#never darken my doorstep again

[estarion]

i have no words, @fallesto ( cont. )

“gods, stop being so dramatic.” he nudges bottle after bottle from the path he walks—an unnecessarily long, stained, red carpet path—that leads towards regulus. his fallen majesty. better known in astarion’s heart as the stupid, useless, little idiot. “is all of this,” his hand moves in a grand sweep across the scene, reeking of untold nights of neglect and despair. “for me? because of me? darling, why did you not say so sooner?”

he drops to a knee, fingers clasping regulus’ shiny new murder piece. he caresses the weapon, the hand that holds it, and smiles. “you know i’m a sucker for those bad bitches, baby…” he peers deeply into wicked yellow eyes. meld their gazes and you have the most vile, twisted orange. shiver! “and you, regulus, have always been the baddest bitch. take me back. please, say you will. i’ve missed you. seeing you so lost and dejected is a violation of my rights.”

[babezoi]

do not follow my ass if you are a terf

do not follow my ass if you are a terf. i don’t know what hole you guys come out of but go back into it. my favorite oc is a trans woman. you will explode on impact

[queenofbaws]

kissin' y'all square on the mouth rn

[mouthlessmaiden]

wow. so this is what it’s come to. minor character fans are really oppressed huh :/ is this the price of being an asoiaf neutral? hateful hate from major character stans? i bet anon is a hag btw

[spellboundrose]

I think the anon was referencing your balcony piece that you recently posted, its incredibly similar to a well known Miorjah piece.

I know at least 3 other princessfurs who have used the same concept and composition, My piece wasn't based off miors piece at all, I don't even have access to that users art nor have I ever interacted with them😭

I'm aware of how common theft accusations and drama is with that user and I reallyyy really want nothing to do with it im sorry. Especially over a common trope used in hundreds of different medias, I'm sorry how grouchy I sound it's just sooo exhausting

[blackrabbit-megapig]

[pedulum-chronometry]

First, I need you to understand this post has permanently rewired by brain.

Second, this makes the scene where God gives Job a lecture for asking questions is like 120% funnier now. Like She had a plan. The original one was good, so good, but then well angels pushed back and She had to invent Hell on the fly to deal with things.

So now She moved on to The Plan 2.0 - special brimstone and fire edition and is trying to get on with it - with a diminished workforce no less. But here come Mr. Guilty-by-association, who for the record She really didn’t want to throw out but She draw a line and now has to stick to it, and this brand new demon just gives humanity knowledge as his opening gambit from the other side, like a fucked up wish you were here from a former friend. And God now has to do another Plan revision.

So She throws humans out of Eden and sends the flaming sword to keep it that way. Except, this angel sees the possible harm that could come to the newly pregnant Eve and in a completely loving and caring way just gives the flaming sword away to humanity. Like She didn't have reasons for keeping angel weapons away from humans in the first place. So the principality helped invent war instead of just standing there and looking menacing like he was supposed to!! Plan revision.

Now we move on to 'biblical times', the actual meat of the original plan only for the snake and the sword-giver to just keep showing up and messing with things. Noah's ark? was supposed to be a hard system reset to deal with the rampant war and strife introduced by history's worst guard and Her now favorite demon who She'll admit to Herself ONLY, has some good points, occasionally. Only it doesn't work. Plan revision.

So in comes Job. And he has questions. And really isn't that just the way things have been going from day one of this. And She lets him have it. The stress of having to account for constant changes to what was supposed to be a very straightforward Plan. Like how hard was this guys? I gave you instructions and all you had to do was follow them. Do you know how hard it is to rebalance the laws of the universe every time one of you just decides that it should work different? I made a fiery bush where the fire did not consume bush, I can do extraordinary and exceptional why do you keep drawing me back to the mundane and problematic? I'm trying to craft narrative and meaning here guys please stop messing with the constituent materials.

So people have knowledge and war and free will and God's just like "oh my me Jesus will you please come help me clean up this mess?". And he's just like "yeah mom whatever you need. What's this new draft you're working on? Apocalypse, fun name"

Like God is a frustrated writer who is BEGGING her characters to make different choices and just sitting there dumbfounded when they don’t. By the time we reach The Apocalypse (version 847626848.136-c final-final this time I really mean it!), She has given up on the direct approach. It clearly does not work for beings with free will. So She goes about with a much more light tough. Little bit of misinformation here and a dash of misunderstanding there and suddenly FINALLY She's got the plan going in the right direction.

Oh and those two trouble makers, her favorite snake and that angel he loves, those two deserve some payback. They like the world they way it is, don't want the end of the world? Go forth my children, expend effort only for your wheels to spin fruitlessly as you are thwarted from your plan's inception by other people and their godawful choices. You get to keep the planet but not before I mess with you two the way you messed with me. How do you like them apples? God out!

Awhile ago @ouidamforeman made this post:

This shot through my brain like a chain of firecrackers, so, without derailing the original post, I have some THOUGHTS to add about why this concept is not only hilarious (because it is), but also...

It. It kind of fucks. Severely.

And in a delightfully Pratchett-y way, I'd dare to suggest.

I'll explain:

As inferred above, both Crowley AND Aziraphale have canonical Biblical counterparts. Not by name, no, but by function.

Crowley, of course, is the serpent of Eden.

(note on the serpent of Eden: In Genesis 3:1-15, at least, the serpent is not identified as anything other than a serpent, albeit one that can talk. Later, it will be variously interpreted as a traitorous agent of Hell, as a demon, as a guise of Satan himself, etc. In Good Omens --as a slinky ginger who walks funny)

Lesser known, at least so far as I can tell, is the flaming sword. It, too, appears in Genesis 3, in the very last line:

"So he drove out the man; and placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life." --Genesis 3:24, KJV

Thanks to translation ambiguity, there is some debate concerning the nature of the flaming sword --is it a divine weapon given unto one of the Cherubim (if so, why only one)? Or is it an independent entity, which takes the form of a sword (as other angelic beings take the form of wheels and such)? For our purposes, I don't think the distinction matters. The guard at the gate of Eden, whether an angel wielding the sword or an angel who IS the sword, is Aziraphale.

(note on the flaming sword: in some traditions --Eastern Orthodox, for example-- it is held that upon Christ's death and resurrection, the flaming sword gave up it's post and vanished from Eden for good. By these sensibilities, the removal of the sword signifies the redemption and salvation of man.

...Put a pin in that. We're coming back to it.)

So, we have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword, introduced at the beginning and the end (ha) of the very same chapter of Genesis.

But here's the important bit, the bit that's not immediately obvious, the bit that nonetheless encapsulates one of the central themes, if not THE central theme, of Good Omens:

The Sword was never intended to guard Eden while Adam and Eve were still in it.

Do you understand?

The Sword's function was never to protect them. It doesn't even appear until after they've already fallen. No... it was to usher Adam and Eve from the garden, and then keep them out. It was a threat. It was a punishment.

The flaming sword was given to be used against them.

So. Again. We have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword: the inception and the consequence of original sin, personified. They are the one-two punch that launches mankind from paradise, after Hell lures it to destruction and Heaven condemns it for being destroyed. Which is to say that despite being, supposedly, hereditary enemies on two different sides of a celestial cold war, they are actually unified by one purpose, one pivotal role to play in the Divine Plan: completely fucking humanity over.

That's how it's supposed to go. It is written.

...But, in Good Omens, they're not just the Serpent and the Sword.

They're Crowley and Aziraphale.

(author begins to go insane from emotion under the cut)

In Good Omens, humanity is handed it's salvation (pin!) scarcely half an hour after losing it. Instead of looming over God's empty garden, the sword protects a very sad, very scared and very pregnant girl. And no, not because a blameless martyr suffered and died for the privilege, either.

It was just that she'd had such a bad day. And there were vicious animals out there. And Aziraphale worried she would be cold.

...I need to impress upon you how much this is NOT just a matter of being careless with company property. With this one act of kindness, Aziraphale is undermining the whole entire POINT of the expulsion from Eden. God Herself confronts him about it, and he lies. To God.

And the Serpent--

(Crowley, that is, who wonders what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway; who thinks that maybe he did a GOOD thing when he tempted Eve with the apple; who objects that God is over-reacting to a first offense; who knows what it is to fall but not what it is to be comforted after the fact...)

--just goes ahead and falls in love with him about it.

As for Crowley --I barely need to explain him, right? People have been making the 'didn't the serpent actually do us a solid?' argument for centuries. But if I'm going to quote one of them, it may as well be the one Neil Gaiman wrote ficlet about:

"If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization." --Robert G. Ingersoll

The first to ask questions.

Even beyond flattering literary interpretation, we know that Crowley is, so often, discreetly running damage control on the machinations of Heaven and Hell. When he can get away with it. Occasionally, when he can't (1827).

And Aziraphale loves him for it, too. Loves him back.

And so this romance plays out over millennia, where they fall in love with each other but also the world, because of each other and because of the world. But it begins in Eden. Where, instead of acting as the first Earthly example of Divine/Diabolical collusion and callousness--

(other examples --the flood; the bet with Satan; the back channels; the exchange of Holy Water and Hellfire; and on and on...)

--they refuse. Without even necessarily knowing they're doing it, they just refuse. Refuse to trivialize human life, and refuse to hate each other.

To write a story about the Serpent and the Sword falling in love is to write a story about transgression.

Not just in the sense that they are a demon and an angel, and it's ~forbidden. That's part of it, yeah, but the greater part of it is that they are THIS demon and angel, in particular. From The Real Bible's Book of Genesis, in the chapter where man falls.

It's the sort of thing you write and laugh. And then you look at it. And you think. And then you frown, and you sit up a little straighter. And you think.

And then you keep writing.

And what emerges hits you like a goddamn truck.

(...A lot of Pratchett reads that way. I believe Gaiman when he says Pratchett would have been happy with the romance, by the way. I really really do).

It's a story about transgression, about love as transgression. They break the rules by loving each other, by loving creation, and by rejecting the hatred and hypocrisy that would have triangulated them as a unified blow against humanity, before humanity had even really got started. And yeah, hell, it's a queer romance too, just to really drive the point home (oh, that!!! THAT!!!)

...I could spend a long time wildly gesturing at this and never be satisfied. Instead of watching me do that (I'll spare you), please look at this gif:

I love this shot so much.

Look at Eve and Crowley moving, at the same time in the same direction, towards their respective wielders of the flaming sword. Adam reaches out and takes her hand; Aziraphale reaches out and covers him with a wing.

You know what a shot like that establishes? Likeness. Commonality. Kinship.

"Our side" was never just Crowley and Aziraphale. Crowley says as much at the end of season 1 ("--all of us against all of them."). From the beginning, "our side" was Crowley, Aziraphale, and every single human being. Lately that's around 8 billion, but once upon a time it was just two other people. Another couple. The primeval mother and father.

But Adam and Eve die, eventually. Humanity grows without them. It's Crowley and Aziraphale who remain, and who protect it. Who...oversee it's upbringing.

Godfathers. Sort of.

[calypsocolada]

who fell first and who fell harder...? ft. yuji, yuta, ino, geto, kokichi, nanami, choso, toji, gojo, & megumi

authors note: hi hi hi. this is inspiried by a lot of things but mostly the new season of bridgerton that I finished in one day.

cw: gender neutral reader, fluff

wc: 1k

click here for my masterlist

You fell first but Yuji fell harder. Yuji thought all of your advances were just friendly jokes. He falls the exact moment you give up flirting and call him your best friend. He wasn’t sure why that word made him feel slightly hurt. When he walks you home later that night out of nowhere he asks if he can kiss you. When you asked why he said it was because he didn’t just want to be your friend, but something more.

-

Yuta fell first and harder. You’ve known him since childhood. You two first kissed after a game of hide and seek when you were kids. Yuta has loved you since the first moment he met you and will love you the rest of his life. He’s a very devoted person.

-

Ino fell first and harder. You and Ino got close during training. You had been asked out by someone else and enlisted Ino to teach you about dates and kissing. Ino jumped at the chance to teach you and the moment your lips met his, he about lost his goddamn mind. He went in for seconds and when your hand slid into his hair he practically begged you not to go out with the other person. The moment he kissed you you had totally forgotten the existence of the other person.

-

Geto fell first but you fell harder. Geto didn’t have much love for your kind and you didn’t have much love for his superiority. After enlisting him to rid a curse from you you overheard him referring to your kind as something you didn’t like to repeat. You gave him a piece of your mind and after a day passed he found you again and apologized. You accepted but still felt sort of angry with him. You saw him a few times after that and something sparked in the fire that you felt for him. Something that wasn’t complete and utter dislike. He must’ve sensed it because when you were leaving one night he grabbed you and kissed you hard.

-

You fell first but Kokichi fell harder. You admired him. He was smart and cunning but everytime he spoke to you he made you feel stupid. So you stopped speaking to him. That little trick did a number on him. Where was his little shadow? He seeked you out and when you told him how much of a know it all he was he sat beside you and shared his lunch. He had to work a lot to earn your favor.

-

You fell first but Nanami fell harder. You thought he was out of your league so you tried moving on. You asked if he’d pretend to be your date for a friend's wedding. He was a good friend and you felt comfortable with him. He agreed and after one day of pretending broke down and kissed you in the hallway on the way back to your shared suit. You two didn’t have to pretend after that.

-

Choso fell first and harder. You wanted to make someone jealous so you asked your friend Choso to help you. He didn’t seem to want to help. You asked why and it just made him shy but after a day or two he agreed. He was great at it and the other person you wanted to make jealous asked you out by the end of the week. When you told Choso this he sort of shut down. He chased you down on your date and shamelessly revealed his feelings. Your poor date was left alone that night.

-

You fell first but Toji fell harder. This man didn’t know he had something special until you walked out. Months passed and you had finally healed and moved on from the whole ordeal. That was until he darkened your doorstep once again. You were quick to turn him down but he was persistent. It was aggravating but he knew you way too well. He didn’t make those mistakes ever again.

-

Gojo fell first but you fell harder. Gojo was a nuisance. He never left you alone. He always asked for you on missions just to annoy you. Or so you thought. You realized after hurting his feelings that all his close proximity wasn’t to annoy you but just simply to be close to you. After you apologized he asked you to apologize again, a bit louder this time and when you rolled your eyes he kissed you.

-

You fell first and harder. You and Megumi were paired up on an assignment you got to know him through the silence. He chose his words carefully and was protective. You let your feelings be known and he rejected you at first. He’s shy. You apologized the next day and he told you your apology wasn’t necessary and when you asked why it seemed words failed him. He stared at your lips for more than enough seconds before informing you that he couldn’t sleep the night before, couldn’t stop thinking about how much he didn’t want you to slip from his grasp. When you seemed confused he just sighed and kissed you.

[thymejot]

Since the moment of Nickys birth, Agatha has been using Rio. She used her as a scapegoat from her own complex emotions. She then projects all her pain, her overwhelming loss, her guilt, and her feeling of responsibility for his death onto Rio as well.

Because Rio is death, an immutable immovable object that can take all the hits Agatha throws at her. All the sharpened barbs made to lay waste to anyone else, anyone weaker.

Agatha knows exactly how much to twist the knife to have the most impact.

She knows Rio will take every drop of her rancour, every ounce of her self-loathing, every rend Agatha can inflict. Then, in a few days or months, Rio will be there once more full of fervour with a flower in hand.

So when Agatha makes the deal with Rio to give up Billy in exchange for Rio never darkening her doorstep again. She never ever thought that this would be the final push that would cause death to falter.

Rio has for so long been a physical embodiment of Agatha's external self hatred that the moment that Rio agrees, it all falls apart.

The safety Agatha had in her hatred of Rio crumbles, and all that is left is the realisation that the one person left on this earth that truly understood her pain, that loved all that she was had finally given up on her.

As Rio walks away, you can see the disbelief, her hurt and the utter terror of losing Rio forever hit her. So, this right here is the exact moment when Agatha's fate was sealed.

Because Agatha is so deeply selfish.

The final act of reneging on the deal, pulling Rio into her arms, drawing death into herself, was never about saving Billy.

This was as close to supplication as Agatha is capable of. There is no universe in which Agatha ever says the words 'sorry'.

This was forgive me. I love you. I want you.

This was, I will bury myself so deep into you that you will never be able to truly be rid of me. I will drink the poison of your lips while filling you so full to the brim with me so that I fully cement myself inside you. You will carry the weight of me with you until there is nothing left but ashes and the taste of my lips on yours.

Rio crumbles under the deluge of it all. She takes it all in. She is so full of Agatha that she never truly sees what is happening until it is already over.

The immutable unchanging death finally faltered twice in as many hours. Once more, Agatha proves that she is not Rio's scar, but the torn open bleeding heart of her

No wonder Rio did not have it in her to collect Agathas soul

Even in her most hated form, a world with Agatha in it is a world with hope for Rio. Agatha will weasel her way out of final death, and when she does, Rio will be waiting with fervour and a flower. Like always

[lvrhughes]

Matching | N. Hischier

pairing: Nico Hischier x fem!reader

word count: 1.18k

summary: At a halloween party, you and Nico are unknowingly matching, then at the end of the night Nico confesses his love.

warnings: drinking?

requested: no

not my gif!

“You’re here!” Dougie practically yelled, trying to get his voice over the loud music that seemed to seep from every wall. 

“You’re lucky I love you.” You rolled your eyes towards him, reminding him of the countless times he’d begged you to come over the week 

He’d spent the week showing up to your doorstep or work with a coffee, begging for you to at least stop by his halloween party. He’d claimed it wouldn’t be as good without your presence, claiming that no matter if his entire team was there, he still needed his best friend. 

So you showed. 

Arriving in the costume you’d managed to throw together, hoping it would fit up to standard for the night. Brushing your hair back once more while you stood with Dougie, smoothing the dress out while you scoped out the room shortly after. 

“What are you?” 

The question slipped from Dougie’s lips, urging his to rush to rephrase the sentence after you glared in his direction. Fixing your dress again before turning back to him and answering. 

“Could you not tell that I’m a cow?” 

It was a stupid costume, you’d admit it, it was made with very low effort but it worked. The dress was flattering and with a few black patches throw onto it for the night, it made an easy costume. 

“I was guessing, but you can’t just call a girl a cow now can you?” 

Dougie smiled as he spoke, urging you to roll your eyes at him before placing a playful hit to his arm. Confirming that calling a girl a cow is not the right move before watching his eyes light up. 

“You know, I think you gotta go visit Cap.” 

There was a smirk on Dougie’s face as he spoke, his hand moving to your back to push you towards his swiss captain. The same captain who stood just off to the side of you and Dougie, talking to a few of his teammates, wearing a simple cowboy costume. 

His body covered in a simple button up, jeans, boots, and a hat. All tailored to perfection. Hugging his body perfectly as if to accentuate it more, even if unnecessary. 

Before you could think about the outfit more, Dougie had shoved you forwards. Leaving you to fall into the side of Nico, his arm wrapping around your waist to steady you quickly. 

“Woah, you okay?” 

Nico was staring at you, wide eyes and pupils dilated, as your hands fell to his chest, attempting to regain some balance. 

“I am so sorry, Dougie pushed me and-” 

“It’s okay, are you okay?” 

He repeated himself, his hand dropping to your waist while yours stayed planted on his chest, his body turned to face yours now. 

“‘M okay.” 

You nodded, your cheeks flushing as you realized you still had a hold on Nico, dropping your hands quickly. His hand stayed on your waist, keeping you close as he turned back to his teammates, rejoining the conversation with ease.

“Wait, are you two matching?” 

Jack stopped the conversation, noticing the fitting costumes between you and Nico. His eyes flicking back and forth while waited for an answer. 

“Not intentionally.”

Jack laughed at the confession, sending a knowing smirk to Nico after you spoke. Nico’s cheeks darkened at the look, looking at the ground before returning to the conversation once more. 

You stayed tucked in Nico’s hold for almost half an hour before deeming you needed a drink, shifting in his hold just enough to gain his attention, watching him look towards you before you spoke. 

“I need a drink.” 

He nodded, simply leading you towards the kitchen, his hands never leaving your waist. His grip stayed even as you reached to grab a drink, making it a little more awkward but who were you to complain when the hot captain of the New Jersey Devils wanted to hold you?

Nico led you back to the group after, moving you around to leave you standing in front of him, his arms resting on top of your shoulders. You stayed there for the night, not wanting to move from the warmth of his hold, simply making your way around the room by following Nico. 

By the end of the night, you’d managed talking to almost everyone with Nico, letting him lead you around to other teammates or friends of his before settling down on the couch. The room had mostly emptied, leaving only a few other teammates of his in the room, Dougie pacing the room to clean up the mess of discarded cups from his house. 

“Neeks?” 

He glanced at you, seeing you looking up at him already. He nodded for you to continue, keeping his eyes on you, ignoring the yelling of the few, drunk, teammates left. 

“Why’d you stay with me all night?” 

Nico seemed to shy away at the question, his cheeks dusting in a soft pink color. He sent a awkward smile towards you before sighing, internally thinking before looking back at you to speak. 

“I think I love you.” He paused before continuing, watching the confusion run through your features, “No, I know I love you. I think even when Dougie first introduced you I loved you, you’re so beautiful and smart and funny, but I couldn’t say that before, it was never right. First you had a boyfriend,” 

He reminded you of the small man who you dated to try to ignore the butterflies that seemed to appear when Dougie introduced you to Nico, dumping him two weeks later when he cheated on you. 

“Then I had a girlfriend.” 

The girl Nico tried to date to forget you, getting himself dumped when he got drunk once and confessed to said girl how much he wanted you. 

“Then we never seemed to meet.” 

He wasn’t wrong. It was like the world wanted you two apart, scheduling games at the worst times or in another city and your work schedule seemed never ending. This had been the first time you’d seen Nico in two weeks. 

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I just needed you to know.” 

You sat wide-eyed looking at him, the realization of what Nico had just confessed hitting you quickly.  You shook your head, moving to straddle his lap before you spoke. 

“Nico, I love you too.” 

His eyes lit up at the words, his hands placed on your hips once again while a smile broke out over his face. You moved your hands to cup his cheeks, smiling back at him. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Nico whispered, barely loud enough but you heard. Nodding at him as he slowly leaned in, urging him to move the rest of the way. Connecting your lips, letting your body melt against his while his arms slipped around your waist to pull you closer to him, if even possible. 

“I think this means I get to be your girlfriend now.” 

Your forehead was pressed against his, letting your breaths mix in between as you pulled back, staring at Nico as he smiled. 

“I think so too.”

[juletheghoul]

corrupted

a/n: I asked for requests and y'all came THROUGH. Freaks - all of you!! (same) hope you enjoy this fucking ovulation-fueled fever dream lmao. @quicax3 - I am dedicating everything I post today to you- Happy birthday! 🩷hope ya'll enjoy (not even a little beta'd or proofread lol all mistakes are mine)

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, hand stuff, rough / marathon sex, homeboy paints the boobies- Marcus gets dosed with something and is * d e s p e r a t e *(a little graphic / I guess this could be hurt / comfort?), master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) he’s still pretty possessive, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus - let me know if I missed any! 🩷

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.6k (😅)

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

You frowned to see her darkening his doorstep once more from your place just inside the giant doorway. 

“Announce my arrival to Marcus if you would, I have brought him a gift.” She smiles her prettiest smile at you, moving to walk past you but you hold fast, blocking her path. 

“Apologies my lady, the Dominus is absent. I do not know when he will return and I am not to allow visitors in his absence.” Part of you felt a twinge of guilt at the way her face fell, but the memory of her proposal, and her apparent attempts to change his mind twisted something in your gut. She clutched at the wine bottle in her hands, cradling it as her eyes scanned what she could see of the house behind you. 

“Do you know when he left.” She frowns, eyes focusing on you once more. 

“He has been gone since first light, and as I said before, I am unsure of when he will return. He did not say when he left.” You were telling her mostly the truth, he had left early in the day, but you knew he’d be back before nightfall. He’d told you.

“I could just wait, I doubt he’ll mind–” She flashed her winning smile, thinking it would work on you as it had worked on everyone throughout her years but she had no notion of your ire for her.

“Apologies my lady, I cannot permit you inside, it will be my head.” It would never come to that, you knew it but he would not be pleased. 

“Oh come now.” She huffed just outside the door, crossing her arms and for a moment you saw a spoiled child on the verge of a tantrum. One of his guards heard the commotion and came over to assist. 

“Apologies my lady, but you will have to return another time, when the Dominus is here to greet you.” He was large, and her demeanor changed instantly. 

“I have brought him a gift, he will be happy to see me I swear it–” She held the bottle out to the guard and he took it, looking over what seemed to be a dark red wine.

“I will make sure Dominus receives your gift.” He closed the door in her face despite the widening of her eyes at having been left outside, giftless, and unwelcome. She knocked again, but the guard only put the bottle in your hands, and sent you off with a nod. You went about your business and left him to it. 

Your Dominus was true to his word. The sun had just kissed the horizon when he walked through the door. His brow was furrowed in frustration and you rushed to greet him, hoping his business hadn’t gone awry. His eyes found yours and they softened, but only a touch. 

“Shall I prepare your meal Dominus? Or would you care to rest first?” You followed as he made his way towards his study, his stride quick enough to make you hurry after him. 

“I’ll take my meal in my study, fetch me clean water and linens to cleanse before I eat–and the red wine if you would.” He sat at his desk, putting down scrolls he’d brought with him. His talk of wine reminded you of his visitor.

“Oh–I just recalled. You had a visitor while you were away today, Dominus.” You brought the empty basin from the corner and set it up at the little table beside his desk for the water you’d have to fetch. His eyes shot up, his attention solely focused on you. “I obeyed your commands, no one came in–it was Lavinia.” 

His eyebrow raised, and a small, half-smile formed on his lips. The scrolls sat on the desk, forgotten as he leaned back a little in his chair, amused now at the way your chin jut out in uncharacteristic defiance. 

“Was it now? And just what did Lavinia want?” He narrowed his eyes, his smile widened a fraction. 

“I think I can divine what she wanted.” You mumble the words under your breath, picking at your nails and he clears his throat, a gentle warning. “Apologies Dominus, I said, I think I can divine what she wanted. I do not think she took your refusal with good grace. She brought you a gift, in hopes to sway you if I had to hazard a guess.”

“Well, seems she would like me to reconsider.” He crossed his arms, watching your face and it’s hard to keep it free of emotion. “Bring me her gift, I would like to see it.” He gestured to the door with a playful smile and although your belly twisted at the thought of her working her charms on him from afar, you knew in your heart of hearts he simply liked to frustrate you.

The temptation to smash the bottle into pieces was almost too big to ignore. The thought of him being displeased however kept your grip on it tight, kept you obedient as you did everything he’d asked of you. With his hands cleansed, with his food served, you put the bottle onto his desk. 

“So this is what she offers.” He took the bottle in his hand, turning it over with more interest than you would have liked. He opened it, and put it under his nose. You watched him, fighting tooth and nail to keep your expression neutral. He only smiled the harder, reveling in your poorly disguised discomfort. 

“It smells like good wine, but fortified with something.” He poured some into a goblet, swirling it with growing interest. 

“Shall I leave you to enjoy your meal, Dominus?” You kept your head held high, reminding yourself that he had refused her after all, and a cup of wine wasn’t going to change anything. 

“No. I would have you here.” He smiled, bringing the cup to his mouth and draining it in a few gulps. 

It was almost instant, the change in him. 

“Dominus?” You approached him, heart sinking at the way his eyes momentarily lost focus, at the way his face went slack, all of him utterly empty for a moment. A wild fear gripped your heart, surely she wouldn’t poison him? “Dominus? Dominus!” You almost scream, pushing between him and the desk to pull his face up. 

“Hmmm?” For a moment he couldn’t focus, and it looked as though he might faint into a feverish sleep but then his eyes found yours and he smiled, truly smiled. 

“Dominus—“ he moved cat-quick, pulling you into his embrace roughly. 

“Gods above, why do you smell so good?” He pressed his nose to your chest, pulling in greedy sniffs of you while his hands slipped under your tunic. 

“Dominus, are you well? What is happening?” You tried to get him to look at you, but his eyes were focused on his hands, on pulling at the seams of your tunic. You can’t help but let out a little scream when he rips it open. 

“I am going to die if you don’t sit on my cock this instant, Girl, I need it, I need to feel you, I need to take you—fill you with my seed.” He moans out the words, more desperate than you’ve ever seen him and for a moment you give in, his face tilted up to beckon your mouth to his.

There is a strange taste in his mouth, something honeyed and full of an almost seductive smoke. 

You pull away despite his iron grip on your waist.

“Dominus, Dominus wait—” You try to look into his eyes again but it’s like he’s not there. Something in you awakens, and you do something you’ve never even considered, you do something that could cost you your life. You strike him clean across the face. 

The crack of it is loud enough, and hard enough to stop him cold. 

“Dominus—I beg your forgiveness but I need you to listen to my words—I think Lavinia has slipped you some sort of love potion, some magic to seduce you—“ your hands shake as you speak to him, praying to all the Gods that you aren’t punished for trying to help him. 

“Girl…” he speaks slowly, his face splotchy and red and an ache builds in your throat, fear threatening you with tears. “Girl, I think you may be right.” He trembles slightly, his skin warm where you still touch him. You can see the effort on his face to keep himself under control, to keep his wits about him as the potion works through his body.

He stands, swaying slightly and takes the bottle to the door while you watch, clutching at your ripped tunic. He hands it to one of his guards and instructs him to dispose of it, to not let anyone have any of it because it is corrupted.

“Shall I get you something else?”

“I need your body, Girl.” He holds onto the wall for a moment to steady himself, his eyes cast downwards. “I need to bury myself inside you, I am sick with it, I feel as though if I don’t I will surely die.” His eyes are red when they find yours and there is a fire there you have only ever seen after a battle. 

“If you do not desire this, then leave and lock yourself in your chambers. I will make do with my fist.” He takes a steadying breath, waiting with an almost divine patience despite his state.

The anger you feel for Lavinia knows no bounds, that she would resort to something like this to force him to give her his body makes your blood boil. The way in which he devours you however, that makes your cunt clench and drip for him.

“I am yours, Dominus.” You let the tunic fall and beckon to him with open arms. You see his prowess in the moment it takes him to cross the room and all but dig his fingers into you. His mouth is insistent, his hands are rough at your waist and on your breasts, his passion is hard as steel at your hip where it digs into your skin, all of his sharp desire, his sharp edges scraping at your softness with an inhuman strength. 

“I am in pain Girl, every fucking inch of me aches—“ his words are a painful moan as he all but tears at his layers. You help as best you can and once he is bare you gasp. His cock is so red, his balls look so swollen, you think he really might burst if he does not find his release. 

There is no time for gentle touch. 

You turn and bend over his desk uncaring of his papers falling to the floor and present your backside to him. It’s with trembling hands that he slots his cock at your entrance. He enters you with one brutal shove of his hips and moans like you’ve never heard him moan before. Despite your own arousal, you wince.

“Forgive me Girl, I cannot be gentle-“ He does not ease you into it, it is a rough pushing and pulling of himself into your sex and he is too thick, too deep, you feel him in your lungs, in your throat. 

“I do not wish to hurt you, but you feel so fucking good, so tight, so wet I cannot stop myself.” His words help, his true nature helps. You focus on the feel of him, on the reassuring grip of his big hands on your hips, on the noises he makes as his groin hits the plump of your ass with every sharp thrust.

Your cunt leaks around him, coating him, raising the volume on the sounds of your coupling and before long he’s pulled you up, his chin resting over your shoulder while one hand holds onto your breast tight enough to almost hurt. 

“Here it comes—“ he barely gives a warning before he groans long and loud, filling your poor little cunt with his gift. He presses his forehead to the back of your neck, taking greedy pulls of air into his lungs while he keeps himself buried deep. 

You catch your breath for a moment before he pulls out and turns you to face him. His eyes are shut tight, and then he looks down. His cock has not softened, it looks just as angry, just as hard as it did before, his balls still heavy and full of seed. 

“I fear I may be like this for a while, the pain returns even as I stand here.” 

You sit him in his chair and climb onto him, sheathing him inside you once more but this time, with his mess and your arousal easing his passage, and you setting the pace things are better. 

“I will take care of you Dominus, let me take the pain away.” You wrap your arms around him and slip your tongue into his mouth with a deep kiss, relishing the noise he feeds directly into your lungs. His arms are a cage around your ribs, tight enough to make you fight for every breath but it matters not. He feels so good like this, so deep and with every roll of your hips his noises become more frantic, more imploring.

He comes again almost without warning as you keep your rhythm, wincing when he tightens his grip a little more but still, he does not soften. 

He lets out a whine, a pathetic, gorgeous thing when you keep rolling your hips, clenching around him in search of your own climax.

“Please Girl, please please, I beg of you, milk my cock, I need to spill inside you again, over and over, please—“ his voice is not his own, it’s some needy, powerless creature under your spell and you want nothing more than to oblige him. You speed up despite the sweat shining on your shin, despite the ache in your body and again he spills, crying out like a teenage boy touching a woman for the first time.

“Again Dominus?” You’re tired, but it feels so good, and the desperate, slack jawed expression makes you ache for your own climax.

“Yes Girl, Gods yes- again—“ he helps you move, your sweat slicked flesh spilling between his fingers, his lap is a mess of his own seed and your arousal, you cannot stop now. He takes your nipple into his mouth just as his thumb slips into the mess between your thighs and swirls it around your clit. 

Your own climax hits you like a slap across the face- all at once making you seize and he comes again at the feel of it, both of you suspended in exquisite agony.

You are truly sore now, every muscle aches, everything burns. 

“Dominus- I don’t think my body can handle more.” You brush back his hair, placing a small kiss where you slapped him.

“It is a little better now, come to my bed with me.”

Hours pass, and he still stands at attention but he relieves himself with his fist as you lay on his bed. He begs for your hand, and you oblige him. He begs to look at your cunt, and you show him, he begs to let him paint your breasts in his seed, and you position yourself for him, until he finally softens and rests.

You cleanse him, and yourself, and fall into his arms, asleep before you’re fully settled. 

He does not leave his chambers the next day, and orders you to take a full day of rest yourself. While grateful to sleep and give your tired body time to recover, part of you fears he might not want to see you, but then one of the older women brings a feast to your chambers at his instruction, good wine and more food than you could eat in a whole day and you know you are forgiven. 

You smile around your bites of food, content with your thoughts of what he might do in retaliation. 

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[fakeasmr]

DAMN FUCKING STRAIGHT

bullshit I got a copyright claim on my little shop of horrors livestream. A film that was literally never copyrighted I had to restrain myself from typing threats to the claimant in the dispute explanation

[alloftheimagines]

jamie tartt | if somebody hurts you, i wanna fight

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

words: 2.2k

warnings: 18+

domestic abuse, violence, trauma, the aftermath of an abusive relationship in which jamie finds out your boyfriend, his teammate, is abusing you. takes place when he's playing for manchester city.

prompt: Hey there! I would love to send a prompt request in for Jamie tartt:) number 29, I don’t know why but to me it fits him well! Nothing specific, thank you! 🥰

Jamie sees the bruises and knows. He’s never had a good feeling about your relationship with Tom, his teammate, but you’ve ignored his warnings despite being friends since childhood.

And now you’re hiding bruises. Anger flares in him, and it’s an effort not to reach out as you get up from the couch to grab popcorn, the staple of any movie night. He thought it strange you turned up on his doorstep after months of barely seeing you, but now he thinks he understands. Your T-shirt rode up for only a moment at your hip before you tugged it down, but he saw the purple welt. His jaw ticks as he listens to you shuffle about, but he can only wait so long. Fingers flexing at his side, he heads in to hear popcorn popping in the microwave.

“Do you want a beer?” you ask, oblivious. When he doesn’t reply, your brows furrow and you look up from the kitchen counter. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Has he been hurting you?” he questions steadily.

“What?” You’re a terrible actor, but you try nonetheless, eyes widening in feigned confusion. 

Jamie takes a deep breath. “Don’t lie to me. I saw the bruises just now. There’s only reason why you wouldn’t tell me about them.”

It makes him sick as he realises the truth of those words; you’d hide it because you know Jamie would react badly, perhaps even sacrificing his spot on the team. Tom’s more popular with the fans, Man City’s star player. If Jamie confronted him… He knew it would be game over. That’s why you’d kept your distance. 

And yet he still wanted to. He was already imagining it, shoving Tom against the lockers and beating him the way he’d beaten you. He’d teach him a lesson; nobody would ever hurt you again. 

He wouldn’t let them. 

You pale, tugging at the hem of your shirt again self-consciously. “I fell.”

Jamie shakes his head, barely even listening now. Lost to his fury. “I’ll teach that wanker a lesson. I’ll fucking kill ‘im. I knew he was trouble. I knew he was no fucking good for you—” 

“Jamie, please.” You grab his arm, eyes flooding with tears as you look at him. It’s enough for him to halt, still glaring. “Don’t. Please. I’m handling it.”

“Are you still with ‘im?” 

You hesitate at that, a look of shame darkening your features. 

“Then you’re not fucking handling it,” he snaps. 

“He won’t let me leave,” you whisper, chin wobbling. “I tried. That’s why he… I tried.”

His shoulders heaved with a sigh, but he softened, sympathy swirling in his eyes. “I can help you, love. You should have told me. You used to tell me everythin’.”

Tears slip down your cheeks as he cups your jaw, catching them. 

“Hey,” he breathes gently. “It’s okay. You’re safe ‘ere. You know that, don’t you?” 

A nod. He pulls you into his chest, and you wrap your arms around him, shuddering as it all comes spilling out. “I’m sorry. I thought he loved me. The first time… He was drunk. I thought he was just drunk. But then he kept… I’m just sorry.”

“No need to apologise, babe.” He plants a kiss in your hair. The microwave dings, the last remaining kernels popping behind the glass, but neither of you move to get it. “It’s not your fault. It’s never your fault.” He closes his eyes, pain searing through him. He can’t bare to think of you hurting like this. He should have realised sooner. Should have known. “How long’s it been going on?”

“A couple of months.”

Too long, then. It’s always going to be too long. “Stay ‘ere with me, yeah?” he asks. “He won’t get to you ‘ere.” 

“I don’t want you involved in this—”

“You’re my best fucking friend, and I’m not letting him do this to you again. Never.” He pulls away and forces you to meet his gaze. “He won’t fuckin’ touch you again.”

“I’m begging you. Don’t confront him. Don’t do anything to risk your career. Please. Please promise me.”

His nostrils flare, but he nods. It isn’t quite a promise, though — not one he’s willing to keep, at least. 

***

He does his best. He survives practices with the fucker all week while you hide away in his house, rarely getting out of your pyjamas. He has to force you to eat most nights, though you always have a home-cooked meal on the table. He can’t enjoy them, too busy wondering if it’s a forced habit — if maybe you were punished if you didn’t have dinner waiting for Tom. 

And then Tom struts into the locker room before a Sunday match in Man City’s home stadium, his gaze already narrowed on Jamie. Wordlessly, he nudges past the other players, and the hair on the back of Jamie’s back prickles as he stops lacing his boot to look up at him. 

“I bet you think you’re a right hero, eh?” Tom sneers. “Hiding her away from me. What’d she tell you?”

Jamie’s knuckles whiten, entire body tensing, but then he thinks of his promise to you. “You dunno what you’re talking about, mate,” he replies stiffly, drawing his lace tight. 

Tom scoffs. “I know you’re the first person she’d run to.”

This time, Jamie bites, standing up to match his eye level and squaring his shoulders. “And you hate that, don’t you? It must make your fuckin' blood boil. Does it make you feel good, being an abusive twat, or are you that far gone that you don’t care either way?”

Tom slams Jamie’s locker shut, the picture of aggression. Jamie thinks of you facing him, alone in his big old house where no one is there to step in. He thinks of the way you must have flinched at that scorn, and resolves not to on your behalf. He might be breaking one promise, but he’ll keep another: Tom’ll never touch you again. 

“You gonna beat me up as well?” he asks, and that anger he’d been suppressing so well is bubbling now; he’s a volcano ready to erupt. 

“Oi!” The team manager steps in, drawing everyone’s attention. “We’ve got a job to do today. Whatever the issue is, you save it ‘til later. Am I clear?”

Jamie doesn’t back down, his eyes flaring with dangerous defiance. Tom is the first to nod,  but not before offering a smarmy smirk — as though he’s won. “Yes, boss.”

“Jamie?” 

“Yeah,” Jamie mutters finally — for you, he thinks. Anything for you. 

*

It doesn’t stop there, though. Tom carries his bitterness onto the pitch, ignoring Jamie through the game so that he’s never passed the ball, never able to score. He’s tackled him more than a few times as though they’re on different teams, and Jamie knows then that he can’t play this game anymore. He won’t. He’ll quit on Monday, find another club to sign him. Maybe even grovel to Ted and go back to Richmond. Anything to get you both out of this. 

He tries to be the bigger man, but he’s never been any good at it, so when Tom trips him in another fight for the ball, Jamie can’t do it anymore. His vision blurs into angry red lines as he stands, shins throbbing from the fall, and fists Tom’s sweaty shirt in his hands. 

“Someone needs to put you in your fucking place,” he spits, and when Tom only grins again, he launches. His fist meets Tom’s hard jaw, and pain flashes through Jamie’s knuckles. Tom sniffs, spits, and the crowd in the stadium falls quiet enough to hear a pin drop. And then Tom lunges back, and Jamie feels the blow through every bone in his body. 

It doesn’t stop him from punching him again. “See how you fuckin’ like it!” he’s screaming, again and again and again, all scrambling limbs and fierce hits between them. His knuckles and mouth turn bloody, and so do Tom's. Finally, they’re yanked away from one another.

Even as Jamie is pulled off the pitch, he’s bellowing across the field: “You’re nothing, you! A piece of fucking shit!” 

“And who are you?” Tom calls. “Her knight in shining armour? You’re useless. You’re nobody!” 

Jamie’s heard that more than a few times now. He no longer sees Tom’s face, but his own father’s. That’s why he couldn’t let this go, he realises. He could never stand up to his own bully, so he’s stood up to yours instead.

Spitting blood from his mouth, he leaves the pitch — knowing it might be for the last time. Knowing that if it is, it was worth it.

*

You saw it all on TV, and you’ve been waiting for the door to swing open ever since. Finally, it does — and you don’t even know what to say. Jamie’s mouth is swollen and his nose bloody, and you want to shout at him for being so stupid, for doing the one thing you asked him not to — in front of everyone. But in the end, you can only sigh, wiping the tears from your eyes. 

“I know I fucked it up,” he rasps. “Maybe I should be sorry, but'm not. He fuckin’ deserved it.”

“And what about your job?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. You still wear your pyjamas, too afraid to go home and get fresh clothes. Too depressed to even try.

Jamie shrugs, throwing down his bag. “Don’t know yet. Doesn’t matter. I’m not playing on the same team as a dickhead like that.”

“But where will you play now?” Panic rises in you as you think about this means. You’ve never known Jamie without football, and to imagine him losing it now, because of you… It’s almost worse than what Tom did to you, maybe because you care more about your best friend than you ever could yourself. It’s wrong, but it’s true. 

“I dunno. It doesn’t matter.” He sniffs, and you sigh, softening as you move towards him to examine his injuries. 

Without a word, you head into the kitchen to wrap some ice in a towel. He follows slowly, sluggishly, as though he has no fight left in him. He used it all on the pitch. A stadium of fucking people. God, you’re angry. With Tom, with Jamie, with everyone. You shove the ice pack into his chest, blood pumping in your ears. 

“It fucking matters,” you snap. “This is your life. I asked you not to ruin it because of me—”

“My life was ruined the minute you started dating that fucking prick!” he shouts. 

You frown, confused. “What?” Your voice trembles. 

Jamie purses his lip, shaking his head as he presses the ice to his bruised jaw. “Forget it. I did what I needed to. It wasn’t just for you, either. You’re not the only one who’s been bullied before. I’m sick of pushing it aside. Sick of 'em getting away with it. I can’t fight back for myself, but I can at least do it for you.”

You understand then. His dad. Tears sting your eyes.  “Jamie…” You make to reach out, but he draws back as though your touch is venom. It hurts. You stumble back, feeling heavy and wrong. This is your fault. All of it.

“I shouldn’t have come to you. I shouldn’t have put you in this position," you say.

“Stop it. I told you it isn’t your fault.”

“It is.” You close your eyes, cheeks growing damp.

“Babe…” He’s there in a heartbeat, cupping your face with bloody hands. “Don’t. Please, don’t. Just look at me a minute.”

You do. 

“I don’t give a shit about what this means for me. I don’t care if I’m never signed again. I only care that you’re safe. The dick was taunting me, and everyone will see that, but either way… you’re what matters. Nothin’ else.”

You can’t speak, your throat thick with emotion. 

“I know you didn’t tell me because you knew this would happen, but I need you to understand that it’s happened because I love you. Because I always have and I always will. And if somebody hurts you, I’m not letting them get away with it.

“I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. I know that. I don’t wanna be like ‘im, I don’t want you to see me like that. But I wasn’t going to let him keep doing it. Not to me or to you.”

You hate it. Of course you do. But you love him, and you know that if the roles were reversed, you’d choose him over anything. You know that this wasn’t an act of violence, but of love and pent-up anger. 

“You’re not like him,” you say gently. “You could never be like him.”

He kisses your forehead, and your eyes flutter shut again as you lean into him. 

“You’re worth it,” he whispers. “You’re worth all of it. I just wish I could’ve been there for you sooner.”

You tuck yourself into his chest as he squeezes you tightly, smelling of grass and sweat and dirt. You haven’t felt safe in a long time. You haven’t felt loved in a long time, either. “You’re here now,” you say. 

He nods, chin brushing the crown of your head. “‘S gonna be okay now. I’ve got you.” 

You finally believe him.

[eoieopda]

stay (jjk)

“Jungkook,” His name was merely a sigh flying out of your lungs and through your parted lips. “If we do this - if we go down this road - how do we go back?” 

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Fem!Reader Type: One-Shot; SMUT (18+ - MINORS DNI) Word Count: 3.1K Content: Best friends to lovers au; rain-soaked jk; fingering; oral sex (f receiving); p in v penetration; unprotected sex + creampie (wrap it before you tap it, homies); reader on top; religion reference, i guess? idk; a sprinkling of praise for zest. A/N: Surprise! This popped into my head while I was waiting for take-out, and now here it is! You can listen to the playlist here, and you can find the morning after drabble here.

You knew better. You both did.

The two of you held joint custody of a single brain cell, and your shared consciousness repeated over and over that this was a bad idea. That the weight of what you wanted would sit so heavily on your shoulders, you’d both drown. But that didn’t stop him from standing on your doorstep at two o’clock in the morning, and it didn’t stop you from answering the door before he’d had the chance to knock. 

Without his headlights shining through the blinds you’d forgotten to close, you’d never have gotten out of bed. You couldn’t have known for sure that it was him turning down your street at this hour, but somehow, you felt it.

Maybe you’d manifested his car, willed it to roll to a stop in your driveway when it did. Or maybe that familiar hum of the engine was your siren song, beckoning you towards the rocks. Whatever it was, it had pulled you out of that liminal space between sleeping and waking, all the way to your front door. 

And then, there you were – and there he was. 

You hadn’t noticed it was raining until he was dripping onto the hardwood in your front hallway. His hair clung to his forehead, and his damp skin glistened under the warm light overhead. His jaw was clenched tightly as he looked down at you. Neither of you could say for sure how he ended up there; but neither of you needed to guess why. 

Still silent, you took his cold hand and led him through the living room. With his fingers intertwined with yours, a current of unspoken electricity hummed between your palms. When you took a left at the end of the hall, he was the first to step into your bedroom. He kept walking, too, unaware that you’d stalled out behind him.

You closed the door behind you, even though there was no one there but you, and you leaned against it. Unsure of what to do with yourself, you dragged the toe of one sock across the carpet before crossing one bare thigh over the other. His hungry gaze swallowed every little movement, even in the darkness.

“Jungkook,” His name was merely a sigh flying out of your lungs and through your parted lips. “If we do this - if we go down this road - how do we go back?”

As he crossed back to you, you wondered who put the world in slow-motion. There was an hour between each of his footfalls, and the distance seemed to double with every move he made in your direction. When he finally reached you, he pressed his palms against the door behind you, flush to the wood just above your head. You’d never been more aware of your heartbeat than you were in that moment.

Darkened eyes traveled down the expanse of your face before climbing back up to capture your gaze. He leaned in, close enough to kiss you, but paused. A millimeter away, the corner of his mouth twitched between a smile and a smirk. “Maybe we don’t.” 

This was the closest he’d ever been to you, and the farthest apart you’d ever want to be again. The smell of him was intoxicating; you’d bet that it had caused your pupils to dilate, matching his.

Bergamot, nutmeg, cedar, and a hint of spearmint toothpaste. 

Still, you were unsure. You couldn’t string a coherent thought together. It was all an anxious blur, and it ate at you. What if what if, what if? Incapable of diving into anything without discussing every conceivable outcome first, you opened your mouth to talk it all through. Nothing came out until his hand found the base of your throat.

He trailed the tips of his thumb and middle finger outwards, dancing delicately across your neck. A moan masquerading as an exhale defied you and filled the great divide between his mouth and yours.

Leaving his hand there, he tilted his head so that his mouth lingered under your jawline. Goosebumps erupted all over your body as his hot breath hit your sensitive skin. Without the door behind you to lean on, you would’ve dropped dead to your knees – but the body pressing into yours would never allow that to happen.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” Though his words came in the form of a whisper, they struck you as a dare. One he must’ve known you'd never take him up on. “Tell me to go home, and I’ll leave.” 

The sweltering heat building in your abdomen threatened to set you both on fire; it was starkly contrasted by the growing wetness between your clenched thighs. Your mind was dizzy underneath him, but you managed to say one word out loud. 

Stay. 

As soon as he heard it, his arms snaked around your waist and lifted you off the ground. You crossed your ankles behind his back and melted into his hold as he carried you to your bed. With the skill of someone who’d practiced this maneuver many times before, he brought one knee to the end of your mattress to keep his balance as his body followed yours down to the cool surface of your duvet.

You fit so perfectly beneath him, like it was the only place on Earth you were truly meant to be.

The only part of your body he hadn’t yet pinned down was your arms. But as soon as you lifted a hand to touch him – anywhere – his hand encircled your wrist and pushed it back against the pillow beside your head.

“It’s not your turn, doll,” He chided you without any real heat. Unconsciously, your lips curved downwards. “You have to be patient.” 

Petulantly, you whined. “Could you at least kiss me?” 

He raised an eyebrow expectantly but said nothing. He didn’t have to. The look in his eye gave you clear direction, and it didn't waver in the face of your pout.

“Please, Jungkook.”

Never in your life had you begged someone to kiss you. You couldn’t believe Jeon Jungkook - your lifelong friend - was the one to make you do it.

Once again, he leaned over your face, so tantalizingly close and still so unbearably far. “I will,” He promised in earnest, though all you felt on your lips was his breathing. “But I decide where.” 

He didn’t stay to see the shocked look spread across your face. Instead, his gaze followed his hand as it traveled down from the collar of your shirt, between your breasts, and over your navel. His other hand joined when he reached your hips. Moving in tandem, they slipped past the fabric you anticipated he was heading for and glided right down to your inner thighs. Gently, his warm palms guided your knees apart.

When his lips pressed briefly and delicately at the material covering your clit, it sent shockwaves through your each and every nerve. Spellbound, you sighed. Mouth flush to your core, you could feel the vibration of his husky voice as he spoke. “Oh, angel,” He hummed before his tongue slipped out to tease you through the damp fabric, “You’re already so wet for me.” 

His soft tone could’ve killed you, but the feeling of his fingers on the waistband of your underwear was the final nail in your coffin. The knuckles of his index fingers pressed lightly into your hip bones as they slid under, hooked over, and dragged. You raised your hips to allow him to slide the black cotton over the curve of your ass, and he did - so - agonizingly - slow.

Not soon enough, your underwear was discarded somewhere behind him. Neither of you saw or cared where they ended up. 

“Fuck,” He growled as his ravenous eyes ate up the sight of you. “Do you know how gorgeous you are?” 

He didn’t give you an opportunity to answer – you couldn’t, even if his question hadn’t been rhetorical – because his face was sinking back down between your legs. Your pulse was racing, and you could feel your heartbeat hammering deep within your ears. It stopped all together when his lips placed a kiss on your clit once more, this time without the interference of clothing. 

His tongue slid out and circled slowly around the sensitive bud where his lips had just been. A shuddered gasp spilled out of you before you’d even felt it building in your chest. But he didn’t stay there for long, much to your chagrin. You whined in the absence of his tongue, stopping short when he pressed it flush against you, trailing up, up, up with just enough pressure to drive you mad. 

This time, when you gathered enough strength to lift your arm and slip your fingers into his hair, he didn’t stop you. Instead, the slight tug of your desperate grasp seemed to encourage him. Emboldened, his lips surrounded your clit, suckling it, until it was released with a quiet, wet pop. 

When the tip of his tongue moved down to tease at your entrance, a sheen of sweat erupted on your forehead. Your eyes screwed shut as you pressed your head back hard against the pillows. You wanted so badly for that tongue to penetrate you, and you ached when it moved back to your clit – that is, until you realized that he was merely switching mediums. 

His lips and tongue continued their assault while one long finger glided slowly inside of you. Your grip on his hair tightened while your grip on reality loosened. That blessed finger curled until its tip found the spongey spot behind your pubic bone. 

“Oh shit,” Your low moan vibrated in each of your bones. You were so distracted by the way he massaged your g-spot, you didn’t anticipate the second finger being added to aid in the effort. He scissored them inside of you, earning a sharp hiss through your teeth. The pressure of his presence against your internal walls put you into a trance. 

He pulled his mouth away so he could look up at you from under heavy lids. “You’re so warm, angel,” His husky voice received a mewl in response. “So tight, too. Can’t even imagine how good you’ll feel when you come all over my fingers.” Another moan pushed out of you as he curled his fingers once more. 

With his two fingers pressing further into your g-spot as they pistoned in and out of you, you could hear how wet he’d made you. The sound of your slick, underscored by your breathy moans, reverberated in your otherwise silent bedroom. Your body threatened to give out on you entirely, but you summoned the strength to arch your back as the tightness in your core became unbearable. 

“I want you to look me in the eyes when you come,” he said, prompting you to stare up at him through fluttering lashes. “Good girl.” 

His praise pulled the thread that led to your unraveling. You made a mess of his fingers as you orgasmed around them, hips bucking upwards into his hand. They lingered inside of you as you came down, riding out the aftershocks that caused your walls to twitch. Gasping and spent, you collapsed back against the mattress. 

For the first time since he arrived, the lips that always seemed to hover over yours finally indulged you. You sighed into the kiss and felt yourself returning from the orbit you’d been shot into. When you pulled apart, he placed another kiss at your temple. 

“I saw God for a second there,” You laughed, out of breath. “He says ‘hello,’ by the way.” 

He smirked as he bumped the tip of his nose against yours. “Watching you come like that was the closest thing I’ve ever had to a religious experience.”

He tilted his head and brought his mouth to your ear lobe, licking it playfully before closing in with his teeth. The surprising sensation brought you back from the dead just in time for his words to knock you prone again. “And I’m not even finished with you yet.” 

Jungkook sat back onto his knees and tugged at the hem of your too-big t-shirt. When you made no moves to remove it, he frowned down at you. Raising your eyebrow, you copied the expression he routinely directed at you. “You first,” You dared him.

He rolled his eyes at your attitude, but did as you instructed. He tossed his shirt back into whatever void your underwear had fallen into. 

In all the years you’d been friends, you’d somehow never seen Jungkook without a shirt on. For some primal reason outside your comprehension, the sight of his strong shoulders curving into his comparatively narrow waist started a riot among the butterflies in your stomach. You bit down on your bottom lip and sat up underneath him.

As you traced the lines of his abdominal muscles with your fingertips, his slipped beneath the hem of your shirt and began to slide it up and off. 

“Goddamn,” He groaned after he finished unwrapping you like a present. He ducked his head down as if he was bowing in reverence. His large, warm hands enveloped your breasts easily like they’d been specifically engineered for this purpose.

When he removed them to unbuckle his belt, they were replaced by wet kisses across the pale expanse of your chest. As he unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down, the faintest hint of teeth grazed your nipple, prompting yet another gasp from deep inside you. 

The way his mouth felt on your electrified skin caused your eyelids to flutter shut. Tragically, you didn’t get to see the way his cock sprung from beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs before he discarded them entirely. You did see the bead of pre-cum rolling down his head, as well as the wicked glint in his eyes. 

“Switch places with me,” He directed you, wrapping his hands around your wrist and helping you up.

You did as he said, and soon, you were perched above him with your knees on either side of him. Though there remained an unfortunate distance between his head and your slit, you were nearly dripping with want. You locked eyes and time crashed to a halt. 

His hand pumped at his length without breaking eye contact. “Bring yourself down slowly.” 

You lined yourself up, placed one hand on his cock, and teased the tip of it against your entrance. Briefly, his eyes rolled backwards at the feeling of your slick against him. The beginnings of a moan were foreshadowed on his face, though he didn’t make a sound until he entered you. 

Suddenly, it made sense why he’d ordered you to take it slow – the width of his cock required considerable acclimation on your part. For a moment, you struggled to catch your breath, but the more you pressed yourself onto him, the more accommodating you became. Soon enough, you’d taken all of him; the lips of your cunt were flush against his pelvis. 

“Such a good girl.” His hand reached up, and his thumb swept lightly across your bottom lip. To his surprise, you opened your mouth and closed it around his finger. You felt his cock twitch in response to the wet heat of your tongue. He stared intently, unblinking, as you hollowed out your cheeks; and he let loose with a soft groan when you slowly released him from your trap. “You have no idea what you do to me.” 

You circled your hips slowly, feeling the veins of his cock as they brushed against your walls. His jaw slackened, causing you to grin mischievously down at him. “I might have a clue,” You teased.  

The hands spread across your thigh tensed in reply. His eager fingertips would undoubtedly leave a smattering of tiny bruises across your skin by sunrise, but you didn’t mind. You wanted him to leave a trace so neither of you could deny where he’d been. A breadcrumb trail to lead you back to him once the moonlight disappeared and the moment passed. 

When you lifted yourself only to drop back down, you both exhaled curses. Again and again, you savored every inch of him. As you fucked yourself on his cock, his hands slid up your thighs, over your abdomen, and back to your breasts. The friction of his rough palms against the soft skin of your areolas was only rivaled by that between your thighs. 

“You’re fucking beautiful, bouncing on my cock like that,” He groaned before his tongue darted out over his lips, “And - shit - those tits.” 

Based on the glistening sweat on his collarbones and his tightly clenched jaw, you knew he was close – and judging by the way you’d begun to pant, so were you. When he needed more speed than your weakened knees could produce, his arms wrapped around you and pulled your naked chest against his. Pushing his heels into the mattress, he fucked upwards into you – hard – and oh god, the tip of him nearly kissed your cervix. 

You mewled as he slammed into you, unable to do anything else as you teetered at the edge of the world. Your frenzied mouth met his, and you slipped your tongue inside not only to taste him – spearmint – but also to eliminate any cruel distance that had managed to survive this long.

You could’ve lived there forever, but the rubber band pulled tight in your core was on the verge of snapping. His pace never faltered as he pushed you relentlessly past the point of no return. 

“Holy sh-shit, Jungkook!” You screamed, arching your back against his arms, shoulders slumping. 

Your second orgasm was somehow – inconceivably - stronger than the first, causing your toes to curl and your eyes to screw shut. Every one of your muscles clocked out en masse, leaving your body a shaking, sweating mess on top of him. 

The sight of you so completely fucked out depleted what remained of his endurance. His thrusts became sloppy and frantic as he chased after you. Wanting nothing more than to feel his hot release inside you, you brought your lips to his ear and begged him to fill you. 

You watched his face as he came inside of you. His head tilted back while his eyes fluttered shut more delicately than yours had. His fingers pressed hard into the bare skin of your back, and when your name tumbled out of his mouth - over and over - it might’ve been the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard.

Once he’d emptied his cock into you, he stayed in that position with his eyes closed. Limp arms barely held up by the hands still holding your waist.

“Kook?” You kissed the pulse point in his neck to make sure he still had one. “You alive down there?” 

“Mhmm,” He sighed through a lopsided grin. With his eyes still shut, his chuckle buzzed through his chest, into yours. “It’s kind of funny, you know? I spent years wondering what you’d be like – like this – and I still managed to underestimate you. Damn near scrambled my brains, doll.” 

You reached up to his forehead and pushed the sweaty locks away from his eyes with one finger. Without any impediments to his vision, his eyes opened slowly and became fixed on you. For a moment, all he did was blink sleepily up at you with total, peaceful satisfaction written across his features.  

His softening cock was still buried inside of you when the corners of his lips turned down. With a sigh, he said it and it killed you: ”You were right about our friendship not surviving this.” 

“Seriously?” You scoffed, immediately landing a weak punch on his bicep with gritted teeth. “You couldn’t even pull out before singlehandedly terminating – “ 

He interrupted you with a kiss, and you saw stars.

“You told me to stay,” He mumbled with his lips still touching yours. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m staying.”

(12/30/22) A/N: Morning after drabble can be found here.

[thehistoriccemetery]

Minthara’s New Dialogue

I’m pissed about Minthara’s new dialogue when Durge chooses to deny Bhaal, and I’m making it everyone problem.

Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.

———————————————————

Minthara stood outside the door to Durge’s new room at the Elfsong Tavern. Up until that night, they’d been sharing the room that now belonged only to Minthara.

It was late, but she’d found herself completely unable to relax. She didn’t sleep, but even her attempts to trance were only filled with regret of what had happened the previous day. Durge, lying dead on an alter of Bhaal before her. The rage that clawed its way up her throat. The way that rage shot out of her when Durge’s body had come back to life.

Her words had been cruel; hypocritical, even. But even that did not explain the regret and remorse that plagued her now. She didn’t know why, but it possessed her entire being. She was able to think of nothing else but that moment, played over and over in her mind.

She had never been one to hand out apologies. Even when she knew she was in the wrong she never sought to “make it right”. Why should she care if someone was pissed with her? Everyone in her life had been disposable. Everyone except Durge.

That is why, she supposed, she had come in the dead of night to darken her former lover’s doorstep.

She lightly tapped the door with two knuckles before cracking it open to checking to see if Durge was still awake.

They were, as she suspected they would be. Sleep was a rarity for them even on the best of days. Minthara stepped into the room without awaiting further invitation.

“What do you want? Have you come to berate me further?” The words came like a spit of acid. “Perhaps you have come to cull the weakest soldier from your ranks. Well I think I’ve had quite enough of your commentary for one day. Leave me.”

Minthara stood, rigid and unmoving. She has expected nothing short of fury from Durge, and yet she was still taken off guard.

“I have come to offer an apology,” she swallowed. “My behavior today was unacceptable, regardless of the circumstances and for that I apologize.”

Durge laughed. “When Scratch gets into the camp supplies and eats all the salami, it is ‘unacceptable behavior.’ What you have done to today is nothing short of monstrous.”

Minthara shifted slightly. She didn’t have a response prepared.

Durge broke the silence. “I thought you, of all people would understand. A deserter of both the spider queen and the absolute who found her power in godlessness. A lost child of House Baenre, the most powerful house in the underdark. And yet you see fit to lecture me about inheritance and power that I failed to collect at the cost of my own freedom. I thought maybe after all the nights you spent with me, sobbing against my urge to spill your blood you might understand why I must be rid of him. But I see now you’d rather have me a powerful slave than as I am.”

The room was silent again. Durge did not look at her, settling instead for continuing to arrange the room that would now belong to them alone.

“You know, perhaps if it had just been an unjustified outburst, I could have forgiven you. I could have looked past the hypocrisy, the accusations that defying my father made weak and unworthy,” they spoke again. “Perhaps if you had only called me stupid and weak, we could be allies once more. But you couldn’t stop there, could you? You couldn’t just insult what you perceived to be a lack of power, you had to make me feel used. As if this entire relationship was purely a tactical ruse.”

Minthara’s mouth worked faster than her mind. Before she could even think it through she blurted, “even now you cannot deny what a powerful force we were together.”

The words made Tav snap their head around to look Minthara in the eyes. “Don’t you dare try and dismiss my feelings with talk of strategy. I will not deny I was that I was drawn to you for the same reason you were drawn to me: because I thought you a powerful ally. But I do not share my bed with people just because they are ‘powerful allies.’ I do not learn about their favorite dishes and go out of my way to gather rare ingredients. I do not black out my own windows just so our home can be an oasis of darkness in this all too bright world. I do not rub their back and whisper sweet words to them as I hold them through nightmares. And I sure as hell don’t risk my own life in 1 on 1 duels with my own sister just for the sliver of hope that they could walk through this world a little less scared!” Durge’s eyes brimmed with tears and their bottom lip quivered. “You were so much more than a ‘powerful ally’ to me, Minthara. I did not love you because you were a matron of house Baenre. I did not love you because you were on the council of the dead three. I did not love you for the power I sought to gain from you. I loved you because you were my Minthara. My love for you may not have been a force that would save the world, but it did not make it less real or important. Power is not the only thing worth having. I would have gladly died by your side if it meant I could do so knowing that you loved me as I have loved you. If death was the only place we could be together, my dedication to you would not have faltered.”

Minthara stood in shock. She couldn’t not bring herself to move for fear that she may collapse onto the floor in a pathetic pile of tears.

“You will go to bed alone tonight, the bed we once shared, and you will sleep by yourself. And when you long for the comforts of home, you will not wake to find arrangements of mushrooms at your bedside. When forgotten moments of the past creep into your mind, and you reach for someone to hold you, you will find nothing but empty air. You will be alone and you will find it is not my ‘power’ that you truly miss.”

[ladykailitha]

Sweet Home Indiana Part 6

@anne-bennett-cosplayer I hope this is enough time to recover from that last line. It's technically been 3 business days.

That last line was mean, and I'm sorry. So for being so mean, here's Claudia Henderson with some very tough love for Eddie.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

****

Eddie had done some serious groveling that night. He didn’t know how he could make up for all the hell he’d put Steve through. How does one even begin to make up for a decade worth of shitty behavior?

Especially since it was clear that the one thing that would make it all worth it was if Eddie came back to Steve and he couldn’t do that. Not to Chrissy. Not when she needed him the most.

He did the only thing he could think of and talk to the people who still cared about Steve. He started with Claudia Henderson. Even though she wasn’t Steve’s birth mother, she was more his mom then that shrew ever was.

She gathered him into a hug when he showed up on her doorstep.

“I was wondering when your shadow would darken my doorway,” Claudia said, as she lead the way to the kitchen.

Eddie winced at the harsh words even if they gently given. He looked around the small house, Dustin’s mark stamped on every corner even though he had moved out long ago. But more surprisingly was Steve’s touch had found its way into the decor. And not just his photos on the wall either.

It was in the Pacers blanket on the loveseat, the baseball bat by the front door, the bright yellow pillows on the sofa. Steve was loved here and god did that make Eddie’s heart ache.

He sat down at his usual spot at the counter and watched as she bustled around the kitchen getting him cookies and glass of milk.

“Why are you even here, Eddie?” she asked in that tough but loving way she always had. “You broke his heart and then threw it away.”

Eddie took bite of the cookie to give him time to formulate an answer. “Because I know I fucked up, okay? But the only way I can see to fix it is to come back to him and I can’t do that. I can’t tell you why, just know she’s in trouble and this is the only option we have.”

Claudia let out a long sigh and leaned on the counter. “You always did know the right things to say.”

“Not when it comes to him,” he scoffed, staring down at his milk like it would give him the answers. “I keep making it worse.”

She hummed her agreement. “That’s certainly true. But I think that was more about you trying to protect your heart from getting hurt, only you ended up hurting his instead.”

Eddie just dunked his cookie without comment, because he knew she was right. It was never about Steve. It was about all the people who hated him, who strung him along until they had their fun, about his mom dying and his dad leaving, about the band deciding they just didn’t want to do it anymore.

He loved being a tattoo artist, but that wasn’t the dream.

“What would you do or tell Dusty if it was him you’d come to see after a decade apart?” Claudia asked, looking up at him.

Eddie sat back in the stool and sighed. “How much I missed him and then I would try to spend as much time with him as possible.”

“There you have it,” she said. She straightened up and knocked on the counter twice. “The bakery is closed Fridays and the carnival is in town. Why don’t you take him and get to know who he is now, all right?”

He rubbed his face and sighed again. “Yeah, if he’ll even go with me. He probably already has a hot date lined up, though.”

Claudia shook her head. “At least not that he’s told me, anyway. In fact he was lamenting that he was thinking about not going because Robin had a date, but he didn’t and he didn’t want to third wheel it.”

That was so like Steve. Instead of finding someone to go with him, like a friend or something, he would just not go. Tell them to have fun without him.

“I guess the worse that could happen is have him curse me out and hang up,” Eddie said with wry smile. “And considering I’ve already had the pleasure once, a second time isn’t going to change much.”

She lifted her chin. “Well go on, then. If you think he’s going to cuss you out, call him. I want to see this.”

Eddie stuck his tongue out at her like a petulant child. But did as he was told.

“Hey, Eds,” Steve greeted, picking up the phone almost immediately.

His heart stuttered in his chest at the old nickname. “Hey, Stevie. I hear the carnival was in town this week and wanted to see if you want to go.”

“With you? Or with a group or whatever?” Steve asked, his voice pitching a little higher than normal.

“Just me,” Eddie confirmed. “When would be good for you?” He looked up at Claudia who had the smuggest grin on her face. He stuck his tongue out at her again.

“Oh, I–um...” he stammered. “Well, I was thinking of opening the shop on Friday even though I don’t usually because I was closed on Sunday.”

Eddie winced. He had a pretty good idea why Steve’s shop was closed on Sunday. Steve had called to bitch him out on Saturday evening when the special courier delivered the annulment papers. Something the law firm had paid for so they wouldn’t lose their best legal assistant.

“But sure, I could use a proper day off for a change,” Steve was saying when Eddie’s brain finally came back on. “How about two o’clock?”

“That’d be great,” he said a small, fond smile on his face. “I can’t wait. I haven’t been to a proper carnival in years.”

“Perks of living in a small town, I guess,” Steve replied.

Eddie started playing with his hair. “One of the few. Can’t say I’m a fan of the homophobia.”

Steve laughed, bright and sweet. “Yeah, okay. You got me there. Look I’ve got to go, Robin’s giving me the stink eye and I really should get back to work.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “I talk to you later.” He hung up and refused to look Claudia in the eye. He knew what he was going to see anyway. Her arms crossed over her chest and a triumphant smile on her face.

“I don’t believe I heard any cursing on that call,” she said dryly. He looked up at her and he as right about everything about how she was looking at him, only with the addition of a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah well,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes. “He always was a stubborn bastard and having to prove me wrong.”

Claudia’s face crumpled a bit. Because yes, Eddie had done a lot of harm to their relationship, Steve wasn’t exactly blameless in the whole ordeal. Because Max’s situation aside, Eddie was right that ‘the kids’ had families and parents of their own. That they had people who would look out for them. And if Steve hadn’t stepped up in Max’s case, she sure as hell would have. The awkwardness between Max and Dustin be damned.

If Steve had loved Eddie as much as he claimed, he wouldn’t have tried to force the metalhead to chose between his friends and his husband.

“He is that,” she admitted gently. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you two. You were always a better person when you were together, than when you were apart. And yes, he’s struggled a lot since you left, but looking at you now, I can see that the years haven’t been kind to you either.”

Eddie huffed. “That’s what Uncle Wayne said. That I lost my sparkle or whatever.”

Claudia came around the corner and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back tight.

“Your uncle is right, sweetie,” she murmured into his hair. “We only want you to be happy and it doesn’t feel like you are. You say you’re getting married, but where’s the bounce in your step and the smile that won’t stop? Like when you and Steve had come back from a week vacation married if only in the state of Massachusetts.”

He let out a shuddering breath and then another. Soon he was just sobbing. Crying like he couldn’t stop.

Eddie had never wanted to hurt Steve and he was sure Steve felt the same about him.

She soothed him with whispered assurances and stroking his hair. Soon enough he had slowed to a hiccuping sniffle and Claudia stepped back so she could look him in the eyes.

“I have a pretty good idea what’s really going on,” she said firmly. “And you’re being really sweet, but before you do something you regret, spend time in town. Take a look at the things that have changed and all the ones that haven’t. Then decide if it’s still the right thing to do.”

He gulped. He had no doubt that she had figured it out. She was Claudia Fucking Henderson, of course she did.

“You won’t tell anyone,” Eddie asked, tears threatening to spill again, “will you?”

She shook her head. “No, your secret is safe with me. I won’t make things harder on you then they need to be.”

She hugged him again and Eddie felt like he was home for the first time in over five years.

****

“Just where are you taking me, old man?” Eddie teased. He had met his uncle for lunch after being emotionally rung out at the Henderson place.

“You need a pick me up,” Wayne said, “and I need my afternoon brownie. Come along.”

Eddie came to an abrupt stop. “Um...I’ll wait out here, then.”

Wayne looked up at the shop’s sign and then back at him. “Look, son, you’re going to have to face him eventually. Especially with you going to carnival together and all.”

Eddie dug his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and followed Wayne dutifully into the bakery.

“Hey Mr. Munson!” Steve greeted cheerfully. “You here for your usual?”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me ‘Wayne’?” he asked with a chuckle, walking up the to counter.

Steve blushed and hung his head. “I guess I’m just old fashioned.” He cleared his throat and straightened up. “So what can I get you and your shadow today?”

Wayne reared his head back and then looked over his shoulder to see Eddie hanging back, but sticking as close to him as possible.

“That’ll be two monsters, one of your apple fritters, and a half dozen of your snickerdoodles,” he said shaking his head. Then he turned to Eddie. “And what do you want?”

Eddie’s eyes nearly burst out of his head. Steve and Wayne laughed.

“I suppose I should have said ‘what else do you want?’” Wayne clarified.

Eddie blushed and peered around Wayne’s shoulder to look into the case. “A peanut butter madness, please.”

Steve’s face lit up with delight. “These are the ones Jeff’s mom was slandering with having them stale. They are so much better warm out of the oven. In fact, here!” He grabbed it out of the case and wandered to the back.

He came out a few moments later. Eddie nearly melted from the tantalizing scent of warm brownie filled the air.

“What did you do?” Eddie cried as he reached out with grabby hands.

Steve handed it to him. “Careful, it’s hot. I microwaved it for thirty seconds. Should be perfect now.”

Eddie cautious bite and moaned as soon as the peanut butter hit his mouth. He savored every bit of that first bite. “Fuck, Stevie. These should be a sin.”

Steve smiled and then got to work on the rest of Wayne’s order as Eddie devoured every inch of that brownie.

“How long are you in town for, Eds?” he asked as he handed over the boxes to Wayne.

Eddie grabbed a paper napkin from the dispenser by the register and wiped off his hands and mouth of the gooey remains.

“I’ve got to back by Monday,” he said, a tad mournfully. He never thought he’d miss this place after spending so long running from it. The town. Not the bakery. Though he had spent a lot of his time running from its owner, too.

Steve’s own smile faltered a bit too. “Not even a whole week, huh? I guess there really is no rest for the wicked.”

They chatted for a bit before more customers came in and Steve had to get back to work. Eddie and Wayne walked out of the shop laden with goodies. Steve had divided them up for Eddie and Wayne separately. Wayne handed Eddie his box.

“Now was that so terrible?” he asked with big grin.

“No.”

Because it really wasn’t. In fact it was kinda nice just chatting with Steve.

Leaving was looking more and more bleak with each passing moment.

****

Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

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