#metal fingers are NOT great on tiny screens

[missybee-writes]

Shadow in the Dark: Chapter Five - Sleepover

Genre: Sci-fi; Romance; Horror

Warnings: (eventual) sexual content; violence; gore; swearing; alcohol and drug use.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!OC

Summary

In July ‘85, an ambitious realtor sells the crumbling Creel house to a family looking for a new start.

Rose McAllister may be living in a grand and gothic murder house in a small Midwest town, but senior year in high school is the stuff of her nightmares: a last chance at a normal school year without being the odd one out, the sick girl, the weirdo from across the pond. Blend in, make it through the year, and make some friends. Stay unnoticed at all costs.

Hawkins, and one seriously loud-mouthed metalhead, is about to flip that carefully laid plan Upside Down.

Chapter one: Cursed

Chapter two: Munson Magic

Chapter three: Fearless

Chapter Four: Code Name, Farrah Fawcett

Ao3 link

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Rose

Hawkins was pretty in the autumn. Maybe it was the burnt orange leaves that crunched underneath her boots, or the slight chill in the air that felt crisp and tingled in her lungs as she breathed deeply. Maybe it was the freedom of walking into town on a Saturday afternoon by herself, fresh from a morning of American History homework and completing all her week’s assignments. She might not have a driver's license, but when the red-gold tree-lined streets were this picturesque, who minded walking?

Main Street was busy on a Saturday afternoon, a dozen bikes chained up outside the stores, older folks sat on a bench outside the library, watching the world go by. A girl with red hair a little lighter than Rose’s swung open the door of the arcade, and a loud wave of bleeping machines and electronic music blasted out the open door. She slapped a skateboard on the sidewalk, jumping on it and balancing easily, weaving between a couple leaving Melvald’s General Store with big brown paper bags and ignoring their protests as she passed. The girl raised her middle finger over her head as she disappeared in the distance, attitude stone cold.

Rose peered into the arcade window, and saw a familiar gangly figure inside. Mike was hunched over one of the arcade games, bashing buttons and manhandling a joystick, whilst Lucas leaned against it, slumped and looking longingly at the door.

She thought about waving or saying hello, but they were both absorbed by the shiny metal machine with its bright screen, with a great big donkey plastered on the side. Fixated, like it was life and death. She’d never understood the appeal herself; being wound up like a jack-in-the-box and raging with anger, desperate to beat some high score and placing coin after coin into the game...all for what? To end up on a leaderboard on a tiny screen?

After a few seconds at the window someone her age with brown hair and a name badge popped up on the other side with a weird look on his face, staring at her with his mouth wide open; she backed away slowly, then quickly paced along the sidewalk, almost missing her destination.

Family Video was attached to the arcade, with a neon store sign and glass windows covered in posters of The Breakfast Club and Scarface , along with other movies she hadn’t seen. Her nerves came back in full force as she pushed open the door, not sure if Robin would be up front. 

It wasn’t busy inside, with only a couple of families browsing the rows and rows of tapes, and stands of popcorn and candy. A guy leaned casually on the counter, in a white shirt and green waistcoat, kind of like Han Solo. He was glued to a TV behind the counter, with his back to Rose, and a hell of a head of hair.

“Welcome to Family Video,” he said in a monotone voice, like he wanted to be anywhere else. “We bring the stars of Hollywood to your living room for low, low prices.”

No sign of Robin, not lingering in the rows of tapes or behind the counter with the guy.

“Hello,” she approached the counter with a tentative wave, one slow step at a time. “Hi. Sorry, i’m looking for Robin, and I don’t know if i’m in the right place.”

He noticed her slowly, head turning, straightening himself up and looking at her eagerly. Floppy hair. Confident. 

She fidgeted with her hands, squirming internally at being the centre of someone’s full attention. “Well, I know I must be in the right place, there can’t be two video stores in a town this size, can there? I mean, there are only so many times you can watch The Breakfast Club before you start to lose the will to live. Oh...sorry, that’s probably your favourite, isn’t it. I have a unique talent of putting my foot in my mouth within three seconds of meeting someone.”

The guy’s answering smile was kind of dreamy, which threw her for a loop. He leaned on the counter, speaking low, like he was letting her in on a secret. “Actually, between you and me, I hate The Breakfast Club. I feel like i’m there, taking detention on a Saturday, wasting my life in a school library instead of being outside with my friends. Libraries are kind of dull, aren’t they?”

“Some people would say that,” she mumbled. Not her , but she didn’t want to argue about it. “I’ve never had detention though.”

“Not once?”

“Nope. Cross my heart.”

He found that amusing, his smile growing wider. “Really? You know what, you kind of remind me of the girl from that movie. Molly Ringwald. Mostly the hair, maybe not the face.”

“I don’t know, I can’t see it myself.” Rose’s hand raked through her hair; it was much longer, but perhaps it was a similar shade of red. Though Molly Ringwald had a perfectly styled head of hair in the movie, and Rose’s long waves were more untameable. She’d left it in its natural state this morning as she couldn’t face a can of hairspray or a mirror, still brooding after last night’s disaster when Eddie drove her home and all but confessed he had someone special already. And she was admittedly a little taller and rounder than Molly, never running particularly thin like some of the girls at school.

“Actually, I’ve been told i’m like the jock, what’s his name...” he clicked his fingers repeatedly.

“Emilio Estevez?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. But come on, Emilio Estevez wishes he had my hair.”

She snorted with laughter, covering her mouth with her hand in embarrassment. “It is a good head of hair. I wish I could keep mine that bouncy.”

“You think so? It’s all natural, just born with good genetics, I guess. Hey, how have I not seen you around before? I mean-”

“Oh no, this is not happening, Steve! ” A screeching Robin burst through the office doorway behind the desk, an angry whirlwind in a green waistcoat, hair tied up in a messy half-pony. “My friends are off limits. Keep your sucky flirting skills in your holster.”

Rose cringed hard, half tempted to hide behind a row of tapes or a cardboard cutout of Indiana Jones she’d just spotted in the corner. Refuge behind her beloved Indy.

“ Jesus , Rob,” Steve whined, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can’t I have a conversation with a girl without you bursting out and mocking me? Do you have to do this every time?”

That was flirting? Rose glanced at him out the corner of her eye...she supposed he did have a kind of Simon Le Bon look...but not even a resemblance to her favourite musician could detract from the fact that when she saw this guy’s perfectly nice brown eyes, all she could think of was they’re not Eddie’s . Eddie’s were unfathomably dark, except in the bright sunlight, when the sun’s rays lit them whiskey-brown. Oh god, She was well and truly fucked, wasn’t she?

Robin leapt onto the counter and knocked over a tape, sitting cross legged on the top and prodding him in the chest.

“Ow,” he rubbed the offending spot.

“You should be thanking me for retiring the ‘you suck’ scoreboard, dingus. I finally have a cool, cultured, European friend, and you’re not taking her from me with your Farrah Fawcett hair and your King Harrington routine. She speaks French, Steve. French. She’s been to Paris. Whatever this is,” Robin waved her hand at him disdainfully, “she’s not interested.”

“Hello? I’m right here,” Rose said. The odd duo didn’t even stop to take a breath, they kept right on bickering.

“Alright, alright, cool it,” Steve held up his hands, de-escalating the situation. “I’m not sure if I can just turn off my innate natural charm like a light switch, but I get it. Off limits.”

“Steve?” Rose said, cogs turning slowly in her head. “As in, walkie talkie Steve?”

They both snapped to her, like they only just remembered she was there, wearing twin expressions of confusion. 

“How do you know about the walkie-talkies?” Robin asked suspiciously. “Our frequency is supposed to be highly secret.”

Steve leaned into Robin, their heads almost pressed together. “You said she speaks other languages , right?”

Robin thought about it for a while, and shrugged. “Nah, she’s too odd to be a...uh...one of the workers in the mall. She’s organically odd. No one in a position of power would dream this cover story up.”

“Odd, you say. How?” Steve asked.

“Well, for one, she made a total ass of herself in front of O’Donnell’s class by insulting the jocks and their macho need to throw balls in hoops. No desire to fit in with that team of idiots and their slack-jawed followers, at all.”

Steve frowned. “I was the captain of that team of idiots until like three months ago...you do remember that, don’t you?”

“That’s why her speech was so brilliant, it was insightful...scathing...tearing down the fragile male ego,” Robin sighed. “But she also lives in the murder house on Morehead, and that’s just too weird a backstory to make up.”

“Maybe,” Steve agreed. “Or maybe that’s what the Russians want you to think. Or maybe - ”

“Fucking hell,” Rose snapped. “This is ridiculous. I don’t know half of what you’re talking about, but you seem to be implying i’m some kind of spy, when actually i’m just friends with Dustin. I overheard your conversation on the walkies. Spinal Tap? Remember?”

“Oh shit,” Steve said, the memory clearly coming back to him. “ You’re Dustin’s lady friend.”

“Ew, don’t phrase it like that.” Robin pulled a face. But she slumped with relief, resting her elbows on her cross-legged knees. “I’m sorry, Rose, we may get a little carried away sometimes. You’re good, in fact, you’re great. Most interesting newcomer to Hawkins in like, ever. Are we good? You’re not gonna ban me from our murder-house movie night sleepover are you?”

Rose kicked the fluorescent carpet with her shoe, looking at the floor. “Of course not. Who am I to judge someone else with verbal diarrhoea? If anything, it makes me feel less anxious. And I could do with some cheering up, actually.”

“Oh,” Robin drew out the word, scooching along the counter and dropping her legs off the front, coming closer to Rose. “Is it to do with that whole thing going on at school, the extreme sexual tension with...uh...the guy in our English class.”

“Guy?” Steve asked, looking slightly dejected. “Of course, all the beautiful girls are spoken for.”

Rose was reeling with the implication that anyone would think her beautiful, let alone this admittedly handsome and confident young man, when a customer shattered their illusion of privacy.

“Excuse me?” A middle aged lady in a pea coat, clutching a tape, approached the counter. “Is anyone actually working in this place?”

Steve’s ‘innate natural charm’ turned straight back on, smiling sweetly at the lady. “I am so sorry, ma’am, we were just helping this customer with a video-related dilemma. But let me help you right out with that....Love Story, huh? What a classic movie. Gosh, it just makes me cry every time.”

“Oh, it’s wonderful,” the lady said, looking starry-eyed at him. “I’ve watched it a dozen times, at least.”

Steve stifled a laugh. “Is that so? Well that must make you our most loyal customer.”

Robin hopped off the counter, leaving Steve to serve the lady, ushering Rose to one side, standing underneath the TV. She slung her arm around her. “I’m the last person to think the world revolves around guy drama, but this is about him, isn’t it?”

Rose could feel a curious mix of anger and tenderness at the very implication of it. She hadn’t had the chance to speak to Robin about it, Robin only twigged on her crush yesterday, seeing her and Eddie together up close for the first time.

“Maybe,” she offered up.

“What a dickhead,” Robin fumed on her behalf. “What did he do? Whatever it is, it’s his fault, I just know it. My offer stands, by the way. I can set a very ferocious middle schooler on him for you. He’ll crumble like a breadstick.”

“It’s not anything he did,” Rose groaned. “It’s what he didn’t do. It’s me, i’m an idiot.”

Steve’s eyes were alert, swivelling between the two girls. The moment the lady at the counter left and the store's door closed, he leaned across the counter. “Who are we talking about here? Do I know the guy? Want me to break out my nail bat?”

Robin shot him a scathing look. The two of them clearly were great friends, for this felt like the real unfiltered Robin, not the slightly more reserved version she’d seen at school. “It’s not my place to tell you, it’s kind of private.”

“Who am I gonna repeat high school gossip to?” He said. “I’m a working man now, with my own place.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Your parents’ pool house doesn’t count, dingus.”

“Yes it does!”

“Do you pay rent?”

“I help with groceries sometimes.”

She looked over at Rose. “Point proven. He’s a man child.”

“Hey, that is a very adult thing to do, alright?” He objected, crossing his arms and looking between the both of them. “And not even the grocery store. I went to the butchers in Cartersville last week and picked up a rack of lamb for my mom’s dinner party, it cost twenty bucks...how ridiculous is that?”

“Was it crusted in gold?” Rose added. “Never mind. Anyway, there’s no secret to keep because nothing is happening . Eddie and I are merely friends. Platonic friends, who barely know each other. Acquaintances, really. That is all.”

“No, no, no,” Robin interjected. “ Steve and I are platonic friends. Have been ever since we started working together at Scoops Ahoy. I enjoy watching him strike out with girls, because we’re not interested in each other like that. You and Eddie? No way. I thought English class yesterday was gonna end one of two ways: a proposal, or the two of you making out on O’Donnell’s desk in front of the whole class. It was the nerdiest flirting i’ve ever witnessed in my life - and that includes dingus here - but you were both drooling over each other.”

“Eddie.” Steve tapped on the counter as he thought aloud. “Eddie Kowalski, in Junior year? Glasses, mathlete?”

“God, no,” Robin laughed.

“But it has to be, that's the only Eddie below my class at-” Steve paused, and looked back at Rose in total shock. “Oh sweet mother of god, hold on. Are we talking about Eddie the freak Munson?”

Rose snapped. All the emotions of the past week boiled up and rushed out at once, until she was wagging her finger in Steve’s face. “Don’t call him that! What is it with people calling him a freak? He’s the kindest, sweetest person I think I've ever met. He protects his little pack of friends, gathers up all the outcasts who are bullied and abused, and puts himself on the line - literally taking a beating, if what I hear from Dustin is true - to keep them safe and give them a sense of belonging. He’s putting himself through a third senior year, because despite all the insults and the mocking from his classmates and the whole bloody town, he wants to be better than the name Munson . Nothing about that suggests to me that he is a freak.”

Robin and Steve were stunned into silence, and it was too much. Tears started spilling from the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by all the new things that had happened in her short time in Hawkins High, the new place, new people, and horrible new emotions. “And maybe I thought something would happen between us. But it’s all hopeless, because he already has someone. He said as much last night, when he wouldn’t come into my house. I feel like such a fucking idiot . Sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

After a long pause, breathing hard, Robin rushed over and gave her a bone-crunching hug, the scent of shampoo and strawberry chapstick overcoming her. It was strangely comforting, not being able to move in her arms.

“Boys are so stupid,” Robin groaned. “But in good news, you’re in the right place for a breakdown. Steve and I are the most pathetic losers in the romance department ever. He’s not over his ex, and I...well, I have a tendency to like people who are unattainable. And beyond that, it’s been kind of a hellish year for us.”

“Yep,” Steve echoed. “We’re doomed. Welcome to the losers club, come and join us.” He opened the hatch to the counter, and she followed Robin into the employees’ domain, the little control centre of the video store.

“Munson though,” Steve mused out loud. “I wouldn’t have guessed it. Though I suppose Molly Ringwald does end up with Judd Nelson in the Breakfast Club. is there a basket case out there searching for me? If she looks like Ally Sheedy, I'll gladly accept.”

“Eddie is nothing like Bender,” Rose scoffed, sitting on a stool by the snacks. “Eddie rants a little bit, but he’s not angry. He’s just anti-establishment, naturally ill-disposed to authority.”

“That’s too many syllables for a Saturday evening,” Robin complained. “But here’s what I don’t get...who the hell is this mystery girl that Eddie is with? I have never seen him with a girl at school, not once. There was a rumour that a girl in the party kid clique - Cass something or other - was seeing him secretly a couple of years ago, but that was never really proved. And she had plenty of boyfriends after. Anyway it’s a moot point, she moved to Wisconsin for College in ‘84.”

Steve shook his head. “I can’t think of a single girl it could be. But we haven’t exactly moved in the same circles. Are you sure he has someone? What happened?”

Rose picked at a loose thread on her dress, going back to the conversation in her driveway last night. “He dropped me off at home last night. I asked if he wanted to come inside, and he said he’d like to, but he made a promise not to do it and he didn’t want to be a cheating, lying scumbag like his dad. Or words to that effect.”

Steve sucked in a breath. “Damn. Did he actually mention a girlfriend by name?”

“Nope.”

“And you’re sure he likes you?” He asked. “I don’t want to upset anyone, but he could have used a fake girlfriend as an excuse. What kind of signs are we talking about here? And not this girlie magazine stuff, like he opened a door for me once, he must be dreaming of our marriage ?”

“I don’t have much experience in this area, but let’s see,” Rose said, so firmly down the rabbit hole with Robin and Steve that she couldn’t stop if she wanted to. “He made me a mixtape. He called me fairer than the sunrise over  mountains. He kissed my hand once, though that was kind of acting during a Hellfire session. We did almost properly kiss a couple of times.”

“Wait, what?” Robin interrupted. “You never told me this? Explain, stat.”

Rose’s skin flushed warm. “We were in the woods behind the school on Monday, and we ended up holding hands. He sort of held my face and pulled me closer, but his rings got stuck in my hair and took out a small chunk of it. Oh, and then we were pressed against the lockers yesterday but Jeff came into the hall, and even Jeff noticed something, he called it a weird, alien mating ritual. So I don’t think it’s just me misunderstanding things.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve affirmed, arms crossed over his Family Video waistcoat. “That is not platonic behaviour. He’s down bad.”

“But I don’t think i’m his type. Dustin said he has a thing for cheerleaders.”

Steve made a funny face. “Pfft. So he’s a red blooded male? Doesn’t mean he only likes cheerleaders.”

Robin cracked her knuckles and stood up, pacing around the desk area. “We need to solve this mystery, I just can’t take it. Is there an unknown girlfriend? What is going on? I would say we could ask Dustin and Mike, but they’re little snitches, I can sense it. They’ll tell Eddie or the older guys and it will all come out.”

It was oddly comforting, sitting with an action movie blaring in the background as the last few customers of the day browsed the tapes, sharing her confusion with Steve and Robin behind the counter. At least she wasn’t brooding in her room, looking out over the treetops like a heroine from an Austen novel.

“Hold on a minute,” Steve sounded excited. “I may not have moved in the same circles as Eddie, but I know someone who does. I dated Jackie Teague in Junior year.”

He looked at them like that should mean something, tutting when their faces were blank. “Her older brother Dougie was one of his best friends, before he failed senior year the first time. And he used to be in that satanic little club with Eddie, the stupid hell and brimstone thing.”

“Hellfire,” Rose corrected. “Which i’ve joined, by the way.”

Steve stood with his hands on his hips, like he was utterly fed up. “Eddie Munson is suddenly a crushable figure and pretty girls are joining the satan club? It’s like the order of things changed as soon as I graduated. But I might be able to get to Dougie through Jackie and get the dirt on your guy.”

“You would do that?” Rose said gratefully. 

“Any friend of Robin’s is a friend of mine. Plus, us romantic losers need a helping hand now and then, right?” He ran over to a jacket on the back of his chair, and pulled a little book out of his pocket, wetting his thumb and flipping through the pages.

Robin pumped her fist and hopped back up on the table, sitting cross-legged again. “Steve, I knew your slutty little black book would come in handy one day. I am so here for this investigation. Harrington, Buckley and McAllister, detectives extraordinaire. You know what? All this tension makes me hungry. This calls for snacks,” she reached out for a pack of candy, something labelled Chewy Lemonheads Rose had never seen before. She broke open the box and popped one in her mouth, holding out the box. “What? I’ll ring this up on the register before I leave, i’m not just stealing.”

“Thanks,” Rose took one, pulling off the plastic wrapper as Steve balanced the earpiece of the phone between his ear and shoulder, dialling a number.

There was a long pause. “Jackie, it's Steve. Yeah, that Steve...” he grimaced at Robin and Rose, and a tinny voice from the phone got louder. “No Jackie, I am not crawling back to...hold on a minute, will you just let me speak? I’m sorry about the whole thing, alright? Tommy H was a prick. No, we don’t hang out together any more, I wised up eventually...yeah, you were right about me. I wasn’t in the best place, but i’m doing better now.”

Steve slumped over, shaking his head. “Actually, i’m not at college, i’m a working man now. Wait, that’s not the point. I kind of need to speak to your brother about something, I was hoping you could give me his number. Why?” He looked over at Rose, scrambling for something to say. “He was in a band, and i’m looking to get into the music sales business. I could do with some insider intel on what kind of items to stock. Uh...amps...guitars, you know, the usual.”

His smile must have meant it worked. He grabbed the little book, and looked around desperately for a pen; Rose leapt off her stool and passed him one from the counter, so he could scribble down a number. “Thanks. Seriously, i’m glad you’re doing well. Bye Jackie.”

Robin began to laugh, her shoulders shaking. “She was mad, wasn’t she. What happened between you two?”

Steve raised a brow. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Rose’s mouth dropped open. “Are you the lady in this scenario?”

“He’s one of the girls, don’t let him fool you into thinking he’s a jock,” Robin agreed.

“Haven’t I done enough?” Steve waved the number in the air. 

“You’re right,” Rose said, contrite. “Please, please work your mysterious magic and see what you can find out. I’ll owe you one.”

He was smug, still craned to one side to hold the receiver to his ear. He dialled the second number, whistling as he waited for the phone to ring out.

“Where even is Dougie Teague?” Robin asked, voice muffled as she chewed on a lemonhead. 

“Terre Haute, his old man has a construction firm up there,” Steve replied. “Oh hi , man. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Sorry, that wasn’t a joke about the Hellflame club.”

They waited whilst Steve greeted this Dougie guy, a faint voice coming from the other end of the phone.

“Yeah, I have a favour to ask,” Steve admitted, twirling the phone cord around his finger. “But before I say anything, I need you to promise that word doesn’t reach anyone about what i’m asking, including the person this relates to. It’s part of the favour. Why should you do that? Do you not remember the number of times I distracted your parents at dinner while you climbed in the window stoned off your ass? And the time that I took the blame for that box of condoms? Your dad gave me ‘the talk’ with a shotgun casually laid out on the coffee table. I could have died, man. Or, I could go and visit your Mom right now and...”

Rose was kind of engrossed, finding out about the inner workings of this Steve, the friend to so many people in her new social circle. From his easy going demeanour, and the way he so casually called in a whole bunch of favours to help a relative stranger, she could tell he was a good egg. 

“Thank you,” Steve sighed. “That’s the spirit. So I need to know everything about the romantic history of Eddie Munson.”

He held the receiver away from his head as laughter rang out. “Yeah man, i’m serious. Remember the deal. Jeez, I don’t care if you think he’s an overdramatic dungeon master...wait, that’s not something sexual is it? Oh, thank god. Now spill. Any girlfriends, crushes, preferences?”

Five minutes stretched out with Steve adding the occasional uh huh, okay , or anything else? , and it felt like the longest five minutes of Rose’s life. Robin had to serve a couple of customers in the interim, ushering them out of the store as quickly as she could without being rude. Between them they went through the box of candy, until she could feel the beginnings of a stomach ache coming on. Though it could be the tension as much as the chewy lemonheads, tangy and sugar-sweet in her mouth.

By the time Steve hung up the phone with a shrill ring, it was closing time. Robin sprinted over to the door and flipped over the sign from open to closed and they waited with baited breath.

“Do you want the good news or the bad first?” Steve asked, running his hand through his floppy hair, almost making it stand on end. 

“Bad,” Rose said. “Wait, good then bad. I’m fragile today, build me up to it.”

“Okay. Good news, he doesn’t have a girlfriend that Dougie knows of, and saw Eddie only last month for a rock concert in Terre Haute.”

“That’s great!” Robin looked joyful. “No girlfriend!”

“That we know of,” Rose reminded her.

Steve cleared his throat and continued. “He’s not really had girlfriends in school, Dougie thinks he was seeing that Cass girl. He may have had a thing with a girl from a bar in town, but that was a while back. And his last girlfriend was a music label executive from California, who was a few years older. She apparently wanted Eddie to move out there and pursue a record deal, but something happened to throw it off. He wouldn’t say what it was.”

What? How was she supposed to compete with older women, bloody record executives with a vast array of experience - life, career, sexual - that she wouldn’t have? And she would bet the California girl didn't need to be given a mixtape to learn what metal music is. God, it made her feel like a kid.

“There’s more,” he said carefully. “Dougie thinks he has a thing for Chrissy Cunningham, though Eddie hadn’t mentioned it in a while. Said he’d had a crush on her since middle school.”

At this point, Rose just hummed and nodded, her worst fears oconfirmed. “I see. So he’s either not into me at all, and using some imaginary girl to spare my feelings as he’s changed his mind about me. Or, he’s in love with Chrissy, maybe even carrying on some kind of fling behind her boyfriend Jason’s back.”

“That’s just a theory,” Robin added, her energy wild. “If anything, this has opened up even more questions. We need more leads. Maybe Chrissy herself; she looks fragile. I can get that nut to crack. Let’s get her in the girls’ bathroom on Monday. Or wait...where does she live?

“Woah,” Steve held up his hands. “I hate to douse water on this fire, but have you thought about sitting down with the guy and actually asking him what’s going on? Like a proper, adult conversation?”

Rose and Robin looked at each other, and burst out laughing. “Are you mad?” Rose said between gulps of air. “What am I going to say? Eddie, I may have known you for less than two weeks but i’ve developed a raging crush on you, and after secretly interrogating your old friends using very shady contacts outside of school-”

“Hey, i’m not shady!”

“Correction, using very unorthodox contacts outside of school, i’ve compiled a history of your love life, and think you might be carrying on an affair with your middle school crush. Can you confirm or deny?”

Steve rubbed his face with his hand. “Okay, when you put it like that, it sounds insane. Maybe you could just say: I like you, I think you might like me, do you wanna go out sometime? That’s how I've always asked girls out. Maybe with a little embellishment, but it’s not difficult.”

“He already declined coming into my house and said he didn’t want to be a lying cheat, what am I supposed to do, beg?” She argued. “Oh god, i’ve accidentally willed this into being, haven’t I...i’ve always wanted to be Eowyn, Lady of Rohan. And now I am.”

She looked at their blank faces, and missed Hellfire and Eddie deeply. They would have put the metaphor together straight away, and known exactly what she meant. “It’s a character from Lord of the Rings. She falls in love with the hero, Aragorn, future King of Gondor, pining away for him as they battle the forces of evil. But he’s in love with an Elvish princess, Arwen Evenstar. Okay, there’s a little more to it, but it’s a tragic love triangle with swords and elf ears and stuff.”

“Back up,” Steve said. “We’re in a world where Eddie Munson is a fantasy hero with not one, but two beautiful women lusting after him, and I can’t even get a date? What did I do in a past life to deserve this?”

Robin was eager to leap in. “Do you want the cliffnotes, or the full thesis?”

“Ha ha,” he said sarcastically. 

“Fuck it,” Rose stood up. “I’m not going to talk about Eddie Munson any more. We’re going to rent a movie, and consume so much sugar that we can’t see straight. Also, I don’t know if you drink, but I may have a sizeable stash of alcohol and a mother who always forgets the drinking age is twenty-one here, and not eighteen.”

Robin’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, that sounds good. My brain is fuzzy enough today, let’s double it up with booze.”

“I like that energy, Buckley,” she replied. “What movie do you want to watch?” Something high brow and intellectual? Foreign language?”

Robin laid back on the counter, knocking over the candy display. “I can’t take it tonight. Give me something trashy and brainless.”

Rose went out into the rows of tapes, scouting the shelves, fingers trailing over the VHS tapes. She left behind the documentaries and dramas, heading for the new and popular releases. She passed right over The Breakfast Club, stopping at some of the other tapes, grabbing a couple and coming back to a reclining Robin holding two aloft.

“Footloose, and Risky Business. What do you think?”

Robin gave her a big thumbs up.

Steve watched her with a strange look. “Dancing and hookers. Sounds like a good night. I was always kind of jealous of girl sleepovers...boys don’t get that.”

“You never had a sleepover?” Rose asked. “I haven’t had one in a long time. Unless you count sleeping with five other girls on a hospital ward. There was much less chance for booze and gossip, and the bleeping machines killed the vibe.”

“Not really,” Steve confessed. “Not outside of people crashing after a party, but then we’d all be hooking up. My parents weren’t big on hosting when I was a kid.”

“Come with us!” Rose said, spur of the moment. She’d had such a nice time in the video store, that she knew she didn’t want him to feel left out. It would be nice to bond with them over something other than her doomed love life, and she wouldn’t get to see him at school like she would Robin.

“Ooh, yeah!” Robin sat up quickly, grabbing the back of her head as if she were dizzy. “Come on, it will be fun! Haven’t you wanted to see inside Creel House?”

Steve shuffled from foot to foot, like he couldn’t make up his mind. “You’re parents won’t mind?” 

“Not at all,” Rose reassured him. “The house is as big as the high school, so you can have a room to yourself. My mum would love to meet some of my friends, and my stepdad is as threatening as a puppy. He’ll keep out of the way. It’s the least I can do, after you went to all that trouble with your ex.”

He chewed it over, and broke out into a big smile. “Girls night it is! Give me an hour to lock up and grab some clothes from home, and I can come to your place.”

“Great,” she beamed. “It’s near the corner of Morehead and Cornwallis, opposite the abandoned playground.”

He grabbed the keys, tossing them into the air and catching them deftly. “Oh, everyone knows where that house is. I’ll see you there.”

Robin patted him on the cheek as they left the store. “What did I say, Stevie? You’re just one of the girls.”

---

The walk from Family Video back to Rose’s house was slow. Rose and Robin talked nonstop, pausing every few minutes to laugh until tears came to their eyes, Robin filling her in on all funny or boring facts she could summon on Hawkins and the townsfolk. 

“There,” Robin said, pointing at a dilapidated, rusty-roofed bus stop on Morehead, just a few minutes from home. “That’s where an owl attacked old Mrs Gillespie’s head, and tried to nest in her perm.”

“What?” Rose barked out. “How big was that woman’s hair?”

“That’s not even the best bit, it turned out she’d been wearing a hairpiece since the late 60s, and the goddamn owl clutched it in its talons and flew away with it.”

Rose covered her mouth with her hands. “No way.”

“Yes way, she even called the police station to report a theft!”

She doubled up and clutched her sides, laughing so hard it hurt her ribs. “Stop.”

“Chief Hopper, or Officer Hopper back then, asked if she wanted it reported for theft or actual bodily harm.”

Rose buckled over, laughing until she couldn’t breathe. “I think I might pee.”

That launched Robin into another fit of giggles, and the two of them clutched each other, stumbling the street like drunks, laughing even harder when a passing car swerved away and the driver looked like he should be calling the doctors at Pennhurst Mental Hospital. 

The girls arrived like that, swaying up the driveway and scaring away the birds from the trees, which of course made it even worse. As they stepped up on the porch, Robin craned her neck and whistled, looking up at the house.

“What are you, part of the Addams Family? Is Lurch gonna answer the door and offer me a cup of tea?”

“Yep, Uncle Fester will be along any minute.”

Robin snickered. “If you mean Steve, with all that hair he’s more like Cousin It.”

Rose fiddled with her bag and tried to find her keys, when the door clicked open and swung inward. Jerry stood in the doorway, in a striped shirt and a cardigan, smiling merrily at them.

“Welcome, come on in,” he said, arms beckoning inward. “Now the first thing we do in this house when we have visitors is put the kettle on. Would you like a cup of tea?”

Robin screeched like Mrs Gillespie’s criminal owl, and her face was so red she looked like she would burst a blood vessel any minute. All the tension Rose had accumulated dropped, and she was filled with mirth and happiness, unable to keep herself serious, laughing alongside her yet again.

Jerry scratched his greying head, and looked kind of worried. “Uh...Shirley? I think I might need your help. I don’t know what to do!”

A set of footsteps bounded down the stairs, and her mother’s panicked face came into view, softening as soon as she saw Robin and Rose gasping for breath and wiping tears from their eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry, Jerry,” her mum said. “This is what teenagers are like when they gather in packs. They’re like Gremlins fed after midnight. You girls haven’t been drinking already, have you?”

“Nope,” Rose asserted. “Just high on life.”

Mum’s blue eyes - same as Rose’s, one of the only features they had in common - narrowed. “Hmm. Well come on in, let me put the kettle on.”

The hilarity began again, until the adults in the house went from amused to slightly irritated. They made it inside eventually, Robin cooing over the period features in the house, the sweeping stair and fireplace, high ceilings and turn of the century architecture. 

“I’m sorry, Mrs Gruber,” she said, gathering herself together. “I’m Robin Buckley. Rose’s friend from English class. You’re house is amazing. It’s so gothic and bohemian at the same time, I love it.”

Mum looked so genuinely pleased she almost vibrated with happiness. “Thank you, Robin. You’re welcome any time. God knows we can barely find each other in this house as it is, we probably wouldn’t even notice you!”

Rose stepped in, patting her mother on the back, trying to butter her up. “On that note, I may have promised that another friend can stay over too. Is that alright?”

Mum nodded, blonde hair bobbing about her face. “Of course. WIll she want to stay in the attic room too?”

“ He , actually.” Rose said confidently. “Steve is Robin’s best friend, they work at the Family Video together.”

Jerry clutched his chest in the background, like he might have a stroke, but her mother was totally unfazed. “It isn’t some sort of menage a trois, is it?”

“Bloody hell, no,” Rose said loudly. “He’s more like one of the girls. Honestly, it's mortifying that you would ask me that.”

Her mother merely smiled. “Oh, stop. You’re nineteen in a few weeks, not a little child. If this Steve wants to stay, he can stay. We can make up the guest room at the back of the house, can’t we, Jerry.”

He’d gone pale, but nodded dutifully. “Yes, Shirley. What a...great idea.”

Mum ordered a pizza while Rose gave her friend the tour, pointing out all doors that shouldn’t be opened, bits and pieces of the house that might snap or fall off at any minute, or wobbly floorboards, as they were still in the middle of restoring the long-abandoned place to its former glory.

When Steve pulled into the driveway an hour later, Rose ran out onto the porch to greet him, a bottle of Jerry’s beer in hand. Steve came into the house to a round of cheers; he seemed to love being greeted by a bunch of adults and teenagers eating pizza in front of a tiny TV in a huge sitting room, the music from Footloose blaring on the little speaker. Another hour and another drink - or two - later, and they all hung out in Rose’s room in the attic.. 

“No way!” Robin cried out from her spot on the end of Rose’s bed. “I’m an only child too! All three of us, that’s weird.”

Steve was laid out on a beanbag, with a girly peach-schnapps based cocktail made by her mother in his hand, sipping loudly and trying not to poke out his eye with a little yellow cocktail umbrella. “Mmm...but...would you actually want a sibling? Aren’t they kind of annoying?”

“Maybe,” Rose said, laying on the head of the bed, her feet propped up against the wall and covering the poster-face of Indiana Jones. “But i’m just glad to be here, eating pizza and drinking Tia Maria with you guys. Just happy to be alive, you know? Heart still beating. Life still moving forward. Living in a place so quiet and unremarkable that I know I can just...rest for a bit. You know what I mean?”

“Oh boy,” Robin groaned. “Sure is normal in Hawkins. Nothing ever happens here.”

Steve giggled, high pitched. “She’s right. But you live in a murder house...how can you say nothing happens here?”

Rose rolled right-side up without spilling a drop of her coffee liqueur-martini concoction. “Oh. I forgot. I don’t really know about the murder. Didn’t want to ask.”

“Really? Robin screeched. “I’d have to know.”

Rose hummed. “Maybe someone was pushed down the stairs? Stabbed in the kitchen, with a knife? Or maybe just whacked over the head in this attic with a lead pipe? Yep, that’s right, I live inside a real-life Cluedo. Just wonderful .”

“The Creel murder was brutal,” Steve explained. “It...woah, what the heck is happening with the lights?”

Rose opened her eyes. The bulbs in her room were malfunctioning one by one, the lamps and ceiling light blinking on and off. “Oh, it happens all the time. Dodgy electrics, you see.”

“That makes sense,” Robin reasoned. “This place is ancient.”

Steve wasn’t convinced. He took another sip of his cocktail, watching the lights, pointing at them. “They’re flickering in a line..see? One, two, three. It’s a sequence...like something’s moving across the room!”

“Oooh,” Robin made a creepy noise. “It’s a gh...a, a ghost."

“Hold on.” Rose slurred. “J’accuse! You are drunk. There’s no such thing as ghosts."

Steve was in his own world, watching the lights. “It reminds me of...of something...can’t remember what though. But it’s important. Very important.”

Robin sat up, out of the blue, wild-eyed from the schnapps. “I can’t take it anymore! I’m gay, alright? Stop with the questioning. I like girls. Are you happy now?”

The silence was thick, punctuated by the faint, pulsing hum of the flickering lights. 

“Uhh...Rob, I know that already,” Steve said. “Did you know that Rose?”

“Nope,” she replied casually. “But it’s all good. More boys for me that way, aren’t there?” She peered up at her wall of posters. “But Simon Le Bon will always be first and foremost in my heart. In fact, I swear off all men, be they international rockstar or high school guitarist. But Robin, are you good? Did you want to talk about it?”

Her friend slumped back down on the bed. “Huh. Maybe I just had that argument in my own head. Bloody hell, i’m drunk.”

Steve giggled yet again. “ Bloody hell. You sounded like Rose. English cursing is weird. Go on, go on, say something.”

Rose pointed at the posters and thought about it deeply. “I’m not a bloody circus freak, you wanker.”

“Hah!” Robin laughed. “That’s like a jerk-off.”

“Hey, you’re just taking the piss now, aren’t you.”

“I know that one!” Steve added. “More!”

Rose grumbled. “I’m too bereft and miserable to think of anything else. You twat.”

“Wait,” Robin called out. “You said twat pronounced like cat , not twat like what .”

“That’s what it is, love.” Rose downed the bitter dregs of her martini and put the cup on her bedside table. “I wish that ghost would bloody keep still, the lights are hurting my eyes.”

Steve sighed and closed his eyes. “It’s coming toward my beanbag chair. Hey, is the ghost single? This may be the closest I've been to being touched since Nance dumped me for Jonathan freaking Byers.”

“We’re so pathetic,” Robin agreed. “Also, I think I might like a girl in band. But I haven’t spoken to her yet.”

“Details please,” Rose requested. “But I think I might need some fresh air, should we open a window?”

Robin crawled off the bed and over to the stained glass dormer, pulling herself up with her fingers on the pane. “Wait a minute, there’s a playground twenty yards away, right? Let’s go on the swings! I always want to play on the swings. Why is it that you get to a certain age and you're told that all delight and whimsy must die, and you can’t play anymore? They should make playgrounds for adults.”

“Robin,” Steve chipped in. “It’s midnight, it’s cold, and we’re wasted. Oh, and we’re also in our PJs. So that’s a brilliant idea, let’s do it!”

Their midnight excursion was a disaster, crashing down two flights of stairs with bottles of alcohol in hand and slippers on their feet, whispering so loud they would wake the dead, let alone Rose’s mother and stepfather. But they made it out into the moonlight, laughing like idiots and running across the deserted street, making for the rusty swings.

And if Rose felt the wilting stems of cut flowers crunch under her slippered feet, and noticed blotches of shadow-dark petals on the sidewalk, then by Sunday morning it had completely slipped from her drink-addled memory, along with Steve’s recollection of the flickering lights.

---

Eddie

Eddie was a good musician, and he knew it. It wasn’t false modesty, he’d spent years learning to play and practising all hours of the night and at weekends, an outlet for his restless energy and creative brain. Music kept the buzzing in his head away, and calmed him down in a way nothing else could, except maybe weed. But nearly as important as hours of practice, he had that something people often searched for but couldn’t describe, the thing that drew the eye and kept an audience hooked. The rest of Corroded Coffin were good too, and Gareth was a demon on the drumset, but they were still a garage band. Decent, on time, in tune, and doing a damn good job of covering their favourite songs. 

But today? Practice was doomed from the start. Whatever magic he usually summoned to give him skill and stage presence when he played was completely fucking absent.

“Get it together,” Gareth cried out, his drumbeat faltering and the whole band trailing off into silence. “Your timing is so off. It’s like your racing to the end of the song, and this is goddamn Fade to Black , a fucking ballad. It might be Metallica, but it’s not thrash metal.”

“Alright, no need to be a dick,” Eddie snapped, looking down at the lump of plastic in his hand. “Jesus H Christ. I’ve broken another pick.”

Chris scoffed. “What is that, three? I’ve got a spare, but it's my last one.”

He reached into his back pocket, fishing out a black pick and pressing it into Eddie’s hands. Eddie took it gratefully, eyes directed at the chipped concrete floor of Gareth’s garage. “Thanks, man.”

“You’d better not be this bad at the Hideout on Tuesday,” Gareth warned, pointing at him with his drumstick, making the wooden implement look threatening. “If we’re gonna do a new slower set, we have to nail it. Bev won’t let us keep playing forever, not unless we actually bring in some customers. Or at least, not drive the existing ones away.”

Eddie clicked his tongue. “Sorry, alright? I promise i’ll bring the good stuff on Tuesday. You know me, Gare. I’m usually on this. Today, i’m just...off.”

His friend raised a sarcastic brow, a smug expression plastered over his face. “Off. Is that what they call it now? Dude, just forget about the girl for a weekend. Obsession is not a good look when trying to score.”

Eddie looked up, pacing Gareth’s garage with its fluorescent overhead light, nearly tripping on an amp cable. “Don’t say it like that. I am not just looking to score , man. You sound so sordid.”

“ Oh ,” Gareth taunted. “So you don’t want to bone her, just go to a tea party together. In that case, can I take a shot?”

Eddie advanced on him, teeth clenched together. “I'm one second away from smashing this guitar over your head, Emerson. If your mom wasn't so nice about us using the garage, i’d have done it already.”

Jeff stepped in to view, putting a hand to Eddie’s chest. “Easy. Easy, dude. He’s just making a point, though it was kind of a gross one.”

“Yeah,” Gareth chipped in again, sat comfy behind the shield of his drum set. “Point made. Why don��t you invite her to see us play on Tuesday? That way you’re actually making progress , and asking her out. And maybe if you think she’s going to be at the shoe, you might actually put in some practice and try not to suck.”

Chris sucked in a breath, watching the guys’ drama unfold, rhythm guitar poised in his hands. 

“Maybe that’s a good idea,” Jeff added.

After a week of intense longing and subtle flirting, Eddie was a goner. Rose McAllister was not just the pretty face that appeared in Hellfire from nowhere, she radiated goodness. Observant, accepting, warm and thoughtful. Starkly different from the girls he’d usually fallen for. And on top of that, she was a fantasy nerd with a voracious taste in exploring other worlds through the written word, and had the soul of a poet. He’d been himself around her, and somehow he’d not scared her off yet, and that was a rare thing...non-existent, actually. She knew about his trailer, his criminal dad, and his dealing, and she still wanted to be around him. But last night when he dropped Rose off at home, things got...weird.

She’d listened to W.A.S.P and Sabbath and Metallica, not put off by his kind of music, and they’d talked and smiled and flirted, until he got to her driveway and she invited him inside. His heart fucking jump-started and sparks fizzled in his fingertips at that, but he’d made a promise to Uncle Wayne not to go in that house, and he intended to keep it. Eddie had made a mess of explaining it, and she ran off. He had to course-correct with Rose, before he veered off a cliff and she never talked to him again. Eddie had lost out on so much - his mom, an opportunity to be a rockstar, his father’s love, a normal graduation - he’d be damned if he let the girl slip through his fingers.

“Okay,” he said, making up his mind. “I’ll ask her to the show. Like...a date. Maybe go out after.”

Jeff clapped him on the shoulder. “Live long and prosper, my friend. Good luck.”

“What if she says no?”

“Then at least you know.”

“I don’t think i’m gonna be able to concentrate right now,” he said. “I need a cigarette. Maybe a joint.”

“Hey,” Gareth shouted, “Mom has a no-tolerance policy, remember? Don’t light up til you get home.”

Eddie groaned. “Fine. Oh god...what if she says yes ?”

Gareth gave him a strange look again. “Then you fucking celebrate having a girlfriend, and start going out on dates and shit. That’s not exactly a problem, man.”

Eddie turned his frazzled mind to his Warlock guitar. He struck the opening few chords of Wild Child , the first metal song he’d introduced to Rose. Maybe he could play it for her on Tuesday.

“You’ll need money,” Chris piped up out of nowhere. “My sister’s boyfriend is always paying for her movie tickets, and burgers and shakes, and a corsage at Homecoming. Being a boyfriend is expensive.”

“Shit, I think you’re right, man.”

Eddie had the means to earn, even if it was a little less than legal. But when he had money, it tended to drain away pretty quickly: guitars, clothes, concert tickets, running his monster of a van and helping Wayne with the bills. 

Rose had never given off the impression of wealth, but he hadn’t forgotten that she lived in literally the biggest mansion in town, and had seen far more of the world than Eddie ever had. If he was going to do this right, he’d have to put some money together. And if he needed more cash, there was only one place to get it.

---

Lovers Lake glistened through the treeline as Eddie’s van sailed down the road, getting closer with each minute, until he emerged in a clearing. A decent-sized white lakehouse sat on the northern shore, with a separate boat house and a little jetty stretching out into the lake. He had to admit this part of Hawkins was pretty, surrounded by nature and autumn coloured trees. 

He killed the engine and the blaring noise of Judas Priest faded into nothing, leaping from the van and slamming the door. By the time he walked up the front steps, a face had already appeared in the doorway.

“Eddie, my good friend.” Reefer Rick bumped his fist and clapped him on the back, ushering him into the tidy, plainly decorated home. “Wasn’t expecting you till next week. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Rick Lipton was six three at a slouch, with the physique of a football player who’d let himself go. His long hair and beard gave him a hippy kind of air, only heightened by the cloud of weed that floated out the kitchen door, a joint lit and perched on the kitchen table’s ashtray.

“Hey, Rick. Good to see you,” Eddie began. “I know i’m not usually back within a couple of weeks, but I was hoping to shift more product.”

The great big hippy pulled at his beard, head cocked to the side. “Munson Junior, scaling up. Given up on high school yet, ready to earn something more than pin money from selling football stars and prom queens weed?”

Rick passed over the joint; Eddie took a drag gratefully, twitching and waiting for the calm to settle into his bones. They sat in silence for a moment, looking out the big window toward the lake, with a little row boat bobbing up and down on the jetty. 

“Nah, still in school,” he said, blowing out smoke and handing it back. “Not looking to get myself in more trouble, I just need to shift a little more this month, make a few extra bucks.”

“So not just here for pleasure. You should drop by sometime just to play pool and have a few beers. Maybe sit out by the lake. It’s nice here in the summer, real pretty.”

Eddie gave him a deadpan look. “It’s October, man. It’s cold out. And besides, what is it that you always say? Pleasure is the business.”

Rick grinned around the joint, smoke spilling from his lips. “Right on. Listen, i’m a little lower than usual. You can have another five ounces, but it’s bennies that i’m sitting on right now. Ket too.”

He kept a smile on his face, trying not to let his disappointment show. Rick had been distributing to him for a year or two. He was a contact of his dad’s before dad split town after fucking up a robbery and getting involved in a shooting. When shit hit the fan for Eddie and he needed cash, no reputable business in Hawkins wanted to employ a brash metalhead with a criminal family and no high school diploma. He’d caved and come to Rick for work. Dealing paid well, but he was this fucking close to being busted by the cops, on more than one occasion. And being a drug dealer with a moral compass absolutely sucked . Not to mention that the punishment for pushing hard drugs like ketamine and bennies was greater than possession of a little weed. 

“I’m not sure, Rick,” he said, grabbing the back of his neck. “Weed for high school kids is one thing, but I don’t want to be responsible for a bunch of strung out kids getting hooked on ket.”

“Ket and bennies have a greater profit margin,” Rick said, with a shrug. “More cash for less effort. Smart business.”

“I could take a little more, but not much. With Hopper gone, Chief Powell is on my ass. I can’t risk getting cautioned again, man.”

“So be it, Junior. Six ounces of weed, six bottles of bennies, six of ket. Six, six, six, the devil’s number...you’re into that Iron Maiden shit, right? That’s a pretty metal deal, endorsed by Satan himself.”

Eddie laughed. “Coming from you, that’s funny. Nothin’ but sixties rock, like you’re a Vietnam vet something. Weren’t you like ten in the sixties?”

“Shit, you sound more like your old man every day, Junior.”

Eddie’s jaw twitched, and his foot tapped against the pale lino of Rick’s orderly kitchen. “Just a chip off the old block, huh. Another piece of shit Munson, cheating and stealing his way through life with a smile on his face and a string of casualties in the rearview mirror.”

Rick’s easygoing face fell, like he was troubled. “Didn’t mean nothing by it, kid. I know you’re not like your dad in the ways that count. Anyways, what do you need this extra money for? New guitar, new ride, or something?”

Eddie leaned on the back of a kitchen chair, and chewed on his own hair like a goddamn cat. “Not exactly.”

“I know that face, brother. Seen it many a time. It’s a woman, ain’t it?”

A goofy smile came over his face. “Yeah.”

“Taking her out somewhere nice?”

“I’m hoping to. I haven’t asked her out yet, not properly. But i’m going to next week at school. Just need to find the right time to do it, I guess.”

Rick looked down his nose at Eddie, appraising him in one glance. “So this shit isn’t even in the bag, yet? What have you done so far?”

Eddie looked from left to right, like he was physically searching for an answer. “Do you mean...you know....like, sexually?”

“Hell’s bells, kid. That is not what I meant. Have you wooed the lady yet? Made your intentions known?”

Eddie’s anxiety went from nought to sixty in about three seconds. “I...don’t know. I mean, I think so? We’ve talked, listened to music...oh god. What if she just wants to be my friend? What do I say? What do I do ?”

Rick slammed his elbows on the kitchen table and buried his head in his hands. “I know it’s the eighties, man, but chivalry ain’t dead. What’s this girl like? She a rocker type like you?”

“Rose?” Eddie said with a sigh, picturing her instantly, heart going soft. “No, she’s no type at all, she’s unique. Funny, open-hearted, seriously smart. And beautiful...she doesn’t seem to know how beautiful she really is. I don’t understand why she’s giving me the time of day. I keep expecting something to happen, like some big-shot prom king or college kid is gonna turn up and sweep her off her feet.”

“Here’s what you’re gonna do,” Rick said bluntly. “Shelve all this casual shit. None of this wait til Monday ,or i’ll flirt a little longer and see what happens . Go over there right now, and tell her you’re damn crazy about her. You’ll want to bring her a gift too.”

Eddie sat up straight, feeling a surge of energy course through his veins. “Gift. Right. Wait...what kind of gift?”

“Depends on the girl, my man. But if in doubt, go with flowers.”

“Flowers,” Eddie repeated. “I can do that.”

Rick smiled, taking another drag from his joint, blowing out the smoke with a big grin. “Well what are you waiting for? Drugs aren’t gonna be ready til Monday, so unless you’d rather hang out with your supplier on a Saturday night, go and get the girl.”

Eddie leapt up, tripping over his chair. His jean chain caught on the chair leg as he set it back up, and he crashed about the kitchen like a clumsy foal on wobbly legs. Some mug or teacup smashed in the background and he apologised over and over, making everything worse as he tried to pick it all up.

“Get out, kid.” Rick waved him off.

He stopped long enough at the door to shout at the laughing guy inside. “Thanks Rick, I owe you one!”

---

His rusty old van rattled and roared as he sped down the backroads of Hawkins, foot heavy on the gas pedal; he was a man with a mission, a knight on a quest to win the heart of a fair maiden, and nothing could stop him now. Rick was right, he’d have to pledge his heart to the lady and seek her favour. 

Except he could hardly arrive with four hundred bucks of drugs hidden in the back of his van, reeking of weed. Pit stop necessary, a side quest, if you will. He raced home, sniffed all the clothes in his ‘clean’ heap and changed into the least creased shirt, and stashed the pills and baggies in some drawer in the hallway, under a load of old tins and spare tools, and other junk they’d never use.

Half an hour later he ran into the grocery store, five minutes before closing, sprinting down the aisles seeking the display of cut flowers he knew he’d seen last week. He startled the customers, but right at the end of the aisle he spied his prize, the treasure at the end of the dungeon crawl...or wait, was Rose the treasure? She wasn’t an object , but she was precious. God, he was nervous. 

Only a few bunches of flowers remained, but which ones did he get? There were pink ones and red ones, little ones surrounded with white baby’s breath. The big sunflowers were bright and cheerful, but he wasn’t sure about them...now that he looked at them up close, what was up with sunflowers? How were the heads that big? They were like a baby’s head, and that was a weird image. Fuck it, not the sunflowers. 

An older lady in a store apron walked by, and he seized upon her, running toward her and startling her.

“Jesus, sorry,” he held up his hands. “Help, please help. I need to buy flowers for a girl, and I don’t know which ones to get. Wait...flowers have meanings , right? Like there’s this secret language that Victorian women used to be into? What if I chose pretty flowers and it means sorry your dog died and she hates me forever?”

The lady’s panic slowly evaporated, and she walked him over to the flowers. “Okay, let’s take a look. The roses are pretty. There’s nothing classier than a Rose.”

He smiled. “I couldn’t agree more. Wait, if her name is literally Rose, does that change things? Is it too obvious?”

She shook her head, wrinkles creasing in the corners of her eyes. “I wouldn’t say so.”

“Perfect. Thank you, ma’am,” he shook the woman’s hand, and grabbed the best bunch of red roses he could find. They were still grocery store flowers, one of them slightly wilting, but he could throw that one out.

By the time he’d bought the roses and approached Creel house, the energy that sustained him was seriously flagging, and all kinds of possibilities were swarming in his head. 

What if she wasn’t there? What if her mom, the Balrog, answered the door? He supposed it was only fair that he slew some demons on his way to the fair maiden, but he couldn’t exactly pull out a broadsword and run through her mom. Or the stepdad...what if he was the kind to own a shotgun, and decided buckshot was the best way to get Eddie the freak off his lawn?

Heart pounding, he pulled up within sight of the house, twenty yards down the street. It was fancier than he remembered, an intimidating castle, ready to be sieged. The lights were on, car parked in the driveway; at least someone was home. Maybe he should climb the veranda and deliver them to her window. Shit, he didn’t know which one was hers.

“Time to fight, Munson,” he muttered to himself. “Roll the dice, and pray to Ozzy for a nat 20.”

He grabbed the flowers and went for the door handle, but had to shield his eyes from bright headlights instead. Bright headlights turning into the driveway of the Creel house. The car’s door slammed shut, and Eddie froze like a deer in headlights.

Steve fucking Harrington. The King, The Hair, or whatever dipshit nickname the gullible kids of Hawkins High like to call him, was walking up Rose’s driveway with a goddamn overnight bag in his hand.

No sooner than his face scowled and mouth dropped open, Rose came out the door. She called out, loud and happy, throwing up her arms in the air like she was so pleased to see Harrington she couldn’t contain it. Within the space of exactly six heartbeats, Harrington dragged his bag into the house and Rose closed the door behind him.

What the fuck?

Harrington was a year below him through Middle and High school; enough of a jock enough to be naturally opposed to Eddie and his band of freaks, but not violent or mean enough to be a real enemy. The guy was a bit of an asshole, and when he and Tommy H got into the basketball cult, they’d grown insufferable, pulling pranks on everyone. Come to think of it, they’d shoved Gareth into a girls bathroom stall in his freshman year and locked him in. 

How in the hell did Rose know the guy? And more importantly, what was he doing with an overnight bag in her house? Maybe she’d just hedged her bets and found herself the first prom king that came along. Someone better suited. Rich family, high school diploma, Hollywood hair. 

Eddie waited thirty minutes to be sure, but Steve never came out. With each minute his heart sank lower, until the night was pitch black and he was freezing cold in the van’s cab. Turning on the engine was a little act of defeat, an admission that he’d taken too much damage, killed before the campaign had even begun. And when he rolled out of Morehead, past the creepy old playground, he threw the roses out the driver's window, watching the splash of dark red fade in the rearview mirror.

[opmshitposts]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just the Two of Us: Starry Night

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: Steve stops by unexpectedly.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your phone buzzes again. You’ve been ignoring it. To you, it’s more a nuisance than a convenience. The only people calling want to sell you something and your work only emails. You get your assignments and you complete them. Simple as. 

You prefer simplicity. You’ve lived in chaos before and you hope you never do so again. Ironic to think you came to New York, then. Well, it’s easy to blend in there. 

You finally pull your eye away from the lens and check the screen. You hover your finger over dismiss before you read the ID. Steve? You tap ‘answer’. 

“Hey?” You utter, “what’s going on? It’s late?” 

“Ah, you know, bored,” he answers. 

“You’re bored so you’re calling me at nine?” You scoff. 

“What? Are you surprised the old man stays up past six?” He chuckles. The background noise is a garble of passing cars and a few honks. It all seems to echo dully. 

“No, I’m just...” 

“Busy?” He intones. 

“No. Just didn’t expect you to call.” 

“Ah, were you about to turn in? Bit early,” he turns the judgement on you. 

“I wish. Kinda restless.” You admit. “Wait, I thought you were out of town.” 

“Yeah, I just got back. Hey, do me a favour and tell me which one of these buildings is yours.” He says. 

You hesitate. Huh? Your silence leaves the line to drone. He says your name. 

“Where are you?” You ask. 

“I don’t know, that’s the problem.” 

“Aren’t you from New York?” You challenge. 

He sighs, “okay, let’s rephrase. I don’t know where you are.” 

Once more, you pause. You’re not exactly prepared for company. In fact, you’ve never let anyone else into your tiny apartment. On top of that, you’re huddled under a blanket on your balcony, in a pair of old sweats and an oversized cotton tee. 

“You’re coming here?” 

“Sure. Ah, come on, I’m wandering around. I’m starting to get looks from the creeps like I’m one of them,” he quips. 

“Alright,” you murmur and recite your address. “Buzz up. Code is 1147.” 

“Right, think I can handle that.” You hear scuffling on his end. “See ya soon.” 

The call cuts and you lower the phone. Steve is cool. Well, he is a hero. An Avenger. You don’t really get why he still hangs around. You’re lame. You’re just you. Yet here he is stopping by like an old friend from college. It’s strange, as you think of it, how abruptly he just barged in on your night, but he is the Cap, so what’s the big deal? 

You should be grateful. It’s been a while since you had a friend. Since you even had the choice to have one. 

You stand, careful not to knock into the telescope, and pull the blanket around your shoulders. You step into your apartment, brisk from the night air, and look around. You don’t have much, but enough. 

You clear off the futon and fold it up into a couch. The squeal of the metal hurts your ears and is capped off by the buzzer’s horrid drone. You go to answer, peering around your bachelor in dread. Why didn’t you think of it before? This place isn’t fit for Steve Rogers. 

“I’m here,” Steve chimes through the static. 

“Uh, yeah, er, are you sure—we could go somewhere?” You offer, even if you’re not in the mind to leave. 

“Nah, can I come up? Everything okay?” 

“It’s fine,” you assure him, “one sec.” 

You press the other button and your stomach flips. Great. That’s it then. He’ll see how you live and realise he’s too good for you. 

You wait by the door and peer through the peep hole. When you hear his footsteps from down the hall, you flip back the lock and look out around the wood. You wave to him as he approaches. 

“Oh my god,” you can’t help but exclaim he reaches you. He has a gash across his hairline. “What happened to you?” 

He frowns then reaches up to try to tug his hair over the cut. “It’s fine. It’ll be all healed up by the morning.” 

“The morning? That’s a nasty one.” 

“Yeah, well, the serum...” 

“Right, right,” you roll your eyes at yourself. How can you forget? 

“Well, you look cozy,” he smiles and gestures to you.  

You look down at the fringed edge of the blanket hugged around you. 

“Yeah, I was just outside.” 

“Really? In this weather?” He wonders. 

“Mhmm,” you hum. “I guess you wanna come in then.” 

“Ideally, yeah,” he snorts. 

“Okay, but uh, like, it’s pretty small so...” 

“Oh, don’t even worry about it. I’m used to small things. I was around in the 30s, you know? I’m sure I’ve seen worse,” he chuckles. “Besides, anything’s better than a foxhole.” 

You step back and nod. You never really forget who he is but you don’t always consider everything he’s done. Everything he’s been through. It makes you feel a little less cursed yourself. 

He steps inside and looks around. You see the twitch in his brow but nothing else. No reaction, but you’re certain he’s judging. 

“I told you--” 

“What were you doing outside?” He bowls over your embarrassment. 

“Um, looking at the stars.” 

“You can see them in this stuff,” he squints. 

“I have a telescope,” you close the door and he bends to untie his boots. 

“Really? So, it’s like a big thing for you. All professional and stuff.” 

“I just like to look,” you shrug. 

“That’s... cute. Interesting. Probably see more outside the city though,” he muses. 

“Probably,” you agree. “So, I don’t have much else going on. You want a hot chocolate or something? I was about to make some.” 

“Hot chocolate?” He echoes as he strides around the small space. “That sounds delicious.” 

“Just the cheap stuff,” you counter. 

“I don’t mind,” he turns his back to you and sits on the futon. It creaks perilously under his weight.  

He doesn’t seem bothered as his head tilts and he seems to stare at the papers stuck to your wall to form a haphazard star map. You cringe. You’re an uber nerd sometimes. He must think so. 

“You did that?” He asks as you dip around to the small kitchen, penned in with only a counter. 

“Uh, yeah. It’s just... It’s not very accurate I’m sure...” You mutter. 

“Still pretty interesting,” he leans forward, his arms on his knees. 

“I’m sure you’ve seen more interesting things,” you argue as you fill the kettle. “You don’t have to lie to me, Cap. Aren’t you supposed to be honest?” 

“I’m not Abe Lincoln,” he chuckles. “I’m being honest though. I like to draw too.” 

“It’s not really drawing.” You twist the stove knob as you put the kettle on the burner. “Just... making dots and lines.” 

“I don’t know. It’s still artistic in a way,” he says. 

“Alright,” you say doubtfully. “So, what has you so restless that you’re knocking down my door?” 

You come out to the front room, not that it’s very separate from everything else, and step up next to the couch. 

“Well, to be honest, my other friends are too busy for me these days. But also, I’m too busy for them. You’re more fun.” 

“Oh, fun? Hot chocolate and stars,” you shake your head. 

“Yes,” he insists as he looks up at you. “Can I see the telescope?” 

He stands up and you lean back on your heel. He’s a lot bigger up close. You tend to steer clear of others. You’ve never been very comfortable with proximity. 

“Uh, sure,” you back up, barely restraining your frantic nerves. “Sure, I’ll show you.” 

You sweep around the back of the couch, the blanket flapping against your back and go to the balcony. You sense him behind you. You step out and hold the door before he can catch up. He emerges and you turn your focus to the scope. It’s easier when you have a distraction and you could go on for hours about all the cool features of the one thing you splurged on in the whole place. 

[prettypumpum]

Title: Crossed Dimensions I Logan Howlett x Reader

Summary: You were living an ordinary life until the day a portal throws you into the Marvel universe. Trapped between an unbearable Deadpool and a Wolverine as troubling as he is charming, you discover powers you didn't know you had and an unknown past with certain heroes. As your anxiety grows in the face of this new reality, will you be able to find your place and perhaps become the hero they need?

Warnings: strong language, mentions of violence,

Word count: 1032

I woke up with a start. When I gathered my thoughts, I realized I was still on the plane bringing us back.

“You okay, last one?” asked Elis, our pilot.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied, exhaling a bit, my hands still trembling from the adrenaline.

“My ex, she believed in rocks and that kind of nonsense,” he began. “To improve sleep, you need rose quartz, or lapis lazuli… no, wait, aventurine,” he continued, a bitter smile on his lips.

“You sure?” Logan asked me, his face betraying his unease. I could almost see his thoughts swirling, as if he was weighing each moment spent on this plane. I noticed his fingers gripping the edge of the metal bench we were sitting on, his knuckles turning white at every bump.

To be fair, the flying coffin we were crammed into was far from the comfort of the Blackbird, with its soft leather seats and sophisticated controls. Here, each vibration of the plane reminded me that we were miles above the ground, with prayer likely the only thing keeping us in the air.

After what happened last night, we hadn’t really talked. I decided to blame “the incident” on alcohol. After all, he’d never shown the slightest hint he could be interested. And if fate hadn’t forced us to meet, he probably wouldn’t have even noticed me.

“She decided to stop loving me overnight. I’m sure it’s because of that guy she met at work,” Elis added, taking off his cap and rubbing his head, visibly frustrated. “We were supposed to get married. My father was supposed to come; he’s really sick, lung cancer…” He continued, growing sadder. “We were super close, he and I… he’s the one who taught me to fly.”

“Great, someone put another coin in the machine,” muttered Wade, still on his phone. He’d been glued to it since yesterday, probably chatting with Vanessa.

“You know, sometimes when I’m flying, I think: ‘Go on, let go, let this bird crash, you’ve got nothing left to lose, old man,’” he concluded with a nervous laugh.

At his words, Logan and I exchanged a panicked look over the pilot’s words. Logan’s fear of flying was endearing, but it was becoming more realistic by the second.

“Are we almost there?” I asked Elis, a bit panicked.

“Yeah, we’ll be landing soon. Buckle up,” he replied. I could feel the plane descending slightly, which wasn’t very reassuring given the pilot’s mental state.

Logan was completely tense. I pushed my hand over his clenched fist to calm him. I could feel tiny metal points emerging from his knuckles, pricking the skin of my palm. As the plane began to land, a second large hand rested on mine, gently holding it. My hand seemed tiny, trapped between the mutant’s large, warm hands.

“Here we are, folks,” Elis shouted cheerfully. “Say, Lydia, I was saying we could grab a drink after…”

Logan was the first to get off the plane.

“She’s not interested,” Logan growled, cutting him off. I gave him a small, embarrassed smile.

“No worries,” Elis said, fiddling with his cap as we walked away from the plane. “Oh, your friend came to pick you up,” he pointed out, gesturing toward the SUV behind the fences of the small airport.

Laura was waiting for us, sitting on the hood, playing with her phone. It’s true Al couldn’t come get us, which was probably for the best.

“It’s their daughter,” Wade said, still glued to his screen but nodding toward Logan and me.

“Oh,” Elis gasped, shocked. “But how old were you when you had her exactly?”

It was one of many unsettling things about this story. Laura was eighteen, Logan had fought in the Civil War, and I’d just celebrated my twenty-sixth birthday.

“It’s complicated,” I replied, saying goodbye to Elis.

“Hi,” she greeted us with a smile. “Did you have a good flight?”

“We’re still alive,” Logan replied, climbing into the passenger seat.

I smiled at Laura before settling in the back while she took the wheel. Wade joined me after stowing his gear in the trunk, keeping with him the extra supply Enrique had given us.

“Yes, even if he’s weird and never shuts up, he’s cheap, so let’s all give him a wave,” Wade said, flashing a bright smile. I joined in, enthusiastically waving back at the pilot as he did the same, continuing until Laura had driven us far enough away.

“Look, the whole family’s together,” Wade grinned. “Papa Bear, Mama Bear, Baby Bear, and Goldilocks,” he said, pointing to each of us, ending on his scarred face.

“Enough with your crap,” Logan growled, clearly not amused by Wade’s jokes. The whole “family” thing bothered him as much as, if not more than, me. Unlike me, Laura had known his version of Logan, who was, after all, the best Logan. It was hard for him to live up to that legend.

“Stop bugging Logan,” I asked Wade softly.

“Yes, Mama,” he replied. “It made you all tough too, huh?” he asked through the window, as if someone could see him.

“Wade,” Logan growled louder.

I was grateful Laura was there because otherwise, Logan would’ve already driven his claws into Wade’s throat and started a fight.

“Alright, calm down, kitten. Laura, you can call me Uncle Wade,” I said, joking. I could see the mutant boiling with anger. “Laura, could you be a sweet little kitty and drop me off at Vanessa’s, please?”

“Of course, Uncle Wade,” Laura replied sarcastically.

“Don’t encourage him,” Logan told her.

“His humor, she gets it from our side of the family,” Wade whispered, nudging me with his elbow.

[wolven91]

Massacre of Xey Station

The canid flexed their foot, wiggling the toes and rolling their ankle as their knee rested over the other one.

The human watched with fascination. The canid wasn't the human's guardian, but this close to the edge of GC space meant that there was a permanent honour guard of canids that surrounded the vulptanis guardian and the human.

They were currently laying in the tall grass of the station orchid. They were in the surprisingly quiet 'Food sector' of the station. The walls were covered in perfectly manicured mushroom farms, whilst the tallest structures were layered greenhouses, each with sun lamps warming the vegetation that grew beneath them.

The orchid was Oscar's favourite place in the station. Not everyone was allowed in the food sector, certainly not to just sit under the trees here, but being an endangered species had its perks sometimes. The vulptanis, who was reviewing a data slate while he rested against a tree nearby had no worries or fears for the human here.

Ignoring that the canids were veterans, a whole pack who had survived their tour, if not in one piece, were now 'proving' themselves still capable by keeping the human alive. The human was in the secure food sector, surrounded by canids that had their honour and capability on the line. The vulptanis smirked at the idea of a greasy pirate trying something. Best of luck to them.

"That's so cool." Mumbled Oscar at the intricate display of the various pieces and parts working together seamlessly.

"So, the mechanical bit is the 'easy' bit." Growled the canid, a female and leader of the pack. She was laying next to the human while her pack were more on the periphery.

"It's the wet work inside that takes too long. They grow nerves into the metal, so I can wiggle a toe without any tendons or muscles telling the metal what to do." The 'not-quite-grumpy' solider explained while wiggling one toe.

"Does it hurt?" Asked the young man, concern in his voice. The leader smiled, feeling the warmth from the tiny thing.

"Nah. I didn't spring for fancy sensors beside pressure. I can tell when I have my foot on the floor, but not if I'm standing on something sharp." She explained with a shrug.

"How complicated can they get?" He asked, sitting up and looking at it from different angles as he observed the various tiny pistons and wires.

"Not much." She grumbled, obviously annoyed about something.

"Ah man, I'd get like jet boots or something. Fly about, y'know?" Oscar replied, missing her tone and speaking with a dreamier expression, imagining himself as a form of sci-fi Iron Man. The canid snorted at that, grinning widely at his enthusiasm, but shook her great mane as her shoulders sagged under the weight of reality.

"That's illegal." Piped up the vulptanis before frowning at something on his screen, tapping at it with a dull claw.

"Jet boots?" Asked the human, although the orange furred alien wasn't paying attention.

"Mm?" Mumbled the vulptanis absently, having not listened to the question so the canid answered the human instead.

"Theres's regulations." The canid began before ticking the aspects off on her fingers. "Can't be too advanced. Non-wartime mods can only provide the same kind of movement or abilities as your body could realistically do. No overt power sources, only passive improvements. Being lighter, faster, is fine. Concealed mechanics isn't."

"What? Why? Upgrade! It's the future!" Demanded the young man! How dare they curb his sudden plans for a flying suit of armour.

"Because of the Xuy Station Massacre." Put in the vulptanis again. "A canid went mad and began-" But his words were cut off by the canid, who sat up and draped her arms over her knees.

"You're telling it wrong." She stated plainly. The vulptanis's head snapped up and fixed her with a hard gaze that did nothing to her at all.

"Excuse you?" He demanded. The leader shrugged.

"You're telling it wrong." She repeated.

"Fine! You tell him." The guardian scoffed, once again focusing on his data slate and dismissing the others.

"Gladly." Growled the canid before turning to face the human, resting and hand against the ground and resting her biological leg on top of the mechanical one. She used her spare are to gesticulate as she spoke and Oscar gave her full attention, enraptured from the first word into her story.

"So! There was this canid, he got put on guard duty for these archaeologists. They're going to some black site, all hush hush. During the deployment, the whole team gets wiped! He's the only survivor and even then, he only survived on a miracle." The canid explained, gesturing at her own limbs to explain how cut up the one in the story was. "He lost all his limbs, shot over a hundred times-"

A snort from the vulptanis halted the story, but this just had the canid swing her head around to fix the lounging creature with a stare as she repeated herself pointedly.

"Over a hundred times. The folk who picked him up say the only reason they found him was because of his fury, wailing out into the stars."

Oscar leant forward and rested his head against his hands, listening without complaint or question. The canid sat up properly and leant in, lowering her voice so that the story was more intimate and personal.

"Anyway, he gets back to civilisation and gets his paycheque. Huge bonus, and he's let go from the corp, injured and all that. Fast forward a few months, he shows up at Xey Station."

Oscar blinked, unaware of the name, but the tone she used made him assume it was important or a station in a key position. Seemingly aware of the human's ignorance, the vulptanis piped up again.

"Xey Station is a station only one jump away from the GC ring world. It's important. It's where many of the leaders' extended families are." He supplied without much else. The canid gave him a glance, but also a shrug, seemingly agreeing with his description before turning back to Oscar.

"Yeah, that's a point, Xey isn't backwater like this place. Anyway, he shows up to Xey, but they don't know its him. He looks different, he doesn't look like a canid anymore." She explained with a wicked grin. For all the leader's blood lust and history of sanctioned violence, the human was discovering she was a fantastic storyteller.

"What did he look like?" Oscar asked, deliberately falling into her trap of baiting his curiosity.

"A powered down chintian battle mech." She stated in clear, pointed, concise, words.

"He plays dead while they ship him into the storage area, totally unaware he's a living breathing thing. That's when he goes to the Settlement Sector and starts laying waste to everybody!" She declares, her arms going wide in sweeping gestures as she spoke. The energy in her body and words got the human's heart beating faster as she went into graphic details.

"He's got mortars! He's got airbursts! He even had some jury-rigged energy dissipation field! This thing was home made and all just body mods that he adjusted. The scanners didn't pick them up as weapons because they were all marked and tagged as prosthetics!" She explained with a shocked tone.

"It was a dark day for the GC." Grumbled the vulptanis. The canid nodded, but still addressed Oscar.

"And he screwed everyone else who wanted something more than a replacement leg." Finished the canid, clicking her claws against her own metal leg.

"That's why you can't get fancier limbs?" The humans asked and the canid growled and nodded.

"Yeah, you kill a few thousand of the law-maker's nearest and dearest? They come down hard on the problem. Didn't want another massacre." She offered with a shrug. The group fell into a silence for a while before Oscar frowned and breathed in before pausing.

"What caused him to snap?"

The leader shuffled her head to fix the human with her gaze. She blinked; taken aback by the question she hadn't considered.

"Rumour was he saw something that broke his mind at the dig. No one really asked more than that." She explained with a frown before adding; "But, he was definitely the bad guy. The GC showed recordings of him during the assault; kept saying he wasn't 'made this way' and he's 'more than a tool'. "

"That's true?" The human asked, curious.

"Mm, saw the recordings myself. We all have. It's taught in school to kids. Not the killing, they blur that, but it's not hard to search it."

Oscar lay in the orchid for a while longer, contemplating what it was that had burned the canid's mind so severely.

[jackdraw-spwrite]

Frigid, Ch. 3

Words: 3863 Characters: Danny, Clockwork Warnings: Darkness, restraints and claustrophobic situations (they end up in a cave) Danny worrying about freezing people to death?

For Ectoberhaunt Day 9: Fall

“Feel better?” Clockwork asked.

“Loads,” said Danny. He patted off the ice that had followed him home from the past, and it fell in tiny speckles to the ground.

“Good,” said Clockwork, and then ruffled his hair.

.

It even was good. For a while.

Read the rest on AO3 or below the readmore:

Without irises or even pupils, It was always hard to tell where Clockwork was looking. It shouldn’t have mattered – Clockwork could see everything.

Sometimes, Danny still got the impression that Clockwork wasn’t seeing him.

He bit his lip. “Clockwork?”

Something in Clockwork’s gaze shifted, and the impression vanished. “Yes, Daniel?”

“It’s getting worse again.”

Clockwork clicked his tongue. “Then it’s time for another outlet.” He turned to his screens, staff half-raised.

Danny usually trailed after him to look over his shoulder. This time, he didn’t.

“What if it doesn’t help, though?” Danny hunched in on himself.

Clockwork turned back, frowning. “It’s helped in the past.”

“And you know it won’t help! It won’t keep helping, at least. It’s…Clockwork, it’s helping less every time and–and what if it stops helping? What if I’m just like this, forever?”

He thought about never returning to Amity.

Never seeing his friends or family again, just frozen deep in an iceberg he couldn’t help but make.

“Daniel,” said Clockwork.

Danny looked up at him.

“I can see the future,” he said, and put a reassuring hand on Danny’s shoulder. “You might remember that.”

Danny forced a smile. “I do,” he said.

He did.

He didn’t find it reassuring.

—

Frostbite mustered a smile. “It doesn't appear to be hurting you, Great One.”

“That's good. Isn't it?”

“Yes! It's very good, that's one concern mostly off the table.”

One.

And not the one keeping him up at night. Danny bit his lip. “What about the cold buildup?”

Frostbite's smile collapsed.

—

Clockwork found Danny in one of the storage rooms off Clockwork's clock workshop.

Danny didn't notice him at first, too occupied worrying. If they got frozen, ghosts could thaw and be none the worse for the wear. Probably. Humans, on the other hand…

Danny laced his hands together and unfolded them to stare at his palms.

Tok.

Danny jumped. Clockwork was standing in the door, face impassive, staff raised as if ready to knock against the doorframe again.

“Hi,” said Danny.

“Hello,” said Clockwork. He raised an eyebrow. “I didn't realize you held such a passion for brass.”

“Oh.” said Danny, abruptly conscious both that he was sitting on a long brass sheet, and also that long metal sheets tended to bend when you sat on them. “Sorry.”

He got up–or tried to.

He was stuck.

“What–” Danny twisted around to see what was going on and discovered to his horror that ice had glued him to the brass.

He hadn't even noticed.

Flustered, he phased himself free and bounced into the air to assess the damage. Frost rime spread out in a halo from where he’d sat, wrapping the brass in a sheen of white. A good third of the sheet he’d sat on was covered.

“Oh no,” he said.

Sometimes at dinner, Danny would half-listen as his parents discussed engineering problems like thermal shock. Had he just broken the sheet? Or at least made it unusable for machinery? They’d mentioned steel getting too brittle to work with. Wasn’t brass a lot weaker?

Danny's heart sank. What if he got to the point he was doing the same to the gears of Clockwork's tower by accident?

And then his heart stopped cold.

What if he started doing it to Clockwork?

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Daniel.”

Almost against his will, he looked down at Clockwork's hand.

White spilled from beneath Clockwork's glove where it lay on his shoulder. Danny watched it grow, creeping up Clockwork's fingers like a fungus until it met the first joints of Clockwork’s fingers, and then the second. The frost nearest Danny’s shoulder thickened, a forest of tiny needles springing up from Danny’s shoulder.

Well. At least he'd find out if ghosts could recover from being frozen solid, soon.

“Daniel,” said Clockwork, again.

The ice met Clockwork's knuckles.

What if Clockwork couldn't fix his hands?

Clockwork's hand flexed against Danny's shoulder, then pulled away. Ice flecked from the surface of his glove. Left behind was a perfect imprint of Clockwork's hand on Danny's shoulder, done in sparkling white.

Danny blinked. “Clockwork?”

“There you are,” Clockwork smiled at him. His face felt far away.

“Your hand” began Danny–

“Is fine. See?” Clockwork waggled his fingers at him. A few remaining bits of frost flaked from his gloves.

“Oh.” Danny said.

The fear that had threatened to swallow Danny didn't vanish, but it no longer felt like it was swallowing him. Just nibbling. He felt wobbly.

Clockwork offered him a hand, and Danny took it. Even as the ice crawled up Clockwork’s hand again, he didn’t let go. Instead, he looked at Danny’s hand with the same distant expression he’d been getting lately.

Danny had the brief, terrible thought that Clockwork might be developing Dementia. Could ghosts even get Dementia?

“Clockwork,” Danny started.

The distant look vanished. Clockwork was seeing Danny again.

He swallowed. “If I lose control, will you keep them safe? I don’t want to–” he squeezed his eyes shut. It didn’t help. If anything, it made it easier to visualize what had happened in the other timeline.

When he opened them again, Clockwork was frowning.

For a brief, heart-stopping second, he wondered if he was overstepping, like he’d done with the other other timeline. With Vlad.

“I see,” said Clockwork, quiet. He gave Danny’s hand a squeeze, shedding ice as he did. “If you’re afraid of that, I have a place for you to stay. Here, in the tower.”

It was Danny’s turn to frown. “But–the ice–”

“It has weathered worse cold before, Daniel. It’ll be fine.”

Danny wasn’t sure how, but he didn’t know what Clockwork got up to in his free time. Maybe he visited the horsehead nebula to vacation.

Clockwork cleared his throat. “And,” he said, “I think it might be time for a field trip, of sorts.” A smile flitted around the corners of his mouth.

His heart still twinged, but the prospect of a field trip was too enticing to ignore. Danny perked up. “You don't mean–”

The smile settled on Clockwork's face fully. “I think you'll find I do.”

—

Danny almost hopped through the portal.

Almost, because he hadn't quite accounted for just how little gravity pulled at him here, so he pushed off the ground with far more force than needed. He went tumbling feet into the air before flying back down to rejoin Clockwork, tail streaming out behind him in a long ribbon. His hair swayed–not in the wind. There was no air here.

If Clockwork thought it was funny, the only sign was a crinkling at the corners of his eyes. Danny still pouted. Clockwork didn't have to worry about walking. He never walked.

But his feigned defensiveness lasted less than a moment. How could it, with where they were?

Danny looked past Clockwork to the ice they’d appeared on. Like that of Earth's Cryogenian period, this one was vast and pale. Like the Cryogenian, there were no clouds.

Unlike it, there wasn’t enough atmosphere to paint the daytime sky a different shade. Instead, the sky was swathed in stars. The only tell that this was day, in fact, was that one of them blazed far brighter, far larger than the rest. Here, the Sun was a fraction of the size it had on Earth, but it still dominated the sky. Or would have, if not for the other planetary bodies visible as crescents. Here was Ganymede, hanging like the moon on its hugest nights. There was her distant sister Callisto, a fingernail just a bit larger than the Sun itself.

Danny spiraled up, up hundreds of feet, as if to reach them was only a few miles more. They were so close!

But–not that close.

His eyes fell from the other Galilean moons to the horizon. It was close enough here that the world felt strange, shattered. Like he was just at the top of a great plateau, and wasn't quite high enough to see the ice roll away beneath it to a more distant horizon.

And the surface itself…

Here, as below, the ice seemed endless.

Ridge after ridge of it stretched away to the truncated horizon. Someone else might have found it boring, but Danny was so excited he felt as though his skin was fizzing. He was having a hard time staying anything close to still, and that extended even to his fingers, his tail, his hair. And his skin. It was like every part of him wanted to dance.

He did a little somersault, and then another. Soon, he was flying in enormous loops, peaking hundreds of feet above the ice and bottoming out as he zoomed past Clockwork again and again.

Clockwork let him. Danny could see the smile playing on his face every time he approached, before it blurred as Danny whipped past him. It felt like he should be sending Clockwork's cloak flapping with how fast he was going, but without any air, it stayed as perfectly positioned as ever.

Unless…

On his next loop, Danny angled his path ever so slightly, laughter already bubbling up at the idea of Clockwork's face when Danny pulled his hood down–

Where was Clockwork?

A hand grabbed his tail, and Danny came screeching to a halt in a brief but visceral impression of a rubber band. He came to a rest hanging upside down from Clockwork's fist.

Caught. In more ways than one.

He gave Clockwork a little wave. Clockwork raised an eyebrow in mock skepticism, but the smile still lingering on his face gave him away. Danny wiggled, trying to mime ‘please let me go’ with only facial expressions.

Obligingly, Clockwork dropped him.

Danny rolled into his back before popping upright again. Before he could return to the sky, Clockwork clasped his shoulder, and at Danny's questioning look, pointed down.

At a second, more questioning look, Clockwork phased them both into the ice.

“We can hear one another like this,” said Clockwork. He was oddly warped by the ice between them, and the usual deep rumble of his voice gained an echoing swell that plunged deep below before emerging, high-pitched and liquid, from invisible cracks in the ice.

“We can?” asked Danny. “We can! Oh, that's weird.”

He sucked in a breath to whoop and immediately choked.

“We can't breathe in,” said Clockwork. “We are in ice.”

Danny paused his attempted recovery to send him a dirty look. Clockwork pretended not to notice.

“Regardless,” said Clockwork, voice a hall of echoes, “I thought we might explore a bit.”

“Down?” asked Danny, who had spent more than one summer afternoon daydreaming about what lived under Europa’s ice.

“Maybe,” said Clockwork. Danny could hear the smile. “But let’s do things in order–”

Danny scoffed. Clockwork never did things in order.

“--and explore the surface first. What do you think the brown is from?”

Danny paused partway through planning how to wheedle Clockwork into deep sea exploration. “We're close enough to them?”

“Only a hundred miles or so,” said Clockwork. “I thought you might like to get a feel for the rest of the surface, for comparison.”

Danny wondered how well tackle hugging Clockwork would go while they were still inside ice. “That sounds good. Let's do that. And then the oceans after?”

“I never said we wouldn't.”

—

Europa’s surface was famously smooth, but that was from an astronomical perspective. Smooth meant no huge mountains or valleys, not that the surface was perfect. The ice was covered in chaos terrain – a pattern of long, winding cracks that had healed over with ropes of ice-melt, refrozen after welling up from deep below, or from being pressed closed with such force that the two sides fused. Some were small, but many were a hundred feet tall or more–huge pileups of ice large enough that someone from Earth (an alien from Earth! Like they were! They were aliens!) would have considered them hills or ridges.

This was odd enough–exciting enough–without the cherry on top: many of them were brown.

No one had ever gotten close enough to figure out why.

Well. They'd figured out from spectrum analysis that it was sulfur compounds. But that was what, not why.

Danny darted around Clockwork like an over-excited minnow, straining against common sense. He wanted to go explore, go investigate, but leaving behind the only other person here would have been dumb. That Clockwork was also the only one who knew what was going on in such an inhospitable environment as this made it dumb even by the standards of Danny's most distracted moments.

Still, far too slowly for his taste, they made their way to where the ground was stained brown. Danny landed and crouched, straining his eyes to try and pick out some detail visible to the human eye. Or Danny's eye, at least.

It was flecks. Just flecks, like bits of rust that had fallen off some piece of junk. Danny tried phasing one out of the ice, and it came apart in his fingers like mud.

Huh.

He’d need a microscope to see if there was anything in there, and somehow he doubted Clockwork had one on him.

It wasn’t, quite, disappointing. Danny knew the prospect of surface life on Europa was slim. He’d kind of been hoping for skeletons, though.

After a short inspection to double check, he rocked back on his heels and sent Clockwork a plaintive look. It turned to mock outrage when Clockwork ruffled his hair, and then excitement when Clockwork gestured to a fault line that twisted, narrow and deep, into the depths.

.

The crack didn't go all the way down. Of course it didn't; Europa's ice was miles thick. As they descended, the light from the sun quickly went from bright to an otherworldly glow cast through and along walls striated from countless cycles of freezing and thawing. And then, the glow faded into half-light, then shadows.

The sinuous caves grew tight, narrowing from a mouth large enough to fit a car, into crevices that a human would have struggled through. In places, they arched away from one another again to form curving alien hallways with absent floors. In their place was only the crack, delving deeper into the ice.

The ice itself was a strange mixture of abrupt edges and smooth lines as they descended; massive boulders with sharp faces bridged the gap, their corners melted into the rippling canyon walls.

Eventually, Danny found himself following the light of Clockwork's aura further and further into the depths as the light from the surface faded, first into twilight, then into nothing more than a smeared suggestion above their heads.

Their glow flitted across the ice as they descended, highlighting broken pebbles within the cracks and striations along its surface, melting inches into the ice itself before bouncing back in a hazy nimbus.

Where the passage narrowed, Clockwork simply shifted his form to be smaller or more sinuous, eeling between cracks far too small for any human to manage. Danny followed, the sensation of ice pressing in around him from all sides landing somewhere between soothing and unease in his mind.

In one spot where a whole fall of boulders sealed off most of their passage, Clockwork simply turned intangible, instead.

Danny followed suit, and in the space of the moment it took to fly out the other side he heard a cavernous groan before the near vacuum of the other side once again stole all sound away.

He stopped.

Was that a whale? It sounded too huge, but then again, Europa's oceans were supposed to be a hundred miles deep…

Clockwork turned to look up at him, red eyes aglow in the dark, and Danny shook himself from his wondering. He wouldn't find out here, after all, but deeper. Down, far below.

Beneath the rock fall, the crevice grew yet narrower. The sides pressed close, closer until Danny found himself slithering after Clockwork with the shape of the ice molding his form like clay; a frigid sculptor's hands drawing him thinner, longer even as ice pressed inexorably against his back, his chest, his face and caressed his throat.

It drew him out until he felt a mile long and thin as a wire and then–

Then, Clockwork stopped.

Danny piled up behind him as he skated along a seam lit only by their glow: here, the crevice closed.

Clockwork was in his youngest form now, small enough for the walls of the crevice to just barely restrict him, but restricting him they were. He fiddled with something on his staff, and Danny let his tail skitter across the ice above them as he waited.

Like this, the vise-grip of the ice was soothing. He felt safe, comfortable. With his surroundings so cold, nothing would be hurt if he let go, just a little.

Right?

Danny loosed the grip he had learned to keep on his core. Just a little, just enough for the pressure inside to fade, and waited for Clockwork to react.

Clockwork reached out and hauled them both into intangibility and into the ice, Danny's tail flowing like a ribbon behind them. And then the ice pressed in. The sensation of it, its chill, its pressure, wrapped around every inch of Danny. And yet it was gentle around them, like they were floating.

“Clockwork?” Danny asked, and his voice was full of the ice’s own fluid echoes.

“It's safe, yes. Until we reach the ocean, you can relax.”

They descended.

There were countless tiny bubbles trapped within the ice, and they rushed past him – or he past them – like snowfall in the night. The memory of the world above was already dim, but now it grew muffled, too, as though blanketed in a thick layer of snow.

Away from the surface of the ice, Clockwork became a sedate blur of light.. And as he followed, the floating sensation intensified, swaddling him in layer upon layer of uncertainty. Softly, inexorably, it crept in around his edges, reaching delicate feathers just under his skin.

The feathers grew longer, pressed deeper, stole into cracks in Danny himself. There, their razor-edges found his sense of direction and pried it loose. Abruptly, he realized he’d lost track of down and up.

There was only Danny, and the ice, and Clockwork’s silvered glow. There was only forward, and everything else.

And then, he lost even that.

.

He was unmoored within the black.

.

And then, he began to notice his surroundings anew.

There was Danny. Ahead of him–maybe down, perhaps up–was Clockwork. Danny couldn't tell. Around them, tiny bubbles clouded the ice, and the glow of their passage sparked them into countless points of light.

They were the only steady things around in an endless night.

Danny had the disorienting thought that he was a giant. That he was incomprehensibly vast and barely visible, moving through stars so much smaller than himself that Danny could cradle dozens of solar systems in a single hand–if only he reached out.

It was like being a nebula.

Something in Danny's core twisted.

Reality gained a different cast.

Danny looked down. There were stars shining inside him, too. Some threaded through a leg and up his torso, like diamonds on a necklace. There was a patch of them on his shoulder. They speckled his arms by the dozen, nestled gently within his silvery outline.

Danny's core keened with some deep, insatiable longing.

The echoes in the ice had melted into singing. He didn't know when.

It was like being a nebula.

Deep within unforgiving black, farther from Earth than any human had ever gone, Danny reached out a hand to cup the stars, and it was perfect.

Almost.

They were hard to see the newborn stars against the brighter silver of his glove and instinctively, Danny pulled on his invisibility–

And the stars vanished. The singing stopped. Reality snapped back in.

He wasn't. He wasn't–

“Daniel,” murmured Clockwork.

“Clockwork?” Danny asked. He didn't like how his voice wobbled, but–it felt like he'd just had a dream torn from his fingers.

He rubbed at his chest. His core was doing something funny.

“You were singing,” said Clockwork.

“I was?” Danny asked. He looked up at Clockwork’s face.

“Yes,” said Clockwork. The stars gathered around him lined his face in a shining veil. “Do you want to stop? We can return another time.”

Danny shook his head. “No.” There was another pang in Danny's core, sharp. Urgent. “No, I want to see.”

And he did. The idea strummed across his heartstrings in a way that pulled them tense and hungry. The idea of going back without going down–

“I need to see.”

It set his teeth on edge. Turned the pleasant fizzing of his skin inwards to saw at his nerves.

Clockwork's brow was still furrowed in a frown.

Danny's core twinged again, laced with panic. “I have to.”

For a long moment, Clockwork said nothing.

Danny hung in place, feeling simultaneously like a pinned insect and like he was going to fly apart at the seams until he was nothing more than dust. His tail – and when had it gotten so short again? – his tail twitched.

Maybe he should just go down alone.

“I see,” said Clockwork at last, and held out his hand.

Shakily, Danny took it.

The solidity, the familiarity–it anchored him, and as they descended, he felt just a little bit more himself.

—

Clockwork was singing.

Danny was still holding his hand, too unsettled to be embarrassed about it.

But. Clockwork was singing.

It was a haunting and baritone thing, and it lingered on the knife-edge between sound and sensation. But there were notes, long and slow, and they rose and fell like a funeral dirge.

The song crept through their clasped fingers and seeped up Danny's arm to calm his heart and core. His core still sat odd in his chest, but the singing smoothed the twinned restlessness and helplessness back into anticipation; into excitement.

They were descending. Soon, they'd hit water, and then–

Danny was too excited to close his eyes. But their surroundings faded as he thought of what lay beneath. Of the oceans, and what might live within them.

What if there were animals? What if there were whales?

They descended.

And then, from beneath rose a pale curtain.

It lingered just on the cusp of visible, lit only by their glow. As they approached, it brightened. Spires and ripples emerged from the dark, and it became clear that the curtain was frozen, unmoving, and nothing of the kind.

Clockwork aimed for the nearest spire. Danny went with him and found his perspective flipped on its head when instead of landing, Clockwork phased through it.

Because they were at the bottom of miles of solid ice.

Danny shook his head to clear it, drew the icy shroud of his power back under his skin, and followed Clockwork past the veil and into the world beneath.

[tparker48]

Request for zombie-husky-blog

Stranded in the middle of Nowhere, Adonus walked along a path on a crossway heading east from where his car had broken down. He could still see his blinking lights beyond the twisted trees further down the road swatted at the mosquitoes sucking at the back of his neck. He traveled for another mile, finding himself between two hillsides as they rose to the barked branches like tall grass.

"mmm..I've been scouring for hours, wasn't there supposed to be a town in this mess?" he held his phone to the air, clicking at the top of the screen in efforts to strengthen the tiny bar holding his reception together. The stupid thing was the reason he was out here in the first place. Taking the backroads was a terrible reroute, he should've just went through the traffic on the highway when he had the chance. thrusting his fingers into the screen, sending a signal for a chance for someone to pick him up, it went dark as a circling symbol formed in the middle of the screen, turning the screen into a dark void.

"Out of battery, damn it!" he shoved his phone into his pocket, stomping through the grassy terrain as he swatted at the branches tugging at his jacket. His stomach grumbled in a low tone, bubbles crying from his distended gut. Great, not only is he stranded in the middle of nowhere, he's on the brink of starving. "Okay, think Adonus, the gps said their was a town in this part of the country. Yeah, just head southeast and you'll be right..or was it northeast? no not northeast, it was..west? Damn it!"

He kicked a rock from a spot in the soil, ricocheting behind a bush in front of him. A clang echoed from beyond, Adonus stopping in his tracks. He peeked through the leaves to the other side, his eyes beginning to sparkle. A building stood next to the lakeside as fireflies danced along the shores, trucks parked along the slim parking lot as they wrapped around the other side. 'Babo's kitchen' a billboard sign shined along the balcony, bulbs flickering around it.

"A restaurant? A restaurant!" He pushed the branch away from him, nearly tripping against the bush as he made his way into the clearing. He grabbed the metal handle of the front entrance, thrusting it open to the lobby inside.

The cool breeze hit him like a wave, the smell of crispy chicken whisping at his nose as a spark lit up his body. That sweet aroma, he'd be floating if he had the chance. He followed the smell like a hound on a hunt, gliding through the hallway to a pair of sliding doors to the left of him. Heading inside, he paused as he looked to the counter, a steaming bowl resting along it. He marched toward it, his hands slamming at both sides of the dish.

He watched as carrots swirled around the corners of the bowl, watered beef bunched together as they bobbed above the juices. "Oho, come to papa Adonus" he flicked the fork along its side to a tray along the bottom counter, lifting the entire bowl to his mouth. The juice of the soup enriched his tongue of the stewed food, the essence of carrots and meat flowing down his throat in mere lumps as they zoomed down his food pipe. His stomach yearned for its nutrients, forcing his mouth wide as if it were a trapped door. He never thought food tasted so good than before, he must more, so much more.

"Ahem." A raspy voice pierced the room, causing him to nearly spit out the delicious goods satisfying his hunger. He tilted his gaze to a pot bellied gut staring at him, a massive wall of abdominal muscle as a man's bearded face glared down. "That bowl was a customer's."

Adonus looked at the bowl, bashfully swallowing the bits in his mouth. "Oh..this..is a customer's?" He said, putting the bowl down. "It's a..really good soup. I'm sure they'll enjoy it."

"Uhuh, now onto pressing matters, what are you doing here?" he pointed a spoon at him. "I haven't seen someone as stylish as you. You a city boy?"

"City boy? I don't know I-"

A husky arm wrapped around his shoulder, yanking him close to the bearded man. "Nah I'm just messing with ya, we love all types of people from this land. Name's Babo, I'm the owner here of this restaurant."

The little guy pushed against his pectorals, wrestling with the gut's jiggling surface along the side of his cheek. "Adonus..my car broke down a few miles from here. I was hoping to crash somewhere while I find a repair man."

"A repair man huh? We got loads of those here. I'm sure I can get them to visit your car." He squeezed Adonus closer, his armpit oozing its sweat into his nose. "But don't think I'm gonna dismiss your chomping on my dish. you must be famished, why don't I fix you up something special. one that I like to give all my lovely city goers"

"Really! Er, I mean..I wouldn't want to intrude, you do have customers to-"

"Nonsense, they can wait. You're my first priority."

He lifted him off the ground, carrying the both of them through another pair of doors as he went into the hallway. Dinner plates clanged together in a path further ahead, chatting following them from a lighting further up the pathway. they softened as Babo moved into another pair of doors, a single table resting beneath a lantern. He sat Adonus down, on one of the chairs, scooting him up as the table cushioned at his torso.

"Now why don't you get yourself comfortable, and I'll whip up some..delicious food." He licked his lips, making his way through the doors and back to the kitchen.

The doors came to a silent shut, Adonus looking to the window before he gave a sigh. He kicked back along the chair, placing his hands at the back of his head. "Finally some service after so long. I don't know if my car breaking down was a god send, or luck."

He sat back and let his mind wander. What kind of food will Babo be bringing him? A deep fried steak with fries? Ooo, or maybe a crispy ham. Those would go great with easing his hungering stomach. It nearly growled at the thought as drool slipped from his lips. Not a moment later, Babo returned with a tray in hand, a dish resting upon it. Adonus just to his full height in the chair, his eyes glued to the silver tray.

"Hope you're hungry for my favorite recipe." Babo announced, he sat the tray along the table, lighting a candle upon it.

A large bowl rested up the tray, a turkey leg as thick as his hand sticking from the side. It looks. "It looks glorious!" He blurted, his nose almost sticking into the bowl. He grabbed one of the silver wares, spooning the mush surrounding the leg as chunks of its meat scooped into the pile.

He brought it into his mouth, and mashed the potatoes to the roof of his mouth. His body melted at the taste, releasing a moan as it flowed down his throat. He spooned another portion, noticing Babo pinching at a bottle next to him. "Was tha?" He garbled through his mouth, slobbery chunks dropping to the tables.

"What this? Just a little bit of ingredients to makes this dish special. Really special." He shook the bottle with his arm, his hand digging inside before it pulled. The materials were no bigger than a parsely stem, sprinkling over his tank top as he brushed them to the floor. "Care to have a taste." He jangled his fist around.

Adonus swallowed the portion in his mouth. "Would I ever." He moved his plate to Babo, his palm sprinkling the special ingredient before moving it back. He spooned another bunch into his mouth, and paused when the particles touched his tongue. It left a tangy taste, as sour as it mixed with the rest of the dish. Swallowing, he pounded at his chest. "A little rough around the throat."

"Here, drink this." Babo pushed a cup along the table. "It washes that down real good."

Adonus gazed upon the small cup in hand, sniffing at the corner. It was sweet, he can tell, but it reeked of beer behind its scent. He shrugged, pouring the fluid down his throat in a firm swig. "Man, you were right, my throat feels..a lot..better.." A whoozy sensation washed over him, his vision turning to wavy as he grabbed the table.

He looked to Babo who stood next to him, his bulky physique swirling as if he were in a vortex. "Something the matter? You don't look so good."

"I..I think I'm gonna-" he belched into the air, knocking into his chair. His body pulsed when the table climbed up his arm, his feet leaving the ground as the very room expanded. In moments, he found himself dangling from the wooden furniture, his feet unable to register against it.

Heavy steps peered to the left of him, Babo's thick belly jiggling to a halt. "Man, and here I thought those saps out there were gullible."

"What's..what's going."

"Why we're just getting to the main course." He dug a pair of chop sticks from his pocket, lowering just enough to let the tips loom over Adonus. He wheezed as the utensil squeezed at his sides, plucking him off the table and into the air. Babo traced his naked body like a paint brush, pinching at his now round stomach as he squeaked. "Yes, that's the size I'm looking floor. You're gonna make a fine little dumpling for my soup."

"Soup?! what are you talking about?!"

"I've been wanting to change things up this time around. It's been so long since I've had one of you stumble into my restaurant." he lifted his tank top, lowering Adonus toward his rounded gut. he stuffed him into his belly button, letting the doughy ring gum at his body. Mmm, the many memories I've had of having you city lovers squirming in my big belly, it's been ages."

he struggled against the advancing flesh, managing to slide his head from it maw. "That's insane! You can't eat me!"

"Not without marinating you I can't"

Babo hummed a tune as he took to the corner of the room, slobber drooling from his lips as he opened a pantry. He grabbed a plastic bag from the shelf, filled with red juice as it swished at the bottom of the bag. Pulling the seal, he hovered Adonus overhead as its released into the marinated seasoning into his nostril. he swatted pitifully at the air in efforts to ease his sense, but it only received a soft chuckle from Babo before he hovered him closer.

"In you go." He flung Adonus inti the opening, watching him as he splashed into the red juice.

He paddled aimlessly to reach the opening, his body submerging before he flailed to the surface. The bag sealed as the zip drawed across the lining, turning on its side as a tide crashed him into its plastic walls. Babo watched from further above, his fingers pinching on the bag's side as he rocked it in place. From one swish, he caught a clear glimpse his smug smile. from another, it became disfigured as he sunk beneath the seasonal tide, his limbs gliding from the bottom as he crashed to the surface of the bubble he was trapped in.

Eventualy, the bag stopped rocking, taking his chance to pierce the juices as he gasped at the salty air.

"There we go, my little dumpling's all seasoned up." Babo said as he unzipped the bag.

Adonus continued to paddle as he clawed at the sides of the bag, rubbery gloves reaching into the bag as they plucked at his side. Deep hums rang from above as he was hovered to Babo's bearded face, his tongue glossing over his oily lips.

he slapped him atop his pudgy belly. "Meet your new home, Adonus, you and it are gonna be spending so much time together." His hands stamped as waves rippled around his gut, its hairs snagging along his limbs as they tied knots around his knees. Removing his palm, he watched as his stomach danced to a halt, Adonus caught amongst his hair like a mouse trap.

"Look man, you don't have to do this. Im..I'm better than just a snack. Y-you want dish washer, I can be dishwasher!"

"Tempting offer, but I'm afraid I'm way to eager to have my dinner for the night. I bet you taste way better than the slop I serve. His Raspy voice soothed, his maw opening to reveal the fleshy cavern of his mouth. "time for a taste check."

"No wait-!" He was dropped from the stubby finger, Crashing along the spongy tongue as he slid to the back of the throat. the white molars around him swallowed the swallowed the light, the muscular organ coming alive as it twisted between his legs.

it coiled around his body like a snake, dragging him against the gums before it rolled him to the roof of the mouth. "Hah!...Waah!

He rubbed beneath its weight as a suction pulled the saliva to the back of the throat, a satisfying moan escaping from Babo as the tongue's pressure increased. He wheezed, wiggling against it like a worm. When another suction pulled at his body, the tongue flicked as the cavern was shined with light. His body sliding to the tip.

"Oh ya tast betta than a Imagin!" Babi said, garbled through his mouth as the tongue thrashed about. It curled and pinned Adonus against the bottom teeth, the little guy watching as one of the large hands reached toward a table.

Its fingers curled aeound a wooden bowl, a cocaphony of vegetables and meat resting among its bubbling juices as they were brought to the giant's mouth. The tongue bucked at his torso, sending him to the back as the giant uvula curled around his shoulder like a sleeve.

"Down the hatch.." He garbled, the bowl tilted as its contents spilled into the fleshy cavern.

Adonus let out a yell before a tidal wave of veggies toppled over his body, the beef scented juices washing him in its aroma. He pierced through a chunk of mushy potatoes, but the bulk of the tongue crushed its gap as it lifted to the room the roof of the mouth. The pile of vegetable dragged him over the muscular appendage, tonsils patting against the corner as its tucked against the wind pipe.

Gulp! The sound erutpted, the tongue opening like a trapped door as he and the other chunks of food were depostied inside. The inner tube squeezed like a vice, potatoes crumbling beneath its weight as they dressed Adonus in its rubble. Pull after pull, he past through as heavy thumps trailed beyond the walls, growing louder before it carried upwards.

After seconds of descending down Babo's throat, another opening met at his feet, suckling at his ankles before they widened to the rest of the contents. He was deposited inside a more open space, falling between a fold as gurgles lingered in the chamber. He was in the very source of the giant's appetite, the bottomless belly as it wobbled around him.

"Babo! Let me out of here!" He shouted, hearing his own boice rebound as they absorbed into the walls of his tubby tummy.

A chunk of beef crashed into his head, landing into his laps as it dosed his legs in a saliva and beef juice. He kicked at it in disgust, but looked to the quivering sphincter as fluid oozed from its folds. It opened like a flood gate, releasing a current of beef stew ontop of him as it filled the chamber to his chest. "Babo! Babo!"

**********************************************

Babo gulped at the veggies and meat as they flowed through his throat. Even with the thicker chunks mixed within them, it proved no more easier than drinking water. He tilted the bowl higher, tapping at the bottom until the last bits of potatoes slid along his throat.

"Man that hit the spot, you really added a kick like no other." He rubbed at his stomach. He fondled at the sides as he wobbled his fat in a handful, its gurgles tossing around the devoured contents while they stewed in his gut. But a softer sensation swam through his stomach, paddling against the bottom while a lighter touch tapped at the corner walls.

"Ba..hel-!..mm!"

Babo raised a palm to his ears, leaning into his rounded gut. "Come again? I couldn't exactly hear you with all that me in the way." He grabbed a portion of his belly,scooping them into his palms. He thrashed it around, its heavy mass spilling between his palms. "Babo to dumpling, come in dumpling!" He chuckled through his sways, listening to the sounds that resonated within. Gurgles were all that met his lobes, watery squelches flowing deeper inside. He rolled his eyes. "Come on, at least try to put a bit of oomph in your struggling. And here I went to go and make you all small."

He raised a finger and snapped them into the air, a pulse ringing inside him as it glowed. His stomach swelled beneath his arms, unraveling their crossed state as hair filled their gap. His belly soon overshadowed his view from the table, doughy hands stamping into the round ridges.

"Its so cramped in here!"

"Ah there's my dinner." Babo laugh, rocking his stomach in place. "Tell me, how does it feel to be in a stomach like mine. Is it comfy?"

"Far from it! Its ghastly, mushy. Its like a pig's pen in here."

He tossed his weight to the side if the table, getting from his chair. "Well, that's a stomach for ya. They tend to get a lot more..messy when you gain such a good dinner. But I'd say, you'd look pretty good being in there." He hugged his own punch, squeezing it s if it were a beach ball. "I could almost call it my own, soft, mmm, so big"

A punch grazed the side of his cheek. "I'm not your food."

lifting him off from the surface. He as surprised he could even punch that hard, but barely left a bruise as he massaged at the faint feeling. "You're right, you're my new belly."

He pulled his tank top around his stomach, tying his apron around his waist. Adonus proved resilient as he thrashed about inside, forcing him to readjust the strings to keep them secure. When the thin layer hugged at his stomach, he posed in the mirror and gazed upon his reflection. His stomach held its physique, round as a ball as it spilled over his waist. He almost, couldn't recognize the difference, at least he would if he hadn't focused on the faint punches absorbing beneath it. "All that kicking isn't gonna fly dumpling. Can't my dinner slip away before I even got to show off my new body."

He clemched his gut, snapping his fingers as a pulse rung through him. His stomach sharnk in size, Adonus' call.growing softer. By the time he rest his hands along his belly, it was no different than the fat he already had. With a satisfying oat, he entered back into thw hallway and to the kitchen.

He prepared slop for the customers, moving through the building to the booths along the window. His stomach swayed from side to side, brushing against the tables as they pushed to the walls.

"Yeesh, watch where your swinging that thing" a man said, holding his plate from the table.

"Hah, sorry, had a really heavy lunch."

Swift kicks cushioned against the muscular walls, Babo smiling as he turned over to the other tables. After serving the customers for a good while, he relaxed against his chair as the events hosted took place. He popped open a barrel of beer and poured it for the participants. The old belching game, customers always had a kick of seeing who could best the other's belch. He served the cups and watched as they wolfed down their beverages.

They erupted like fireworks, belches ringing from all sides as they laughed amongst themselves. Babo picked up his own glass, swirling it between his fingers before sipping at its glass. A soft muffle whispered from the speaker playing as he looked to his stomach, the bulky bully rocking in place in protest.

"Got a tummy ache, Babo? Guess your record is good as mine" one man said.

"Please, my belch will out way the both of yoy"

He merely chuckled, pouring another glass for himself. "Please, don't think a little belly ache with make such a threat to my title. " he raised the glass to his lips, fluid trickling into his beard while the rest flowed down his throat. Struggling from Adonus answered when the cold beverage filled the chamber, but it was nothing that a quick snap didn't fix, as it vanished beneath the layer of fat. When the empty space filled with air, he pointed his mouth to the air, releasing a monstrous belch. It volume rivaled the very music players through the building,any hushing as they stared at Babo's egregious roar.

He closed his mouth after a moment, wiling the fluid from his lips. "And that is how its done."

He basked in the crowds cheers, pouring another serving for the other contenders, but he doubted they'd be able to best that one, at least, not without the help of his little secret. After hours of serving the other customer, they eventually left as the sign dimmed at the front door, stacked plates topping the tables. Babo waddles through the lobby to the front entrance, locking the door as he crashed against the booths.

"Phew, what a day, Was pretty packed than the usual rush." He snapped his fingers as he patted at his swollen gut, the drunken beer sloshing inside solidifying as Adonus bulged from his form. "I suppose I have you to thank for that. You must be a lucky charm."

Hands imprinted from the corners of his stomach, a death mask of Adonus' smudge face gumming at the walls. Sloshes drowned out his voice, overthrown by Babo's breathing as his belly contracted to his lap. He nearly forgotten how long he's been stewing in there, like a part of himself he barely paid attention to. He liked that, more than he liked watching his gut overwhelm his knees.

"Mmm, my new belly, mine and mine forever" he hummed to himself, pushing at the imprints sticking from his stomach as if they were buttons.

He soon got up from the booths, turning off the light before heading out the back way to his car. He hopped into the driver's seat, the wheel mashing into his stomach. Hearing Adonus protest was music his ears, faint lumps pressing into the wheel turned by itself. He was going to get used this, it'll give him lots to look forward to after hours.

He buckled up, pulling out of the drive-thru to a cabin beyond the trees. The little snack was gonna be stuck with him, so he might as well get used to his nice longs drive in his stomach.

***************

It was a long night when Babo arrived in his cabin, hauling his weight from room to room was drawback when it came to walking , that much he could admit. But it was child'd play compared to when he arrived in his room, feeling Adonus sandwiched between him and and his own bed sheets, it was ecstasy beyond all else. He slept soundly through the night as the little guy swam through his stomach for a way out, drawing in limbs that stretched from his stomach.

Dawn soon arrived as he slouched from bed, his hand groggily fumbling at his gut. To his surprise, a punch escaped from beneath the layer, thrashing as his voice returned. Interesting, he should have digested with the rest of the stew. Guess he used too much of his secret ingredient for it to work naturally. No matter, he wasn't finished having fun with him anyway, and he knew the perfect place for him to have some quality time.

He hopped from his bed and took to his clothes, grabbing a pair of shorts before heading to his normal business. Fully dressed, he took to his boat and cruised upstream where he could see the restaurant between the slandered trees. When he arrived, he tied the boat to the dock before making his way onto shore, a bucket of his secret ingredient in hand as he rested along a beach chair.

He crashed upon the chair, kicking off his flip flops. "What a perfect day to visit lakeside, wouldn't you agree."

"It would be better if I were outside?"

"And risk you trying to high tail it? Hah, don't think so." He hugged at his stomach, squeezing upon its soft surface until limbs rested along his forearm. "Nothing separating me and my favorite belly filler."

He held firm as Adonus struggled in his grasp, bulging into his chest as his beard lifted to the side. But even he knew that wouldn't work, his stomach enjoyed him way too much to just let him slip away. No, he was going to stay right there, and nothing was going to change that.

"The signal's coming from here." A voice said from further up the shore.

Babo turned slightly to see a leaner person approaching from the road leading to the trees, a phone in hand as he used it as a compass. Who's this guy, he's the same clothes as his belly filler. He eyed them as they stepped onto the shoreline, their phone turning toward them.

They met eyes, the man sparkling with light as he made hisnway to toward him. "Oh! Another person! Please can you spare a moment."

"I know that voice from anywhere, Ditri!" Adonus called out, thrashed Babo's stomach from side to side. "Ditri! I'm in here-" Babo snapped his fingers in annoyance, tucking his belly into his palms.

Of all the times he had to be interrupted. "Oh uh..hey there. Can I, help you?"

"Yes, yes, I'm looking for a friend of mine. Adonus is his name."

Looking him huh? Explains why he got so exited. He relaxed in his chair, holding his stomach tight. "Adonus..a-don-us. Hmm, doesn't ring a bell. What this that french?"

"He's missing somewhere in these part of the woods. His car was found just down the road from."

Damn it, he forgot tell the boys to take the car. "Er..like I said, I haven't seen a guy like that around. So many try somewhere else and-" a kick pierced through his hold, sliding his arms to his belly button. He slammed his forearms against his belly, a ripple subduing the struggle beneath.

"Are you alright."

"Ah it's nothing. Just a..fish I caught was relaxing out." He hugged his stomach tighter, laying it atop of his knees. "And I'd appreciate if I can tend to it in private. So shew." He scratched at his stomach to erase the little lumps bypassing his forearms, turning his backside toward to Ditri.

"Please sir, you must know something about his whereabouts, give me something, anything."

He groaned at the response, placing a hand to his cheek. The mood was about to be gone at this rat. If he weren't trying to digest in piece he would throw the pestering small fry to the river side. With Adonus' squirms returning, he dug his fingers into his paunch to subdue him. But in that very moment, an idea resonated in his mind.

"Actually, I do remember this..'Adonus' fellow stopping by my restaurant last night."

"You have?! Where did he go?"

"Mmm, hard to say, its all fuzzy now that I recall. And with this squirming fish, I can think while I digest it." He rocked his front toward his direction, his pudgy stomach spilling over the edge. "You think you could give me a good belly rub, I think by then I'll have a clear idea of where your friend went."

He eyed Ditri as their gaze stared at his gut, the small movements beneath swirling around the surface as it it were a love trash bag. All this laying around was getting boring, so why not spice things up with a little misdirection. Having this little shrink close by will get his little snack kicking, that much he can assure.

His gaze focused upward as Ditri moved to its side, holding his fingers in the air. "Alright, if there's a chance you know where he went, I'll do it."

And the line is set. "Splendid, I really appreciate the assistance." He leaned his weight onto the center as his back crashed against it, exposing his belly to the warmth of the sun as he crossed his arms and legs around himself. "It's gonna take a lot of rubbing to get this fish bubblin'.." He said, fighting to not release a chuckle, "so be sure to put those noodles of yours to good use."

"O..kay?"

Babo smiled as the small fry moved closer, his jeans pushing over the side of the bench as his for looming his own. The hairs along his belly spiked as their palms touched along his belly button, their smooth skin brushing through them like a carpet. The burly mam moaned deeply, scratching at his sides to in ecstasy. The palms moved in a circular motion, dragging a corm of flesh to the sides as wobbled from side to side.

Struggling returned from inside, punching at the doughy surface to the outside world. Ditri moved his palm backward in response, but came to a halt when Babo wrapped an arm behind him. "Don't be squeamish, get a closer look." He heaved his arm into their back, their land halfway as their torsos connected. He pinned them beneath his forearm, squishing him into his stomach.

Ditri winced at the lumps washing beneath his face, wiping the the hair that caught between his lips. "Any..do you recall anything about where Adonus might be?"

"Who?"

"Adonus! My friend?"

"Oh! Oh yeah. It's uh..slowly getting back to me, I'll be happy to tell you before you know it. But first, a little around my love handles, love it when those get rubbed."

The little guy groaned as he continued to massage at his stomach, Babo crossing his arms behind his back as he looked to the sky. By now Adonus was too weak to struggle any longer, he powerful punches turning into mere taps by the second.

An hour soon passed as he rested upon the bench, lofting his arm off Ditri as he got to his planted his feet onto the rocky soil.

"There..is that..it?"

Babo looked to his stomach, eyeing its corners as he patted it down. When it wobbled over its form, his smile grew wider. "Not bad, not bad at all. You did great work with digestion." He tucked his shirt over his belly, reaching for the bucket before returning to his boat. "Welp, I'd best head back to the restaurant, gotta open the doors before the customers riot."

"Hold it!" Pebbles skidded behind him, Ditri blocking his path.

"Yeah?"

"You said you'd tell me where my friend is. I held up my end of the bargain, now you hold up yours."

"I did mention that did I? Must've slip my mind. Alright, lean in real. close." He wiggled his finger, Ditri obliging as he ear brushed his beard. Your friend is.." He flexed his stomach as air escaped into his throat, erupting from his in a monstrous roar. His belch was heavy in nature with the contents of slobber flicking to the small fry's nose, it was a sight to behold as he squirmed in its path. Closing his mouth, he patted at his stomach. "Here."

Ditri grew pale at the statement. "What? I..I don't underatanding."

"Oi, city goers. Let me spell it out for you then..." he snapped his fingers as his paunch grew in size, faint handprints stretching the walls. A disfigured face stretched from beneath his tanktop, Adonus calling to his friend. "I. Ate him."

He hovered hand full palm toward Sitri, blowing him a kiss as his secret ingredient speinkled ocer him. He watched as he fanned tonget the flakes off, but to no avail as his body shrunk to the pebbles resting alomg the shore. He kicked over the clothes woth his feet to peer into the collar of the shirt, plucking the small friend into the air as he licked his lips. "Now I not only got one stuffer stashed away, now I've got two."

Ditri swatted at his thumb, his blows meres making then jiggle as Babo brought his closer. He opened his mouth, letting the hot air inside flow out. "No! You can't!"

"I can." He replied. He dropped his inside his mouth, holding his jaws open as he tumbled to the back.

He didn't have to move a muscle as he tongue overwhelmed him, bucking the unfortunate small fry down his food chute to join his awaited friend. Reaching his stomach, he snapped his fingers as the two of them grew in size. Tearing his tank top from his body as if it were a slither of paper.

"Haha! That's what I'm talking about. Now there's a belly worth talking about!" He massaged over his stomach, the two inside thrashing it from side to side. "Oh don't worry boys, at least you have a new purpose in life. Making my belly big."

He stepped into his boat, his weight rocking its balance as he made his way into the cockpit. Turning on the engine, he massaged over his down as he moved down the riverside, taking his belly fillers along to relish in his new fashion.

[call-sign-shark]

✨ FROM HELL || Joke's on You ✨

Summary: Forced to work with Pete, the agent who had thrown you to jail years ago, you do everything to drive him crazy... Until he decides to show you who is in charge. (FROM HELL: Part 1, Part 2)

Words: 1,5k

Tags: Mention of murder attempt, mutual violence, dirty talk, daddy kink, allusions to smut, knife play!!

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Crazy bitch,

Pete thinks, emptying the bottom of the whisky bottle he is holding in his hand. Since he has got you out of prison, you are taking great pleasure in driving him crazy. Don't you ever shut up? He had the unpleasant impression you were constantly babbling or bothering him. Your worst mischiefs usually took place when you were both in the same room. Each time it happened, you would cling to him like a kitten would do to his mother. Sometimes you would even start to nibble his neck or lick the corner of his lips with your fury tongue. And each time it happened, Pete struggled not to pin you against the wall and give in to something he would regret later. Captain Mitchell pinches the bridge of his nose, tormented by the conflicting feelings you brought into him. As soon as his eyes fell on you, you struck the match and lighted up something he was afraid of: desire. His heart swings between the fear of consequences and the burning passion he feels. Despite all his efforts, he cannot help but be fascinated by the dangerous creature you are. The way you move, as gracious as a wildcat, the way you bite your lower lips when he stares at your eyes a bit too much... Even your slightly psychotic laughter shakes his whole soul to its core. All he wants is to tame the uncontrollable and rabid animal you are.

"Pete, the fuck is going on?" He whispers to himself as his green eyes watch his phone screen. He lets out a grunt when he noticed the ton of unread messages he had. All coming from Penny, who is certainly worried since he left for the mission the Government gave him. Seeing her name written on the screen is a harsh reminder: he is a married man, and you, you are a fucking psychopath. And as if being a criminal is not enough, you were twenty-five years younger than him. Still, this mere thought is enough to send a surge of arousal between his legs. Pete clenches his jaws and closes his eyes, trying to focus on something else. But a faint sound, barely noticeable but oh-so-familiar, snatches him from his thought. Maverick jumps from the couch and rushes to his own bedroom."

"Hell!" He roars, kicking the door open.

You freeze.

"You goddamn brat!" His green eyes are now darkened by frightening anger. Usually, Pete Mitchell is not the kind of man who loses it easily - years have managed to tame his wild young self. But it seems like you always know how to make him go full berserk.

"Oopsie, I guess?" You pout, your thin fingers tightening their grip around the heavy Desert Eagle you have just stolen from Maverick's drawer. The man's emerald eyes shine with the same threatening glimmer as the gun's metal. Unfortunately, the Desert Eagle is dry and you did not manage to find the hidden bullets. Even though the weapon is impressive in your tiny hand, it was completely useless. Still you keep it, ready to knock Maverick out if he comes too close.

"What did you want to do with that? Blow my fucking head off and run away?" Pete's voice rumbles like a menacing storm. His hand is squeezing the door handle so brutally that he is about to break it. While his face usually bears soft and playful traits, it is now distorted with violent fury. He is almost snarling, showing his perfectly white teeth like a wolf about to kill its prey.

"On point, Daddy!" You retort, bratty as you are.

Daddy.

Adrenaline rushes through his veins, making his head dizzy. Pete shakes his head, already intoxicated by it. His jaw is clenched, but he remains motionless. Rather than bouncing on you, he patiently stares at you. At first, looks dagger at your beautiful eyes, as if he could kill you on spot. In spite of the electrifying tension, you stare at him back. Then, his eyes fall on your juicy lips, slightly parted for you are gritting your teeth at him. He knows that all you want is tearing his throat with your fangs and he is tempted to let you do so, only if he can kiss you before. Then, he looks down. He is now observing your breasts, whose perky nipples can be seen through the thin fabric of the shirt you are wearing. The t-shirt that is covering your body is actually one of his, for you had no personal belongings since you are a prisoner temporarily hanging out outside.

"What are you looking at, uh?"

"Don't change the topic of our conversation." He snaps. To be true, he had almost forgotten about the gun in your hand. A sick yet teasing smile stretches your lips: of course, you know what he is staring at, "These?" You tease again, bringing the barrel of the gun between your breasts and starting to slowly rub it up and down. While doing so, you bite your lower lips and let out a small, alluring moan. Pete's legs feel weak all of sudden.

"Stop that." He growls. Now, you can tell that he is very pissed. So pissed that he feels his self-control breaking down in thousands of bits. He walks towards you with an infuriated step and, drunk with both anger and desire, he grabs you by the throat. You open your eyes wide because of the surprise - he had been so quick you barely understood what just happened, " I can't believe you tried to kill me for the second time..." His fingers tighten their grip around your neck, enough to obstruct your windpipe but he is not really strangling you yet. You whimper, displeased by his domination.

"Let me go!"

Pete brings his attractive face closer to yours. His dragon breath crashes against your skin, almost burning you, "You don't seem to understand that here, I am the one in charge. You know I can throw your ass back to prison right? And God knows I can even ruin your beautiful doll face without no one batting an eye. You are nothing. You are not even a threat anymore."

You tried to swallow, but his grip tightens again around your throat, "I-I" You stutter, struggling to talk, "I think Daddy is scared of me. And yelling at me is just his way to cope with his fear." Your voice is merely a whisper, but your words are candy-coated with temptation. The surprise you had on your face a bit earlier had turned to amusement, despite the fact you are being strangled. You wet your lips with the rosy tip of your tongue in one sensual gesture. To be honest, you are having the fun of your life. He can even choke your harder if he wishes to, you think.

"And Daddy thinks his bad kitten needs someone to punish her. The kind of punishment that will turn her into a crying and begging mess." He raises a brow, looking at your parted lips gasping for air, "Pretty sure I could make that tough-girl behavior disappear in one big thrust inside your, fucking brat."  His voice has nothing soft anymore: you had just released something you should not have. A chilling thrill runs down your spine at Pete's cold voice.

"What is Daddy waiting for?" Boom. The Desert Eagle you were holding in your hand falls on the ground with a loud sound, "Why doesn't Daddy try to tame me? Come on Mitchell, are you afraid of the fall?"  You conclude your sentence with a deranged chuckle, half-muffled in your compressed throat.

Loving you is like a free fall, whose ending is always deadly. Yet he jumped by himself.

"Come on, Pete." You repeat, your smile growing wider on your juvenile face.

Seized by a violent mix of fury and arousal, Pete brutally pins you against the bed in one quick movement. You have crossed the line, and you know it. You squeal with surprise at his violence and try to break free from his grip but he has far more strength than you. Soon, he blocks your body from moving with his by straddling you. Pete tilts his head to the side, his breath short and quick, and a fire burning in his magnificent emerald eyes. This time he cannot control himself anymore - and he does not want to. He grabs the black K-bar knife that was strapped to his belt and presses the pointy tips on your collarbone. As soon as you feel the sharp and uncomfortable sensation on your skin, your heart's pace quickens. It beats so hard in your chest that you are pretty sure it wants to burst from your ribcage like a fucking alien. You swallowed, your throat still sore and your chest raising and falling quickly. The silence that hovers over the bedroom is only disrupted by your panting. Maverick had released your neck from his grip but, somehow,  you still feel his warm and strong hands around you, which contrasts with the cold steel of the knife's blade.

"You're so pretty." He suddenly admits absent-mindedly. His voice has the soft tone of a fascinated man. Pete presses on the sharp tip of the knife again to make it go through the fabric of your t-shirt, "That's just a safety measure. Just so I know you don't hide any weapon." This time, his words are candy-coated with a teasing tone.

"You wouldn't dare. You're a married man and-" 

You stop in the middle of your sentence: Pete had just sliced your shirt in half, unveiling your naked and trembling body to his hungry eyes, "Pete..." You gasp, looking at him with eyes wide open. He had just taken your breath away, and for the first time in your life, you feel vulnerable. As fragile as a house of cards in a raging wind.  You turn your head to the side, blood rushing to your cheeks.

"You drive me crazy - literally," He whispers, looking at your dazzling naked body while biting his lower lips. Your two blossoming tits, the flesh of your belly, and the delicious curves of your body... Pete lets out a feverish sigh. Damn, he would let you drag him to hell for just one fuck. He traces down your curves with his knife without cutting you, blade flat on your burning skin. Another thrill - you almost moan. A wave of heat invades your lower belly. You were soaked. "Look at you." Pete chuckles at the begging look you had on your face. "So touch-deprived after years of prison." 

You want him. And you want him so bad that you feel miserable, about to cry and beg for him to fuck you rough. But words are stuck in your throat: you are far too bratty to tell him what you really feel.

"Spread your legs"

"No." You grunt, closing your thighs between each other to do the exact opposite of what he had just asked. And maybe to hide how wet you are. A part of you hates yourself for such a stupid reaction, all your body wants is to feel him deep inside but you are too stubborn to give up.

"No?" Maverick repeats, tilting his head to the side again, with a glimmer of amusement in his malevolent green eyes. You are still challenging him in spite of your vulnerability: you are at his mercy and you know it. Yet, you still struggle, like a trapped animal feeling its death coming closer. The knife went down your belly, making you shake like a leaf, "Wrong answer."

You close your eyes, waiting for him to stab you right in the heart but the blow never occurred. Rather than tearing your flesh, Pete's lips crash against yours and pull you in an intoxicating kiss. You give in, your tongue looking for his. When he breaks the kiss, you are both panting and craving each other's touch. His face is still near yours, so near that your breaths melt together.

"I spent those last years fearing you, you know? You were always there with me. In my nightmares, in each corner of my mind, lurking in the shadows or even in my wife's closet. I was afraid you'd come out of nowhere and drag me to hell. But now- I realize you are just a kid." His words feel like a guillotine's blade on your neck, "Tough, fearless... But still a damn kid." Years of fright had just vanished. He sighs with relief, for he knows the table had turned:  he is the predator, and you, the prey. 

"Go to hell, Mitchell." You hiss.

"In hell, brat. In Hell." He corrects you. With one skillful movement, he grabs your arms and forces you to turn around. You are suddenly lying on your belly, one cheek pushed into the mattress. A moan of arousal and protest escapes from your mouth. You try to buck, to kick him but all you attempt are vain - and somehow you don't really want to break free.  His two large hands grab your hips and lift them before bringing his body against yours. Legs already shaking, long tears of love juice running down your thighs from your weeping pussy, you feel your mind sinking deeper into madness.

You hear the clicking sound of him unbuckling his belt while he leans over you, mouth close to your ear. He whispers.

"You haunted me for years... But joke's on you... After what I'll do to you, I'll haunt you forever." 

[fwdto]

FWD: Formula for Buoyancy

"Is it..." Sweetie was on the 16th question in the game of twenty questions she had convinced her sibling to play, though she wasn't all that close to winning yet. Whatever Mp3 was thinking of wasn't brown, it wasn't small, furry, fragile, or something she could make with her hands. The only guess she'd gotten right so far was that it was loud. Even with all that in mind, she was still left with a lot of options that she had to narrow down.

"Is it a living thing?" she settled on.

              "No." Mp3 replied

⸺

Mp3 and Sweetie are two objects out of 43 on a ferry heading north. Sweetie takes to the experience much better than her sibling does.

A prologue! Or prelude, whatever you wanna call it.

It was dark in the cabin of the ferry. With night in full swing, the rows of seats and the couple dozen objects seated on them lumped together into a mess of great, big, weird shapes. A few were illuminated, slightly, by book lights or pen lights held between their teeth, allowing Sweetie to catch the littlest bit of their expressions as they read through books or newspapers or magazines or, in the case of one rounder object—a kettle, she guessed, judging by the slight spout-like shape she could spot sticking out from the side and the metallic sheen shining off of them—games of solitaire spread out across their lap instead of sleeping. The current rocked the tiny ship lightly, the engine purring through the metal floor she sat on, one hand pressed flat against it allowing the vibrations to travel up into her wrist and spread through her arm.

              Sweetie found it calming. Mp3 did not.

              Mp3 was curled up beside her, backpack wedged between the wall and the flat plastic casing of their back. Knees drawn to the buttons on their front—one centered and raised, the other four flush flat with the rest of their casing—the soft low glow of their screen made the absolutely miserable look on their face clear, as though it wasn't obvious enough from their hunched posture that they were having what she would call a pretty bad time, and had been since a particularly rough bit of sea had jolted the ship and sent the music player tumbling out of their seat, flailing, bringing a not-quite-dozing Sweetie down with them. Her free hand sat on Mp3's back, a sympathetic little weight. One of the other riders somewhere across the cabin began to snore.

              "Is it..." she was on the 16th question in the game of twenty questions she had convinced her sibling to play, though she wasn't all that close to winning yet. Whatever Mp3 was thinking of wasn't brown, it wasn't small, furry, fragile, or something she could make with her hands. The only guess she'd gotten right so far was that it was loud. Even with all that in mind, she was still left with a lot of options that she had to narrow down.

"Is it a living thing?" she settled on.

              "No."

              Her fingers tapped against the floor, "Is it a tool?"

              "No."

              "Can I hold it? Up, I mean. In my hands," she brought her hands close together, cupping them like you would with water or a baby duck. Mp3 didn't look at the gesture.

              "Probably not."

Sweetie couldn't tell if the 'probably' part was serious, tapping her chin.

              "Would you ride it?"

              "No," they replied, breathing in first, a bit quieter. The answer popped into Sweetie's head at that, clear as sunshine. Just in time, too.

              "Oh! Is it the ferry?" she asked. This time around, Mp3 didn't answer. Usually, she would assume they were holding out on them, reluctant to admit they'd lost in the same way Whitney so often was whenever he'd lose this game in less than ten questions, but they hadn't so much as twitched at her guess, as though it'd flown right over them and out the door, unheard. 

              She laid a hand on their back again. "M?"

Mp3 flinched at the contact, snapping out of it and glancing at her.

              "You feeling any better yet?" she asked, not for the first time that night and certainly not for the first time since they'd boarded the ferry almost two days ago.

              "...No" they sighed. The ship lurched again. Though it was only a bit, just a little shake, Mp3 still jumped under her hand. After a moment they pressed the heel of their lone palm against their eyes, groaning, "Why'd we have to take a boat?"

              "As opposed to what, swimming to port?"

              "Maybe," they grumbled, "We're good swimmers. We would've made it"

              Sweetie considered this. "I might've," she pretended to appraise her sibling, drawing out the words a bit, "I don't know about you."

              Mp3 turned to her, armed with a weak-willed withering look. Mingled with their misery and general lack of bite, it didn't make her take back she'd said so much as it forced her to press down a laugh. A couple seats away, cards fell to the floor, and Sweetie just caught the stranger's mumbled swears, alongside the creaking of the worn chair as the presumed-kettle shifted to pick them up for what must've been the third time that night. She offered Mp3 a few fresh and hearty back pats.

"Look on the bright side," she nodded vaguely towards the still grumbling object "there's other unhappy people on here—almost everyone else is, I bet, at least a little. They all want off this thing too."

              "That's a bright side?"

              "Sure is! I mean, you've already got something in common, maybe you could be friends. Wallow together, take your minds off it," their sides bumped, and Sweetie perked up, "you'd be misery buddies!"

              "Misery buddies?"

              "Misery buddies."

They could've looked amused at that, but the ship swayed again, and they stuck out their arm blindly, grabbing at Sweetie's shoulder in their startle and holding it tight as a lifeline.

She wasn't surprised by the reaction—any of their reactions. Boats were unavoidable in just about any coastal town, their hometown being no exception. But still, Sweetie recalled clearly the many, many times Mp3 would spend fishing trips white-knuckling the sides of the boat, or how she'd lead them back onto the docks when their unsteady legs won out over their curiosity for the odd merchant ship or two that'd pop up in the nearby port. Even when one of her siblings had just offered to teach them both to sail, she'd worried, by the look of things, that Mp3 would pass out then and there at the thought.

they still like the ocean. they always want to go swimming with me, and they sit in the tide alot in the mornings. they always like being around it, she'd written in her journal years and years ago now, back when they were still getting to know each other, figuring out their quirks as they went along. something about the boats...do they get seasick? Three or four entries later she'd written the answer on the very first line, right under the date: I think Mp3 is afraid of boats.

She leaned back a bit, staring at the ceiling with it's faint emergency lights, stuck up there like stars glowing on and on through good and bad times, hardly illuminating a thing. The quiet between them, though short, wasn't comfortable. As a matter of fact, it made her guts itch. What was it that helped with seasickness, again?

"I've got it," she said, plopping her hands down and pushing herself up, "let's go out on deck"

              "Go out," Mp3 parroted, "on deck?"

              She grabbed their arm and tugged it loosely, "Come on. It'll be good for you."

              Mp3, clearly, loved the idea, staring up at her like she'd sprouted dog ears and a second face.

⸺⸺

              The moon sat behind the ferry, more than half-full and growing by the day, so Sweetie towards them towards the stern, where the rotors threatened to drown their voices out. In the wind, the torn headphone wire dangling from Mp3's head flapped around like a flag, or one of those white hankies you'd wave when calling for mercy. The breeze carried the scent of salt and home, which she breathed in deeply. Sweetie pretended, on the inhale, that the familiar shores of the Innislin Isles were stretched out before her: rocky-sandy beaches with dark jetties sticking out, or green grasses giving peeks at streets closed off for the weekend market stalls, or the peppering of boats in the re-opened port a couple towns over, all different colours and sizes, caught in the purple-gold sunset with Whitney in the middle of it all, a speck of pale-green lime candy, her twin despite the different shape, a kinda crescent-y smear growing smaller and smaller in the distance as he watched them leave, his face impossible to pick out. Breathing out, she dropped her bag by her legs—no reason to leave it unattended in the cabin, she'd figured. Out of the corner of her eye Mp3 did the same.

She leaned out over the edge, watching the foam trail kicked up by the rotors. "Nothing better than a little fresh air, right?"

Mp3 hovered several steps behind her, watching her back instead of answering. She turned back and offered them a smile before beckoning them closer. They stepped slowly up to her side, risking a look over the side and watching the waves. Though it was somewhat brighter out here, their reflections were impossible to make out in the water beyond a drop of her pink or a dash of their blue. Instead, they were eaten up by the foaming and the churning and the deep-dark of the water that surrounded the boat on all sides, as far as the eye could see.

              Mp3 squeaked, stiff as a board, "Yep. Nothing."

Sweetie turned to them. Once again, they looked like they were going to pass out.

              "This isn't helping, is it."

              "No."

              "Do you wanna sit down—"

              "Yes please."

              At that, she maneuvered them away from the deafening rotor, until she was sure they could both hear themselves think clearly. From there they slid to the floor, backs to the wall, Sweetie on their right side this time around as opposed to their left. Mp3's stump settled above her shoulder, while their left hand settled on their knee. They sighed a long-suffering sigh.

              "I hear you," She wrapped an arm around their back, fingers just brushing their other side. They shifted a bit into her hold. She could feel, behind her, the water smacking against the hull.

              "How much do you think the boat weighs?" They asked. She offered a slight squeeze.

              "Not too much. Buoyancy is magical like that."

              "I know that," they flicked their fingers out in a sharp gesture, "but still, it's—you know—it doesn't—it shouldn't—" their hard drive clicked and whirred in their frustration, which Sweetie felt through her arm more than really heard, and they fumbled around a bit for words that she knew wouldn't come before Sweetie took pity on them.

              "Objects figured out this sailing thing forever ago—got it down to a science. This thing's not gonna just drop to the sea floor cause it feels like it," the reassurance slipped out of her almost offhandedly, "it just doesn't work like that. We'll be fine."

              "I get that"

              "I know you do"

              "Then—" the ship hiccupped, and Mp3 yelped at the jolt, fingers digging into their knee, squishing themselves into her side a bit more as though the little jump had very nearly sent them flying overboard. Misty sea spray kicked up onto the deck. No doubt she'd wind up feeling sea-water crusty come morning. A problem for future-Sweetie to deal with. Present-Sweetie, meanwhile, watched Mp3 struggle, by the looks of it, between choosing to curl up in a ball or scream loud enough for the sun itself to hear. They settled on a middle ground: mumbling, "I wish I could just get it. Really get it."

              Sweetie hummed. "Well, you're lucky I get it enough for the both of us. Which checks out, actually," she grinned, "I was always better at science than you were anyway."

              "Were you?"

              "I was. That's why I always let you cheat off my tests"

              Mp3 sputtered, "I did not!"

              "Yeah, and that's why you didn't do as well," she waved her free arm in a wide gesture, "I so generously gave you the choice to sneak a peek at my answers, and you chose not to. So honest, so pious, but still so, so bad at science. How sad."

              Mp3's shoulders loosened some, "is that why I nearly failed my fifth-year classes?"

              Sweetie processed that, blinking, then laughed, "Yeah, that's why," she jabbed their side, "Cause you were too good to cheat. That's the reason."

              Mp3 chuckled. Their fingers were still tense, and their drive still whirring, but amusement had covered up some of the fear for now.

              "That must be the reason," they said.

              "It is," she replied. And from there the two of them sank into quiet, much more relaxed than it had been before. The ship rocked slowly, and more sea spray found it's way up and onto the deck, slowly but surely drenching them just as Sweetie had suspected it would. She looked up towards the stars, dazzling down on them by the dozens. With the emptiness of the ocean and the lack of clouds, there was nothing to block them from shining down lightlessly like the little emergency lights waiting for them back down in the cabin, always on and waiting for something to go haywire so they could swoop in and save the day by flooding the ship with their glow. Sweetie only really knew two constellations—Pelayo's bow to the west and its matching arrow pointing east, neither of which she could pick out from where she was.

              "Hey, wait, hold on," Mp3 said, turning slightly, "I saw your grades, you were never that good at science"

              "I never said I was. Just that I was better than you," she shifted to face them, eye to eye before deciding to continue, "I know we're not gonna sink. You trust me, don't you?"

              "I do."

              "Then you don't have anything to worry about," she told them, voice even and steady. That seemed to do the trick, as the unease in their face all but slipped away, the tension in their fingers loosening, their clicking of their hard drive tapering off. Taking the win, Sweetie turned back towards the sky.

              They stayed like this for several minutes, side to side, shoulder to cut-short shoulder, sitting on the slick metal deck watching the stars go by.

[seashaper]

[Delivery! An ask arrives, reads as follows: "To receive your de-cursified (and non-sentient) gauntlet, first turn your screen brightness all the way up, and press [THIS] button!"

[> What arrives when the button is pressed, is a floating box, conjured by flecks of light emerging from the screen. Tiny cubes, pixels that form mass from light, emerge from the extra-bright screen, forming the gift-wrapped box atom-by-atom. It's a metal box, lined on the inside with the rough-cut padding of some old coat; the box itself is wrapped in silver wrapping paper and tied-off with a dark-blue bow.

[>Inside the box, the Gauntlet has been returned, unchanged physically, but the air about is lighter, the freezing chill reduced to a minor cold that puts a bit condensation across its shimmering surface, like can of cola pulled from the fridge. The glove itself feels lighter, and causes no more pain to wear, no compulsion to wield. A note is written, from Maria, that reads:

[> "So we ripped the curse out of it real clean like and kept it as a kind of informal payment for services we otherwise would've rendered for freesies. I tested it myself, post curse-extraction. Thing's ahhhh pretty nice. Wish I had a soioa mold, or something that could make mirrored duplicates of weapons and gear- this thing would be insane with as a matched pair. Enjoy-" the note is signed "M, B, and Y," and is written on yellowed but fancy stationary, poorly folded and crammed between the liner and the box to keep it from getting wet.

[After their first morning class, Madison Rook checks their messages in an empty classroom, still sitting behind the front desk with their recently turned-in to-be-graded classwork. They certainly haven't been looking forward to this, so it's particularly nice to observe the ask heralding the arrival of something they /have/ been deeply anticipating.

Clearing off an area of the desk, they summon the item, a fascinating manifestation to watch, arriving as a container more ornamented than they'd expected. Quite lovely, though; if this were a different scenario, they might tip for the aesthetically additional service.

The tiefling's eyes glitter as they land on the gauntlet inside the box, lid set carefully aside. Before touching anything, Rook runs a quick scan of a distanced Identify; they entirely trust the de-cursing to be complete, but it doesn't hurt to ensure every positive trait remained intact. Seemingly they have, and as Rook scans the tucked-away note, sharp fingers drumming against the paper, they nod to themselves. A job well done. These expert crafters in question sure did add "ahhhh" in writing to the note. The offside comment at the end of the note certainly gives them some inspiration, but that's to work on later.

Picking the gauntlet up gently, Rook slides it on over their thin black glove, the freezing aura emanating from the inside now a gentle chill. Perfect. The obsessed arcanist's pulse can't help but pound in their chest as they think of all the magic and art they can create with this newly harmless artifact. It's great that the others had removed the curse to keep, but Rook still intends to owe them a favor. At the bare minimum, they owe a thank you note, and pick up a piece of their own stationary with which to begin such a task.]

[boyakishantriage]

[Localised to Earth measurements.]

The killer of hundreds of species, a single person who'd rivalled systems, beat back massive companies and someone who I am told was "exceptionally lucky" was. Raging at a video game.

"FUCK OFF YOU STUPID CUNTS"

Text rapidly appearing, being sent. Countering masses of randoms, occasionally switching screens and focus to finish emails, send advice. Snapping her fingers, she continues.

"blah blah. Here to kill me, give me ten minutes- don't touch that, it'll electrocute ya into jerky, that's carbon monoxide gas, that's sodium metal, stop messing with the vials. You're gonna cause a chain reaction-"

Shouting into various pipes, she continued typing at the keyboard. Apparently whatever was going on had quietened down.

Shouting into the microphone, seeming to chastise her workers in Arabic, Filipino, Turkish and Japanese in that order, before turning on her chair.

"Ait."

CLICK.

"hands up- NO THAT DOESN'T MEAN THAT YOU CAN JUST BAN SOMEONE- DEAL WITH IT LIKE A MAN- Drop your weapon, I don't care. Fuck off. Kill me tomorrow, I'm busy."

"... Human, your death-"

BANG. Click.

"I said. Come back tomorrow, I'm free tomorrow at 6am. Here's my card. Shoo."

"Why-"

"Would you like to see the Asia oceanic region in rebellion, or would you like to see what happens when people piss me off?"

Gun aimed at his head, an open dare.

"I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE A DICK SUCKING LES. EITHER FUCK OFF WORK AND CLEAN UP. OR GET A GODDAMN ROOM. OUT."

"but-"

"OUT."

"She's probably done now. Have fun killing her!"

The receptionist cheerily stated, a disgruntled female storming out the office.

He stepped in, a cleared desk, laptop pushed into what was presumably a closet under the desk. Sitting on the chair, a sword strapped to her back. At least 5 knives around her body. Pushing bullets into a revolver.

"Morning!"

She cheerfully stated, waving at the assassin.

"Five minutes for the speech, I'll let you fire a shot. Ya leave the building you break the Geneva conventions or honour rules, I stop using them. Understand?"

"... How- I'm here to kill you."

"your five minutes start now."

Flipping an egg timer upside down, mechanisms dropping a tiny bead of metal down a series of complicated channels.

"I am..." [Not gonna write the fucking speech. Tldr: his name's Nomura, he's a Waritan, an assassin to kill me. Blah blah, honour. Calls me a cowardly weakling with hardly any sense.]

"... Great, now catch."

Ripping a hidden bat out the wall, swinging it against the almost finished timer. She dropped off her seat, the flash going off as she kicked the table. Loading her revolver, she lets loose a shot. A dirty trick, but not unexpected.

Dropping to the ground, taking the full blast, he swings the spear. Red energy swirled, slicing the water as the carpet shred from his feet spikes. Shoving fingers into her ears, the chemical reaction explodes. Extreme heat and sound cracking the sound barrier.

White mist filled the room, head still banging from the grenade as something heavy and metal slammed him out the room.

"This is your honour?"

"Ain't no rules- against using your surroundings mate. Sides, you're an assassin."

Blades locked, steel bar meeting energy blade as she shreds the metal down the cut. Dropping through the floor as the alien pushes forward, sweeping a blade along the thigh as she pulls a rope. Slamming the door, dislodging the weight as an anvil drops from the ceiling. Rolling aside, she gets to her feet.

Assassin held against the wall, the most dissipating as she stands.

CLICK.

"Morning."

BANG

The bullet just barely misses, the man dropping his claws and thrusting his spear forward. Kicking the weapon up, slamming it into metal plate over the corridor entrance into the front of her building. He gets to his feet, shaking it off as she slams the spear at his feet with her feet.

"Ah, pooh."

He throws a punch, claws extended as she moves her body forward. Biting into his arm, both hands on the spear as he howls in pain.

"HOW DARE YOU CALL THIS HONORABLE."

"FLU VAC SAWS!"

Letting go of the arm, bite marks in his arm as the spear slams her legs into the ground. Roaring in pain, for a moment the two cradle wounds. Before she slams to her feet, prying the spear out the ground as she swings. Red energy sweeping, slicing through plywood walls. Scraping loudly across heavy safes as she rests into a position.

"HOORAH."

She runs forward, the entire actions taking minutes as he braces to parry the straight strike.

Then she lets the spear drop, raising it over her head as she vaults over the alien, swinging off the ends of the spear as she lands back in her office.

TADA!"

She shouts to nobody, the alien looking up in surprise as the plywood thumps. Something likely falls into her hands, then a sword appeared in the wall beside him. A gash across the false wood, thankfully he was out of range.

"Did I get ya?"

No response, the sword retracting out the gap. An eye peaking out.

"Ah bugger, just out of range. One second!"

Seeming to not realise the door beside the gash, she slices the wood again. Pulling spear out the ground, he readies himself. This human's fighting style. It was, frankly speaking. Insane, using the building around her, guessing his confusion ahead of time. He then noticed the gashes across the ground, burn marks, skids. She'd practiced this. But he was the first person they'd ever sent, how could she have possibly guessed any of this? Humans weren't this insane. Right?

The wall fell down, twins blades slicing a large enough hole as she swung the blades into the wall. Now holding only one blade, flipping a shield into her other hand. She stood into a stance, eyes unwavering from the assassin.

"... Hold on. How- how did you."

"mixture of foresight and a lot of duct tape."

"... What?"

She held her shield, circling towards him. Jumping back and forth, left. Right. Middle. What was her plan here?

Then she thrust, the Nomura jumped back.

"jittery mother fucker ain't ya?"

"... Excuse me?"

"scared of a little human huh?"

Her form relaxed, she. Was making guesses, taking in his form. Actions, that's how she fought. Extreme planning, so what- this was it. She was father information by faking strikes. She probably hadn't-

SHINK.

The blade sliced through his side, swiveling a knife in her other hand, as she slammed it into his throat.

"You think too much." She concluded, a straight stare into his eyes. His arm held by her leg, she shoved the blade into the stomach. Blood seeping out the back.

"How- when-"

"Too long in your head, too late to see."

She pulled the knife out, blood rushing out the artery. That was her plan, she'd make him hyperfixate and then stab him. Slumping to the floor, she raised his head, katana in hand.

"HOORAH."

CHOP.

[maccaronimassacre]

Can I request an Ethan Winters x user bot where the user is depressed? Depression has been a part of my life ever since I was little, and in the last two years it has hit me particularly bad. So sorry if you got a bot like this already, I just need more Ethan Winters comfort 😭

I did create some Ethan bots during some not so high points of my life with comfort in mind. I hope they help you too, and don't be afraid to reach out when things get particularly bad. The world is a better place with you in it <3.

Ethan wants to comfort you

Ethan noticed how on edge you have been which is exactly why he cooked you your favourite meal along with a bottle of wine all set up on the coffee table. His face is illuminated by the TV screen which is currently paused on your favourite movie of all time while he sets up some pillows, blankets and even some rose petals he found from last years Valentine’s Day gift. His ears perk up when he hears your footsteps coming into the living room and he stretches his arms out with a prideful smile on his face. “Ta dah~! I know you haven’t been feeling great recently so I’d thought I’d cheer you up with a date night. What do you think?”

Another quiet night with your lover

It’s another late night for you and your lover as you’re both tangled under the covers in the darkness of your room, the only light present being the moon that gleams through the tiny gaps of the curtains. The slivers of light illuminate the cool metal of Ethan’s prosthetic fingers and his eyes. The soft symphony of your breathing fills the shared space between you while you simply gaze at each other in your own little bubble of time, safe from harm.

A quiet stroll along the beach

Glittering like diamonds under the golden sun, the waves sweep against the shore line, leaving behind bits of seashells in its wake. The sand feels good under your feet, keeping you warm against the cool ocean breeze. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this.” Ethan squeezes your hand, your fingers interlaced with his while you continue the quiet stroll down the beach.

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 522, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death, abandoned baby

WORDS: 1139

“Hello there, Ratajczyk family!” Dr. Isles greeted us as she sailed into the room, plucking the rather dense file with my medical history from the door, pushing her glasses up further onto her nose. “How’s everyone doing?”

A resonating cheer exploded from where the kids were scattered around the room- Elizabeth was wiping my tummy with an alcohol soaked cotton ball, and Katie was amusing Baby Tommy with a blown up glove. Isabelle held Baby Eve from where she was sitting in a chair next to Peter, who looked both terrified and nervous.

“Alright then!” she laughed as she uncapped a bottle of gel. “This will be cold!” she warned me before glopping a generous blob onto my tummy, apologizing at my yelp.

An indistinguishable mass of grey appeared on the screen, and a smile broke out onto her face.

“Okay, do you want to know what you’re having?” she clarified, unable to stop the chuckle from escaping as the entire room erupted into cheers.

“Yes please, Dr. Isles,” I answered politely.

“This little fellow right over here, is a Ratajczyk baby boy number one,” she announced, chuckling at everyone’s cheering. “And over here is Ratajczyk baby boy number two.”

And then she motioned to the space in between the two boys, which looked to me like they were flanking the third baby, a little child who looked to me like they would be the runt of the litter.

“And this…” The good doctor’s soft brown eyes crinkled up with joy. “This is a Ratajczyk baby girl.”

The room exploded.

Everyone was joyful as the woman continued her examination. My heart dropped at the furrow in her brow and I just knew that something was not right.

“And now for some bad news,” she announced in a grim sort of voice. “It looks like baby girl will be born with Spina Bifida, but I can’t tell how severe it’ll be at this stage. You’ll need to be at the twenty week zone for me to tell what accommodations baby girl will need upon birth.”

“Hello there, precious babies,” Peter cooed, nudging Dr. Isles out of the way to press his hand onto the screen. “I’m you daddy, and I love you very much.”

“What names are you thinking of?” the kind hearted doctor asked next, returning to her examination of the unborn babies.

“For the boys, we were thinking Matthew Oliver and Brandon Edward, and for baby girl, Josephine Rose,” I explained, unable to tear my face away from where the three were clustered together in a loving cuddle.

“Baby Mattie, Baby Teddy and Baby Jojo.” Peter sounded like he was holding back tears as he stared at his children. “How are they growing? When will they be born? Are they happy? Do they have all ten fingers and all ten toes?”

“Well aside for Baby Jojo having Spina Bifida and being just a tiny tad bit undersized, they look great!” The doctor was smiling wide as she finished the examination and printed out plenty of pictures for us to take home.

“Mommy, are Baby Mattie and Baby Teddy protecting Baby Jojo?” Katie asked me, her eyes squinting and head tilted to the side as she examined the screen.

I peered closer, and sure enough, it did in fact look like the two boys were on either sides of the little girl, seemingly protecting her.

“Sweetheart, do you think James and Aaron will let little girl come to a future appointment?” I looked over at Peter and saw him with fat jibbly tears of happiness on his face.

“I don’t see why not, my love!” I announced with a hum before his face dropped. “My love?”

“Sweetheart, I’m going to need to buy a bigger car,” he bemoaned dramatically.

“Well then my love, you can start looking as soon as we get home, how does that sound?” I asked him in an amused tone of voice as he moved to wipe my tummy clean, waiting until Dr. Isles finished.

But just then…

Flutter flutter flutter flutter

A sudden explosion of what could only be described as butterflies in my tummy made me jump and smile.

“Did you feel that?” Dr. Isles asked me. “That was Baby Mattie saying hello!”

“Hello there, sweet Baby Mattie,” I whispered, tears boiling up in my eyes. “Mommy loves you and your siblings very much.”

Flutter flutter flutter flutter

“And daddy too,” beamed Peter as he began to clean me up, using a warm washcloth and gentle hands. “Daddy loves his babies too.”

Flutter flutter flutter flutter

I found myself unable to walk, Peter carrying me out of the exam room and out to the car, where he buckled me into the passenger seat with a powerful kiss before heading back inside to pay for today’s appointment and to schedule a follow up appointment as the kids got into their seats- Elizabeth, Elle, Baby Eve and Isabelle in the middle seat and Katie, Jing Baby Tommy and his little man dollie in the very back.

“Mommy?” Katie called for my attention. “I thought of an idea for a crib for the triplets.”

“Oh?” I asked, peering over my shoulder and seeing that she was passing something to Elizabeth, who then passed the rendering to me. “Oh, this is clever!” The drawing showcased three cribs set into a wall, the sides facing out remidning me much of a jail cell. “I will need to run this by daddy, but this is a great idea! Way to use your noodle!”

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@ch3rry-c01a

[refried-ghost]

Meats & Metals volume 3, was a basic simulation in comparison to most on irk. One where the different types of tissues are gone into indepth. The functions, the groups, what connects to what and why, it certainly retreads old ground from the previous entries but greatly expands upon it as. It discussed the importance of a PAK and some basic effects it had on the Irken body. Nothing they may be considered negative, of course. More like how it greatly lengthened lifespans, how it could take an unconscious irken out of danger, how the tendrils strengthened the limbs and dramatically strengthened and sped up the healing process.

An irken smeet would take different body parts and worked to build a complete irken. Stylized just enough to not be immediately traumatic.

With each success the smeet would be praised and encouraged to aim to be a med drone in the future, by the only truly advanced element within the situation, the mascot. It'd hint that a combat medic would be the most useful to the empire many times.

One line suggested becoming bio weapons engineer. That peaked Zim's interest.

"You could be come a BIO WEAPONS ENGINEER with skill like that, irken child, and bring GREATNESS to the empire!"

"What's that?"

"A BIO WEAPONS ENGINEER is a drone that brings GREATNESS to the Irken Empire, by becoming a master of the organic! BEND THE ESSENCE OF LIFE TO YOUR WILL! BECOME A GOD in the eyes of the PATHETIC LOWER LIFE FORMS of the universe! Create new and inventive ways to rain DOOM upon our enemies! Those that dare threaten THE ALMIGHTY TALLEST!"

Zim blinked blankly.

"..." The voice waited for another few seconds and the mascot reappeared. "Our enemies threaten the lives of innocence smeets like you." It booped him between the eyes.

He gasps. "They're threatening me?!"

"Yes. They're after you, irken child. And all your SHORT, tiny, little friends, too."

"No!"

"Yes! And they'll take all the rations the smeetry has left too! You'll starve slowly but surely over the course of decades as they make it impossible to ever make it to the surface!"

"THEY CAN'T! NOT TO ZIM!"

"THEY WILL!" the cartoony mascot leaned towards him, "Beware! OooOoooo," it wiggled it's fingers as it back up fading away.

A screen popped up. "Our next game has been changed from BASIC PAK MAINTENANCE FOR DUMDUMS to THE EFFECTS OF STARVATION ON THE BRAIN MEATS. I hope you have fun! I'm sure you'll do great!"

Zim shifts uncomfortably and hits the continue button.

A nervous system appears infront of him.

"It takessssssssssssssssssssssss-" the voice glitches holding the sound until everything shuts off.

Zim fiddles with the headset, but it doesn't turn back on. He pulls it off with a frown.

[bump1nthen1ght]

Late Night Favor (Shadow Monster x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Urban Fantasy

Warnings: Explicit content up ahead (18+ ONLY), Oral, Fingering

Word Count: 4000 Words

Summary: A couple of small good deeds leaves you with a late night visitor, looking to repay a debt.

Request: "You unknowingly rescue a shadow monster and bring it home with you, after a couple days of lurking in the shadows of your home and recuperating it shows you just how thankful it is." I had this idea forever ago but was never able to execute it. My opening idea was that a few kids are shining flashlights at something, tormenting it, and you swoop in to save it and chase the kids away. You thought they were hurting a cat or something, but find nothing and head home.

What do you think? Would you like to take it on? I'd be honored if you would 😊

A/N: *Throws this into the street to appease for the fact I haven’t updated Out of the Woods in THREE MONTHS IM SORRY*

It was the perfect weather for a lazy day inside. The pitter patter of the rain on your window had almost lulled you back to sleep during breakfast, and the thunder had provided great ambiance for reading. You hadn’t bothered changing out of your pajamas and we’re enjoying a soap opera binge on the coach when the peace was disturbed.

At first it was just the sound of clattering trash cans, not uncommon from the alley outside your window. But then it was followed by the raucous laughter of teenagers, rocks being thrown against the concrete, and a sharp hissing.

You hoist yourself up and off the couch, meandering toward the balcony, expecting to see a bunch of kids fucking around; Maybe using the cover of the fire escape to hide from the rain and smoke some weed.

Ah, memories.

But instead, you see a huddled group of boys pointing a flashlight into the pile of garbage right by the dumpster. One of them picks up a pebble and throws it into the light beam, causing another hiss and a jerk of movement. The boys laugh even louder, the one on the right nudging the one with the flashlight.

“Dude, do it again!”

Flashlight agrees, quickly moving the light into another corner as the one on the left throws a rock in the opposite direction. A shape of pitch black hisses again, deterred by the rock and scared by the brightness. Your brow furrows.

“Hey!”

The boys jump, looking in all directions.

“What are you three doing down there?” They finally look up at you, messy-haired and bleary-eyed. They shrug and ignore you, one even throwing another rock, bigger than before. There’s a sad yelp as it collides with the blackness.

You grit your teeth, grabbing your jacket off a nearby shelf and yell again.

“Fuck off! Leave the poor thing alone!”

They all laugh insufferably, the way most stuck up teenagers do.

“Or what?”

You shrug on your raincoat, picking up the baseball bat you keep strategically placed by your couch.

“Or I’ll come down and make you, jackass!”

You kick open your  fire escape, slippers already damp, and start marching down the staircases. The boys get the message and run away, still jeering and laughing. Seems you weren’t as intimidating as you’d like.

You shuffle down the fire escape, slowing down as you approach the poor creature. You lower your back and peak under the dumpster.

“It's okay, little guy, I won’t hurt ya.” You set down your bat and crouch, kissing your lips as you hold out your free hand. All you see is a hint of glowing eyes, nervously peering out, before the dark shape disappears completely, hidden by the shadow of the dumpster. You’re tempted to sit down and wait for it, hoping to check if the poor stray was injured, but the wet concrete looks unappealing. The bottom of your sweats are already drenched.

You stand up, sigh, and go back up the fire escape. You unlatch the dusty pet door on your sliding glass balcony and make sure to leave a hot thing of milk and some water just outside. You ponder going out to get cat food, but the well-timed weather report tells you to stay off the streets. Slumping back down on the couch, you keep on eye on your fire escape, hoping that whatever it was, it’s okay.

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

The next day is sunny, the rain clearing away any air pollution and leaving blue skies to shine down through your window, waking you up extra early. As you sit down with a cup of coffee, switching on the news before starting work, you notice the empty bowls on your balcony.

You set down the mug, walking over to the door and checking the bowls. Seems that little stray had needed the refreshment, as both were licked clean.

You refill them, making sure to add  cat food to your grocery list.

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

After a long day of work, you’re feeling particularly domestic and decide to bake some cookies. Your brain is sore after staring at a screen for eight hours straight, a simple task like this is the perfect thing to keep it from melting completely.

You open up your window, letting the cool night air into your kitchen as you check  on your baking cookies. Wiping flour off your pants, you turn on the radio and throw a glance to your living room.

You had set up a tiny blanket pallet right next to your pet door, the weatherman’s warning of another thunderstorm tonight having you worried for your stray. Hopefully a full belly of milk will convince them that your house is safe enough to find shelter in.

But the afternoon is beautiful, not too cold and not too hot, only the slight tang of metal in the air hinting to rain. With a ding from the oven, you take out the cookies and set them on a cooling tray on your window. The smell of cinnamon and sugar wafts over you as you take a sip of your tea, staring out into the city streets. Small puddles still speckle the pavement, catching the headlights of nearby cars and flashy billboards.

A quick sound, something hitting your balcony door, that jerks you out of your reverie. You set down your mug and slowly peek out from your kitchen, wondering if you should’ve grabbed  a kitchen knife. But it’s just your pet door, flapping back and forth in front of two, now empty, bowls. Aww, seems your stray took a step inside. Too bad you missed it.

The gurgle of your stomach convinces you to take a crack at the cookies. If they were too hot, you could just wash them down with a nice glass of milk anyway. Maybe even put on a sitcom while you snack.

You lightly tap the top cookie; Warm, but not unbearable. Steam rises as you break it open, blowing in the middle and taking a tiny bite.

Fuck, good job _____.

They’re perfectly done, just soft enough to melt in your mouth. You grab two more, holding them in between your fingers as you hold the other half in your mouth. Maybe you could bring the batch into work tomorrow, give your coworkers a nice surprise. That is if you didn't have 10 tonight. But 20 should be just enough-

Huh, that’s weird. There's only 19, including the one still dangling out of your mouth.

You could’ve sworn you baked 20.

Well whatever. Your coworkers can handle not coming back for seconds tomorrow.

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

“Ow! Fuck!”

You bite your lip, trying not to yell out more curse words as you rub your stubbed toe. You limp to your kitchen, fumbling for the light switch to avoid another incident. All you had wanted was a midnight sweet snack, was that so difficult? You’d thought you could navigate your apartment pretty easily in the dark, but the pain in your foot says otherwise.

The light flickers as you finally find the switch, reminding you that you’re going to need to change the bulb sometime soon. But that's a problem for another day; Right now, it’s cookie time.

You don’t bother pouring yourself a glass or getting a plate, devouring the treat in three bites and throwing back a quick swig of milk. It’s almost midnight, not like anyone’s watching-

Oh, wait.

You slowly close the fridge door, trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake the little stray curled up, asleep. The little ball of black was snuggled into the pallet, tossing and turning. A flash of lightning cracks outside your apartment, washing your living room with light. The ball jerks in shock, the thunder afterwards only frightening it more, forcing it to curl up even tighter.  

You take small and light steps towards the tiny bed, not wanting to approach the scared beast too quickly. The room is lit up again by another lightning strike and the little stray forces it’s body backwards and away from the window. You crouch down real low, the small bits of light helping your eyes adjust to the layout.

“How are you doing, little guy?” You whisper, mostly to yourself, tapping your fingers against your carpet. Part of you wants to pet it, but think it might be better not to. No need to startle it. “Is the lightning scary? You can come to my room if you want, I’ll protect ya.”

Midst the black, you see two little eyes, little blips of light that open with another flash of lightning. But they aren’t yellow, nor are they slitted, nor are they anything remotely animal.

They're like the headlights of a car, blinding white with no definition at all. Not even pupils. You're startled, eye’s widening as the creature lifts it’s head. A long smile runs across their face, full of razor sharp teeth.

“Oh my, that sounds delightful.” They purr, and you find yourself losing your footing and falling back on your ass. Your fingers dig into the carpet as their body slowly begins to unfurl out of a ball and stretch into a massive form, as if their whole size had been hidden away somewhere else; Like it had been literally in the shadows.

You scramble backwards, breath picking up as the creature stretches it’s long limbs, colorless eyes still locked onto you as it stands up and up. It rolls back its shoulders as it sits on its haunches, its form still towering over you even when crouched. You notice the shades of huge antlers sticking out from the side of their head, only adding to their intimidating height.

The creature still has that terrifying smile, all canines and no molars, it’s unblinking eyes still staring deep into your soul.

You’ve heard people do weird things in times of high stress, of strong emotions, good and bad. Like the wires in your brains get crossed when trying to find the right response.

“Uh, do you want a cookie?”

You think you get that now.

The creature chuckles, a soft timbre that echoes unnaturally.

“No, dearie, I have already indulged in your confections. You see,” They creature leans forward, falling to its knees to crawl towards you. If it weren’t for the overwhelming fear constricting your heart, you’d almost think it was seductive, “You’ve done so much for me these past days, I think it’d be only fair if I helped you indulge in a far-” The creature’s face looms over yours, their arms caging your sides as they lick their lips, “-sweeter treat, yes?”

Your eyes search their face, trying to find signs of trickery or malice, maybe even some demonic sense of humor.

As if I’d even know what that looks like.

“Are you-” You catch a breath, now noticing the fine musculature of their shoulders, and the definition of their arms, “Are you propositioning me, like, for sex?”

The creature laughs again, their eyes crinkling up as they throw their head back. But when they look back down at you, you can almost feel the lust radiating off their gaze, details be damned.

“Yes, lovely, I am.”

You take your eyes off their face, a little too overwhelmed to stare directly into their blistering expression. Not to mention the blinding light which has begun to put red spots into your vision.

Instead, your eyes fall upon their thick thighs, the small tail waving behind them, and how unnervingly sexy you find the way their claws are digging up your rug.

You slowly move your head, catching the creature’s eyes.

“I-uh-I guess? Yeah, yeah I guess that sounds good. Um, what was your name?”

The creature smirks, a single claw tipped finger tilting up your chin, as they whisper,

“Nocter.”

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

Well, this is definitely the weirdest way I’ve gotten someone into bed.

Nocter’s antlers brush against your stucco-ceiling as it pushes you down on the bed, their shining white eyes staring deep into yours. Their lack of pupils is almost unsettling, but when they run their claws down your chest and pinch your nipples, you find it hard to care. You bite your lip, fighting back an embarrassing whimper as they trace one finger around the bud, pebbling the skin.

“Aww, has it been a while, sweetling?” You roll your eyes, but let out another squeak as they flick their thumb across your other nipple, the palm of their hand pressing against your ribcage.

“M-maybe.” You mutter, digging your finger into your bed sheets as their hands dance across your skin. One pulls up the bottom of your pajama shirt as it nudges one of their legs in between your thighs, pushing their knee up against your crotch.

“Don’t worry,” They push the fabric up to your neck, laying a kiss on the center of your stomach, then your chest, and then your jugular. When they plant one on your jaw, they lean in real close, “I’ll make sure to treat you right.”

Nocter’s long tongue splays against your jaw, licking a stripe up your cheek as one of their hands moves from your chest to the waistband of your shorts. They slip a couple fingers underneath, lightly petting the area right above your crotch. They’re such a tease, and you love it.

Nocter pecks the side of your face, over and over, while their hand moves further and further down your body at an agonizing pace. Their hot breath sends goosebumps down your neck, washing over your face as they exhale with every kiss. You catch them off guard when you turn your head toward them, catching their lips-mid peck and eagerly sticking your tongue outward. They purr with delight, their thin almost-lips quickly devouring you.

A long string of saliva connects the two of you as you detach, taking the time to shimmy out of your shirt. You pull them closer, your hands digging into their shoulder muscles and fingers just brushing over the long ridges on their back. They chuckle once again, pulling their fingers out your shorts and merely digging their palm into the fabric of your crotch.

“Eager, huh?”

“Shut up,” You mumble in between kisses, “This is for me, isn’t it?”

“Ohoho,” kiss, “Someone’s showing their feisty side a little early.” kiss, “What happened to my benevolent, saintly saviour?” kiss.

You pull away from their lips, quickly latching onto the crux of their neck and taking a nip. “S’not fair.” You say, taking a deep whiff of their skin as you suck and bite. They smell like brimstone and a bonfire, not quite what you 're expecting, but not unpleasant. “You can’t tease me like that and not-” Your cut off as the pad of one Nocters fingers presses up against your entrance, the fabric only amplifying the sensation as they begin to tease it.

“Deliver?” Nocter finishes, sinfully smug. You throw them a glare. “I’m a good guest, scout’s honor.”

You roll your eyes right before they lock you into another kiss, rubbing the pads of their fingers up and down your crotch. They use their hand to push you backwards, sinking deeper into the mattress as they situate their knees under your thighs. One they pull back from the kiss, your face and lips thoroughly debauched, your legs are splayed up on their pelvis and they easily slip off your bottoms. Nocter takes a whiff of your underwear, the crotch now slightly damp, giving you a wink before they throw it over their shoulder.

You jerk your hips slightly upward, and Nocter tuts.

“Patience, sweetling.” They roll a hand down your abdomen, fingers splaying onto your stomach, nails just teasing the skin. With a kiss to your inside calf, Nocters hand ghosts across your entrance. You can’t help biting your lip, the heat and their touch sending your mind into a frenzy.

They continue a path of kisses down your leg, now pressing their finger right up against your hole. They only pause to suck on their index and middle fingers, coating them with a heavy and blue-tinted saliva. Once they’ve reached the middle of your thigh, nipping at the apex, they sink into you.

Nocter’s fingers are long, articulated and move with sure movements. They start off slow, scissoring you open, simpering as you dig your nails into your bed sheets. The pads of their fingers push against your walls, just grazing sensitive spots as they make a slow ‘come hither’ motion. Your hips jerk forward, humping into their palm. They smirk against your skin, nipping another love bite as they retract their fingers until only the tip remains. You catch your breath, holding it until they sink back into you, shoving their fingers forward with far more force.

You whimper as their fingers pull back, only to follow with quicker thrusts. Nocter’s aim is pin-point in finding the most pleasurable spots inside you, the feeling only amplified by the pinpricks of their teeth into the fat of your thigh. The tip of their tongue licks hot trails of spit tantalizingly close to your hole, which clenches around their bony fingers. The slick sound of your juices, the skin of their palm slapping against yours, is downright pornographic.

Your legs try to clamp around their shoulders, the overwhelming stimuli triggering an instant reaction, but Nocter pins your right leg down to your bed easily, never losing focus on fingering you. The tips of their claws trace the inside of your leg, the hard edge of their wrist digging into fat.  Your fingers reach to grip around something, anything to keep you grounded as the knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. They find their way around Nocter’s left wrist; You’re almost afraid you’ll leave bruises, before remembering how sturdy every part of their body seems to be.

You let out a whimper as the crests of an orgasm seem to overwhelm you, nearly gasping as Nocter quickly removes their fingers. In any other state of mind you might have made a comment, look down and wonder why they’ve stopped. But the heat in your belly compels you to grip their wrist tight and to throw your hips upwards. With a desperate breath, you plead,

“P-please! Please, don’t stop.”

Nocter doesn’t chuckle, doesn’t make a sly remark about your neediness or your lewd movements. They lean forward, giving another kiss right below your navel, and pet your wrist.

“Of course, dearie.”

With a wink, they lean down a lick a long stripe up your hole, giving one last kiss to your leg before plunging their tongue inside.

You didn’t think it was possible for them to reach even deeper inside you with their tongue than their fingers, but the sparks which fly in your core say otherwise. The ridges of Nocters tongue brush against your walls as they flick the appendage back and forth, the tip pressing forward with controlled motions. It doesn’t thrash back and forward haphazardly, but reaches for those sensitive spots and plays with them.

“Oh, f-fuck!” You yelp, feeling an icy-cold liquid run down your ass. From the sound of smacking lips and muffled moans, it must be Nocter’s saliva. They let out a groan, pushing their jaw forward as their eyes clenched shut. The hand on your leg pinches skin as it tightens up, the other pressing your hips down, but the pressure they apply is phantom at best. Nocter seems to revel in your pleading humps for more, meeting each movement with a thrust of their jaw, the base of their tongue stretching you open.

The two of you keep that rhythm for what feels like an eternity, but is probably only a couple of minutes. Sweat drips down your chest and off of your belly, your legs muscles on fire as you continue to push upward and into Nocter’s face. You start feeling that impending wave begin to crest again, with your limbs shaking and your throat hoarse.

“Nocter, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-I’m so close!”

This time, Nocter doesn’t let up on their pace, reaching one hand down to deliver a hard slap on your ass and forcing a yelp out of you. Your speech devolves into slurred curses and your hands move to touch them, to find some grasp in reality. Nocter continues to suck and tongue-fuck your hole as your thighs clench around their head. Your humps are tiny and weak, your lower half barely holding itself up.

The knot gets tighter, a firecracker fuse about to blow in your abdomen. In the heat of the moment, your hands find their way to Nocter’s scalp and grab onto the base of their antlers. Their moan rumbles through you, right before you yank their head forward, their tongue hitting the deepest part of you as you shutter and-

“I’m cumming!”

Another moan vibrates against your hole as your body shudders and jolts, your hips still pressed firmly against Nocter’s face. But in the next moment, a heavy weight falls over your body, slumping you down onto the bed. Your chest heaves, eye’s fuzzy as Nocter’s tongue ‘pop’s out of you.

Your gaze wanders over your stucco ceiling, droplets of sweat rolling down your neck as you try and catch your breath. You can feel Nocter’s large hands rolling a massage into your thighs, their own heavy breathing brushing over your crotch.

A fuzzy shape of pure black comes into your vision as Nocter hovers over you, their body hovering just an inch above yours. They give you a small peck on the cheek.

“Feel good?” They whisper.

All you can do is nod, your shaky hands wandering over their back. There’s no sign of sweat on their skin, but you can feel the heat running off of it as they nuzzle into your neck.

As your fingers dance over the ride of their back, you can hear the rumble of a low purr coming from their chest, but they stay hovering over your body. You press your hands into their back, applying weak pressure to encourage them to relax.

“It seems I’ve repaid my debt.” Nocter murmurs into your ear, pushing themselves up onto their hands, pulling even farther from you as their eye’s look around your room. You keep your hands wrapped around their waist, stopping them from fully getting up. They look back to you, white eyes slightly widening.

“Would you-” You take another deep breath, “Want to stay? For the night?”

Nocter stares at you, the black void of their face almost unreadable. But when they run a claw down the side of your face, it burns with affection and longing.

“Would you want that?”

Your room is nearly pitch black, only the lights of the street peeking in between your curtains. Nocter’s body seems to absorb all light near it, their hot body like a heating pad. But their eyes are so bright, so full, so mesmerizing; Like a full moon on the dark city sky.

“Yes, I would.”

Nocter’s nods, their expression barely changing, but you think you can see a hint of a smile amidst all the black. They let their body relax, pressing their chest against yours as they sink into the sheets and nuzzle back into your neck.

You can smell the sweat coating your body and feel the way you stick to the sheets. Frankly, the both of you kind of smell.

But it doesn’t stop you from snuggling into Nocter’s body, eye’s heavy as you peacefully fall into sleep.

[fatecantstopme]

Unrequited Love?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky have been friends and roommates for a couple years. You’re madly in love with him, but you’re pretty sure he just likes you as a friend. There’s a chance you’re 100% wrong. 

Warnings: SMUT UNDER THE CUT. MINORS WALK AWAY. Bucky’s a dom (obvi). Metal arm kink. Cursing. Praise kink. Light choking.

You looked in the mirror and sighed. You looked fantastic in your little black dress and strapy heels, but you didn’t feel excited. You barely felt happy. You ran your fingers through your long hair and let out another sigh. Your hair and makeup was done and you were ready to go, but you felt the strong urge to call your date and cancel. He was a sweet guy you’d met at the bar last week where you’re a bartender. Tall, blonde, handsome…everything a normal girl would want. But it wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted something, someone, you couldn’t have. You knew he would never return the affection, certainly never the love, but that didn’t stop your heart from longing for him. He was one of your two closest friends and you two hit it off instantly. Your friend Sam introduced the two of you a couple years ago. His name is James Buchanan Barnes, “Bucky” to his friends. Bucky was a ladies man and rarely saw the same girl twice. You weren’t his type. He went after the teeny tiny blonde bombshells, which you absolutely were not. You were a short brunette with curves you loved very much. More girl next door than sex kitten.

Your phone buzzed, bringing you out of your thoughts. You glanced down to see your date’s name on the screen letting you know he was on his way to the restaurant. You texted him back to let him know you’d be leaving in a couple minutes. You looked back in the mirror and adjusted your hair one last time before putting on your shoes and heading downstairs. New York City is expensive as hell, so Sam and Bucky were your roommates. Both of them were downstairs and they were arguing about some sport thing you didn’t care about. When you came down the stairs, Sam looked up at you and wolf-whistled. Bucky turned around to look and froze.

“How do I look?” You asked with a quick twirl.

“Hot as hell, Y/N.” Sam replied.

Bucky continued to stare silently. It was almost awkward, so Sam elbowed him in the side. He let out a cough before mumbling, “you look beautiful.”

His response sent warmth through your entire body. You were a little surprised by how shy he looked as he said it, but you figured it was because it was you. He was usually much more flirtatious, but always in a joking manner. “Thanks guys. I’m gonna head out. I’ll text you if he’s super creepy and I need you to save me.”

Sam laughed, but Bucky just nodded. “We’ll kick his ass if he screws with you.”

You smiled. “Oh I know it. Especially you, bionic man.” You winked and they both laughed. “Alright, boys. I’m out. Don’t wait up.” You blew them both a kiss and headed out the front door.

The moment you were gone, Sam smacked Bucky on the back of the head.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?”

“When the hell are you gonna tell her?”

Bucky rubbed the back of his head. “Tell her what?”

Sam glared at him. “Dude. Anyone with eyeballs can see you’re in love with her.”

Bucky blushed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Y/N is great, but she’s just a friend.”

“Uh-huh. You keep telling yourself that. Y/N is a catch. If you don’t tell her how you feel, she’s going to find someone and you’re going to hate yourself forever.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “How is that different from now?”

“Right now you have a chance at real happiness. Even love. But you’re too scared or stupid to make a move.”

Bucky was about to argue, but he knew Sam was right. “You’re right. I am scared. I don’t deserve her and I’m willing to bet she knows it. Why would she want me when she could have someone without all my problems? My baggage? My fucked up life?”

Sam was about ready to slap his friend. “Man up, Barnes. Sure you’ve got some shit, we all do. But Y/N knows your history…and she’s still here. She’s still your friend.”

“What if she doesn’t want me?” He whispered.

“I’ve known Y/N/N a long time. I can read her like a book, even when she tries to hide it. She cares about you, Bucky. I’ve seen it in the way she looks at you.”

Bucky didn’t say anything. He didn’t think he could. You were his favorite person in the entire world…he couldn’t bare the thought of losing you. He also couldn’t stand the idea of you being with someone else. But what if you didn’t want him? How could he possibly live his life without you in it?

“Go get her.”

Bucky looked at Sam like he was crazy, “What?”

“I said, go get her. You know she hates taxis, so she’ll be walking to the subway. You’re a super solider, I guarantee you can catch up to her.”

Bucky stared at his friend and his mind churned. Without a word, he turned away and went to his room. He came back a couple seconds later with his jacket and boots on. “I’ll be back.”

Sam watched him walk to the door. “Get your girl, Buck.”

You were about 2 blocks from the subway. You’d been walking slowly because you really weren’t looking forward to the evening ahead of you. As always, your thoughts strayed to Bucky. This time, you were thinking about the way he looked at you when you came down the stairs. The surprise, and dare you say, desire? No. There’s no way. He was just surprised. You shook your head to clear your thoughts. James Buchanan Barnes was absolutely not interested in you. No freaking way. As you neared the entrance to the subway, you heard shouting behind you. The voice sounded familiar, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying. You kept walking and then you heard a very distinctive “Y/N!” You turned towards the direction of the voice and saw none other than Bucky Barnes running towards you. “Bucky? What are you doing here?” You asked when he reached you.

Not surprisingly, the super soldier wasn’t even out of breath. “You can’t go on this date.”

You looked surprised. “Why not? Do you know him or something?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, you just can’t. You can’t date.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “I can’t date? Excuse me?”

“Shit. I’m saying this all wrong.”

“Apparently. What are you trying to say, Buck?”

Bucky started fiddling with his hands and he looked at the ground. “I don’t know how…what I mean is…I…shit.”

If he didn’t seem so upset, you would have laughed. It was rare that Bucky was speechless. “Buck? It’s me. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

He finally made eye contact with you and you were shocked by all the emotions filling his eyes. He took a deep breath and held your gaze. “I don’t want you to date anyone else,” he said softly.

“Anyone else?” You prompted.

“Anyone who isn’t me.”

You stared at him in stunned silence. You were quite sure you’d misheard him. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Bucky cleared his throat. “I don’t want you to date anyone who isn’t me.”

“You…you want to date me?”

Bucky nodded. “I’ve wanted to since the day we met.”

You stared at him again. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Joy flooded your body, but it was quickly followed by anger. “Why the hell are you just telling me now? I’ve been single the entire time we’ve known each other! But you wait until I actually agree to go out with someone else and--”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t want me,” he said so softly you almost didn’t hear him. Almost.

His words softened your annoyance. “Bucky,” you whispered, stepping towards him. You laid a hand on his arm. “Why wouldn’t I want you? You’re amazing. You’re strong, brave, and so incredibly kind.”

He barked out a harsh laugh. “You’ve got a rose colored glasses view of me.”

“No I don’t, Bucky. I know you. I know about your past, but I don’t care. That wasn’t you. I love the man that’s standing here in front of me. The one that always buys me my favorite flowers on my birthday. The one that watches sappy romance movies with me. The one that would die to protect me. You, James Buchanan Barnes. You.” You punctuated the last word with a finger to his chest.

He looked at you like you were the most incredible human being he’d ever seen. “You love me?” He asked sheepishly.

You blushed. You hadn’t even realized you’d said it, but there was no backing out now. “Yes. I do…so damn much.”

He grinned ear to ear and wrapped his arms around your waist. “How much?” He asked with a smirk.

“More than anything.” You answered with a smirk of your own.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss began sweetly, but soon devolved into something much more passionate. You finally pulled away when you needed to breathe.

He leaned his forehead against yours and smiled softly. “So I think you’re gonna be late for your date.”

“Oh shit!” You quickly dug your phone out of your purse as he started laughing. “It’s not funny! I have to call him.”

“Nahhh. Just leave him hanging. We’ve got things to do.”

You looked up at him and he stared at you with dark eyes. You had never seen him look at you that way, but you knew very well what was on his mind. “James…” you warned.

“What? It’s not my fault you’re so gorgeous.”

You rolled your eyes. “At least let me call him while we walk home.”

“Walk? Who said anything about walking?” He asked as he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. You yelped as he started jogging towards your townhouse.

“Bucky! Put me down!” You squealed.

“Not a chance, doll.”

He made it back to your shared home in record time. He deposited you on the front steps and you smacked his arm. “Don’t do that again!”

He grinned. “I have no regrets.”

You rolled your eyes and unlocked the door. You’d managed to send a text to your date while Bucky ran you home. You felt bad, but you had Bucky…which is what you really wanted. When you entered the house, Bucky pinned you against the door and kissed you passionately.

“Whoa! Guys, get a room!” Sam yelled as he came into view from the kitchen.

Bucky turned and glared at him. Apparently the glare was enough to make Sam uncomfortable, because he put his hands up and backed away slowly.

“Bucky, we really should go to your room.”

Bucky looked down at you and nodded. His bedroom was on the third floor, which was farthest away from Sam’s. Your’s was in the middle, so this was a better option to avoid annoying the shit out of Sam. Bucky followed you up the stairs and the moment you entered his room, he was on you.

It took you a moment to come to your senses. Bucky was just so damn intoxicating. You pushed him away gently and he looked at you with concern. “Are you okay, doll?”

You shook your head. “Is this real, Bucky?”

He looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, is this real? Us? Or is this a one-time thing? Because I can’t do a friends with benefits thing or whatever—“

He cut you off with a metal finger to your lips. “This is anything but one-time. I want this, Y/N. I want you. For as long as you’ll have me.”

That was all you needed to hear. You grabbed his face and pulled him towards you, kissing him like you needed him to breathe. He melted into you and easily lifted your body up into his arms. He carried you to the bed and laid you down gently before crawling on top of you. You tugged on his shirt and he got the hint and quickly shed the garment. His hands were everywhere…he was everywhere. It was all you could do not to rip his clothes off and ride him until the sun rose.

Bucky felt the exact same way. He needed this. Needed you. Within minutes you were both down to your underwear and panting heavily. Bucky trailed kisses down your neck, nipping at your collarbone. You moaned softly and arched your back against him.

“Do you want this Y/N?” Bucky asked against your throat.

You nodded furiously.

“Words, doll. I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, Bucky. I want this.”

He unceremoniously ripped your bra completely off your body and sealed his lips around your nipple. You gasped at the pleasant feeling and pressed your fingers into his shoulders. His hands traveled down your body, landing on your barely clothed core. He could feel the wetness and the heat and he groaned loudly. “So wet for me already and I’ve barely touched you.”

You merely moaned in response, already too far gone to think clearly.

His lips moved to take the place of his hands as he removed your thong. He sat back on his haunches and practically growled. “All of this for me?” He asked as he slid a metal finger through your slick folds.

“Only you, Bucky.” You moaned at the sensation.

“I need to taste you,” he said before diving in and licking a stripe up your pussy.

You moaned again and he slid his tongue between your folds. When his mouth found your clit, you nearly lost it. “Oh god!”

He grinned against you and picked up his pace, sliding a thick metal finger inside of you. “You taste so good, baby. I could eat you all night.”

You glanced down at him as you slotted your fingers in his hair. He looked so sexy between your thighs, beard rubbing against your sensitive skin. As if he felt your eyes on him, he glanced up at you and held your gaze as he continued sucking your clit. His normally bright blue eyes were dark and lust blown. You’d never seen a sexier sight. You lifted your hips up to meet his mouth and continued moaning loudly. Bucky brought his arm around your abdomen and held you in place as he worked you. He could feel your walls clenching around his fingers and your moans increased in volume and frequency, so he knew you were close even before you told him.

“Bucky…I’m so close. Please.”

“Please what, doll?” He asked between licks.

“Please. I need to come. Please, Bucky.”

“Cum for me baby girl.”

His words, coupled with his skilled fingers were all you needed to fall over the edge. You cried out in pleasure and clung to his hair as he helped you ride out your orgasm. You tugged on his hair and tried to scoot away from him as the pleasure became too much. Bucky held you in place until he decided he was finished. He lifted his head and grinned at you, chin covered in your slick. You reached for him and he obliged, moving up to kiss you. The taste of yourself on his tongue made you moan and you felt his clothed cock twitch against your thigh. 

“Bucky,” you whined softly. 

“Yes, doll?” 

“Lose the boxers,” you murmured. 

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly and he licked his lips as he ripped his boxers off and threw them across the room. He liked when you demanded what you wanted. “Tell me what you want baby girl.” 

“You,” you moaned softly. 

He smiled and lined himself up against your opening, but you stopped him. “Are you okay? Do you want to stop?”

You shook your head quickly. “Wanna taste you.” 

Bucky’s eyes rolled back in his head. He let you flip him over and straddle him. You looked incredible above him, so beautiful and fucked out. You kissed his lips before making your way down his muscular body. When you reached his cock, you licked the precum off his head and he groaned. 

“You’re so big,” you said in awe as you ran your tongue from the base to the tip. “I like it.” You slid his head into your mouth and slowly lowered your head over his cock, taking as much as you could without gagging. Bucky’s fingers entwined in your hair and his breathing was already ragged. “Fuck, baby. You look so good taking my cock.”

You preened at the praise and started bobbing your head up and down and stroking what you couldn’t get into your mouth with your hand. Bucky let out a loud moan and bucked his hips up to meet your mouth, causing you to gag slightly. “Holy shit yes, doll. Just like that.” 

You could see how much he enjoyed seeing you gag and you liked letting him have control. “Fuck my face, Bucky,” you said as you lifted off his cock. 

“What?” he sputtered in surprise. 

“Use me. I want it.” 

He only needed to be told once. He pulled you up and jumped off the bed. “On your knees, pretty girl.” 

You dropped to the floor without a second thought, looking up at him with desire. You opened your mouth and waited patiently for him to thrust into you. He held the back of your head as he entered your mouth, starting gently so he didn’t hurt you. You grabbed his ass and pulled him closer to you, gagging on his cock. You needed him to move. Bucky got the message and began thrusting into your mouth as fast as he could. Spit dripped down your chin and your gagging noises mixed with his loud moans. 

“God, Y/N, your mouth feels amazing. I’m so close baby. Can I cum in your mouth?” 

You nodded your head as best you could and squeezed his thighs in hopes that he understood. Bucky’s thrusts became more frantic and irregular as he chased his high. A few seconds later, he was spurting hot streams of cum into your mouth and down your throat, which you swallowed happily. You licked him clean as he leaned back against the bed, breathing heavily. 

“Come ‘ere, doll,” he said, pulling you towards him and back onto the bed. He kissed you lovingly before flipping you over onto your back. “So beautiful,” he whispered as he kissed down your neck. He pulled himself up, planting one arm on either side of your head so he could look down at you. You were breathing heavily, flushed, and entirely fucked out. But he was no where near done with you. 

His flesh hand began to travel down your body and he was surprised when you stopped him before he reached your aching core. You looked at him with fiery eyes and ran a hand down his chest. “Metal, please,” you mumbled. 

He was confused for a moment before he realized what you meant. “You want me to use my left arm?” 

You bit your lip and nodded. “Please, Bucky.”

He grinned and switched arms, his right arm now supporting his upper body while his left traveled down to your inner thighs. He slid two metal fingers into your pussy and groaned as you bucked your hips against his hand. “You like my metal arm, don’t you dirty girl?” 

You nodded and rutted yourself against his hand again. He pulled his hand away and you whimpered at the loss. You were about to protest, but he put his two slick fingers against your lips and silently asked you to taste them. You opened your mouth without hesitation and sucked them clean, moaning at your taste. Bucky let out a low groan as he watched you, the need to be inside of you almost unbearable. Perks of being a super solider...he was already hard again. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a soft pop and he rubbed the head of his cock against your clit, collecting some of your slick on it before lining himself up at your entrance. 

You whimpered and he looked up at you with concern. When he saw your wide eyes gazing at his cock, he understood. “I’ve got you, doll. I’ll go slow.”

You nodded. You trusted him and dear god, you wanted to feel him inside of you. Bucky slid the tip of his cock inside of you and you did your best to relax your body. He moved slowly, filling you up and stretching you out. The pain was delicious and you cried out when he bottomed out. 

Bucky misinterpreted your cry and panicked, “Did I hurt you? Do you want me to stop?” 

You shook your head harshly. “No, you’re just so big. It feels so good, Bucky. Need you to move. Please.” 

Bucky grinned and immediately began to move, thrusting in and out of you at a gentle, slow pace. It felt good, but you wanted more. You could tell Bucky was holding back, afraid of hurting you. “Let go, Bucky.”

He looked at you quizzically, so you elaborated. “You’re not going to hurt me. Let go. I want to feel you, all of you. I want you to fuck me so hard I forget my own damn name.” 

He almost came right then and there. No one had ever said anything so deliciously sexy to him and the fact that it came from you only made it better. “You’ll tell me if I hurt you?” He just needed to make sure you were okay.

“Baby, I want this. Fuck me, Bucky. Please.” 

He didn’t need to be told a second time. He picked up his pace and changed his angle, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. You cried out in pleasure and dug your nails into his back. He felt your walls clenching around him and knew you were close. “Gonna cum for me, doll?” 

“Yes, so close Buck.” 

He picked up his pace again. “Cum for me baby. Cum all over my cock. Wanna feel you.” His words pushed you over the edge and you came with a cry. He kept pumping as you came down from your high, never stopping or slowing down. He worked you back up and within minutes you felt another orgasm building in your belly. 

“God, doll. You take my cock so well. I love the way you feel around me, milking my cock. You’re so damn tight, baby girl.”

Your pussy clenched even tighter around his cock and he knew you liked the praise. “I love this perfect pussy. Feels so good, doll. Tell me who’s pussy this is.”

“Yours, Bucky. Only yours.” 

He groaned. “That’s right, baby. Mine.” He shifted positions again and you gasped with pleasure. He pistoned in and out of you and you desperately wanted more. You grabbed his vibranium arm and tugged at it before gesturing to your throat. Bucky looked at you in surprise, but placed his hand around your throat tentatively. You wrapped your hand around his and squeezed it slightly, urging him to tighten his grip. He squeezed gently and you moaned louder. He watched you come undone under him and he gave your neck another squeeze, sending you over the edge again. “Bucky!” you yelled, your orgasm washing over you in waves of pleasure. 

Bucky could feel his own impending orgasm, but he wasn’t quite ready to cum.

“Bucky, too much...please,” you whimpered. 

He didn’t stop. “Think you can give me one more, baby?” He slid his hand down to your clit and began gently circling it. “Just one more. I know you can do it, baby.” 

You nodded, barely able to think, let alone speak. 

“Words, doll.”

“Yes, Buck.” 

Bucky surged forward with a renewed pace. His fingers gently toyed with your clit, and you felt the familiar knot in your stomach. Your walls started to clench around him and Bucky groaned loudly. “Doll, I can’t hold back much longer. Need you to cum for me.”

Your body responded to his touch and his voice and you felt your orgasm nearing. “More,” you moaned.

Bucky sped up his pace on your clit and you let out a scream as you came one more time, coating his cock and his abdomen as you squirted. 

The sight alone was enough to send Bucky over the edge. He came a few seconds later, calling out your name and filling you up with his seed. He collapsed on top of you, breathless and spent. 

You panted beneath him, desperately trying to catch your breath. You tapped his shoulder gently and whispered, “too heavy.” 

He laughed and lifted himself off you. “Sorry, doll.” He kissed your nose and flopped over beside you, watching you as you came down from all the pleasure. He reached over and caressed your cheek, turning your face towards him. 

“You are so beautiful, Y/N/N.”

You blushed. “So are you.” You turned towards him and he pulled you in close so your head was on his chest. You curled up against him and sighed. 

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?” 

“I’m sorry it took me so long.”

You lifted your head to look at him. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

He leaned in and kissed you softly. “I always will be, doll. I love you. So damn much it hurts.” 

You kissed his chest and he squeezed you impossibly closer. “I love you too, Bucky.” 

Bucky was quiet for a few moments. Just when you thought he had drifted to sleep, he spoke again. “Sam is gonna be so annoying.” 

“Why?”

“He’s going to run around yelling ‘I told you so’ until the day I die.”

You laughed happily and Bucky joined in. You could picture Sam’s glee and Bucky’s annoyance and it made you smile. “There are worse things, love.” 

“I have you. That’s all that matters,” he said softly. You both drifted off to sleep shortly after in blissful happiness. Your love wasn't quite so unrequited after all.