, face void of any emotion — his arms were crossed above his chest as he leans on the doorway to your room.

"i know, i spent this week's pocket money on this custom plushie of you, in case you go on missions, you know what i mean?" you tell him, coddling the medium sized chibi plushie of yuuji.

yuuji groans out loudly, "but i'm right here. not in a mission, or away — and you're not hugging me, or coddling me, or giving me the love and attention that i deserve!" he whined out childishly, stomping his way over to your bed.

"mhm, i know. i know." do you though? yuuji sank his teeth onto his lip in frustration, his eyes felt hot; although not from tears. he could cry, he really could — but he didn't want to because that would be a bit childish of him.

at least he thought so.

"then why are you still hugging that instead of me?"he accuses.

"yuuji, it's fine, it's just a plushie," you tell him, rolling your eyes as you bury your face into the soft fabric, angering the boy even more, "it's itadori yuuji junior."

the fact that you've named the non-living thing as him, but a junior angered him even more. if you were to take a quick look at him — he's hot under the collar. fists clenched, teeth gritted, and eyes glazed with irritation.

you coddled the medium sized plushie of yuuji with such love, disregarding the fact that he was standing right there by you. he felt as if he had just been stabbed in the back by his own lover — that was quite the hyperbole. but yuuji was quite serious about it.

"i got him for such a good price, yuu. i should get another one of me, so we could be plushie lovers." you kissed the plushie on the forehead.

yuuji groaned, with a quick swift move, he swiped over the plushie; throwing it to the other side of the room.

"hey!" you complained.

he ignored your loud yell and crawled his way into your arms, forcing you to wrap your arms around his figure, "why give love to that thing when you have the real thing?" he mutters out in annoyance, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

you huffed out in disbelief, patting his back, "he's just a plushie, of you."

"and i'm here, real."

chuckling, you leaned down and kissed the crown of his head, "my baby."

yuuji didn't complain about the nickname, he let out a contented sigh, finally satisfied with the love, attention, and affection he's well-deserved of, "i'm throwing that thing away."

"throw that and i'm throwing our relationship away."

"over a plushie of me?" he raised his head up, his voice escaping as a strained whine.

© churipu 2024 , do not copy or repost anywhere

[storiesabouteli]

There He Was. // Elijah Hewson X Reader! (Fluff)

prompt: just a short fic about u2 (i'm sorry lol) realizing they're in love after you've had a bad date.

words: 1,8K.

  Your elbows had the marks from Ali's table edge, and she watched you carefully, as if she understood but didn't judge. You were afraid of going home and facing a different reality, so you sought refuge at Eli's house. Your chest felt heavy, though no tears fell, just brief moments of misty eyes that quickly faded.

 "Did he treat you badly?" Her voice was firm, maternal. She gently rubbed your shoulders and placed a glass of water in front of you. Ali had known you since you could remember and always seemed to understand what you needed, even if she didn’t say it outright.

 "It was strange. He treats me well when we're alone, but the problem is when we're with others." You didn’t elaborate much, not fully certain of your own feelings, or maybe you just didn’t want to be. Ali nodded, showing she was there for you. Your eyes drifted down the hallway as you questioned why you ended up there after such a terrible date. The picture of Eli on the wall reminded you of his first girlfriend and how he used to take time during band rehearsals to explain inside jokes to her, ensuring she felt included. You longed to be treated like that, to be cherished. But instead, you had someone who seemed tired of you in public.

 "Hey," Eli’s voice startled you, making you smile softly amid your inner chaos. His voice was rough and slow, probably because he was getting ready for bed. "What’re you doin’ here?" he asked, surprised. His oversized shirt sleeves were rolled up, and his pajama pants made him look like he was begging for a hug, especially with his messy hair.

 Ali glanced between the two of you, giving Eli room to sit next to you. As she left the room with a soft kiss on your forehead, you realized you and Eli were just staring at each other—not in an awkward way, but not entirely normal either. You felt a knot forming in your throat as you admitted, "I don’t think he really likes me."

 Eli sighed, adjusting in the chair beside you, his shoulder touching yours. The small gesture lightened the weight in your chest. "What did he do?" His voice was more alert now as he gently brushed your hair from your face, looking at you as if the situation were more serious than it seemed. Eli tolerated him out of respect for you, but it was clear he never liked the guy.

 "Nothing, I’m fine," you swallowed hard, but Eli's raised eyebrows made it clear he was waiting for you to go on. You felt stupid—you should have seen it coming. There was a reason he avoided you in the hallways or didn’t walk with you near his friends. He was older, attractive, and sweet when you were alone, but you had been just a distraction for someone you thought you could rely on longer.

 "You were so excited to go out with him today. I’m sorry it wasn’t what you expected." The tears returned, blurring your vision. You had never gone out with anyone before, but you had spent years watching Eli go through relationships, each one seeming good in its own way. You thought you could have the same, that it would be a positive experience. You craved the experience, not necessarily the person.

 Eli lightly held your hand, tracing it with his thumb. He was patient, despite his clear restlessness. "It was a mess. I thought I’d meet his friends, make new ones, and that it would be fun, you know? But..." You trailed off, watching the soft light in the room and Eli’s familiar curls from childhood, feeling a warm sensation in your chest. You continued, describing things Eli had never made you feel.

 "I ended up alone most of the time. He’d ask me to wait, disappear, and then come back like nothing had happened. The only interaction we had was when he made a vulgar comment about my outfit, and his friends laughed with him. It was so embarrassing. I don’t even know how I got into this situation," you chuckled weakly. "I don’t want to see him again, Eli."

 He scratched his chin, exhaling heavily, unable to hide his irritation. It wasn’t an overreaction—you knew him well. "I feel a bit stupid, and I should’ve paid attention when you didn’t like him," you admitted. Eli looked at you with a faint smile on his lips.

 "Him being an idiot isn’t your fault, and his behavior is just a reflection of his bad character." You hadn’t expected Eli to throw an "I told you so" in your face, but he proved to be exactly the person Eli had hinted at when he first commented about him. You had been blind, assuming those comments were more about how you’d spend less time with Eli now that you had someone else to hang out with.

 Eli stretched out his arm, pulling you toward him. Your head fell onto his shoulder, your cheek resting against the soft fabric of his shirt, his scent soothing you. You lifted your head briefly, meeting his caramel eyes fixed on you, and it felt right to be there. Resting your head back, you wrapped your arms around his waist, falling silent.

 Eli looked at you for a long moment, wondering how much the guy had hurt you. You had been happy to have someone new, but your conversations always circled back to the same issues, and Eli knew that no matter what you said, nothing would change. He noticed the waves of your hair, the makeup accentuating your eyes, and the form-fitting dress. He couldn’t remember when he first started thinking of you like this, but he realized now that you were beautiful—and maybe this wasn’t the first time he had caught himself contemplating it. The yellow jacket you wore made him wonder if it was a response to the jerk’s comment.

 He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You were always so talkative around him, so your silence bothered him. It made him want to fix things, as if he couldn’t bear to see someone he cared about so much feeling down.

 "Are you stayin’ here tonight?" he asked, eyes closed, still holding you.

 "Can I?"

…

 You could still feel his rings brushing against your fingers, a familiar, comforting sensation, much like the freckles on his face, which even in the moonlight seemed to exist just for you. Eli couldn’t sleep. You stayed in his bed while he settled on a mattress on the floor beside you, and the scent of you on the fabric brought him a quiet sense of peace. The silence spoke volumes, both of you knowing exactly what the other was thinking without uttering a single word. The next day dragged on, unremarkable yet heavy. You didn’t see him in the morning—you left for work right away. But you were glad to have seen Ali, thanking her for having welcomed you the night before and for making Eli in '99 so he can be good company for you these days.

  Ali’s warm embrace, her knowing smile—things you hadn’t realized you’d been craving for so long—left you wondering how long you had been blind to it. As you sorted through a stack of new CDs, deciding which ones to keep and which to shelve, the day felt oddly clear, as if a veil had been lifted. It dawned on you: your relationship with him wasn’t about seeking the experience you thought you wanted, but the experience you truly needed—with Eli. This wasn’t some fleeting teenage desire to kiss him passionately; it was deeper. You found yourself thinking about him all day, anticipating the next moment you could be near him because his presence simply made you feel good. And now that you realized it, you knew it wasn’t the first time you’d felt this way.

 Sure, you wanted to kiss him, but more than that, you wanted to rest your head on his shoulder, nap while he kissed the top of your head, and feel his fingers gently brushing your arm. The guys from last night came into the store, acting like they didn’t know you. Maybe they didn’t remember, but it didn’t matter—you felt out of place standing there in your uniform, weighed down by memories of the night before. You heard there had been a fight involving him, and you didn’t feel bad hoping the worst for him. They paid without looking you in the eye, and you became aware that was all they had to offer—nothing.

 You didn't like your uniform, that made it worse at that very moment, and then your thoughts drifted to Eli. He’d see you like this. He had seen you countless times before wearing that thing, but now you wondered—had he ever thought of you as more than just a childhood friend? Even with the mucus, bad uniforms, showing up with problems in the middle of the night, and poor taste in partners? As if summoned by your thoughts, there he was. 

 Eli walked into the store, head down, hair covering his face. Straightening up, you smiled at him, trying your best to look decent. "Did you bring food?" you asked, reaching for the bags in his hands, already greasy. He nodded, "Thought burgers and fries might brighten your day." You smiled, taking them in your hands, and noticed how his mood lifted to match yours. He could easily feel happy if you were.

 He lingered by the counter, giving you a shy smile when you turned to face him. You stared at him, noticing the redness around his eye—not a big mark, but sure to get worse with time. You couldn’t picture Eli in a fight; it wasn’t his nature, nor was he built for it. Asking him what happened would be pointless—you knew the answer, and he would deny it. Wiping your fingers, you walked over to him, standing on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. "Was it bad? You’re not hurt more than this, are you?" Concern welled up, stinging your eyes. You've had the feeling of having him there for you when you needed him before, it was just more intense. He hugged you tighter, and you could feel his tension ease. "He’s worse off." You both laughed at it, as if it were mundane.

 You weren’t sure if it was true, but you couldn’t deny the satisfaction of imagining the jerk guy bruised. It was hard to believe anyone would do that for you, you were glad it was Eli. The thought crossed your mind—did he feel the same way? Has he thought of you like this before? His fingers traced soft circles on your back, his lips brushing your hair, his warm chest a steady comfort against your cheek as your breathing fell into sync. "Thank you, Eli, but don’t do something like that again. I prefer you in one piece." His laugh rumbled through you, and it made you calm. Eli had told his mother earlier that morning he wouldn’t let you go through more bad people before finding the good one. He thought, maybe, you’d be his next song if you’d only let him.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Eddie Munson's royal fuck-up

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 11

Prompt: Royalty AU

Rated: G

CW: none

Tags: Rockstar Eddie Munson; Royal Steve Harrington; Meet cute; Flirting; Secret Identity; Sort of angsty/open ending

"So, tommorow…" Chrissy says from behind the folder they've been provided. It looks so posh with its dark green binding, the royal sigil embossed on it in gold print. Eddie hates it. It probably thinks it's so much better than the other folders. "When you're introduced to Prince Steven, you're to address him as Your Royal Highness. After that, you call him Sir." 

"What, really? Dude, at least buy me dinner before we start with the kinky shit." 

Chrissy shoves his feet off the desk, which almost makes him topple off his chair. 

"Can you take this seriously? A royal visit is an important matter. We can certainly use the publicity-" 

Eddie's hand crashes down on the desk. "I'm a fucking rockstar, Chris. That ain't enough publicity? This place is my baby, mine. What does that royal asshole know about what it's like to have a rough childhood? He thinks he can come here, give a little speech, smile for the cameras, and suddenly it's all about him?" 

"What, now you care?" 

He whirls on her, but the look she gives him makes him freeze. Chrissy sighs. 

"Eds, you are so busy with the new album and the tour, you haven't even met the new volunteers. I said I'd manage the place, and that's fine. But you must trust me. Just do it for me. Please?" 

*

The skate park has new graffiti, and he hasn't even seen it yet. Eddie exhales his cigarette smoke and watches how it curls up to the sign spelling Hellfire Youth Center.

Maybe Chrissy is right. Maybe he should be here more. Maybe he's been so caught up in the whole fame and fortune thing, he's losing sight of what's important, like- 

"Watch out!" 

Like guys on skateboards barrelling towards him. 

Eddie throws up his hands. The guy tries to swerve, completely tips his precarious balance, and goes flying off the board and right into him. They land on the asphalt with an undignified oomph. 

"Shit, sorry," babbles the guy and tries to disentangle his limbs from Eddie’s. "Couldn't brake-" 

"S alright," Eddie hears himself say, even though his ass hurts like a bitch from the impact and he can already feel the bruises forming. "You can fall into my arms any time." 

Skateboard guy blinks up at him and - fuuuck, he's cute! In a scrungly, beanie-stuffed-over-chestnut-locks, black-rimmed-nerd-glasses kind of way. 

For a second, nobody says anything. 

"For fuck’s sake," someone swears, and then little Max Mayfield is running towards them, ginger braids jumping with the movement. "I told you to be careful." 

"Sorry," cutie with the glasses says again. Eddie has never seen him around. He must be one of the new volunteers Chrissy mentioned. "Guess I'll need to practice some mo- ow, shit!" 

His hands fly up to cradle his knee. There's a hole and a rapidly spreading bloodstain in the fabric of his jeans. 

"Oh fuck," Eddie says, and whips his bandana from his back pocket to press it to the wound. "Red, why don't you hop inside and get the first aid kit? I'll stay here with …" 

He trails off expectantly. Cutie's eyes go wide. 

"I, erm … Dustin." 

"I'll stay here with Dustin." 

*

Dustin, it turns out, isn't just cute, but also fun to talk to. He doesn’t gush about what a huge fan he is or ask for an autograph once. Eddie never thought he'd appreciate that one day, but it gets really old really quick. 

Instead, they jump from one topic to the next, sitting on one of the benches and watching Max go on her board. Dustin has a quick, sharp wit and isn't afraid to counter Eddie’s jabs with his own, delightfully bitchy sense of humor. Damn, to think he almost missed this one. He really needs to be around more.

"I love this place, y’know? You created something great for these kids." 

Eddie jerks to attention. The sun has started to dip, casting Dustin’s smile and the hair poking from his beanie in a soft golden light. 

"Thanks man," Eddie murmurs, and feels the bitterness boil back up. "Some people seem to think it needs better publicity, though." 

Dustin shuffles awkwardly, winces when the movement pulls on the Care Bears bandaids Max has plastered all over his knee. 

"You mean the royal visit?"

Eddie huffs. 

"Yeah, man. I mean, what are they expecting me to do, bow and grovel while his Royal Doucheness prances all over the place with his perfect hair and fancy suit and thank him for it? It's not like he cares about these kids, it's all just a gig to him."

Dustin draws his bottom lip between his teeth.

"You can't know that. Maybe he does care. Maybe he's-" 

Eddie barks a laugh. "Oh, give me a break. All the royals are good at is looking important and spending our tax money. I can fucking do without-" 

"Steve? We gotta leave, c'mon." 

They both whip around. A fancy black limousine with tinted windows has pulled up in the parking lot behind them. A gruff looking man is holding the back door open and looking at them expectantly. 

Dustin sighs and stands. 

"Coming, Hop." 

"Wait, wait, what?" Eddie babbles as he walks towards the car, shoulders in a sad little hunch. "What's going on? Who's that guy? Why's he calling you-" 

And then it clicks. 

"Oh fuck," Eddie says. 

Dustin … no, Steve … no, Steven - Crown Prince Steven fucking Harrington - gives him a tight smile while the man ushers him into the backseat. 

"Thank you for your time, Mr Munson, I'll see you tomorrow. I'll try not to be too much of a douchebag, I promise." 

The door clicks shut. 

The car glides away. 

Eddie buries his face in his palms. 

"Jesus fucking Christ. He's the fucking Prince."

Beside him, wheels grate on asphalt as Max brakes.

"Wow," she deadpans. "You're in some deep shit." 

Eddie groans. 

Tomorrow is gonna be a long-ass fucking day. 

Part 2

All my holiday drabbles

[miriadalia]

About Keenry and how the CK writers ruined one of the best relationships of the show...

I'll try to keep it short.

These are the reasons why I think Tory and Robby shouldn't be endgame in Cobra Kai anymore:

Their miscommunication will only lead them to more heartbreak.

Back in season 4 I became a fulltime Keenry shipper, especially after the Prom scenes. And the main reason was because we could see how they understood each other, talked things out and worried about the other... After the season 5 breakup nothing was the same for them anymore.

With Tory wanting to solve her problems always on her own and with Robby escaping and assuming things before talking with her properly... They made it pretty clear they have communication and trust problems. And I get it, they both have had hard lives. But I hoped that after they made up in the last episode of season 5, they both had learned their lessons...

Flash forward to season 6 and instead we had more of the same but a thousand times worse.

Their SECOND break up

Listen. I know many couples go on and off for years and then end up getting married anyways, especially when they started their relationship pretty young... But I don't think that's healthy at all.

If you feel the constant need to resort to a break up or pause to fix your problems then that probably means you don't actually go well with that person.

And that's fine. That doesn't mean one of the parts is a horrible person. Just means it doesn't work and even if it's hurting it will be for the best in the future.

And yeah, I think the same about Sam x Miguel in case you're wondering.

The "love triangles" they used to kind of made them up again

They really run out of ideas in the writing room. We already had the drama: Tory mom died and she had to fix her relationship with the Miyagi Dos. She could have been forced to fight Robby in the tournament because of the rules, not because she was angry at him.

Why did Robby had to go through literal SA with that freak of a girl while thinking his second girlfriend had also cheated with another guy??

Why did Tory had to be captain with a guy that was made to be just a cartoon villain instead of an actual companion? And why did she also had to experience watching the boy she loved kissing another girl for the second time??

Kwon and Zara were such a wasted potential it makes my blood boil. They had multiple time Taekwondo champions with really good acting skills and they just went with the psycho gang freak and the superficial jealous bitch (ahem, abuser). But that's for another post...

The solution to these "misunderstandings" was... Pushing their respective freaks to defend each other

I'm talking about Tory pushing Kwon in the hall and Robby throwing Zara like a potato bag during the brawl.

"You really choose her over me?"

"It's not even close"

WTF was that?? It wasn't a choice in the first place!! Robby was drunk to the point of unconsciousness. Who on earth wrote that?

And are Tory and Robby supposed to be back together just because he said that?

He also said: "I know you better than that. I shouldn't have let Kwon get into my head" Well........ Your actions didn't show, honey, you immediately accused her of hooking up with him during the last fight.

Kwon's death and its impact in both their lives

Even if they didn't like him and Kwon made things even more difficult between them, he was still a teen like them.

Look at Tory's face in the picture above. Do you think she can handle any more death after what she had to go through with her mother? Do you think she will be magically cured by the power of Robby's love and fight Zara to "get revenge" in part 3?? Please, don't.

Even if a year has passed between the Sekai Taikai and the new tournament, this kid is traumatised. I don't think she should be fighting at all for a long, long time.

Robby, I can see him fighting, but I'm really disappointed on how his character arc went... Yes, he has finally gotten over his second place complex and understood he is a good leader if he wants to... But I can't see how that can improve his relationship with Tory.

So, lastly, I hope this is what one of the CK creators meant when he posted that "some high school relationships last forever, other don't". It makes me sad if it has to be Keenry the one that doesn't end up being endgame. But at the same time is the only solution I see to this poor writing...

[syn4k]

Tango was crouched in an obscure corner of Decked Out, crammed into as small a hole as he could find as the stone overhead creaked and groaned. With one arm over his head, he grumpily typed a message into chat:

<TangoTek> what is it with the lag

<TangoTek> my redstone keeps skipping and it's gonna start breaking stuff

<Xisuma> Were exploring the 1.20 update

<TangoTek> i had to turn everything off

<Xisuma> Loading lots of chunks

He sighed and, taking out his shield, jammed it into place above his head. If this place came down, he was probably going down with it, but he preferred to not lose all his stuff under a bunch of rubble.

The dungeon was not happy.

About two hours ago, the server had started skipping randomly, which was disorienting enough normally but definitely wasn't helped by the fact that Decked Out had started going haywire as well.

Not only was the redstone flashing on and off erratically, but the structure itself was literally warping as the dungeon contorted itself into new, agonized shapes to try and avoid the lag. Which wasn't great if you were in the middle of it, like Tango was.

A hiss sounded from above him, and Tango shot out of the little hole he'd been hiding in as the roof split in two, held up only by his shield, which itself twisted and snapped.

<TangoTek> guys this isn't good

<TangoTek> things are gettgn a bit dicwy down her e

<Xisuma> Whats happening?

<TangoTek> decked out angry

Unfortunately, he couldn't elaborate further because at that point, the entire hallway behind him collapsed and he sprinted upwards towards safety.

Cracks appeared in the walls. The floor and ceiling shook. Tango stumbled up stairs and through the winding hallways, gasping and falling over as soon as he got to the entrance to the first level. The dungeon growled warningly behind him.

"It's not my fault, okay!" he gasped, trying to get his robes realigned. "It's the- it's the other people here! They're exploring all out and lagificating the server! I have nothing to do with this!"

Decked Out growled again, and dust shook from the roof.

"Come on, buddy," Tango pleaded. "Not my fault. I haven't even left here in... a... month."

Should he be worried about that?

Nah. It was probably fine.

The dungeon's door opened minutely on its own with a shriek of stressed metal, then slammed shut again. Tango winced as the edges crumpled, and the dungeon let out another groan, softer this time. It almost sounded like it was in... pain?

Yeah, okay, he probably wasn't fine after a month down there. He was hallucinating a dungeon having emotions. Like, come on. Surely-

"OI," came a very loud and very indignant voice from the entrance. Tango looked over his shoulder to see Zedaph standing there in a hot pink hazmat suit, hands on hips. "UNNUM I HREN, YOU BEAF!"

"What?" asked Tango.

Zedaph took off his helmet and shook out his hair. "UNHAND MY FRIEND, YOU BEAST!" he repeated. The dungeon growled again, and all of the redstone went eerily silent.

"Zed, buddy," Tango tried, scooting backwards a few paces, "I don't think-"

"Don't take that tone with me," said Zedaph, helmet by his feet and hands back on his hips. His face was turned towards the ceiling, but Tango got the feeling he was addressing him as well. "You put my friend in danger. And let me tell you-" he pointed an accusing finger at the wall, Tango wanted to tell him that he should be pointing down instead but didn't "-that's not gonna fly. You hear that? I will not stand for this."

Decked Out growled again, closer and more menacingly this time, and Tango scrambled to his feet. "Zed, buddy," he said again, more urgently this time, "drop it. It's fine. I'm safe, see! Not a scratch!" He opened his arms to try and prove the point, but Zedaph just glowered at him.

"There is a gash on your arm," he said slowly. Tango looked over to see a cut on his inner arm, which had somehow pierced right through his specially reinforced robes. He drew it back in, folding his arm, but Zedaph had already stomped right up to the door.

"Did you hear that?" he said. "There is a cut. On his arm. Still bleeding. And I bet I know whose fault it is."

"Zed!" shouted Tango, running up and trying to yank him backwards. "Stop! Lay it off! Can it! You don't know what you're-"

The server skipped again, much worse this time, and in between the pauses Tango heard a loud shriek coming from below, slowly growing in pitch and intensity.

"Now look what you've done," said Tango, fear and anxiety tinting his voice a dark navy blue. "Dude. Are you an idiot?"

The floor shook, and from below a low rumbling could be heard. The door started to slowly open.

"Come on," he said to Zedaph, who was not moving. He tugged at his sleeve. "You need to go. Why aren't you listening to me?" He shook Zedaph's shoulders, but he just shrugged off the attempts.

From within the dungeon wafted out a horrible smell, horrible not because it was repulsive but horrible because of its implications. The only way Tango could put it was that it smelled like death. Death and dread and doom. He hid behind Zedaph, who calmly stood his ground.

"Yeah, yeah, alright," he said with a snort. "Try to intimidate me. You forget that my whole thing in season 6 was that I was good friends with Death himself. Oh, wait! You weren't there for that!"

The rumbling stopped, confused, and Zedaph continued as Tango continued tugging fruitlessly backwards on his sleeve.

"Listen. I know the lag sucks and all that but that's not an excuse to put my lad Tango here in danger," said Zed, sounding quite confident for someone who was literally facing down a questionably sentient and definitely not friendly megastructure. "We've met before. You know me. You also know him. And you should know by now because I've said it like, five times that if you did anything to put him in harm's way besides like, regular ravager stuff that he does anyways because he's an idiot, I'd get him out of there because he deserves better and you lost your right to keep him for the day. Right?"

The dungeon was silent.

"Right?"

Tango's comm beeped, as did Zedaph's, and he checked it and sighed. "One moment, please," he said to the dungeon, who creaked in response.

<impulseSV> forgot to check comms, everything good over there?

<Zedaph> yep! just negotiating with a sentient and probably evil dungeon

<impulseSV> what?

<Zedaph> Decked Out

<Zedaph> it's haunted

<impulseSV> What?

<GeminiTay> Decked Out's haunted???????

<Zedaph> Decked Out's haunted

He shoved his comm back into his pocket and turned his attention back towards the door. "As I was saying, we have an agreement, do we not?"

The dungeon continued to be silent, but Tango could sense deeply annoyed confirmation in the tone of it.

"We do," said Zedaph. "And because of that agreement, you have to uphold your end. I get to do tests for Tango once a month and you get to kill me or whatever, and in return you let him go once a month. If I take him outside of that one day per month, I get killed in a freak ravager accident-"

"What?" whispered Tango.

"-and if he gets hurt and it's your fault, you have to let him go for a day," said Zedaph. "So yeah. It's 2pm. We will be back at this time tomorrow. Hand him over, please."

Tango fully expected a Ravager or a Warden to come barrelling out of the door and gore the both of them to death. He was already preparing his speech to Zedaph about how you did not just talk to the dungeon that way and how it would absolutely remember it next time when the doors behind them reluctantly opened of their own volition, letting the sunlight stream freely in. Tango just blinked at it.

"Thank you," said Zedaph behind him, dragging Tango alongside him as he stomped towards the exit. Tango just stared behind him, mouth agape, and as the door clanged shut he flinched.

"How did you?" he asked, mouth still wide open. "You just- you can't just- huh? Zed, buddy, that was the stupidest- you could have- what?"

Zedaph just raised an eyebrow as he looked at him. "Because I'm your friend," he said. "And that's just a big stupid building."

The "big stupid building" groaned warningly behind him.

"Sorry!" Zedaph shouted at it. He turned back to Tango, still not letting go of his arm. "Anyways, I think you need therapy. Come to think of it, the dungeon also needs therapy."

Head still spinning, Tango tried his best to make sense of the past fifteen minutes. "Dungeon... therapy?"

"Yep," said Zed, letting him go and starting down the stairs. "Difficult, but I'm 99% sure it can be done." He paused. "Make that 98%. I haven't talked to Cleo about it yet. Are you coming with me or not?"

"You," Tango said, jogging a little to catch up with him as he bit into a carrot, "are insane."

"Way less than you are, my friend," said Zedaph. He wrinkled his nose. "Aw, dang. Forgot my helmet. That's not surviving another 5 minutes. Oh well. I have spares at home."

"Definitely not," agreed Tango. "So... what are we going to do?"

"Not sure," said Zed thoughtfully.

"We could go back in-" Tango started hopefully.

"Oh, no," said Zedaph. "You are not going anywhere near there in the next twenty four hours, mister. Oh!" He snapped his fingers. "I got it. We can go peoplewatching! I heard Mumbo's working on his farms. Maybe we could mess with him."

"Sounds like a plan," said Tango.

And the two walked off, the dungeon glowering behind them.

[hbyrde36]

Steddie | R: Explicit (for eventual smut) | WC:4541 | Ch 1/8 | AO3

Chapter 1: Ghost of Yesterday

Two days after they failed to defeat Vecna, after Max died and came back, after Eddie died—and didn’t. Two days after they were forced to leave his body behind in the Upside Down because everything had gone to shit, a bright yellow pizza delivery van that looked like it’d been through its own apocalypse pulled into the Wheeler's driveway.

Jonathan, Mike, Will, and El finally made it home to Hawkins with the help of a friend.

On day three, Max woke up. 

She’d have a long road to recovery, but the doctors seemed fairly confident she’d walk again. Though, no one could be sure how much of her eyesight would return, if any. The same day, in a twist no one saw coming, Joyce showed up, fresh off a plane from Alaska after escaping Russia—yes, Russia—with a miraculously alive and mostly well Jim Hopper. 

And four days after the world both did and then didn’t end, the ghost of Eddie Munson appeared in Steve’s living room.

The kids and older teens, including the newest member of the doomsday squad, Argyle, were having an off-the-books meeting. After everything they’d done and been through, the so-called ‘adults’ were attempting to pull their same old shit, trying to sideline the younger set for their own, supposed, safety. 

Steve sort-of agreed about Dustin and the others, they were still too young and had already lost so much, but if Hopper, Joyce, and whoever the hell else thought they were going to bench him? They had another think coming, and he was pretty sure Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan felt the same way too.

But, whether he agreed or not, what he wouldn’t do was stop the kids from helping to come up with a plan. Because damned if he knew what the hell they should do next. 

Dustin leaned forward from his spot on the couch wedged between Erica and Will, steepling his fingers together in front of him. “So let me test my understanding. You set him on fire, and shot him—multiple times. He fell out of a third story window, and he just went… poof? Vanished without a trace?”

There was a collective groan from the room, everyone except for Lucas and El who were at the hospital sitting with Max, and of course Dustin himself. 

Robin rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, yes, Dustin. How many times do we have to go over this?”

 “I’m just laying out the facts!” Dustin snapped back. “Clearly we got something wrong here. We underestimated Vecna, and by a lot.”

 “And how is repeating our obvious failure helpful?” Nancy asked, a little defensively. 

Steve understood the attitude, he'd also been wresting with his guilt since that fateful night.

“The scientific method!” Dustin answered with a bit of the same slightly forced cheerfulness he'd been displaying ever since Max woke up. He held up a hand, ticking each step off on his fingers as he spoke. “Question, research, hypothesis, experiment, data analysis, conclusion.” 

“I got a question—“ Erica pursed her lips, giving Dustin such intense side-eye Steve wondered if it was actually painful. “Why are you such a nerd?”

Dustin sighed, as though it were everyone else annoying him instead of the other way around. “The question is—if Vecna is just a guy with powers like El, how could he have survived this long in the Upside Down? What’s keeping him alive?”

Okay, fine. Attitude or not, Steve hadn’t really thought about it but maybe the kid had a point. 

“The hive mind!” Robin offered up.

“Possibly.” Dustin nodded to her. ”Probably. So, what does that tell us?”

Erica crossed her arms, leaning back heavily into the couch. “I don’t know Mr. Clarke, you wanna share your thoughts with the class?”

“I didn’t say I had all the answers.”

“That’s a first,” Robin mumbled. 

“I’m just trying to get us brainstorming here!”

A flutter of movement pulled Steve’s admittedly already drifting attention away from discussion at hand. Something in the corner, the air there shifting and bending strangely, a little like the way heat shimmers off a sun drenched black top. He watched through his periphery, not daring to actually turn his head to look as a familiar figure materialized there. 

Fuck.

Though he looked confused and disoriented at first, it wasn’t long before the long-haired apparition tried approaching one of them.

Steve swallowed hard, his throat growing painfully tight. He fought to keep his face neutral as the ghost raised a hand in front of Dustin's face, calling the boy's name loudly before moving on to Erica, then Nancy—and Steve panicked, knowing he had to do something before the figure tried the same with him. 

“Water,” he muttered, mainly to Robin as he rose and bumped her shoulder. She was the only one really paying attention to him anyway, while the others still argued the physics and limitations of the alternate dimension. 

Steve fled for the relative quiet and safety of his kitchen. He just needed a minute alone to get his shit together, but he should have expected the phantom footfalls that followed him across the tile floor to the cabinet. 

As he took out a tall glass with shaking hands, the ghost hopped up to sit on the counter just beside him and started talking to himself.

“What the hell does a guy gotta do to get a little attention, huh?” The figure held up his slightly transparent hands in front of his own face, turning them over and back again. “I-I’m kinda freaking out here.”

Under the show of irritation he sounded sad, and a little terrified.

“They can’t see you,” Steve muttered softly, regretting it the second the words passed his lips. 

He knew better than to engage with ghosts. 

Since the moment he’d first shown signs of the gift, he’d been taught by his late grandfather to leave the spirit world be, and mind his own goddamn business.

He’d only broken the rules one other time, about a month or so after they learned the full truth of what happened to Barb and he’d seen her essence lurking around his pool at night. That experience had only served to further prove the old man’s point. 

Nothing good ever came from acknowledging the dead. 

But this was Eddie. 

They’d fought together, bled together. Eddie was his–his ally, his compatriot, his friend. 

And towards the end there Steve was even starting to think that maybe… maybe one day they could be more, if he ever got up the courage to flirt back.

Not that it mattered now.

“No shit, Harrington!” Eddie spat. “I’ve been waving my hands in front of their faces, screaming Dustin's name at the top of my lungs and getting jack squat back in return. I mean what the fu—”

With a sad little smile Steve turned, finally looking straight at the other boy just in time to see his eyes go impossibly wide. 

“Wait—holy shit! Harrington, does this mean you can see me?!”

Steve winced, grimacing at the sheer volume of Eddie's voice. “And hear you, unfortunately.”

Who knew the loudest guy he’d ever met would be even louder in death. 

Actually, that tracked. 

“Steve?” Robin’s voice filtered in as she called out to him from the other room.

Steve took a deep breath, locking eyes with the adorably confused looking ghost haunting his kitchen as he shouted back to her. “Yeah?” He raised a hand to his head, rubbing at the bridge of his nose just as Robin appeared in the doorway. 

“What are you up to in here?” She asked.

“Oh, just…” Steve trailed off, trying and failing not to track Eddie’s movements as he hopped down off the counter and began to stalk towards Robin, a determined, mischievous glint in his eye. 

“ …talking to myself.”

Her eyebrows furrowed in concern. “You okay?”

“Are you okay she asks,” Eddie grumbled, tipping his head mockingly from side to side. “Pfft—I’m the one who’s invisible. Why isn’t anyone asking if I’m okay?”

“Um,” Steve fought to keep a level expression and not laugh, even as Eddie blew wet raspberries and made increasingly silly faces inches from an oblivious Robin’s nose. “No, actually. I think I might have a migraine coming on,” he lied.

“You want me to get everyone to leave?” She asked.

Yes, good plan! 

In fairness he wasn’t exactly feeling his best. He was exhausted. It had been a long few days.

A long… week and a half? 

Years. 

It had been a long few years.

And he needed some time alone with Eddie, to talk.

“That'd be great, yeah. Thanks, Rob.”

“Sure thing. Why don't you go get in bed with your eye mask on, and I'll bring water and painkillers up?”

“Oooh,” Eddie crooned. “His majesty sleeps with an eye mask? Fancy.”

Ugh, why were all of Steve’s favorite people such fucking smartasses? He glared at Eddie before he could stop himself. Which meant he was staring daggers at a blank wall right now, right in front of Robin, leaving her looking more concerned than ever. 

Shit. 

He should have known she’d wanna stay behind and take care of him. 

“I—um, t-that’s okay,” Steve stuttered out. “M-maybe you should just go on home too.”

Her face fell.

Hacking and wheezing, he forced a fake coughing fit in her direction, only barely covering his mouth with his hand.

“Very convincing,” Eddie commented with clear sarcasm.

Robin wrinkled her nose, recoiling like the germaphobe Steve knew and loved.

“Sorry, I think I'm coming down with a cold or something actually. You should get out while you still can.”

Robin bit at her lip, looking mildly dubious, but eventually she nodded. “Fine. Just promise you’ll call me if it gets any worse, or if you need anything?”

“I promise.”

While everyone cleared out, Steve hid in the kitchen, finally getting that drink of water he so desperately needed—his throat was on fire now that he thought about it—and splashed some more cold water from the sink on his face for good measure.

“You sure you’re not actually coming down with something?” Eddie asked, sitting back up on his perch on the counter. “You don’t look so hot.”

“I’m fine,” Steve said with practiced ease, though his head was beginning to throb a bit. Maybe that migraine thing wasn’t as much of a lie as he’d thought.

With the house now safely empty of prying eyes and ears, he ventured back out into the living room, with Eddie hovering along behind, and locked the deadbolt on the front door before plopping down hard on the couch, letting his head rest against the back of it.

“Okay, so what’s the plan?” Eddie asked, pacing back and forth along the floor in front of him.

Steve let his head loll to one side. “Plan?”

Eddie groaned, stopping in his tracks to throw his head up to the ceiling. “Why couldn’t it be Henderson who can see me.”

Okay, rude.

“A plan, y'know?” Eddie went on. “To get me back? To get me out of the Upside Down or whatever purgatory I'm currently languishing in?”

Steve could only stare at him blankly for a moment as the words sank in. “Eddie—” he began hesitantly, sitting up straight.

“What? Don't tell me you’ve all given up on me already?”

Oh.

Oh, no.

Steve had heard about this, how sometimes spirits don’t realize they’ve passed on, but surely Eddie had to know. What other possible explanation could he have for suddenly becoming invisible and incorporeal? 

“Eddie, what is it you think is happening here, exactly?” He asked, praying he was wrong but bracing himself for the worst. How on earth do you go about telling someone you care about that they’re dead?

“Well, clearly I–I'm…” Eddie sputtered haughtily for a moment before looking away. “I'm not sure. I’ve been separated from my body somehow, obviously. S-so It’s gotta be some weird Vecna shit, right? And uh, you can hear me and see me b-because… because we both got bit by the bats and it gave us, like, our own little freaky hive-mind type… thing?” 

He sounded less and less sure as he went on, and Steve’s heart ached for him. He remembered the bats attacking him part, but not the dying part. That just seemed cruel.

“Eddie, um,” Steve cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together nervously. “I don’t know how to tell you this but you… you died.”

“Bullshit,” Eddie snorted.

“I’m sorry, but it’s true. We came back from the Creel house and you…” Steve paused, struggling for a second to force his words past the sudden lump in his throat. “Dustin was sitting there with your—”.

“No.” Eddie shook his head roughly. “No–no, because, if I'm dead… then how is it you can see me? Huh?! Explain that!” 

“It runs in my family. My dad doesn't have the gift but my grandfather was able to see ghosts, and his father before that.”

“Suuure, Harrington,” Eddie’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “So—not only am I supposed to believe that I'm dead, but also that you’re descended from some long line of ghost whisperers? Is this a joke to you?! I’m in dire need of–of fucking rescue, and you’re over here trying to fuck with me? Not cool, man. Not cool.”

Steve stood, almost reaching out as he itched to comfort the other boy in some way, but he knew well that it was pointless. “I’m not, I swear I'm not messing with you. I know it’s not what you want to hear, and I'm so sorry but I'm telling you the truth. Dustin, he—” Steve’s voice cracked. “You didn’t have a pulse, Eddie.”

“Stop it!” Eddie snapped.

“I’m sorry, really. I–”

“I said stop!” 

With a choked off sob Eddie moved to shove him away, only to stumble when his hands found nothing solid, or rather, as Eddie’s ghostly and very not solid form passed right through Steve’s body.

Steve held his breath as he waited for it, the sensation of being doused in a bucket of ice water, the spine tingling, creepy crawly thing he’d felt the only other time he’d let a ghost near enough to touch.

But this was nothing like that. 

Eddie felt… warm. And while Steve still shivered it wasn’t because the failed touch had been bad or painful. Quite the opposite, actually. He was left with a pleasant buzzing in his core, the initial warmth lingering, wrapping around him like an embrace before fading slowly.

Maybe all spirits were different. Maybe Barb had felt cold because she’d hated him, because it was his pool she died in—his fault she was out there in the first place.

But Eddie was…

Oh shit—Eddie. 

Steve spun to find him on the floor with his knees pulled up, hugging them to his chest, his huge brown eyes shining with unshed tears. 

Could ghosts cry?

Steve knelt down next to him, biting back a wince as the movement pulled at the bandages hiding beneath his shirt. He’d need to change those again tonight, they felt tacky with dried blood.

Eddie's voice shook when he finally spoke again. “I’m—dead?’

Steve bowed his head in a solemn nod. He would have given anything in that moment to be able to wrap his arms around Eddie.

“T-the bats?”

“There were just too many of them,” Steve explained. “It looked like you put up a hell of a fight, but I think you bled out.”

“My uncle, Wayne, do you know if he—” Eddie trailed off, worrying his bottom lip.

“Dustin talked to him. He couldn't risk telling him everything, but he gave him your guitar pick, and told him you were a hero. That you died a hero.”

Eddie barked a wet laugh, shaking his head.

“It’s the truth," Steve said, hoping his tone left no room for doubt. "If you hadn't distracted them we never would have made it into that attic. And If you hadn’t led them away when you did…” He didn’t need to say it, they both knew Dustin could—and likely would—have been hurt or worse, and those things would have gone through the gate and into the right side up.

It was exactly what Steve would have done too, had their roles been reversed.

“How long has it been?” Eddie asked, quietly.

“Three? No–no, four days.”

“And Vecna?”

“Down, but not out. We wounded him for sure but he got away. That's why everyone was here tonight.”

“Okay,” Eddie blew out a long breath, rubbing hard at his eyes. “What happens now? Do you like, help me find the light or something?” His eyes darted around as though some doorway or portal might appear right there in the living room. “Or maybe I'm going the other way. I can think of a few reasons the big guy might not let me upstairs, but what do I know, maybe self-sacrifice gets you a free pass?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? Isn’t this your legacy or whatever?”

“I’ve never done,” Steve waved a hand, gesturing between the two of them. “This before. I was taught to ignore the dead. Pretend I can't see them just like everyone else and let them go about their business.”

“How come?”

“Grandfather said if you get too involved, if the dead find out you can see them they’ll never leave you alone. That it’s dangerous. The dead linger for a lot of reasons, but the most common are unfinished business and revenge. Lots of angry spirits out there according to the Harrington journals.”

Eddie tilted his head thoughtfully. “Am I really the first ghost you’ve ever talked to?”

Steve thought of Barb again, the way her face had morphed into a rage-filled mask when he revealed he’d been able to see her all along, but he pushed it forcefully out of his mind.

And lied.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I just told you, my grandfather—”

“No,” Eddie cut in. “I mean why, after a lifetime of ignoring ghosts, did you choose to acknowledge me?”

“B-because, you’re—“ Steve faltered, not knowing quite how to put it into words. He wasn’t sure even he totally understood. Yes he’d started developing a crush on the guy, but it was more than that. They had a connection, Steve felt it, even if Eddie didn’t. And maybe it was normal—inevitable even, when you get thrown into this shit together. But whether it was all just trauma bonding or something more, Steve couldn’t deny the pull.

“You’re—” he tried to say again as he pushed himself to his feet, only to double over, sucking air through his teeth as the dull pain in his sides turned searing and sharp.

“Steve?” Eddie shot up as he spoke, sounding worried.

“‘M fine,” Steve grit out, managing to straighten his posture without another outburst. “Jus' tired.”

Eddie raised a single eyebrow, but thankfully didn’t argue, silently following Steve as he headed for the staircase and began to climb.

Of course, this was Eddie, so he was only capable of being silent for so long.

“Hey, how come I can’t touch you, but I can walk up the stairs?” 

“I don’t know,” Steve huffed out, breath stuttering as he neared the top landing. 

Just a few more steps.

“Do you think I could, like, sit on a couch, or—or lay in a bed?” Eddie asked.

“I don’t know,” Steve repeated, trying not to sound as annoyed and in pain as he felt. He just had to make it to his room, get these stupid wounds cleaned and then he could pass out for a few hours. Maybe then he’d be able to answer questions and figure out what to do about all this. 

“What if I—”

“Eddie!” Steve barked from the top step, whirling to face him. He nearly lost his balance before catching himself with a hand on the wall. His sides were screaming at him and the throbbing in his head was getting worse too. “I really don’t know any more than you do. I don’t know all the ins and outs, or why things work the way they work.  Can you please just give it a rest for a minute?”

Eddie wilted, dropping his gaze to his feet. “Sorry.”

Fuck.

“No,” Steve sighed. ”No, I'm sorry, I shouldn’t be… y’know, when you’re—”

“Dead?!” Eddie snapped, raising his head again. He looked hurt.

“Sorry.” Steve sucked his lip between his teeth.

“Whatever.”

“Eddie—”

Eddie stomped past him and into the upstairs hallway. “Spare me the pity party. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m telling you, if I was dead, I'd know it.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue but snapped it shut again without another word. He didn’t have the energy, and If that was what Eddie needed to believe for now to get through this, then who was he to tell him what to think? It wouldn’t change the facts but if it made him feel better, what was the harm?

Somehow Eddie had guessed the right door. He waited, leaning up against the opposite wall and very deliberately didn’t look at Steve as he walked over, and pushed into his bedroom. 

Steve went right through to the bathroom to get this over with, not bothering to close the door behind him, assuming Eddie would be able to walk right through anyway if he wanted to.

Eddie did follow, still silently brooding as he found another piece of wall to hold up.

Steve ignored him for now, he felt awful but he’d try to apologize again later once the other boy had calmed down, and carefully peeled his shirt off as he stood in front of the mirror. 

The bandages at his sides looked gnarly and gross. He’d bled again, and it looked like there was something yellow seeping into the huge squares of gauze too. He turned his body to the side, looking over his shoulder to see how the road rash on his back was doing. It looked better than the front, but that wasn’t saying much. The skin around the wide scrapes was red and inflamed. He couldn’t cover those on his own and could really only clean them in the shower, but they were shallow at least and would eventually heal on their own, he figured. 

A quiet gasp reminded him of his audience, and a quick glance over through the mirror showed Eddie staring at his torso with wide eyes.

“It looks worse than it is,” Steve said quietly, quickly looking away. Which wasn’t exactly true but the last thing he needed right now was another person trying to force him to go to the hospital. 

He knew some first aid. 

It was fine.

Turning back to face the sink, Steve ran water over a washcloth and held it to each of his dressings to soak them off. The air stung when it finally hit the wounds, as though they'd been freshly opened, and, sure enough, there was definitely some pus seeping from the edges.

No problem. He’d just have to clean them extra thoroughly.

Gritting his teeth, Steve poured a hefty amount of peroxide on a new clean washcloth and began to gently pat his right side. 

The pain was instant and excruciating. 

Bile rose in his throat, a cold sweat breaking out across his body as the world around him swam. Steve swayed on his feet, dropping the cloth to the ground as he himself began to fall. 

A sudden warmth at his back, and strong hands wrapping around his chest were the only thing that kept him on his feet. Carefully avoiding the worst of his wounds, Eddie had caught him, holding the bulk of his weight until the spinning in his head stopped.

The moment Steve could stand on his own again Eddie jumped back as though he’d been burned.

Steve’s eyes snapped up, locking with Eddie’s in their reflections as he realized with a start what had just happened.

“How?” He whispered. He could still feel the imprint of Eddie’s hands where they had cradled him to his chest. He’d felt so… real, so solid, so—alive for that handful of seconds. 

“I-I don't know!” Eddie said, a little too loud in the small space. “I didn’t even think, or-or like, I forgot that I couldn't. I saw you about to go down and I didn't want you to hurt yourself.”

“I didn’t think it was possible." Steve took a step towards him. "You should try to do that again.”

Eddie tucked his hands behind his back, moving as far away as he could without actually leaving the room. “Don't we have more important things to worry about? Like maybe getting you to a hospital?”

“No.” Steve shook his head. “I told you, it looks worse than it is.”

It was abundantly clear that Eddie didn’t believe him, but something about the accidental touch had freaked him out enough that he let it go.

As quickly as he could, Steve finished cleaning the ruined expanse of his stomach and got both sides wrapped in fresh bandages, managing to do so without nearly fainting this time, and threw a clean t-shirt on to hide the evidence. Hopefully that would stop Eddie looking at him with those big brown fucking sad worried eyes of his. 

Out of sight, out of mind, and all that. 

As much as he liked Eddie’s attention on him, these weren’t exactly the circumstances he would have hoped for.

Steve shut the lights off, and climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin.

“We should try it again,” Steve mumbled through a long drawn-out yawn.

Eddie laughed softly from his corner hiding spot. “What was that, big boy?”

Steve wished he’d try to join him on the bed, but didn’t know how to ask. He untangled one of his arms from the sheets, reaching a hand out in Eddie’s direction. “Touch me?” 

The room was dark, and it could have been that Steve was a little delirious but he was pretty sure a light blush crept over Eddie's cheeks as he took a step closer, his own ringed hand outstretched.

The sight set off butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

Steve waited to feel the tips of their fingers brush, was desperate to feel Eddie’s touch again if he was honest, but it was no use, Eddie’s long digits passed right through.

“Maybe we have to–” Steve interrupted himself with another deep yawn. His body still ached but now that he was tucked in and warm in his bed, it was getting hard to fight the inevitable. 

“Just go to sleep, man,” Eddie said, his lips quirking into a small crooked smile. “It's not like I'm going anywhere.”

It should have been awkward, or weird to know someone would be there all night, lurking around while he slept, but as Steve drifted off he felt safer than he had in a long time, oddly comforted by the fact that Eddie would be there watching over him, even if he was just a ghost.

Thanks as always to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta and an absolutely amazing cheerleader!

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

Fic taglist (open): @sidekick-hero

[saintlesbian]

we HAD the three musketeers w/ trina spencer and cam before, and they all had strong enough character development on their own that managed to blend into a unique and fun friendship dynamic where they managed to all stand as equals. but now the writers are trying to have this joss-centric musketeer trio consisting of Basically Carly but Worse Somehow, her underdeveloped arm candy that is just leeching off her same smug aura, and the one actually interesting character that’s had her relationship and character development now sidelined to prop joss. the personalities don’t mesh like the old trio did and it feels entirely unbalanced,,, and overall unpleasant to witness...!

I do not fuck with this 3 musketeers bullshit they are trying to force on us with Trina, Joss, and Dex. I do not fuck with it at all. It reeks of bad optics of having the black girl be a sidekick and be a third wheel to her white counterpart bestie, who by the way somehow ends up with the dudes Trina is rejected by,and her jackass boyfriend.

Agreed! No one asked for this!

[noisilyeclecticmilkshake]

Vulnerable

“Here, some water.” Caretaker held out a glass toward the bed.

“I told you guys I’m fine.” Hero said to the room now full with his team. He sat up, failing to keep his breaths even as the pain in his side flared up. He could feel another cold sweat coming on even from the small movement.

“You can’t even sit up without wincing, You clearly aren’t thinking straight, now drink the water, you’ve been sweating all day. You need it.” Caretaker said sternly, holding the glass closer to Hero.

“I’m thinking clearly enough to know that’s drugged.” Caretaker’s surprised expression was quickly replaced with annoyance. “That’s what you do to unruly patients right?” Caretaker was a known take-no-bullshit doctor. If someone needed medical attention they were going to get it. Whether they wanted it or not. 

“Yeah, you might be thinking clearly enough, but if you’re really okay, then my next request shouldn’t be a problem for you.” Hero’s breath quickened as Caretaker turned to the group, what were they going to do? 

Hero’s thoughts were quickly answered. “Sorry guys, but do you mind holding him down?” The team nodded solemnly and Caretaker turned back to Hero, whose thoughts were already on escape. “Evidently I’m going to have to make you drink this.” On a good day, Hero more than outmatched his team. Hell, even on a bad day he could hold them off for a while, but today? Today was a horrible, terrible, awful day. He thought he could try bargaining. “Wait, don’t do this!” But the team advanced, ignoring his pleas.

He attempted to get up instead, but before he could even swing his legs over the edge of the bed, hands were on him, holding him down. It hurt. Whatever poison was in the dagger Villain stabbed him with was affecting every nerve. “Stop, please.” He could feel his erratic beating heart and his lungs that tried to keep up. “You’re hurting me.” His voice came out strained. He could hear his team's apologies, but they didn’t let up. He tried kicking, but his ankles were held tight, and whoever it was used the rest of their body to sit on his knees. He leaned forward in an attempt to push them off but was pulled back immediately by rough hands on his shoulders pinning him against bed. His wrists were next, pushed into the bed as another team member straddled his torso, unknowingly putting weight directly on his wound. He cried out involuntarily and saw black spots at the edge of his vision. Any movement threatened to pull him into oblivion without the help of Caretakers concoction.

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you don’t tell your team you’ve been poisoned and let it fester for 2 days. Now open up.” With his team's entire weight on him he resolved to clenching his jaw and turning his head away from Caretaker and the drugged water. Caretaker sighed “We don’t have to do it like this. Just let me treat your wounds and I promise I won’t shove this water down your throat.” But he couldn’t. Hero couldn’t let anyone see him that weak, that vulnerable, no matter how much he knew he needed the help. Even if he could feel the poison making its way to his bones. He could feel his face turning red from how vulnerable he already was, and made that way by his team no less, Hero just turned his head further, clenched his jaw harder. “Fine, have it your way, but you know this is for your own good.” Caretaker pinched Hero’s nose. He tried to move away, but that sent another wave of agony as his wound was aggravated again. Another involuntary scream cut off by sudden off-tasting water that he couldn't reject, his body’s automatic response swallowing the drug.

“Should we let him go now?” Sidekick asked, she noticed how erratic his breathing had become when she sat on his torso, but had stayed where she was, not wanting to cause even further pain by moving.

“No, the sedative should kick in pretty soon, especially since he hasn't eaten all day, and he’ll probably hurt himself trying to leave if you don’t keep holding him down.” Caretaker hated that, they knew why Hero didn’t want to be treated, and that this was hell for them. If they had just taken the damn water the first time it wouldn’t have had to be like this. 

Caretaker was right about the quick acting sedative. It had only been a couple of minutes and Hero could already his limbs start to get heavier, his fingers started to slack and he felt himself start to panic all over again, it was an unwelcome, familiar feeling, even after a year. Unfortunately the panic did not give him strength to overcome the three people holding him down, and most of it was dampened by the mind-numbing fog settling over him. His limbs were lead, but he started to feel a strange, contrasting weightlessness, tried to protest the drug, but his lips were as heavy as his legs and all that came out was a slur of words “No... I-please... nghh...” Hero tried sitting up again, he didn’t remember why he’d laid down in the first place, but he could only move his head. He looked up to see a blurry sidekick and he could hear faint apologies as he tried to ask why Sidekick was over him, everything was hazy and there was a faint throbbing in his side. Something far away made a noise and he felt some weights being lifted off of him. 

“Okay, I think he’s out. You guys can go now.” Caretaker said once it was clear that Hero was not going to fight treatment. 

“Are you sure? I can help, it must be a pretty nasty poison if it’s weakened him this much.” Tank said.

Caretaker did want help, but they knew Hero never wanted his team to see him like this, plus the scars would lead to a lot of questions about Hero’s past that neither of them wanted to answer. “No, I’ll be fine. I have a strong suspicion of what it was that Villain used.” With that, the team left and Caretaker got to work, the drug wasn’t going to make Hero pass out, he would remain semi-conscious, it was better this way. He would come to with vague memories instead of a complete time skip, and hopefully Hero wouldn’t hate Caretaker as much this way. They cleaned the wound and used some ointment before starting to sew it up. 

The sight of light shining on metal stirred something in Hero, memories of his time with Villain, the surgeries, waking up with unknown changes, things missing or added, sometimes waking up with unnecessary wounds only there to cause pain. He didn’t want this, not again. “Whumper, please.” His breathing was as erratic as it could get under sedation. “W-Why? What’re you-” He was cut off by a caring hand in his hair. Soft reassurances that were surely lies. “No, please.” He tried to scoot away but was held in place and could only watch as a needle was pulled through into and through his wound, again and again. Something in the back of his mind registered that there was no pain, another part of him knew that he would feel this when he woke up, back in the room that reminded him of his predicament with every sense. The sight of the blood-stained mattress only imbedded more permanently with the intense metallic smell he couldn’t escape. 

Caretaker worked as quickly as they could. It really would be easier if Hero was out completely, but this would have to do. They didn’t expect him to have so much fight, but the sight of the needle sent him in an attempt to roll off the bed. They steadied him and went to work on Hero, sewing up the wound. He didn’t stop trying to get away, nor did he stop protesting, until several minutes after the stitches were complete. Trying to soothe him only seemed to make matters worse, so Caretaker simply held him until they were sure he wouldn’t rip his stitches. The drug only lasted an hour and Caretaker could tell it had worn off when Hero’s wavering voice rang through the quiet room.

“You promised.” Hero meant for their voice to sound angrier than it did. He hoped the betrayal got through at least.

It did. 

“I know.” Caretaker couldn’t meet Hero’s eyes, they didn’t regret what they’d done, but it didn’t feel good, betraying their friend after all he had been through. Still, they defended their position. “I figured though, you dying makes that promise void.” 

“Just leave.” Hero was struggling to push invading memories out of his mind, and wanted Caretaker to leave before he failed completely. They had already seen him more vulnerable than he ever wanted.

[dearharriet]

Congrats on 150!! For your celebration I was thinking Bad idea right? Is soooooo Sirius black.

you are sooo right, my love, that’s exactly who i had in mind haha. thank u sm for the request! (wc: 765) (cw: pg-13 smut)

There’s nothing hotter than a secret meetup, which makes your circumstances all the more unfortunate. It’s hard to hear anything above the thumping bass of the club, but the crackling phone line meets your ear like a challenge. Sirius is on the other end, working like a dog to persuade you to meet him, and you can’t hold out much longer.

“Darling,” he begs, tugging at your heart with his old nickname. “I miss you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have dumped me, then.”

He sucks a breath in like you’ve actually wounded him. Feeling the conversation run long, you glance around the corner to make sure your friends are still where you left them, dancing obliviously.

“I know it, love. Only a raging idiot would let you go. I’m a jealous prick, and I don’t deserve you.”

He’s really groveling, you think, lips curling into a smirk. You could probably say anything now and he’d agree with you.

“For once, I think you’re right. You don’t deserve me. If anything, I should go home with one of the guys here,” you breathe, your voice pitching down. “Let him have his way with me, and then send you a scanty photo to cry about.”

Sirius’ breath catches. “You’d have every right.”

The pit in your stomach grows, and you know some stranger would never satiate it. Sirius is wrapped around your finger, and you’re so tempted to take him up on his offer.

“But,” continues Sirius when you leave the line dead, “you know they’d never make you feel the way I can.”

That’s the final straw.

“Send me your address,” you murmur hurriedly, already assembling a plan to escape your friends. Sirius halts it in its tracks.

“Stay there, I’ll come get you,” he says instead, his voice husky and dark. I’m so in for it, you think.

Twenty minutes later, Sirius finds you loitering a block away from the club, mace in hand. He leans across the center console to open his passenger door, and you poke your head in.

“Hey,” you breathe.

Sirius jerks his head up as a means of greeting.

“Get in.”

You do as he says, sliding into the familiar seat beside him. It’s been months since you’ve seen him, but he looks exactly the same; still the hottest man you’ve ever met.

Sirius is watching you, too, taking in your skimpy top and short skirt with hungry eyes. If you had any doubts about the chemistry still standing between you two, they’re immediately banished.

“C’mere,” Sirius grunts, patting his lap. You can’t get there fast enough.

He feels so good under you, familiar and warm. His hands don’t hesitate the way that strangers’ do, they just grip the meat of your thighs with abandon. Similarly, you don’t hesitate to plant your mouth on his, weaving into the song and dance you two have performed a thousand times.

“I meant what I said, doll,” Sirius groans as you pull back to attend to his spotless throat. “I really have missed you.”

“You have me on your lap, Sirius, you don’t have to convince me anymore.”

He chuckles at that, grabbing meanly at your ass.

“You always were too sharp for me.”

Pulling away from his bobbing throat, you scoot yourself closer to his pelvis, finding him hot and ready beneath you. You don’t feel sharp. If anything, you’re more convinced you’re not thinking at all.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, and that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. Lust is fine, but everything else has to stay off the table.

“Sirius.” You suck harshly at a spot under his jaw and he hums, in pleasure and in question. “Shut up,” you say, and then cover his mouth with yours again, tugging at his silky hair. He smiles into your mouth and you lick behind those wicked teeth, knowing them as well as your own.

“Take your pants off,” you suddenly demand, and Sirius looks at you like you’re crazy. “What?”

“We’re not having car sex on a well-lit street, babe.”

You frown. “It sure seems like we are.”

Sirius laughs, a touch hysterical. “Uh-uh. No way.” His hands come up to untangle yours from his hair. “My place or yours?”

With a huff, you pull yourself off of him, dizzy and warm with desire. Without a word, you buckle yourself in, silently relenting to his terms. As he sets a big hand on your flushed thigh, you glance over at him, and you know you’ve made a terrible mistake. Still, you’re not about to turn back now.

“Your place,” you say, “baby.”

+

thank u for reading! <3

masterlist

join the celebration!

[koolades-world]

Behind the Scenes

All it took was the watchful eye of your best man.

“How was yer day?” Mammon took your bag from you as the two of you began the walk home from RAD together.

“Uneventful mostly, but not bad. The fact that you were there during Seductive Speechcraft today was more than enough to turn my day around.” You turn and smile at him.

“What’d ya mean?” He glanced over at you.

"Just a bad day. Having you at my side make it better." You try to deflect.

"What happened?" He reached out to grab your hand, which you took.

"A couple things." You avoid his gaze.

“What’s the matter, darlin’?” Mammon stopped you in your tracks by standing in front of you. He looks right into your eyes, and holds your chin in his hands.

“You’re so caring Mams, but I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” You place a hand on his arm, trying to continue walking. He stops you, holding you close.

"Ya've been havin' bad days for a while now. What's the root? Ya can't hide this from me." You sigh, realize the jig is up.

"There's been this demon at RAD who's been picking on me. Today he stole my Potions homework, shouldered me into my locker, and almost drowned me in the bathroom. Thankfully the professor let me off since I never forget my work at home, but next time I might not be so lucky." You admit.

"He what? Forget the whole homework thing, I'll kill the bastard. Who did this to you? You gotta tell me about this stuff. Where does it hurt? Tell me the truth." Silently, you lift one of your sleeves to reveal the bruise you got from being slammed into the locker and pull down the collar of your uniform reveal the outline of fingers on the back of your neck. You wince at the memory. “What were ya planning to do? Suffer in silence? Mc, I don’t tell ya enough that I love ya.” He cupped your face in his hands, speaking to you gently.

“Usually when this happens, I just use a spell to cover it since I'm not good enough at healing magic yet. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not telling you and I’m sorry for worrying you, but he…” You trail off, glancing around. “I don’t think I should even be telling you this.” Mammon looks at you, then around the both of you as well.

“Ya know damn well ya can tell me anythin’. Fuck him. If ya want, ya can wait until we get home.” Mammon knew whoever this demon was wouldn’t dare to both you while he was around.

“I want to wait until we get home.” You said. That was the only thing you had been sure about that entire conversation. Mammon, instead of letting you walk, opted to carry you, insisting it was for your own good. You couldn’t shake the feeling of paranoia, that he was somehow listening and that you said too much.

One you both arrived home, Mammon sat you down in the living room and called over everyone that was home. In a matter of minutes, Levi, Satan, and Asmo were gathered around you, concerned at how oddly serious Mammon had approached them. While you sat silently, Mammon explained. You could see the rage blossoming on Satan’s face, and the horror on Levi and Asmo’s.

“Sweetie, why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Asmo cuddled you in a similar way that Mammon did when he found out.

“I was afraid…” You search their faces for their reactions.

“What did he say to you?” Asmo asked.

“He told me he would hurt my family if I told anyone. Not you guys, my human family. I haven’t seen them in so long and I didn’t want anything to happen to them. I really miss them. He said it would be fun to…” You couldn’t continue. A silent tear makes its way down your face. Mammon wiped it away.

“You don’t have to continue.” Asmo pulled you in closer to him.

“What’s his name?” Satan speaks up for the first time. His face was a little red and his eye has begun to tick, but looked eerily calm otherwise. To the untrained eye, it may have looked like he was calming down, but that couldn’t be more wrong.

“Please don’t hurt him.” You begged them.

“Why?” Levi, who had also been silent, nervously asked.

“He must have a reason for acting the way he has been. He probably has a family, and friends. I don’t think he deserves to be hurt, just maybe talked to.” Asmo gripped you hand tighter at your words and swept some hair out of your face.

“We’ll see what we can do, honey.” Asmo exchanged glances with his brothers. “How about this? We take you to Purgatory Hall to spend time with whoever’s there right now while we go talk to Lucifer, Belphie, and Beel.” He asked you.

“Can’t it wait? What if he’s listening?” You pleaded.

“I can assure you if he is out there and dares to act on his threats, I will see to it personally.” Satan’s tick was stronger and more noticeable.

“Anyways, I trust Sol with my life! If there’s anyone I would let look after you, it’s him.” Asmo told you.

“Ok, if you’re really sure. I trust you. Thanks guys. Can I have a hug?” You rose from your stop to be swarmed by the four demons around you. They took care to not hurt you more. You felt safe in the middle of them.

All of them personally went with you to drop you off at Purgatory Hall. Simeon answered the door, and as soon as he took in the scene, his usual smile faded and called for Solomon. Mammon explained the situation, to which they promptly agreed to help. As Asmo transferred you to Simeon, you heard Solomon asking them to save him a piece. It send a sharp shiver down your spine. As soon as the door shut, their facades dropped.

“They never told us his name. Even if it means I have to check every student at RAD, I will. After all, there can only be so many who meet his description.” Asmo chuckled. Satan was still doing his best to hold in his explosive rage until they were far enough from Purgatory Hall.

“Levi, take Satan somewhere to decompress for a while. We’ll reconvene here once we find the others.” Mammon took out his DDD and began making the calls he needed. Asmo also took out his DDD to check as many Devilgram accounts as he could to see if anyone looked particularly guilty.

As soon as Lucifer found out, he practically flew out of the place to meet up with his brothers. It was easy to see the similarities between him and Satan at this point. Belphie and Beel weren’t far behind. It was rare to see them both so agitated. The three of them quickly went in to see you, to see for themselves that you were ok, and to ask for the name of who has been bothering you. After much coaxing, they finally got it. Lucifer made Simeon promise to heal you, and with that, they vanished again. You didn’t know what to think, and hoped they would adhere to their promise.

Once they found him, they didn’t know what to do first. Question him or get straight to what they were there for: to make him pay for what he did. Each of them had their own idea, that they would never dare tell you. While you were safe and sound at Purgatory Hall, the brothers were having the time of their lives. It was a side of them they would never let you see; the side of them that truly reveled in misery and pain.

That demon vanished.

About a week and a half later, he reappeared a changed demon. He apologized for everything he did and remained out of your way from then on. He seemed physically fine, but was a different demon altogether. He was much nicer, and quieter. His friends avoided you like the plague, afraid of something you didn't understand. In fact, after that, everyone treated you like gold if they didn't already. You weren't stupid. You knew the brothers did something but nobody dared tell you. It was a little uncanny as everyone outside your household was pretending nothing had happened in the first place.

But the brothers were kinder, if possible. They kept bringing you small trinkets and gifts, like flowers and anything they thought you would like. They checked up on you more frequently and took you out more frequently. They always made sure you had everything you wanted even if you didn't ask for it. They even arranged for you to see your family in the human world with one accompanying you, although you suspected the others were watching from a distance. It was still chilling to think about what they did to that demon to make them stop so suddenly upon their return, or where they even went, but you settled on never knowing what they did. You just took their gestures at face value and appreciated them for it.

The brothers were glad you were recovering from everything. Anything you refused to tell them, they got out of the perpetrator. Simeon was an amazing healer, and even Lucifer wasn't sure how he brought him back together, mentally and physically. You could never find out.

errrr i don't really like this </3 the concept was more fun but I can't scrap it after how much i put into it

i kinda wanted it more ominous with less words but i think I need more writing practice for that lol