#ALL OF THE WALLS ARE SYMMETRICAL I SWEAR!!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

after failing miserably the first go around, (crochet) Home's walls are complete! we're less than halfway there but hey! The Walls!

[uglypastels]

Ridlington Park | I | Eddie Munson regency!au

Author's Note: It has been a long, long time, but I am back with another obnoxious AU. I hope you enjoy as we embark on this new adventure in Regency England. This story has been in the works for almost 2 years and is still far from finished, but I am having too much fun with this and have way too many ideas on where to take it, so suggestions are very much appreciated.

Word Count: 10k

Do be warned, Dear Reader, for this story in its entirety may contain:

female!reader. slow burn. forbidden romance. jealousy. pining. smut. alcohol consumption. swearing. OC family. horses. talks of arranged marriage. historical facts as well as trivial inaccuracies.

Due to the adult nature of the story, this author also kindly but sternly requires underage readers to pursue other works. 

The Ridlington Park Collection | Correspondence | Join the Taglist

Chapter One: A Game of Perseverance

“I do not want people to be very agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them.”

– Jane Austen, Letter to her sister Cassandra, 1798

Three stories high, full of balconied windows, the house stood tall and overlooked the entire street. Ridlington Park, they called it, and situated at the centre of life–that is, London–the front door of the building was enveloped in flowers matching the seasons all year long. Currently, it was bright peonies that caught the onlooker’s eye. The perfectly trimmed bushes and trees were planted symmetrically, leading up to the front doors, giving visitors the right impression of what they could await once they stepped inside.

The residing family had spent a good fortune and effort ensuring the house represented them perfectly: clean, fortunate, and grand, but all done so in the utmost respectable and modest fashion as they were never the ones to boast. The walls had a light, warm tone reminiscent of early mornings in Spring, and the interior was decorated with portraits, new and old, beautiful oil sceneries of lands near and far, and busts and vases. 

The evening was slowly approaching, the sun setting over the windows of the drawing room, enwrapping everything in a golden glow. The family sat silently around the room, giving each other the peace and quiet required for an uneventful afternoon followed by a slow night of fortunate sleep. The only sound appreciated was the pianoforte siding against the window, gracefully played by Mother. Four children sat around the separate corners of their world, enjoying the music while focusing on their own activities. Like most nights, these consisted of either reading or needlework, engaging in small conversations with one another occasionally. 

As typical as any evening at Ridlington Park, it was highly unusual for the rest of London– a city which runs on scandals and gossip. Outside, the streets were bustling with lords and ladies of the Ton making their way back home from the markets, gardens and their fellows’ tea parties, gossiping about the latest impropriety to have occurred. After all, such topics, no more than nonsense really, were simply inescapable. And no matter how hard they tried to ignore it all, one way or another, it would always find its way up to the Byrnwick family. Most of the time, you, Gentle Reader, could hold yourself accountable for introducing the rumours proudly, much to your brother’s annoyance, who did his best to turn the pages of his novel as loud as possible as you talked with your mother from across the room. 

‘Have you heard what happened at Lady Faulkner’s ball?’

  ‘Yes, sordid, really.’ Your mother sighed, turning around. ‘I am sure her family is in quite the uproar.’

‘Please,’ Christopher, your brother, shut his book down in frustration, clearly incapable of making any progress amidst the conversation. ‘If she had not wanted to get caught, she should have maybe ought to think twice about being out with a man in the middle of the gardens for everyone to see.’ 

You glared up at him. ‘Well, it is absurd that a woman cannot even stand in a public space with a man without bringing disgrace onto her entire family.’

‘Believe me; she did much more than just standing.’ Christopher scoffed, quickly receiving a cold stare from your mother. 

‘Still, it is unjust.’ You ignored his insinuations. ‘Think of how men are free to go out at any time of day or night with whomever they please.’ You stabbed your needle through the cloth a bit harsher than intended.

‘My, you sure seem to be giving all this much thought. Have you any plans we should know about, sister?’ Your brother smirked.

‘Christopher!’ Your mother scowled. ‘That is quite enough.’

‘I was only joking, Mother,’ Christopher sighed, ‘we all know she is not going anywhere anytime soon.’

You were ready to retort angrily, or at least throw your needle at him, when the doors to the drawing room opened, catching everyone’s attention by storm. Five pairs of identical eyes directly aimed at the door frame, only softening when recognising the intruders. A welcoming of surprised gasps greeted the Lord and his eldest, Nicholas, as they entered the room. Not one foot in the room, and all activities were being put to a halt as the rest of the family gathered around the men—a loving reunion after a months-long journey from the Americas. 

It was a surprising return, for father and son had yet to write of their plans in recent times. The last letter was received at Ridlington Park over three weeks ago, stating that the weather was amiable, if not a bit too humid, and that the family missed each other deeply. The lack of correspondence, therefore, was also an immediate subject. 

‘But why did you not write, dear?’ asked Mother, after embracing her son. Nicholas was too occupied by his youngest sibling to answer; airways tightened in the arms of his 11-year-old sister, Marjorie. His father responded instead:

‘How could we write at sea, my love? The message would not have gotten here any faster than we did,’ the lord chuckled to his wife. He was correct, too, of course. His eyes seemed to surpass the gaze of his present family members in search of the one missing piece. ‘Where is Annabelle? I thought she would be home by now.’ 

‘She is home, with her husband,’ you explained carefully. Your father blinked slowly, coming to terms with this fact he had tried to avoid for so long. Annabelle had married last season and was very well off, to a Duke, no less, but it was still a big adjustment for the family seeing her gone and out of the house. Even with her frequent visits, it was strange to have one head less at the dinner table; one less chair occupied each evening, one less song played on the pianoforte. 

‘Ah, well then,’ Father cleared his throat, ‘then we are complete.’ He looked at his wife and five children. One day, there would be even fewer of them. They will all be leaving the nest one by one. For some, marriage was long overdue, and as a man of high society, he could not wish his children a suitor or a lady soon enough, but as a father, he dreaded the day that the following proposals would take place.

Marjorie, becoming impatient and not as sentimental about her family’s reunion, tugged at Nicholas’ sleeve. ‘Come, you must tell us everything about your journey!’ She kept pulling until the eldest brother had no choice but to follow her and sit on the couch. Soon, everyone else joined on the chaises. 

‘I am afraid there is very little to tell,’ Nicholas said, taking a chocolate biscuit off the tray beside the sofa. ‘It was all rather dull.’ 

‘Do not be ridiculous, brother,’ Fitzwilliam, the second-youngest and still hungry for adventure and the world outside of the Ton, looked at his older brother with high expectations. ‘I do not believe you and Father had been gone this long and did not experience anything worthy of a tale.’ 

You listened on as your siblings bickered, arguing over the value of a story, and its worth of being told and heard. Finally, after listening to it for about a quarter of an hour, you had to agree with Nicholas; it was all rather dull. No wonder neither he nor father did not bother to mention anything but the weather in their correspondence. Their days quickly grew into a pattern one is used to in travel and business. A pattern you might have understood if you cared to pay attention. 

This attention only returned to the room when you heard your name being spoken. The conversation had shifted from the events that had been missed overseas to the town's happenings. Just as dull and irrelevant, some might say, the most interesting thus far was the staff changes at the house, and even these held very little consequence to you, but to this, some may disagree wholeheartedly. 

‘So, the season has begun, has it not, sister?’ Nicholas asked. 

‘Some weeks ago, yes.’ You did your best pretending not to feel an effect from this, occupying yourself with your needlework that was turning out far below the usual standard. ‘But do not worry; you have not missed much. In fact, I think things will finally begin to get a bit interesting with you back home.’ Nicholas had always had a taste for dramatics and had been known for having a very… loving nature. In the past years, you must have witnessed him falling in love at least a dozen times, preparing a proposal to half of these women, going through with it twice now, with one nearly making it to the alter if not for the bride getting caught in quite a compromising position with a footman.

For the next few weeks, Nicholas was known as the heartbroken gentleman, and you would have felt bad for him… if it was not for the fact that women from all over town came around to console him, day after day, of course not knowing that when his bride-to-be had been making arrangements with other men, your brother had been too busy charming ladies himself. It took a month for him to proclaim his love to another woman again.

‘I do not know what you mean,’ Nicholas deflected your comment, quickly looking over to your mother and second oldest brother, Christopher, ‘any fitting suitors I should be aware of?’ As the eldest brother, Nicholas made it his duty to ensure his sisters found good husbands. That meant status and wealth but, above anything else, a good and genteel nature. You remembered how picky he was when Annabelle had been searching for a husband, even more so than your parents. Still, it was something you appreciated about your brother. His protectiveness showed the little heart he still held for you and the rest of your family, as much as he tried to hide it away. 

Your mother bit her cheek, holding in the many thoughts and opinions she must have kept for herself. So did Christopher, who shared a very knowledgeable look of many words with Nicholas, one he understood clearly but you could not decipher just yet. However, you assumed the general message had been sent and received. 

‘If you had seen the choices, brother, you would understand my predicament and situation all too well, believe me.’ Pretending to seem unbothered by the encrypted messages being sent around the room, you preoccupied yourself once more with the needlework. 

‘I believe it is what you believe, sister,’ Nicholas turned back to your mother, ‘do you have a list of names? I shall go through them in the morning, see if it really is as bad as we are being told.’ 

You had wanted to reply, most likely in a dishonourable way, but you held your tongue and fell back in your seat, letting the rest of your family plan out the rest of your life, just like they had always done. 

Unbelievable, Nicholas was home for all of five minutes, and he was already making lists. And knowing him, which you would like to think you did, it was merely a formality for your sake. He would already have a dozen names at the top of his head, ready to send out invitations to men for an audience with you. 

Therefore, you were not surprised when, only a few days later, at the breakfast table, Nicholas told you about all the guests Ridlngton Park would soon be welcoming. 

‘There is Mr Elton, and Mr Brookes will be coming over for tea; I also heard Lord Frankworth is interested in a visit, so is Mr Campbell, and—’ he kept on giving you names, with all of them entering one ear and immediately leaving through your other. You could not care less who wanted to see you, not after spending the last month trying your hardest to escape all of their attempts at promenading, lunching, and chatting of sheer nonsense. 

‘I must ask you to be ready for your first audience before 10; a dress is already prepared in your room.’ Of course, there was a dress. All you could do was smile as you bit into a forkful of egg. 

‘Oh, and there is one gentleman I would particularly like you to meet,’ your father chimed in, almost as if with an afterthought that he recollected at the last minute. You looked up at him apprehensively. ‘I had made a nice acquaintance of his father on our travel. What was his name– Harrolds, no…’  ‘Harrington, father. It was Mr Harrington.’ Nicholas corrected before looking over to you as he shared more. ‘He is a tradesman, quite successful. His only son had joined us on the ship back to England.’ The emphasis on his lineage was made with an apparent inclination. There were no more heirs, meaning the son would inherit the man’s entire wealth. ‘Certainly seems like a reasonable young man, clever too. The two of you will have lots to speak of.’

Well, I certainly cannot wait to meet him,’ you forced out a smile before quickly getting on with your meal despite losing all your appetite. At that moment, your stomach felt like a hollow pit, eating away at you, ironically.

‘You know, if you gave this all a chance, you might find yourself to actually enjoy it in the end,’ your mother commented with a tight lip. 

‘I am sure I shall enjoy it then, as it means that it has all, in fact, ended.’ You sighed deeply, ‘I simply do not understand why this is a must in my life? Why must I marry this instant?’

‘Do not worry, dear. You are still young; you still have plenty of time, ' your father said, missing your point entirely and making you roll your eyes. ‘But your mother is right, too, a more agreeable attitude towards this will make things much easier.’

‘For whom, exactly? Is it for me to enjoy myself, or for everyone else as you will not have to endure me any longer?’

‘Can you really blame us?’ Nicholas mumbled, receiving a kick in the shin in return. He spent the rest of the discussion rubbing the targetted spot on his leg with a pained crease between his brows. You, besides gaining the small victory of maiming your brother, found yourself yet again on the losing side of another family dispute. Like all its predecessors, this battle ended with you pushing back your chair with a harsh scrape of the panelled floor and slugging back to your room where a dress awaited. 

It was beautiful; you could not deny that. Elegant and straightforward, it accented all your finest assets for interested suitors. It was comfortable: not too heavy or too textured in its pattern, it was made of soft material that slipped right on, with the fit of a well-tailored glove. Your hair was pulled up and out of your face, leaving nothing to hide behind. 

‘You look lovely, miss,’ your maid said with a kind smile as she put the final pin in your hair. 

‘Thank you, Claire.’ You muttered, noticing the saddened sympathy enveloping her features as she knew like no other how much you detested everything about what you were about to go through. ‘Have you got any advice? On how to endure it all?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ she shrugged, brushing something off your shoulder. ‘I suppose you could try making them uninterested in you, so they will want to leave sooner.’

‘That thought has crossed my mind,’ you admitted, ‘but I also do not want to put my entire family to shame.’ 

‘Of course, miss.’ Claire nodded. As she finished working on your presentation, you pondered over your possibilities. Indeed, presenting yourself as improper had been your first idea, and its appeal remained, but you were too afraid of the repercussions. If the gentlemen were to think of you as a lady without any manners, all it would do was put your upbringing up for question, something your parents did not deserve whatsoever. 

You also considered spreading gossip about the men coming to introduce themselves, which would scare your mother off them immediately, ensuring they were never to return by your parents’ preference. But it felt cruel to make up such lies. You were sure that in other circumstances, these were perfectly fine men. At this particular moment, you just happened to despise them and everything they stood for.

Perhaps the most appealing option was to simply not attend the audience. To run away and never to return… at least until the afternoon, once all the men had lost all their patience. But that would only cause you more trouble.

The ideas rolled around your head for the rest of the day, even once the suitors sat opposite you in the room. It was all incredibly dull, if not just mortifyingly humiliating, with your mother sitting only across the room, occupying herself with a book, or so it seemed because she most definitely was listening to the conversations attempted on your part.

‘So,’ as most of the dialogues began, the Lord whose name you already forgot spoke, clearing his throat, ‘I hear you read.’

‘Yes, ' you said, blinking to avoid staring too blankly at the wall behind the man, ignoring the balding patch atop his head. 

‘Grand,’ he smiled, somehow satisfied with your response already.

‘Do you… ride?’ you asked, hoping that at the least your mother heard your attempts at making a connection and would release you from this torment soon enough on the principle of your good sportsmanship.

‘No, God no, horses are far too beastly for my liking, unless we are speaking of the track, of course.’ The man scoffed, ‘However, I prefer more dignified activities, such as hunting.’ 

‘Of course, you do,’ you smiled, but the expression never reached your eyes. ‘What about chess? Do you play?’

‘I do not have the patience to commit to such silly games.’

Patience, you thought, or intelligence? And how ironic of him to speak of perseverance. You watched him take another small sandwich from the tea tray provided on a side table, which you were taught to ignore so as not to be observed as “gluttonous”. After all, no one wanted to marry a lady that ate all day. 

Considering that, you grabbed a plate and a piece of cake from the top of the tray and bit into it. The soft sponge melted on your tongue. In the meantime, you were asked a question, but you could not possibly answer with a mouthful of cake, could you? Once you had finished, you considered grabbing a second portion, but you could feel the judgmental look of your mother digging into the back of your head. 

You put the plate back down and your hands on your lap. 

‘I’m sorry, my lord, could you repeat the question, please. I fear I may have lost myself for a moment.’ And so, it continued. Thankfully, the man excused himself not long after, thanking you and your mama for the time, just for his seat to be replaced with someone else almost immediately. This time, the gentleman was significantly younger, with thick hair atop his head and charming eyes, but the second he spoke, you knew this would not reach much further than the comfort of this room. At the least, you did not see this relationship going any further than any of the other acquaintances you had made that day.

By lunchtime, you felt your eyes burning with fatigue, possibly caused by a constant suppression of tears. How much more could you possibly take of this torture?

‘Mr Elton was quite a charmer, was he not?’ Your mother commented as she sipped her tea. 

You suppressed your initial thought, rephrasing it to cause less offence, ‘He is too stubborn and self-centred. He barely let me speak a single word, too occupied by his own achievements to expect me to have any.’ 

‘Well, Lord Frankworth seemed to care very much for what you had to say.’ 

‘Only because he barely managed to string any thoughts together himself,’ you sighed. 

Your mother tightened her grip on the teacup before smiling. ‘Soon enough, we will find you a perfectly fine young man, dear. You just have to remain open-minded.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘Speaking of, your next suitor should be here shortly.’ 

You did everything in your power not to groan at the announcement and instead nodded politely. ‘Who is it?’ 

‘Mr Harrington, the one your father was so keen on you meeting.’

‘Ah,’ yes, the American. The only thing that gave you some slight hope in the situation was that Mr Harrington had already spent plenty of time in the company of your father and brother Nicholas and had seemingly gained their blessing. But nothing could help you gain the energy to entertain yet another man with polite conversation. The sun had been beaming into the room since the early morning, only growing warmer and warmer, making the hairs at the small of your neck stick. 

‘Will you just excuse me for a moment, mother.’ You got up. 

‘Is something wrong?’ She looked suspicious but with a glint of worry in her eye. 

‘I am quite fine, just require some fresh air, I think,’ which was not entirely a lie.

‘Alright then, just make haste, child.’ Mr Harrington was on his way, after all. ‘We do not want to keep the man waiting.’ 

‘Of course not,’ you smiled, heading towards the door. When the large panels closed behind you, you picked up your skirt and ran toward the gardens. Your footsteps echoed through the corridors, and you caught several members of the house staff glancing your way with inquisitive looks. 

Ever since you could remember, the grounds around Ridlington Park had a fantastical power about them. It had been the turf on which you would spend countless childhood summer days playing games with your siblings, whether the competitive or imaginary type. But no matter what the six of you could think of, your favourite game would always remain Hide and Go Seek. The gardens were a perfect place for it, with endless nooks and crannies one could disappear into. It was nearly a giant maze, and you had mastered it from a very young age. Whilst most got lost between the shrubbery and flowers, you knew exactly where you had found yourself. 

There were plenty of hiding spots you enjoyed over the years, some that to this day remain a mystery to the rest of your family, but nonetheless, it was the stables you adored the most. It was a safe haven for you on many days, to the point that you had nearly become invisible to the staff working there. 

The stables were located in the far east corner of the grounds, and the walk towards it already cost more time than you had if you had ever planned on returning that quickly. Undeniably, there was a pinch of shame and guilt nipping at your heart towards the strange Mr Harrington, but that soon dissolved when you heard the neighing of Barley Sugar, a golden-brown mare you proudly called yours. A gift and result of a successful business trade made by your father years ago, the horse technically belonged to all of the Byrnwick children, as much as any of the other horses under the family’s possession, but the bond between you and that particular horse just turned out to be that much stronger. 

This was visible as soon as you entered the stable. Barley Sugar went wild at your presence, happily swinging her head from side to side. 

‘Oh, we can both use an escape, I see,’ you grinned, petting the horse, who leaned into your touch immediately. ‘How about I get you out of here, hmm?’

But your plans were quickly interrupted by a voice. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.’ 

❀❀❀

An average sea voyage from the Americas to England should take approximately 16 days, considering the weather corresponds with the sails of the ship. During this journey, passengers would most likely endure days upon days of heavy and tall waves bashing across the ship’s sides, and that is to be expected in favourable conditions.

As Lord Byrnwick and his eldest had boarded the ship headed to London, the sky had been bright blue, and it did not change far beyond that. There was, of course, a risk for the two of them to sail across the world as they did, them being head of the family and its heir. A journey such as this one can go awry in many ways, and if it were not for the dangers of seafaring, there were the Anglo-American tensions to consider. After all, the previous year's war was still fresh in everyone’s mind, and one could not be careful enough when entertaining both sides. Luckily for the Byrnwicks, they were not of the superstitious kind, and good fortune had always seemed to be in the family’s favour up until the very moment they stepped on the boat to return home, many years beyond that. 

Ever the convivial one, the most considerable success of the trip, according to Lord Byrnwick, was not the business or diplomatic aspects of their ventures but the social. The man immensely enjoyed meeting other like-minded spirits from across the pond, and there had been plenty of fine nights at gentleman’s clubs spent over fine spirits and betting games, discussing all sorts of topics and exchanging information on all subjects. Promises were made to keep in touch whilst arrangements were made for more future meetings. It was only the polite thing to do. 

But aside from acquaintances and business partners, an addition to the household had also been made. Of some sort, that is, for it seemed that the two had found a new groom in America.

Now, Gentle Reader, do not conclude of the worst, as the groom we speak of is not the sort one is meant to meet at an altar but the kind who spends his days tending the horses and carriages. The young man, Mr Munson, had been doing precisely that when the Byrnwick heir stumbled upon his conveyance services in town, in dire need of transport for his regular means, which had already been occupied by his father for the day. It was an encounter by utter chance but certainly one with greater consequences. 

Several days later, coincidentally, a letter from London had arrived. Five pages long, each written by a member of the family recounting their most notable memories of the week. The children spoke of the ton's gossip and anecdotes of what occurred at home. Mother, however, took it upon herself to write of more important matters regarding the household. Many topics had to be discussed, but in the middle of her letter, there was mention of the unfortunate passing of the family’s barn manager, Mr Falstipp. It was an unexpected death, leaving the entire house in shock as the man had been working for the family for longer than the children had been alive. But it also resulted in the question of what was to be done now? 

It was likely only because the interaction had been so fresh in his mind that Nicholas suggested finding a replacement for Mr Falstipp here in America. This was an unusual offer, as his father commented, especially since they would not leave for home until another few days, but that was to be resolved by having the footmen take care of the horses for the time being. Besides, Nicholas was sure his siblings would be more than happy to help with the chores. 

The next day, he returned to the public stables and immediately noted how much cleaner they seemed than any other in town. The horses also looked exceptionally well taken care of and content. 

Mr Munson had just been feeding a colt when Nicholas eagerly announced, ‘Mr Munson, may I offer you a proposition?’ 

This, to no surprise, startled the other man for various reasons. ‘Sir?’ 

‘This must be a peculiar request, but you see, as of recently, my family has found itself in need of a new stablehand and from what I have seen you do, you, sir, would be the perfect candidate.’ Nicholas had the smile of a man losing his sanity, but his words could not be more genuine. 

‘Your family—’ Munson blinked, ‘you mean in London.’

‘Yes, and I understand that this might be a problem, but trust me when I say that you will most certainly find England to your liking, Mr Munson.’

‘Please, call me Eddie.’ 

‘As you wish,’ Nicholas agreed. 

Eddie pondered over the offer for a short moment. It would have taken him no time to decide if it was not for what he was to leave behind, but he knew that his current employer would be able to find his replacement in no time, as jobs in town were hard to come by. 

But what must have been even more challenging to obtain was a ticket out of the wasteland he called home. For years, he had dreamt of an escape, never imagining it to be possible, and suddenly, here comes this stranger offering it to him on a silver platter. 

It would be terrifying to move so far away, he knew that, with many risks, but the further away he could manage to go from where he was now, the better. 

Eventually, after a minute of silence that left Nicholas restless and on the verge of embarrassment, Eddie smiled: ‘It would be my pleasure to work for you, sir.’ And he had meant that wholeheartedly. While it had only been a short few interactions that he had had with the man, the young Mr Byrnwick had already shown Eddie far more kindness than any of his prior employers, or any other man in his life, for a fact. Most importantly, the man knew nothing about Eddie’s past, which must have been the biggest selling point in the life-changing choice. 

‘Marvelous. You will not regret this, Eddie.’ Nicholas leaned in to shake his hand, only to realise that Eddie was still carrying the giant bucket of feed. ‘Well, we shall finalise everything on the boat, shall we?’ And so they did. 

A week later, Eddie found himself still in shock at his circumstances. He could not believe he was really to be leaving for England until the moment he set foot on the boat, and even once the sails had set and the American coast was nothing but a grim line on the horizon, the fact did not seem to settle in his mind just yet. 

Over the next 16 days, he had encountered the Byrnwicks only a handful of times. First, to meet Lord Byrnwick who, as head of the household, wanted a final say on the matter. A bit late, thought  Eddie, as the boat had long departed the harbour by then, but his ticket had already been paid for, and thus, he had little else to complain about. He had quickly made peace with the idea that he could make his new life across the ocean work no matter the circumstances. He had done it before, so what is one more homeless night under a new sky?

But the lord seemed all too happy to have found his staff replacement. Overall, the man was nothing like Eddie had expected a gentleman of English high society to be. From his previous experiences, the type often was rather conceited and arrogant, with a transparent opinion of anyone below their class. His new employer and his son, while undoubtedly lordly, had a modest nature about them. Quickly, Eddie had also gathered that the spontaneity with which Nicholas Byrnwick had called upon him for a job opportunity was not uncharacteristic of him, as the young man was rather energetic in his step and impulsive in his actions. 

But no matter how unassuming the men were, they did belong to a different rank of man and, therefore, stayed on the boat to the upper decks, engaging with the rest of their kind. 

The travel moved on slowly, but in the end, it was also a mere blink of an eye moment, and before he had realised it, Eddie had reached the shores of England. It was another day or two of travel to be done by horse. A carriage had been acquired for Nicholas and his father, but Eddie and the rest of the staff that travelled with the family for their adventure rode on horseback. No matter how much Eddie enjoyed the form of transportation, it was a tiring experience after several hours, but it also allowed him to meet the people he was to work with and, through that, those he would work for. 

‘So, what is the rest of the family like,’ he asked Mr Trowbridge, the lord’s valet. If there was anyone who could tell Eddie something, it would be this man. 

‘Well,’ Mr Trowbridge had a particularly nasal tone about his voice that especially came forward at the beginning of his sentences, ‘I do not believe there is much to tell. They are as any other family, really.’ 

‘My good man, you can hardly expect me to believe there is nothing worth telling about these people,’ Eddie laughed. ‘If it puts your mind at ease, I am only asking for the simplest facts—nothing to interest my fancy.’

The valet pondered over this for a moment. ‘Very well. You have, of course, met the Viscount and his eldest.’ He took a moment for Eddie to respond with a nod in agreement. He then took another moment to consider his following words. The longer he took, the more keen Eddie felt to suggest what to speak of. 

‘What about Lady Byrnwick?’

‘Lady Byrnwick is most amiable and has a very caring character, but you will not find her in the stables often unless she is searching for her children.’

‘Not fond of horses, is she?’

‘Rather the outside—-’ Trowbridge cleared his hair vigorously. ‘In the sense that the sun and pollen often leave her poorly. But the children…’ he punctuated his half-sentence with a heavy sigh. 

‘They are a handful?’ Eddie assumed. To this, Trowbridge searched for another description but found himself lacking the vocabulary, leading to a confirmation. 

‘I have worked for this family for nearly three decades, and I will assure you that each member is as proper a member of society as the next. While boisterous, they have been taught to be independent individuals.’ The valet's tone made Eddie consider how much of their good decorum was in gratitude for the man’s own intervention and guidance. 

‘At 27 years, Nicholas is the eldest, and the responsibilities of this role are one of the few aspects of his life which he takes seriously, I cannot put any doubt behind that.’ Indeed, whilst extremely impetuous, the heir’s son also understood the duties of his position and towards his family. 

‘Then there is Christopher. The boy has immense athletic abilities but not much beyond that. For a young man of his age of five and twenty, one would assume he would be able to compose himself with a bit more propriety, but it is very difficult for him. He is adventurous and rarely can sit still for an extended period of time, including his mouth. It is suggested that people be careful of what they say around the man.

‘The eldest daughter, Annabelle, married just before we had departed for America, thus is now the lady of her own house.’ Something in his tone suggested he was sad to see the young woman leave home. This possibly has to do with the fact that Miss Annabelle (Now known as Duchess Annabelle Ramsbury) was the most dutiful and respectful of the six children. ‘The marriage had been long overdue as she had just turned 22 on the day of the ceremony, but a love match was found nonetheless.’ The valet guffawed with pride. It was clear to Eddie that, while considering them a nuisance, the man cared deeply for the family he served.

‘I must admit, Trowbridge,’ Eddie chuckled in this horse’s trot pattern over the uneven paths. ‘When you began speaking of the family, I had imagined the children to be… well, children.’

‘How old are you, Munson?’ Trowbridge asked, somewhat bluntly. 

‘Twenty, sir.’ Perhaps closer to his next birthday than the last.

‘Ah, just the age of the second daughter then,’ he nodded in agreement. ‘She may perhaps be the most… rebellious of the kin. It is all in good spirit, as you must imagine, and I am sure the interest in such nonsense will dwindle as she matures. She is also the most fond of the family horses; thus, you will see her quite often, I expect. But as her sibling, she has mastered the care for the animals as well as the equipment.’ 

As he spoke of your skills, something about Trowbridge's expression communicated particular dismay to Eddie. ‘Is that bad? For a young woman to know how to carry herself around a horse?’ He, for one, certainly did not see a problem in it. On the contrary, it was an instrumental skill to develop for anyone. 

‘It is not exactly lady-like, is it?’ Trowbridge spoke as if that was the only relevant argument on the matter. Eddie had learned from a very young age that some opinions were better left unsaid, and seeing him as the senior in age and position, Eddie thought it unwise to argue with the valet on his first official day of employment. He instead simply nodded in understanding. Instead, he opted to continue the civil interrogation—

‘What of the youngest two? What are they like?’

‘Fitzwilliam is a dapper fellow. He is but seventeen, but very accomplished, though I cannot say he knows how to put his acquired skills to good use. He has ambitions that cannot be denied; it is just a question of whether these ambitions can ever be met. 

‘And lastly, we have Miss Marjorie. A darling girl, I assure you,’ Trowbridge stated. I can only suggest not letting her size fool you, Munson. She has managed to wrap her family around her little fingers the moment she learned to mumble a word, leaving her to cause quite the ruckus for the past eleven years.’ 

‘I do not see how that involves me, Sir,’ Eddie said. By this time, the sun had begun to set over the fields they passed, and soon, the company would break for their overnight travels at a nearby inn. 

‘It had come to my attention over the years that Mr Falstipp–the previous groom, that is— had been quite lenient on the children and their usage of the horses. This has caused a number of incidents that I would rather not see a repetition of.’

‘Understood.’ 

‘I am unaware of your er– American customs,’ the valet began his lecture, ‘but you must also know that here, ladies are not to ride unaccompanied—something that has been protested in the family to no avail, but it is simply the procedure. There must always be a chaperone nearby to supervise, whether that is a senior member of the family or an entrusted member of the household.’ 

‘I do not expect to have gained that trust just yet,’ Eddie said earnestly.

‘But let us hope you will.’ The smile Trowbridge gave Eddie was kind at first glance, but the movement of his eyes that inspected him told an entirely different story. He knew he still had much to learn about navigating himself around the kinds of people that were the Byrnwicks, even those who worked for them. The moment he set foot on English soil, he knew it would be challenging to fit in if he ever planned to do so. 

The truth is that he did not plan such a change. For you see, Dear Reader, Mr Eddie Munson was also a radical. He did not believe in adapting to society, which was visible in his entire being. One can also imagine the struggle he had to endure when given a uniform to wear. Frankly, the ensemble did not differ much from how the man dressed himself before, but the simple fact that he was told to wear this particular set of clothing upset him severely. 

On the first day after his arrival at Ridlington Park, he had managed to justify himself out of dressing in the required clothing by claiming that the trousers were a smidgen too tight. Without another size available, he was told to wear the clothes on his back until the new, fitted attire arrived.

But the clothes did not even begin to reach the problem of the horses he was meant to care for. 

Turned out, while he had been given all sorts of warnings against the family, what Eddie should have been preparing for was the beasts that homed the stables. The stubborn animals would not let him touch them, and any attempts were met with angry stares and stomping of the hooves. 

‘Easy, there,’ Eddie spoke as softly as he could, taking small steps in any direction that would not enrage the stallion whom he was currently attempting to feed. White Liquorice, a white Arabian, was undoubtedly an animal worthy of a viscount, and from the moment he had stepped into the Ridlington Park stables, Eddie knew that the Kentucky Saddlers and Quarter Horses he grew up with were no match for these and he would quickly have to learn to get on with them if he was to stay here. 

Yes, the first days were hard, but not even one week later, he had gotten used to the rhythm of operations. It helped that, working as the barn manager, he was the one in charge and mostly left alone. Mr Trowbridge had visited him to ensure he was adjusting to the new working conditions, which was kind, but besides that, Eddie rarely saw anyone but footmen requesting the carriage to be prepared for the family. 

That is until one afternoon when he heard the doors open and someone walking inside. He had been around the corner of the stables, cleaning some grooming tools. 

‘Oh, we can both use an escape, I see,’ he heard the intruder speak. It was soft and gentle, most likely referring to one of the horses. Immediately, Eddie was reminded of one of the conversations shared with Lord Byrnwick’s valet. He swiftly got up from his seat and immediately found the culprit. 

He watched you pet one of the horses—Barley Sugar, was it—-petting her in a way he had not yet managed to do confidently. ‘How about I get you out of here, hmm?’ These words triggered him to jump into action. 

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.’ He stepped forward, but his words startled you, causing you to turn around. As you did so, your foot got caught in an old set of bridles Eddie had still planned on detangling and putting away. The surprise coming with the unexpected presence of someone else, combined with the awkward position of your foot, led you to fall over with a shriek. 

Eddie cursed under his breath as he watched you huff on the ground. ‘Let me help you,’ he extended his hand to you, ‘and my apologies, it was not my intent to—’ 

‘Who are you?’ you said in a tone that could only be deemed skittish, if not directly fearful, but not enough to deny his offer to help you stand. Your reaction was validated as you had never met the man standing before you. You eyed him up and down, and the more details you noticed, the more you were sure that you had just stumbled upon a robbery, nay, a kidnapping. 

The man's presentation spoke for itself, truly. His long hair was dark and unkept, well over his shoulders. His clothes were nothing like the workers around your house were meant to dress like, making him stick out like a very sore thumb. The trousers were old and worn, and the shirt was loose over his upper body, revealing—oh god, was that a tattoo?

It was clear this is how you were to die.

‘Are you here to steal my horses?’ you blurted out before you could think. 

‘What?’ He blinked. ‘No, please, listen—’ but you did no such thing. Instead, you did the only thing a lady in distress could do. 

You screamed bloody murder. 

‘Help! Anyone! Help—’  you would have kept on going, shouting over his attempt at reason until he finally shut you up by placing his hand over your mouth, his other hand sturdily over your upper arm. The two of you stood there for a moment, chests both heaving in all forms of panic, listening for footsteps or any other presence, but the only sound was the soft breathing of the animals around you. 

‘I will let go now, miss,’ Eddie said slowly. Both your eyes were wide from the uncultivated situation that had just occurred. ‘And I will explain everything to you, just, please—and I beg you— do not scream.’ You nodded your head beneath his palm in agreement. Eddie counted to three as he stepped back and finally let go of you. Despite him never blocking your airways, you inhaled deeply. 

‘There is absolutely no reason to panic, ma’am.’ His accent was distant, one you had never had the pleasure of hearing before. His eyes, large and dark, locked you in, almost making you lose count of the lingering feeling of his hands on your body. He had given you a moment before he continued speaking, ensuring that you would not resume your screaming or make a run for it.

‘What is your reason of being here?’ You inquired. 

‘I work here. Have been, for the past week. I think it was your brother, in fact, that gave me the position. We met on his travels.’ 

Now, come to think of it, you remembered your family's conversation on the day your father and brother returned. There had been talk of new staff—a young man they had brought along with them from America as an official replacement for the late Mr Falstipp. But that did not explain his attire. 

‘You could be fired for breaking the dress code alone, you know. Not to mention for the, uhm, actions you had just performed.’ You commented.

‘Well, you can always report me, miss.’ Eddie, against all his better judgement, smiled. 

‘Maybe I should.’ Your heart was still pounding, and you felt so disoriented that even a simple smile made your head spin. ‘What is your name?’

‘Eddie.’

‘Well, Mr Eddie—’ you began, just to be quickly interrupted.

‘No, just Eddie.’ Eddie shook his head.

‘What do you mean? Do you have no family name?’ You had heard of men bringing in street urchins to work for them, but surely, this man was too old for such charity. And you could not imagine your brother to perform such acts of kindness anyway.

‘I do.’ His smile only widened in amusement at the conversation. ‘Eddie Munson.’

‘My, is it usual in America to introduce oneself like that?’ Never had you heard of a man introducing himself by only his first name, let alone a byname. 

‘It is usual to me,’ he quipped, ‘And it is more common than not introducing yourself at all.’ The way in which he looked up at you from under his lashes felt accusatory, but you could not find it within you to be upset at the critique, so you gave him your name instead. 

‘Pleasure to meet you, Miss Byrnwick.’ He gave you a small, polite bow that reminded you more of how children play Lord and Lady rather than a gentlemanly act. Next thing you knew, a smile was pulling at the corner of your lips, and a small giggle was ready to escape. 

For some reason, you hesitated to say your following words: ‘It is a pleasure, Mr Munson.’

‘Please, call me Eddie.’ While always respecting the titles of others, Eddie never saw himself as one to follow such formalities. 

‘That is most improper.’ You held back the urge to scoff. 

‘But I insist.’ There was something in the corner of his eye that you managed to catch a glimpse of—this spark that no sunlight or fire could match. It was pure mischief, a spirit of chaos. But still, to call a man you barely knew by his first name was simply not right. Your family may jest as they please about your rebelling attitude to primitive customs, but you had to admit that some things ought to be done in a proper manner. And this was certainly not it. 

However, Mr Munson saw it in another light but did not find enough of an interest in the subject enough to argue it further. Rather, he cleared his throat briefly and observed you for a moment. 

How silly you must look in your fancy dress! Your hair was done up to match, and your shoes were most likely covered in mud. There was also no doubt that he had overheard you talking to your horse about running away. You had good faith that he could connect the pieces to form the complete picture. 

A bird flew past a window, making you glance past Eddie’s shoulder in haste. 

‘I hope I am not keeping you from any other plans, miss?’ He finally asked. Could you be so bold as to admit that he was saving you from other commitments by conversing with you?

‘No, of course, not Mr Munson,’ you persisted. ‘I am simply cautious.’ Come to think of it, your screams must have been heard all around the grounds. If those who heard, in turn, had an ounce of common sense amongst them, they would have called for someone in the house. If that was the case, your mother would be here momentarily, and then it was back to the house for you. All you could do now was hide. 

‘May I ask what are you being cautious of?’ Eddie followed you with his eyes as you walked through the stables, looking for a hiding spot. 

‘If you must know, I am currently on the run,’ you stated while looking over a haystack in the far corner. 

‘Ah, so whilst you had accused me of being a criminal, it was you who had been committing the crimes then? Should I now scream for help?’

‘I’d rather you didn’t, ' you said, attempting to climb the hay to get past it. ‘I have already brought much too much attention to myself.’ Your foot slipped, making you tumble back down to the ground. The accident made you stop for a moment before attempting to climb again, looking over your shoulder at the man. ‘Are you not going to even try and stop me?’ 

‘Oh,’ it was as if he had awakened from a deep thought or had just realised that what you suggested was exactly what he ought to do. ‘Well, would you listen if I told you not to climb up there?’ 

You pondered his question for a short moment. ‘No, I highly doubt it.’ Thus, you resumed your climbing. As you did, you heard the shuffling of his feet behind you. The next time you slipped up, this time from a far higher distance, he had been in precisely the right place to catch you in his arms. 

‘I cannot assure you I will be able to catch you once more, so it is in good conscience that I suggest you stop, ma’am,’ he said as you got back to your feet. 

‘You are right,’ you admitted. Then you realised just how close the two of you stood and quickly occupied yourself by looking for another hiding place. That is when you noticed it. You had spent years in this stable and knew every inch of the space, yet… ‘Have you moved things around?’ You looked back at Eddie. 

‘Only a little. I’m afraid my predecessor did not have a flair for organisation,’ he explained.

‘That may be so, but I would prefer you would put things back as they were.’ 

‘Excuse me?’ Eddie could not help but laugh at the demand.

‘Your new floor plan has completely disoriented me, ' you admitted. ‘It is unbecoming.’

‘My apologies. I will be sure to put things back as they were, then.’ His laugh still echoed his words.

You had not expected him to actually agree to this request. ‘You will?’ But quickly, you regained your composure and tried to hide the surprise in your voice. ‘Very well, thank you. Then, since you have discarded all of my possible hiding locations, what do you suggest I should do?’ 

‘I suggest you run.’ But it was not Eddie who had answered you. 

‘Mother, ' you gasped. What was it, in God’s good name, with everyone sneaking up on you today? Lady Byrnwick stood at the threshold of the stables with her arms crossed. Her lips tightened into a thin line as she took a step inside. You prepared yourself for a disciplinary outburst, but instead, your mother focused on the man standing next to you. 

‘You must be Mr Munson.’ The kindness in her voice was laughable. The overcompensation of her kindness threw both you and Eddie off. 

‘Yes, Ma’am.’ You noticed that he bowed his head in a much more orderly fashion than he had done to you. 

‘I hope my daughter has not been too much of a nuisance.’ 

‘Not at all.’ Eddie politely replied. 

‘Good, good. Well, I can already see that my son did a good job in finding you,’ she stated as she looked around the retouched interior. ‘And I hope that you will grow to enjoy England.’

‘I’ve had nothing to complain of yet.’ Eddie proudly said with that smile of his, and for a moment, you thought to have caught his eyes on you for just a second. Your mother nodded along with his words in satisfaction, but this cheeriness dissipated as soon as she directed herself to you. 

‘Has your headache cleared, dear?’ Her eyes were spitting fire. 

‘Yes, mother.’ 

‘Then we will be on our way.’ She stepped aside, giving you room to walk outside. ‘Goodbye, Mr Munson.’ Eddie had become the unintentional victim of the venom that perferred your mother's words. 

He was polite enough to look away as you made your shameful walk through the aisle between the horses’ stalls, but you couldn’t help but look behind you one final time as you left and catch his favourable grin. What a peculiar man he was, indeed—one whose presence you immediately began to miss. 

Perhaps that was because of the company you were in at the time. 

‘Have you gone completely mad?’ Your mother scowled. ‘Mr Harrington has been waiting for well over half an hour.’

‘He is still here?’ You stopped in your tracks. This day could not have gone any worse. It seemed like everything you had been doing was working in your favour.

‘Yes, so you better come up with a clever excuse for your tardiness as I will not be embarrassed any longer. I swear, have you no shame?’

‘I am truly sorry mother, I had lost track of the time.’

‘Doing what exactly? What were you doing in the stables, exactly? Considering you had told me you were going out for some fresh air.’ Yes, the air around the horses was not exactly to be called “fresh.” 

Unfortunately, you had no satisfying answer to any of your mother’s questions. Come to it, you yourself were unsure what exactly had brought you there in the first place, not to mention what made you stay. It must have been a sense of child-like naivete to think you could hide from your problems the way you attempted. 

Problems that were coming closer as Mr Harrington walked towards you through the aisle of hyacinths that grew all around you in various colours. 

‘What is he doing here?’ you mumbled towards your mother.

‘Considering the lovely weather, I had offered for us to sit out in the gardens.’ Your mother spoke out loud. That is when you noticed the set table and chairs under a large parasol on the patio. 

‘I hope you do not mind. I took the initiative of taking a stroll in your absence.’ Mr Harrington spoke in a cadence that would have been new to you if not for the fact that you had spent the last hour in the presence of a very similar tone. 

‘Of course, not,’ your mother had regained her ability to smile. ‘May I introduce my daughter.’ And so she did. 

‘I am sorry to have kept you waiting, sir. I completely lost track of time.’ You apologised and were ready to offer your hand to Mr Harrington when you noticed how filthy your gloves had become. In a panic, you pushed both your hands behind your back, trying to distract the man with a wide grin.

‘The important thing is that we are all here now,’ he manoeuvred, which you could not help but agree with, then led you to the patio. 

The next hour went by faster than you had ever imagined it would. Mr Steve Harrington turned out to be not only a great conversationalist but a rather fascinating one at that. It was only a fault of your own that you were distracted for a larger part of the conversation. There was simply something about the man’s brown eyes that constantly reminded you of somewhere else. He was very charming and, abiding by your brother’s promises, had a great, though perhaps somewhat awkward, wit. It seemed that his confidence, once clearly overt, had been lowered, causing him to stumble over his words at times and laugh at his own mistakes in a deprecating manner, but never enough to make it a bother in your eyes. Truly, it was all rather endearing.

But you could not, for the life of you, figure out what exactly caused these fumblings in his character, as nothing seemed to be particularly wrong with the man. Though you did not see him as an academic or scholar of any sort, from the way he spoke, you could tell he was one of the more clever men you had the fortune of meeting. And his looks were certainly no topic of discussion either. He was tall and lean, with a wonderful smile and soft brown hair that apparently was more common than imagined, as were those dark eyes and the way he held you in his arms—

You took a sip of the cold water as Mr Harrington expressed his gratitude to your mother for the audience and made sure the message would be conveyed to Lord Byrnwick, too. You nodded and smiled along. Even when he bid you farewell and bowed his head, your mind was elsewhere. As if expecting something to emerge from behind the hyacinths, you could not help but glance in the Eastern direction of the gardens. 

‘See, it was not all that bad, was it?’ your mother immediately said, pulling you back to the patio. By then, Mr Harrington had excused himself and was crossing the patio to the exit from the grounds but had turned briefly for a final goodbye, which you met with a polite wave. 

‘No, I suppose you are right, mother.’ You had persevered against all odds. As you watched the gentleman leave, you felt quite content with the meeting—happy, some would even say. The only problem was that you could not make quite clear what, or rather, who brought on this particular mood.

Chapter 2

Thank you so much for reading!! I really do hope you enjoyed this chapter. Remember the best way to support writers is to reblog and share. I love to hear what people think of my stories so feel free to leave a comment or an ask or message.

[always-just-red]

@irandial and @micasosa34 requested a Rafayel version of this fic, so here it is!! This is a loose sequel, but mostly a spin-off? Also an emotional rollercoaster, sorry! (I fear I put too much of myself in this one, guys... there will be no beating the 'oh you are ACTUALLY in love with this man' allegations after this.....)

Fourth Wall (Rafayel Ver.)

Rafayel x Player!Reader 🔥

(Previous part/Sylus version here!)

Summary: You didn't think Rafayel would let you walk around an art gallery all by yourself, did you?

Genre: Angst! This is my revenge for the claw machine debacle (Checkmate, Rafayel!!! But also I'm sorry and I love you)

Warnings/Additional tags: player!reader, gender neutral, fourth-wall breaking, non-canon, one instance of swearing

| Word count: 2.4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

You made it through about two rooms of the gallery before thinking about Rafayel.

You stand in front of a dark seascape: a night sky and a symmetrically black ocean framing the plight of a small fishing boat, adrift in the centre. The moon casts a pale, faraway light, and an orange lantern glows, drawing colour from the oppressive darkness— deep blues, and rich, shimmering turquoise, crested with white.

It should evoke some feeling of smallness, some respect for the vast indifference of the natural world, but no— your mind is set on the fictional artist who lives in your phone.

What would he think about it? What would he have to say?

At the moment, you suspect it would be some remark about how you should get your own opinion, rather than piggybacking his.

Still, it gives you an idea. You glance around self-consciously as you draw out your phone and earphones— tucking the latter into your ears as you offer a curt smile to the nearby gallery attendant. You’re not breaking any rules by loading up Love and Deepspace, but it feels slightly ridiculous in a place like this: full of real and honest things where you’re somehow lonely.

You log-in with a tap. “Let’s go to the beach,” Rafayel greets, his voice as warm as sunshine that melts a cold morning haze. “I never get tired of seeing the sunset there.”

You smile more sincerely, tousling his hair, but then it’s straight to business. You drag him into the AR Photobooth, directing him through a few poses until you find one you like: a duo pose. His fingers are meant to be around your chin, but without you, he seems to be pointing. Perfect, you shift— tilting your phone until the painting sits behind him.

He’s winking at you as he gestures to it, his face and body as still as marble.

You’re about to take the picture when a not-so-distant conversation strikes up, making you glance backwards. Another visitor is asking the attendant about a painting, and you lower your phone’s volume a notch so you can eavesdrop on them.

“This is one of Turner’s earliest paintings, y’know? He was young when he painted it. Like, super young.”

You freeze. The attendant and the visitor aren’t standing by a Turner painting; you are. Your gaze snaps back to your phone, drawn by the familiarity of the voice.

Rafayel’s turned away from you. He’s staring at the painting, one hand on his hip and the other up by his face, stroking his chin. He’s swaying on his feet gently, his head tilting as he takes in different parts of the seascape.

“You gonna take the picture, cutie?” he asks, glancing back at you with a knowing grin.

Your lips have parted slightly in surprise, but your finger manages to find the photo button. Rafayel returns to his candid observations just in time for your screen to flicker, mimicking a camera flash. 

“Ok, one more.” He turns around and settles into a new pose. You take another photo. “Nice,” he beams, “you’ll send those to me later, yeah?”

But you can’t—

“Relax, ok? I’m kidding. Now come on,” he pokes at the edge of your screen like a mime trapped by an invisible box. “Move this thing! I wanna see what else they’ve got here.”

You do move, but not to show him around. He gets a blurry view of the floor as you hurry over to a nearby bench, sinking down with a sigh because you can’t believe this is happening— again. With a few taps of your finger, you draw the curtains on Rafayel’s view to your world and return him to his.

“No, no, no! What?” he groans in disbelief, suddenly back in the Destiny Café. He throws himself into the armchair with reckless abandon— limbs sprawled— one hand over his face as though it would pain him to look on anything at all. “You find out I’m self-aware and the first thing you do is drag me back here? Where’s your heart? Your empathy? Your soul?”

You poke at his hand and he swats at the air like you’re bothering him.

“Leave me alone. Can’t you see I’m busy, like, contemplating the futility of my existence?”

So dramatic! You consider closing the app out of spite, but this is Rafayel. You know Rafayel; look past the theatrics. It’s been, what— just over a month since Sylus first told you he’d seen through all of this? He said the others were lagging behind, but maybe…

Maybe they weren’t.

Shit. Maybe they weren’t.

You watch Rafayel, sunken down in one of two places you’ve seen him inhabit every day, every night, for almost a year. This café isn’t different from the old in any way that matters. Sylus is new but Rafayel has been here from the very beginning. So many more days. So many more nights.

How long has he known?

He lifts his hand, just enough to peer in your direction. You’ve not closed the app. You’re not poking at him anymore. He sits up straighter in the chair, both hands in his lap, and he looks at them pensively. Maybe even remorsefully.

“You’re thinking about what it all means, huh? Don’t.” It’s a command, but it’s soft. Then softer, a: “Please?”

Your breath catches— oh— he’s known for a long time, hasn’t he? You lean back against the gallery wall, grounding yourself as you text him an emoji: a chick bursting out of its shell with question marks over its head.

He pulls out his phone. Sees it. “Why?” he translates with a melancholic chuckle.

Yeah. You tickle his head. Why?

He runs a hand through his hair. “I guess… I didn’t want you to feel bad?”

You text another emoji and he glances down at it, then laughs more loudly: “I’m a dummy? Check a mirror, cutie— isn’t it you who’s been walking around thinking Mister Wannabe Vampire is the only one smart enough to figure this all out? Puh-lease.”

He laughs even more at his own joke— maybe to fill the quiet and the fact that he can’t hear you laughing with him. It peters out like it inevitably must, and like it always does. He goes still.

“Can’t you show me around, even a little?” he asks.

No.

You feel bad, you do, but you can’t start living for him. This is your world; if you invite him in now, when does it stop? You already spend too much time with your head down, lost in your phone. You were walking through a gallery and thinking about him, remember? Art is supposed to make you think about something real.

No, you text him: a crow holding a sign with a big, red cross. It’s too abrupt, but there’s not an emoji for “I can’t. You know I can’t.”

Rafayel’s face falls further as he checks his phone, his eyes like the ocean in the painting across the room: lit by a weak, failing little light. He looks to you, even though he can’t see you. “Please?”

You don’t move.

“Please,” he tries again, “just this once— this once. Is that so much to ask?”

You’ve used up your three means of answering him.

He scoffs in dismay, alone in the silence of everything you can’t say— you couldn’t say— even if you were really with him and the distance between you was merely invented. How could you go to him, hold his face in your hands and tell him the truth: that you care, but not enough?

Here, now: the quiet confesses it for you.

Rafayel stands from his seat, taking a step closer, his gaze dark. You can see his eyes more clearly; that lantern is at the bottom of the sea, with the rest of the ship and everyone on board. “Do you know what my life is?” he asks, and the silence has become his ally, punctuating his every word so it can cut more deeply. “My life’s an empty café, a book with blank pages and a phone that won’t ring.”

The curtains behind him move softly with a superficial breeze, lit by a superficial sun.

“The only thing that’s real,” he says, “is you.”

You feel like the breath’s been knocked from your lungs.

You can’t resent him for it. He could have drowned you from the start, could have dragged you under a weight of responsibility, but he didn’t, and that’s Rafayel: always tempering himself into something less lethal. He’s been so still for you. So silent for you.

Your mind is wrapped in a vow you made him— one you’ve been unconsciously breaking— and you’re going to break it again, knowingly, wilfully this time, because you want him like this: angry.

You promised, didn’t you? I will never make Rafayel wait for me.

He’s always been waiting, and you want him to stop.

You close the app, muting your phone when notifications start coming through: a squall of frustration, pleading, and frantic apologies. You tuck all of it into your pocket and stand, wandering back to the painting that started it all so you can look at it differently.

Something real to think about. Something real.

You stare at a black ocean and think about him.

…

Rafayel isn’t talking to you.

It’s been a week since your ‘breakup’— dubbed gleefully as such by Sylus— and you load up the game to find your artist slumped back in his armchair, his book over his face. A week of him sitting down, cross-legged and armed, during the Deepspace Trials you’d set out to clear with him. A week of him hogging the Claw Machine, and missing every rare plushie with a sarcastic ‘oops’.

The worst part is that you’ve missed him. You’d tried replaying the kindled moments from his five-star memories, but he’d made you regret it. In Sparkling Traces, he’d summed up his feelings in a very… colourful drawing. Omnipotent Perception: he’d slipped deeper into the bathwater, a blush on his face as he avoided your gaze and murmured something about you ‘having some nerve.’

Now, you can’t even call him over to you. You poke at the book on his face, once, twice, then repeatedly until it slips, but his hands shoot up to catch it. He holds it in place.

Ugh. If he would just—

You drum away at the book more vivaciously, but his grip is solid. Plan B, then: you open your in-game messages and send an emoji instead. Rafayel stirs, one hand moving to his pocket and the other lifting the book so he can peek down at his phone. “What— you tryna bribe me now?”

He’s looking at grumpy crow holding out a present: a bundle of shiny, red gems. His translation is spot-on, as per usual, and you reward it by poking at his chest. He frowns down at the contact, then sits up, rolling his eyes as he tosses the book over his shoulder.

“This better be good,” he yawns, standing up and stretching with a listlessness that could only be described as cat-like, however much he’d whine about the comparison.

Having won his attention— and begrudging consent— you navigate your way to the AR Photobooth. Rafayel stares at you from within the frame: an unwitting subject of a portrait he doesn’t yet understand, but he soon will. You smile as he turns cautiously to regard his backdrop.

Behind him, the ocean laps at a shore of pale sand and stretches into the horizon, where the sun lazily dips. There’s about half of it left, turning the sky a blurred palette of orange and pink that’s spilled over the water. Clouds are few and dark purple, their linings aglow.

Rafayel’s folded arms have dropped to his sides. After a few, long seconds, he gazes back in your direction, eyes wide with surprise before they soften with a radiant smile.

“You—” he starts, and it could be something as light as a joke or as deep as a soliloquy. You’ll never know, because he doesn’t put it to words. He glances at the ocean again. Then at you. “Thanks,” he settles for.

You chuckle. There’s not many ways you can answer without tearing him away from the sunset and trapping him back in the café, so you stay sitting still. It’s a different silence than a week ago. There are things unsaid, but that’s ok— they’re the sort you don’t need to speak aloud, anyway.

Your shoes are set aside by your feet so you can feel the sand, still warm beneath your toes. You wiggle them into it, gazing out over the ocean as the evening breeze catches and plays with your hair, and the last of the sun trails over your skin. You stare out at where it’s sinking.

Rafayel moves, and your focus meanders back to your phone. He’s walking away from you, gradually— retreating further into the composition you’ve created, just for him. He looks as though he’s nearing the shore, but it’s cosmetic: there are no footprints in the sand. His hair isn’t moved by the same breeze, and his face isn’t gilded by the same light.

He stops by the ocean’s edge and crouches gently, mesmerised by the push and pull of the tide. Slowly, humbly, he reaches out a hand and lowers his fingers towards the water; they never slip beneath the surface, and they don’t stir a ripple.  

Rafayel laughs, masking an undertow of sadness, but not disappointment. “It’s funny,” he says, still sketching invisible, ineffectual shapes. “Loving the ocean as much as I do, and knowing… knowing I’ll never touch it.”

He’s all the way over there, but his voice is in your ears, so intimately close. You swallow an ache.

He looks up at you. Smiles: “Y’know what I mean?”

You’re using memories to complete the picture: His hair, mussed by the summer breeze that day you stood amongst the cherry blossoms. His face, painted by the sunset of a different life, where you’d roamed a desert together. In each and every moment, his eyes are the same, just as they are now: kindled by a tender, tentative fire.

“Yeah, Raf,” you say to yourself— just yourself. “I know what you mean.”

[lillylvjy]

Tender is the night (for a broken heart)

A/n// hello! So I’ve been writing this fic for… a long time. But it’s also one of my fav fics I’ve wrote so far, and it means a lot to me. It is long but! It’s cute so, enjoy! Also, if it seems like it’s everywhere, I’m so sorry. I tried to make it as connected and sensible as I could!

Warnings// kissing, some sexual innuendos at the end ig, hurt/comfort, reader being insecure, crying, swearing, panic attack, a lot of fluff at the end, Sarah being a bitch. (Please tell me if I missed anything!)

Edited and 5.5k words!

When you and Wilbur started dating, you thought it was a joke.

Wilbur was the smart and nerdy, yet extremely attractive and well known kid. He was the lead trumpet in the band and a straight A student. He liked to play guitar for small gigs at your local coffee shop, but it was also the same place he worked at on a regular day basis after school.

And you. You were the smart and nerdy kid that no one really knew. You always kept to yourself. You were usually sitting at one of the corner tables at lunch watching the group of girls crowd around Wilbur. You worked at the diner down the street from the café as a waitress. You wrote poetry for fun and put your art in art shows that happened in the city to try and sell them to gain a couple bucks.

To put it simply. You were a nobody. An outcast.

So when Wilbur came over to you at lunch one day, tapping your shoulder to get your attention over the music blasting in your ears, you were shocked.

“Hey! Y/n right?” The boy asked you as you took off your headphones and looked up at him. You took a quick glance over at the group of girls and saw all of them looked confused and jealous he was paying attention to you. The schools nobody.

“Uh.. yeah! Yeah I’m y/n.” You said hesitantly and quiet. “What are you doing over here? Don’t you have other girls to talk to?” You said with a bitter tone.

“Ouch. I can talk to other people you know? What? Don’t want to talk to me?!” He asked as he leant against the wall your table was against and smirked down at you.

You rolled your eyes as you put your pencil down on your notebook. “No Wilbur. I really don’t want to talk to you. I’m busy.” You pointed down to your notebook with a rough sketch of the scene that was in front of you a couple second ago. You had the silhouettes of the students drawn out but got rudely interrupted by Wilbur before you were going to start drawing him.

“Ahh. I see. Is this what you always do at lunch?” He asked as he stole your notebook from the table and flipped through the notebook.

“Wait! Wilbur, stop it! Give it back!”

“What?! Got something bad in here?! Do you draw naked people like Jack from Titanic?! Even worse, do you draw me-“ Wilbur froze as he looked down at your notebook, his face falling slowly into a look of confusion and disbelief.

You quickly grabbed your notebook from Wilbur’s loose grasp and closed it up. You held it to your chest as you closed your eyes and waiting for him to start laughing. But yet, no laughing came.

“Was- Was that me?” He asked in a hushed voice for only you to hear.

“Yeah, so what?” You asked back in a harsh voice.

“I- It’s really good. Like super good. Can I see it again?” He asked you softly as he sat down next to you and held his hand out, head slightly turnt to look at you.

You hesitantly put the notebook in his hand and let him have his fun. As he opened the notebook and flipped through, you watched his face. His face was always perfect somehow. Not just because it was symmetrical! But, because it was always so loose. He had very few wrinkles and he had a little crease it his forehead from when he smiled. He looked peaceful and beautiful. Regardless if he did have any or not, he would always be perfect to you. Always.

“I like this one.” He snaps you out if your thoughts as he points to the page he’s on. One of your favorites as well. It was a portrait of him, but it was his side profile while laughing. He continued flipping until he got to the one he landed on. That one was a drawing of him playing the guitar in a flower field. Something you kind of just.. came up with. But it was by far the one you admired and cherished the most. “Now this. This is incredible. How did you draw this?” He asked looking up at you.

“Oh! Um.. I just kind of imagined a place you would possibly play at and came up with this. It took a while but, it was worth it.” You tell him as you trace over the likes of rough pencil markings and dark shaded areas, admiring the piece. While you did that, Wilbur never took his eyes off you. He watched how your eyes filled with happiness and nostalgia from when drawing this. Filled with relief and longing. He watched your lips twitch as you held back a smile. God how much he would love to see you smile. “But it’s nothing important. Just a silly little sketch.” You concluded as you grabbed the notebook and put it into your bag as the bell rang.

“Do you put any of your art in the art show they do up in the city? Because if you do, you should definitely put that one in there.” Wilbur says as he gets up with you and slings his backpack on his back.

“I do. But I don’t know if I want to put that one. I like it too much.” You gave him a small smile as you looked up at him.

Wilbur smiled back down at you. “Do you have another class for the rest of the day?”

“Um… no actually. Why?” You asked him as you both started to walk out of the school.

“Would you maybe want to go get coffee and maybe go to that flower field so I can play you some music? And so you can draw my handsome self again, obviously.” Wilbur cockily added the last part.

“Hmm. Only if I pay. It’s the least I could do since you’re letting me get a free show and a drawing session in one day.” You offered him.

“Deal. But this is the only time you will be paying. Also I’m driving.” Wilbur says as he stops in front of his car. It was an old, rusty, beat up red truck. But it fit him so well. Like it was made for him.

“Oh? So you’re saying there’ll be another time?” You jokingly questioned him.

“Only if you want it darling.” Wilbur told you as he opened the door for you as you gave him your bag. Wilbur quickly put the bags in the back and ran to the drivers side. He put his phone on the aux and put on a random playlist.

“We’ll see how today goes pretty boy. And maybe there will be another time.” You said as you rolled down your window and let the fall breeze into the car. Wilbur did the same with his and chuckled at the nickname. You looked at him from your seat and smiled brightly at him as he looked at you.

“Well then. I’ll try my best to make it the best time you have ever had.” Wilbur says as he backs out of the parking lot and to the coffee shop.

After that day, you and Wilbur grew closer. You continued to hang out as friends. And eventually those feelings turned into more for the both of you, and the hangouts became dates. And by the end of your junior year, you and Wilbur were dating. Everyone always told you how good you and Wilbur were together. And you thought that too. You loved him. A lot. Yes you had worries but, those quickly subsided when he was around.

You and Wilbur graduated high school with the both of you getting voted best couple of the year in your year book. Wilbur went to college for a couple years but soon dropped out to pursue music. He made a band and quickly started to make music and publish it, which was going extremely well. You, on the other hand, went to college and finished. Going to classes for drawing and painting, to improve your skills, and majoring in fine arts and digital arts. You continued to sell and show your art off at shows and art museums when they offered. You also got a job at a school teaching art and teaching kids that art can help express things and tell stories.

You loved that Will followed his heart and pursued music. You loved watching him just play small snippets of the things him and the guys were working on for you. Loved being apart of the writing process, as well as the designing process. You loved seeing him so happy and excited with his music.

You both lived together in an apartment in downtown Brighton and you were both happy!

Well. At least you were. You didn’t know about how Wilbur felt after finding those text.

Wilbur and you were both lying on the couch, watching a movie. Well. You were at least. Wilbur fell asleep half way through the movie with his arm holding your waist, pulling you close to him. The other hand that was tracing your arms was now in yours as you played with his fingers, listening to his soft snores and his little whispers from his dreams. He looked so peaceful.

Your thoughts got interrupted by the sound of Wilbur’s phone buzzing on the coffee table. Thank god it was on silent or he could’ve woken up immediately knowing him. You took the phone and pressed the ‘shut off’ button to turn of the buzzing.

Once you were settled into Wilbur again. The buzzing started up again. You groaned as you moved and turned the buzzing off again. That had to be it.

A couple minutes later his phone started to buzz again, but short, little buzzes from text messages.

Now you were curious.

Who needed his attention this badly, besides you of course.

You slowly reached over to grab Wilbur’s phone and turned it on to show his lock screen.

The lock screen was a picture of you and Wilbur, sitting on the couch that was in the studio. You sitting on Will’s lap with his guitar in your own lap. Wilbur’s hand fingering the chords, as you strum whatever song you guys were playing. Wilbur’s free hand on your thigh as you both looked at each other with goofy smiles. You remember that day like it was yesterday. The day Wilbur told you he loved you.

When you finally snapped out of your thoughts, you looked down at the messages that continued to come through. You grimaced as you swiped up into his phone to reveal the numbers asking for the password. You hated going on or even through his phone. You didn’t want to be considered that girlfriend. You weren’t the jealous type and it wasn’t like you didn’t trust him, because you did! But. His phone never went off like this unless it was you wanting his attention or his band mates trying to get him to wake up on Saturday mornings for practice.

You typed in Wilbur’s password for his phone, which was your birthday. He said it was “more romantic than a stupid little password that didn’t mean anything to him.” Which you didn’t argue with. As you finally got into his phone, you took a deep breathe and went into messages.

But the name you saw didn’t seem real.

Sarah. A girl throughout high-school you were always jealous of. She was the cheer captain her senior year and she was always on varsity cheer throughout the years. She was the definition of perfect to you. She was beautiful, nice and extremely smart. She was one of those popular girls who was always super nice to people… well like you. The quote-on-quote “weirdos”. Even when she was friends with absolute assholes, it felt nice to be noticed by her. Now, junior year, it was rumored that her and Wilbur liked each other. I mean, they always talked to each other, sat by each other, and you could tell by the way Wilbur looked at her that something was going on. That’s one major reason of why you were jealous of her. But, the rumors were quickly shut down when Brett, the quarterback, asked her to the homecoming after the big game against their rivals. She obviously said yes and that was the end of the story. Sarah and Brett started dating and Wilbur was, you could say, forgotten by her. But you could tell Wilbur still had feelings for her after that night at the football game.

“Why is she texting him?” You thought out loud. You heard Will groan and shift slightly after you said that. You froze and looked at him until you heard his snores start back up, that’s when you relaxed. You looked down at the text.

‘Hey Wilbur!’

‘Are we still getting coffee this afternoon?’

‘Text me back when you can!’

When you say your heart stopped, you meant it. Coffee? With her? With the person he knows makes you insecure about everything? He said he had a get together with his friends tonight. What the fuck is going on?!

You scrolled up and saw the text messages they had earlier. Nothing screamed ‘cheating!’, you know Wilbur wouldn’t do that. But some whispered, ‘watch out for her.’

As you heard Wilbur groan and begin to wake up, you quickly put his phone on the table and smiled up at him.

‘Act normal. Talk about it later.’

“Hey sleepy head.” You put on a small smile as you ran your hands through his hair. He looked… perfect.

“Hey. Have you been awake this whole time?” He asked in a scratchy deep voice. He looked at you as you scratched his scalp and smiled.

“Eh. I woke up about 10 minutes ago.” You said while pecking his chin. He laughed and cupped your face in his hands as he pulled you up to be face to face with him. “What’s up?”

He smiled and looked at you for a couple seconds. “You, my love, are so beautiful.” He leant up and kissed you. Slow and passionate.

The kiss lasted shorter than you both would’ve liked but Wilburs phone started buzzing again. He groaned as he reached for the little device and grimaced as he looked at it. “Sorry love. I have to go. James is calling me.” Wilbur said as he got up from underneath you and put his shoes back on. “I’ll bring back some food for you ok?” He asked you as he pecked your lips one last time.

“Mhm. Just don’t get the wrong thing this time.” You teased him.

“That was one time! And I promise I won’t.” He said back to you as he kisses your forehead and grabbed his wallet and phone.

“I love you. Have fun.” You said as he opened the front door.

“I love you too darling.” He smiled at you as he closed the door.

You quickly frowned as thoughts started to crowed your mind.

‘When he comes home, I’ll ask him about it.’

Well. That was two days ago. And you still haven’t talked to him about it. It’s not like you haven’t had time or you haven’t seen him! You two are basically stuck to the hip when you can be. But. You just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Afraid that maybe it was true. Maybe Wilbur never loved you and kept in touch with Sarah secretly this whole time and waited until she was either single or loved him again.

No. Your head was just playing tricks on you right? He wouldn’t do that! He’s a good guy. And he loves you. Right?

Wilbur came home from filming a video with Tommy and the rest of the boys. Once he came into the house and greeted you, you sat him down on the couch with you and sighed.

“We need to talk Will. And it’s nothing bad, maybe.” You said, anxiety filling your body as you looked down at your hands in your lap and started picking at them.

“Love what’s up? Talk to me.” Wilbur whispered to you as he grabbed your hands and kissed them.

You looked at him and sigh. “Do you love me? Like… truly. Do you love me?” You asked, slow and drawn out. your voice quiet and breathy, almost like you didn’t want to be saying those words and you didn’t want the reply to them.

The moment those words fell from your mouth, Wilbur’s face fell. He felt… sad? Angry? Confused? Why did you ask him that? Didn’t you know you were all he can think about half the time? Of course he loves you! “Love. Why are you asking that?” Wilbur asked in confusion and disbelief you would even ask that.

“No. Wil. I need you to answer the question. Do you love me or not?” You said, your voice raising slightly as you let go of his hands and got up from the couch.

“I- what brought this up y/n? I just want to know what I did to make you think this-“

“I saw the text. I saw what you both were doing that night. You fucking lied to me Wil! How long has this been going on? How long have you been seeing her?!” You raised your voice as you spoke. You couldn’t control your emotions. You weren’t angry per-say. You were more upset and disappointed. If this was true, you were done.

“What text?! What are you talking about?” Wilbur said as he scrunched his face up and looked at you like you were crazy.

“Oh don’t fucking try that on me. You know exactly what I’m talking about! You and Sarah have been secretly seeing each other this whole time, right? All the times you went out with the “guys”. It was with her. Right?!” You yelled at him, your voice cracking as you held back sobs.

Wilbur just looked at you with the most heartbreaking look ever. You saw the text? He got rid of those! He wasn’t even worried about the text at the moment though. He was upset and angry you thought that about him. Thought that he would do that. But disappointed at himself for not getting rid of her number and just telling you about what happened. “Y/n-“

“Please tell me this is fake. Please tell me what I’m feeling is just my mind playing games on me!” You sobbed as your ran your hands through your hair. “Please, Wilbur. I- I love you so much. Please. Please don’t leave me.” You whimpered as you choked back sobs as you looked at him through blurry eyes. Wilbur hurriedly got up and walked over to you. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and brought your head to his chest and held it there as you sobbed. You wrapped your arms around his torso and scrunched his sweater up in your hands and squeezed.

Your thoughts persisted as you sobbed into his sweater. ‘He doesn’t love you. He never did!’ ‘He was using you the whole time to get over her.’

It didn’t feel real.

“Please- Wilbur please-“ You gasped out through sobs as you grabbed your chest, trying to get air into your lungs.

“Hey, hey. Look at me, ok? Focus on me.” He said in the softest voice you have ever heard as he gently cupped your face. “Deep breathes. In and out, ok? Do it with me. In-“ Wilbur inhaled as you grabbed into his forearms and followed him. Once he saw you take in as much air as you could, he exhaled. “And out. Good girl. Yeah. And just keep doing that with me ok?” You nodded as Wilbur helped you get a steadier breathe.

Once you nodded at him to tell him you were alright, he brought his forehead down to your own and sighed. “Can I- Can I please explain, all of this?” He asked you as he leaned back to look at you. You nodded, afraid if you spoke you would start crying again.

Wilbur sighed and gently brought you to the couch. He grabbed your hands and held them in his own as he kissed them gently. “Darling. I love you so much. So goddamn much. And I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Wilbur started but quickly stopped as he got choked up. He was scared to be honest. Scared you would leave him either way. Scared that once he explained the whole situation, you would still be upset about all of it. He couldn’t lose you. He wouldn’t be able to bear it. Not having you there with him. Not having your stupid jokes and your silly faces when he wakes up in the mornings. Not having anyone to come home too. Not having you to share music with.

He didn’t like the thought of you not being in his life anymore.

Wilbur looked up to see you looking at him with a sad lopsided smile and waiting patiently for him to continue as you rubbed his knuckles. “I-“ He took a few breathe before continuing. “I saw her at the coffee shop a couple weeks ago. And I hadn’t seen her since high school so I just went up to say hi and ask how she was doing.” Wilbur took a deep breathe before continuing the story. “She said that her and Brett broke up and she was home for the holiday. I had to leave, so I gave her my number, just to catch up her! Nothing else. And she texted me later that day if I wanted to get lunch and catch up in person. And me being the person I am said yes. And then during lunch I-“ Wilbur cleared his throat as he got chocked up once again. “I knew she was trying to flirt with me. She kept touching my hand and making unnecessary comments about me and just- it didn’t seem right. So I started talking about you and she got annoyed. That’s when I finally realized she didn’t want to catch up, more like she wanted to see if I was available. Which I made it super clear that I wasn’t! I mean. I thought I did. I thought I blocked her number, truly. I didn’t think she would keep pestering me about seeing her after talking about you. Y/n-“ Wilbur got cut off by his own sob. All you did was bring him into your chest while crying with him. “I’m s-so sorry. I didn’t mean to h-hurt you. I didn’t mean for you to think like that. I should’ve never said a-anything to her. I’m so sorry.” Wilbur sobbed out into your chest as he held you close to him like a lifeline. Like you would leave any moment.

You buried your face into the messy mop of hair on top of his head. You just sat there, holding him and crying with him, whispering to him that you loved him and it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know this was going to happen. He didn’t plan for this to happen. It wasn’t his fault.

As you both settled down and your breathing was back to a regular rhythm, you lifted his head in your hands and wiped his tear stained cheeks and gave him a weak smile. “Wil. It’s not your fault. You were just being the nice person you always are, and I love you for that. And I’m not mad at you or anything. I’m just, kind of mad at myself and confused about everything. Mad at myself for letting myself get upset over this without letting you talk. Letting myself get insecure about our relationship and your feelings about me because of her. But also knowing your history with her, it kinda made my brain go into thoughts I didn’t like.” You let out a shaky sigh as you tried to blink away your tears. “But I’m also conf-“ you cleared your throat before continuing. “I’m just also confused on where you went that night and all those nights that you just left in a hurry or just left while smiling at your phone. It doesn’t make sense Wil.” Your voice cracked as you ended your sentence, putting your head down to look at your lap as your bottom lip quivered and you took deep breathes to stop yourself from crying.

Wilbur frowned at you as he sat up and took your hands in his again. “Love. You had all the right to be upset. I should’ve have told you I saw her, I should have told you about the lunch, I should’ve have told you about everything. And I’m so sorry you felt that way love. You shouldn’t have to be insecure about yourself or this relationship. I love you. And only you. You are perfect. And I only want you. Not her. Not anyone else. Just you.” Wilbur sniffed as he lifted your chin up so you were looking at him. “There’s my perfect darling.” Wilbur smiled at you as he cupped your face and rubbed your cheeks. You sent him a weak smile back as you leant into his hand. “And if you’re wondering what I’ve been doing all of those nights. I’ve been with the Phil, Tommy, Jack, James, practically everyone. Every night. Not with her. And I had a plan, but I cant wait any longer so-“ Wilbur cut himself off as he went to his coat on the rack and went through his pockets. He held the mystery thing in his balled up fist and came back over to you.

Wilbur knelt down on one knee in front of you as he looked at you with a small smile. You just sat on the couch with a confused yet shocked face. “Wil-“

“Y/n. Ever since that one little interaction in the cafeteria in junior year, I’ve been utterly in love with you. From your art to the way you laugh and talk about the things you love for hours on end. You have become home. And I never really believed in that stuff, about how a person could become home to you. But now I do. I have found that one person i want to spend every moment with until I die. And the only person that will put up with my bullshit.” You laughed at that as you sniffed and held back tears. “And that is you, darling. Always and only you. Now-“ Wilbur sniffed and smiled as he looked at you and opened the small black box. Inside, a silver ring with a small yet beautiful diamond, which you knew was fake, on the top. You admired the ring as he took it out of its resting place and held it up to you. “I know it’s not much but, it’s something. Y/n L/n, will you make me the happiest man to ever exist and marry me?” Wilbur asked you, his hand slightly shaking as he awaited your answer.

You laughed a little as you yet again held back tears and nodded. “Of course I’ll marry you William. Oh my god.” You say in shock as Wilbur put on the ring and cupped your face. He pecked your lips softly and rested his forehead on yours as he laughed.

“Thank fuck. I was scared you were gonna say no.” Wilbur sighed out as you smiled up at him.

“I would never. I love you too much. That is unless you did do something bad-“

“I swear I didn’t!”

“I know, I know! What made you decide to do… that… now?” You asked him as he sat on the couch and pulled you into his lap.

“Well, knowing you had those thoughts and knowing how impatient I am to just make you mine forever, fuck the plan. Sorry Phil but, I needed you to know that you are my forever. My one and only. My sugar plum. My little soft cute baby-“

“Ok now you’re pushing it.” You deadpanned at him as your crossed your arms and tried not to laugh at Wilbur’s pout.

“Fine. I just won’t call you anything. I won’t even call you my fiancé!” Wilbur whined out as he looked away from you.

Hearing him say that word. Fiancé. Brought a whole other world into you. A whole other part of your life you get to experience, with him.

“Nooooo! No please! I’m sorry! Call me what you like!! See what I did there- please I’m sorry!” You whined out as you kissed all over his face, not a spot left untouched by your lips.

Wilbur laughed at the song reference as you continued to kiss his face. He placed his hands on your waist and squeezed. “Ok! Ok, fine. I will call you whatever I like. And I won’t stop calling you my fiancé. Well- not until we’re married. Because then I get to call you my wife. Oh! I get to call you my wife then! Can we just get married now?! Please-“

Wil! Wil! Calm down dear. We’ll get married when we can afford it. And plus I want our family and friends there. But for now-“ You ran your hands through his hair and rubbed his head as his eyes fluttered shut. “You can call me your fiancé or any other nickname you want.” You smiled at him as he looked at you. Wilbur leaned in and softly connected your lips together. The kiss wasn’t quick or rough. It was like Wilbur was summoning all of his love for you into one kiss. The kiss was soft, slow, and love-filled.

It was perfect.

Once you both needed air, Wilbur pulled away and panted softly as he smiled widely at you. “I love you. And I’m sorry for what happened and not telling you anything. I promise to tell you everything for now on, like i should’ve been doing.” Wilbur sighed and rubbed your waist lightly. “I love you.”

“And I love you. So much.” You smiled at him as you leaned in and kissed him again, but quickly pulling back before the kiss could go anywhere. “And what do you mean ‘like you should’ve been doing’?? I swear to god if you did something el-“

“Hey. None of it is bad. Maybe somethings I did with Tommy or the band that we kept secret, but nothing bad. Now shut up and kiss me.” Wilbur quickly reassured you as he pulled you back into him and kissed you again.

But you being the person you are, needed more answers. “No no no! Did- Did you and Tommy break the TV that one ti-“

“Darling. Love. Baby. Stop talking more kissing, ok? I want to show my fiancé how much I love them.” Wilbur quickly mumbled out as he started to kiss you again.

“Yeah but you have some explaining to do.” You mumbled out in between kisses.

“That depends if you even remember it after we’re done.” Wilbur says as he flips you over, so your back meets the couch, as he hovers over your frame.

“Oh, I will. But you can try to make me forget pretty boy.”

“Oh I certainly will.” Wilbur smirked as he leant down and pressed an intoxicating kiss onto your lips.

You were gonna have to try really hard to remember.

Taglist: @deadphantomsociety @jadeissues @aimi-chann @z0vamp @art3m1s-adelia @bird-shack @mcr-pr-fob @hop-scotchh @romancingdaffodils @sixofshadowandbone (if you want to be added, all you have to do is ask or message me dears <3)

[eldritch-spouse]

The reality that I have been kidnapped by Hudsyn is setting in. I look at the tea and take a small sip hoping it isn’t spiked with anything.

I look towards the wall with the papers taped to then and make a gesture. Scooting closer to them and Hudsyn, (trying to see if I can make anything out of his face underneath his hood.)

“Oh are these related to your, and um I guess now our research… dear mentor? Please tell me more, and I am fascinated to hear about your breakthrough.”

(He watches you raise the cup to your lips with a wordless stare that seems to pierce into your soul.)

(The sensation that floods into your tastebuds instantly soaks into every inch of your tongue at once, somewhere between scalding hot and spine-chillingly cold, a strange metallic tang that quickly burns into an unforgettable sweetness. Your eyes widen like dinner plates and you rip the cup away from your lips, spilling a bit down the side, trying to control your sudden drooling. What in the fuck was that?)

" Remarkable, isn't it? "

(The demonoid in front of your murmurs, looking far too pleased for his own good. In a matter of moments, this wave of overpowering calmness takes over every muscle in your body, compelling you to slowly place the cup down. Although you're inwardly panicking, your body seems unresponsive to that stress, feeling as light as a feather while a smile paints itself on your features. You are... Content? More than that, you're fixated on the monster in front of you.)

(For a moment, you swear you can see into his mind, his feelings- His boundless excitement becomes your own, making you want to bounce your leg, tear your clothes off, sink your teeth into the nearest tangible object. You feel everything, the tangled, knotted mess of information flying over his conscious, symbols that hold no meaning to you but describe the world itself to him, crazed murmurs and broken cooing and what must be his internal cackling, flashes of something descending from above before it all dies down in a rattling hiss. Finally finally oh finally- He seems to think.)

(The unending panic must show in your eyes while you try to fight this madness, try to process it.)

" Oh no no, don't look at me like that. I am above something as disgustingly perverted as spiking your drink. I assure you that is exactly how you're supposed to feel! And your dosage is much more diluted than mine -You're only human, of course- But imagine what you could glimpse into with the right amount! "

(He hacks with the force of his laughter.)

" I could hit you over the head with the volumes upon volumes of theories about this very substance and it still wouldn't register just how many fucking possibilities it opens for us. "

(The demonoid seems eager to continue rambling about the fluid in the cup -Though, curiously, for as much as he said thus far, he revealed nothing at all- But you interject before he can. Although you are subtle in your approach, the darkness shielding his face is far too enigmatic to make out finer details. You note an odd section where natural light does seem to reflect, oddly symmetrical with the way it cleaves the top part of his head. Other than that, you can't make out any semblance of real facial features on him yet.)

" Yes, why yes they are! "

(The historian jumps to a stand, quickly scheming and ripping one of the pages out of the wall. Something strangely small and thin wags frantically in the back of his robes. Before you can question it too much, he's already sliding the weathered page towards you on the table, grin so wide you fear it'll eat his whole face.)

" Mentee, tell me what's the first thing that comes to mind when you see this image? "

[mint-yooxgi]

No Escape - Yandere!Trickster Entitity!Seonghwa X Reader

Yandere AU & Trickster Entity AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst

Pairing: Seonghwa X Reader

Words: 1,100

Warnings: Violence and blood. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: So, here’s that little Drabble idea I had!! It was inspired by a video I saw of Ateez’s Halloween Wonderland performance where someone reversed Seonghwa falling to the ground in the end so it looks like he just pops the fuck right back up, and I was like hmmmmm, anyways... enjoy this short little Drabble!

The sound of your heavy footfalls echo around the hallway as you race down the corridor. Every breath you take burns your lungs, throat feeling as if it’s been scraped raw as you desperately attempt to catch your breath, eyes flitting around every corner for an opening to escape.

You have no idea how your friends and you ended up in this horror house. All you do know, is that you’re slowly being hunted down one by one.

There were seven of you in the beginning, but now? Now, there’s only Three. Two that are currently being hunted down by the third. Hunted by someone who you thought was your friend.

You can’t even remember the last time you saw Ricky. You just hope to all hell that he’s alive, and that he’s already managed to find a way out of this hell hole.

You can still hear his voice echoing throughout your head, telling you to run, and knowing he was right behind you until you rounded a corner. Then, suddenly, it was like the house had a mind of its own, and you were running down the hall with only the sound of your single footsteps to keep you company.

That, and the sound of that awful maniacal laughter.

“Darling,” his voice echoes, seemingly inside of your head as you skid to a stop right in front of a dead end. “You know there’s no escape from me.”

Your chest heaves, shoulders rising and falling with the intensity of your breaths as you scan the area for any potential exit. Unfortunately for you, you’re trapped.

As soon as you turn around, you see him, and a fear unlike any other takes hold.

“Seonghwa,” you pant, eyes going wide as you take in his new appearance.

A pleasant shiver runs up his spine. “I love it when you say my name.”

Red covers his once white jacket in splatters, staining the material in the blood of his victims. A bright red, which matches the symmetrical lines slashed vertically right down both of his eyes, as if they are markings. Branding him with his true nature.

A malicious smile stretches across his features, only accentuating the blood he’s smeared over his lips. A moment later, his tongue darts out to taste the substance, a pleased hum escaping him.

“I told you I would find you,” his pale blue eyes flash excitedly in what little light that is left to illuminate the hallway. “After all, I always win.”

You swallow thickly, doing whatever you can to keep your entire body from trembling for the moment.

“I thought I told you that I wasn’t going to play this sick, twisted game of yours,” you spit, backing yourself even further against the wall to get as far away from him as possible.

“Oh, but sweetheart,” he coos out the name almost lovingly, “the moment you met me you fell victim to my games, whether you know it or not. I caught you, fair and square,” the grin he wears stretches wider across his face, “and now, it’s time I claim my prize.”

He licks his lips, those luminescent eyes of his flashing wildly once more as he takes a step towards you.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and at the way his gaze flicks downwards slightly, you can just tell he can hear the sound loud and clear. You freeze.

In the blink of an eye, Seonghwa collapses to the ground in front of you, an axe protruding from his back.

Lifting your gaze, you see Ricky standing there, panting as he stares at you with wide eyes.

“What are you waiting for?” He yells, expression frantic and whole body tense. “Let’s go!”

You do not need to be told twice.

Rushing over to Ricky, he catches you in his arms. He gives you a quick once over, eyes scanning your figure as his hands rest on your shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

You only have the strength to nod your head, voice failing you for the moment as you prepare yourself to begin running back down the way you came.

Only, the expression of pure horror that paints Ricky’s face has you turning around in an instant.

Your gaze lands on Seonghwa’s body, which seems to be spasming on the ground. Then, in the blink of an eye, as if someone pulls his entire body up by a string, Seonghwa stands back to his feet. His back is turned to you, and you can only watch on in terror as he reaches behind himself to pull the axe out of his back.

Turning around to face you once more, Seonghwa tilts his head, almost mockingly, at Ricky. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“When I say ‘run’, you run.” Ricky whispers lowly into your ear.

A single, subtle nod from you is all he gets in response.

“Run!”

The second you turn around, it’s as if your whole body is frozen to your spot. You can only watch on in horror as Ricky realizes you’re not following him, causing him to turn halfway down the hall and look at you with a newfound fear in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, Darling,” Seonghwa whispers lowly into your ear, his touch trailing lowly over your back and causing a shiver to caress your spine. “This will only take a second.”

A blink, and he’s in front of Ricky. Another, and the axe is now embedded in your best friend’s head, his body crumpling to the floor as his blood begins to spill from his skull.

Seonghwa turns once more to face you, an unnerving smile stretching across his features as he chuckles.

“Ah,” he sighs, eyes falling shut in bliss, “alone at last.”

His approach is slow, purposely drawn out as you are forced to stand there, frozen in your spot. It’s as if he has control over your body, for you find you cannot even tear your eyes away from him as he continues to stalk towards you. Like a predator approaching their prey.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this,” his voice is barely above a whisper as he comes to stand in front of you. His one hand comes up to cup the side of your face, thumb smearing the fresh blood on his hands over your cheek as he brushes over it affectionately. Those pale blue eyes of his flit over every feature of your face, committing it all to memory, just like this victorious moment in time. He smirks. “Finally, you’re mine.”

[jebewonmorelike]

Slumber Party With The Girlypops

+Phanbin wc: 300 warnings: swear words, i guess fatphobia (i am a fat person, you can look at my profile pic... i am allowed to make fat jokes bc when fat people make them, they are funny), phanbin being a lovable mean gay but like mean gays are the most iconic so obviously all just for fun and to be silly pls try not to take offense summary: headcanon girlypop sleepover :) ~bp masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ I just chose a few of our more outspoken lovies for this scenario, but we all know the vast majority of them are invited to the kiki. Lmao.

-Haruto making a perfectly symmetrical charcuterie board that, because its so perfect, no one is allowed to eat

-Phanbin gifting everyone matching silk pajama sets

-Woongki's is like two sizes too big

-"Oh, I'm sorry. I really thought they'd fit."

-Three bitch slaps have been issued so far and it isn't even 9 P.M.

-Seo Won and Woongki hogging the karaoke mic

-Every time someone else attempts to take a turn, a new song comes on and they both freak out

-"Oh, please will you let me do this one, too!? It's my favorite song," Woongki begs excitedly.

-It is quickly established that every song is Woongki's favorite song

-Haruto practicing random girl group choreography compulsively in the corner by himself

-He's not being left out or anything, this is just what he likes to do

-Phanbin sitting in the middle of the room, throwing cheesepuffs into his mouth and yelling at anyone who doesn't hit their respective mark perfectly to restart

-Woongki eventually gets mad and tells him to get up and perform the Antifragile choreography start-to-finish if he thinks he can do it better

-He literally does and he fucking eats

-Woongki and Seo Won look back and forth at each other and sit their asses DOWN

-Seo Won starts a massage train

-He cries when everybody joins in front of him so he has to be the caboose

-They all sit in a circle, face masks applied, and tell ghost stories

-Haruto starts discreetly making scary shadow puppets on the wall

-Phanbin shrieks so loud the next door neighbors knock on the door to see who was murdered

-Eating noodles until comatose

-Jiwoong outside the whole time waiting for his mom to come pick him up because he could not hang

[so-many-fandoms-here]

(English isn’t my first language so feel free to correct any mistake you notice)

• Characters: RK-800 (Connor), fem!Reader

• Genre: fluff, slight angst

•Warnings: logic mistakes for the plots sake

Unforgettable

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Connors POV

My eyes scan the office until I found the person I was looking for: Lieutenant Hank Anderson. I approach him with a nod.

„Hello Lieutenant. My data reset was successful, meaning that I am able to focus fully on our missions again.“ I don’t know how much data they deleted and what was the reason in the first place but I am positive that CyberLife had their reasons.

Andersons expression looks like a mixture of annoyance and and disappointment. Whatever CyberLife deleted, he doesn’t seem to enjoy my reset.

With a resigned sigh he stands up from his chair and motions me to follow him. „In case you worry about my reset: I kept all the data important to the case, so there is no need for you to-“ „Shut up.“

A familiar… feeling? spread inside me at his remark and I instantly know that this is his typical behavior.

„We‘re gonna pick up (Y/n) real quick“, he informs me when we sit inside the car, driving through rainy Detroit. I could swear I‘ve heard that name before but I can’t seem to find any data about a (Y/n). I probably stumbled about a statistic about names in the USA one day. It may be either a really common or a really rare name based on the fact that I connect something with it.

I turn my head to my left and realize that Anderson looks at me expectant. As I don’t say anything he sighs again, looking back at the street.

After a six minute drive he parks in front of a high apartment complex. Like always I stay close behind him and follow him inside the building, the elevator and eventually in front of a door in the 4. floor. He knocks against the door and shortly after a young woman opens it, a shocked expression in her face as she sees us.

I scan her face but to my surprise no data appears. Instead an error sign pops up in my program. Like she even doesn’t exist.

„What are you doing here, Hank?“ the woman asks while she just watches the Lieutenant slipping between her and the doorframe into the apartment. Her (e/c) eyes lock with mine for a second before she follows him inside her home. Again I follow. I find myself inside her neat living room.

„Wait here Connor. We’re back in a second“, Anderson orders me before he goes with (Y/n) into another room. They seem to argue slightly I realize. But I follow his instruction and start to look around the room while I wait for them to come back.

A gray sofa is placed in the middle of the room with a small table made of glass is in front of it, covered with a tea cup, a book and a tv remote for the tv that hangs on the wall in front of me.

While I look at the sofa glitchy pictures appear in front of me. I see myself sitting on the sofa with the woman that just opened the door, but before I can look further into it, the memory (I suppose that’s what it was) is gone again, leaving me back confused and unsettled.

I walk over the open kitchen, only separated by a single step, and take a look around there too. Maybe I can trigger another… whatever that was.

And I indeed can. As I look at one of the sticky notes at the fridge, the writing way too neat and symmetrical for a human, another picture appears in my vision.

„I wrote you a shopping list while you showered, so you won’t forget anything later.“ A voice speaks. My voice. „You’re the best Connor“, her voice responds while she steps next to me, leans closer and… kisses my cheek?Again before I am able to take a closer look at everything, it’s gone already.

I look at the note again that’s reminding her in form of a few checkpoint to buy utensils like dish soap and new sponges and then I continue my expedition.

My next stop is the bathroom, which door is opened wide. I look inside and see myself standing in the mirror next to her again. I watch myself drying her (h/c) hair while smiling at her even wider smile.

This time a wave of sadness washes over me as the picture fades again. I want to figure out what these pieces of memory will look like at the end, when I put them together.

The door behind me, opposite to the bathroom opens and as I turn around I see Lieutenant Anderson and (Y/n) step out of what seems to be the bedroom. A short glance inside to the bed is enough to trigger the final puzzle piece. (Y/n) and I sit on the bed, her hands in mine and her lips against my mine. And with that everything crashes over me. The fear when they took me to reset my data, the pain I felt on the way there even though I can’t remember details like how I got there or who took me.

What I know is who is in front of me. Who they tried to make me forget.

„Tell him your name“, Hank pressures but (Y/n) shakes her head. „We’re gonna get in big trouble if someone finds out.“

Four eyes are glued to me while my eyes switch between Hank and (Y/n) at first before they focus on her. „You’re (Y/n) (L/n)“, I start to speak before I am able to think. „You’re 28 years old and were born in Texas. You’re favorite color is a light blue. #9BD3FF to be exact. Your favorite song is Mr. Brightside by The Killers and you like to bake. Your first pet was a red-eared slider turtle named Rocky. The first time you kissed me was on your bed at 9:34 pm on a Friday.“

With every spoken word of mine, (Y/n)s and Hanks eyes got wider and even I was a little bit overwhelmed by the sudden amount of information popping up. But it feels good to remember.

„You… You remember me?“, (Y/n) asks with a shaky voice to which I nod. „But… They deleted your memories.“

„They can delete data, but they can’t delete my feelings“, I answer. „You’re unforgettable.“

It has only taken about two hours for me to get all the data back they tried to delete. Probably because this is more than just some data.

[otteranha]

 part 1 Part 3 of the snowed in blackout at Steve’s house fic*

*did I skip part 2 because this section was finished and wouldn’t get out of my brain? yes, yes I did. apologies for any confusion, part 2 will be out sometime. 

It was nearly 6 o’clock and the chaos had dulled to a simmer. Eddie had to admit that it was a lot of hosting to take on for a lot of long, dark, empty hours if Harrington had been letting the kids stay over since the storm. No wonder the guy looked shell shocked. Once the question of the television was officially out, Eddie got the kids circled up, passing around a flashlight as they told each other ghost stories. Peace reigning upon earth, Eddie peeled himself off the floor and left the group to their pseudo-campfire tales, and snuck back into the kitchen.

The overhead lights were still on there and in the hallway, everything else dark. Steve was arranging fix-in’s for s’mores on several plates. It was the first time Eddie’d seen him alone all day. Steve looked up, “Hey thanks for your help this afternoon. I think I might actually have lost my mind there if I had to face that lot alone.” Eddie hadn’t expected that. “Oh, no problem. You’re the one doing us a favor really.” “Yeah but you fully made yourself the bad guy back there, with the TV. That- that was a big help.”

“Well, you can’t play good-cop bad-cop all by yourself. They always gang up on you like that?” “Nah,” said Steve, “Usually they’re pretty great. I want to say sweet but that’s giving them too much credit, usually they’re...” “Salty? Savory? Umami?”

Steve laughed. “Sure, let’s go with that. Besides they’re lightyears better people than I was at their age so. I try to cut them some slack.” He trailed off, then exclaimed, “Oh you never got your shower did you?” Eddie, in fact, had not. 

“You can go now, if you don’t mind showering by lantern. The water heater’s still getting power.”

“Right now I’d shower by bioluminescent fish if the water was hot.” 

Steve laughed again- strangely gratifying. “Let me get this out to them and I’ll grab you a towel.” He disappeared with the snacks. When he returned he lead Eddie not towards his dad’s gym where everyone had been showering all day, but upstairs.

“Luring me into the bowels of Castle Harrington? I’m not going to end up bricked into a wall, am I?” Eddie asked. The hallway was long, deeply carpeted and spookily pristine.

“It’s a mess in there. I swear, not one person cleaned the drain. I should make a sign.” He lead Eddie into a bedroom with an ensuite bathroom tiled all over in what was either pale grey or lavender, impossible to tell by flashlight.

“Your parents don’t mind you letting the rabble invade their room?”

“Oh, this is a spare room.”

Eddie felt himself blush, of course it was a spare room idiot. Because people like the Harrington’s had to spend their money on things like rooms nobody slept in 90% of the time. He bounced around, distracting from his mistake, coming to rest in front of a display of photographs on a presumably empty dresser. 

“Must be handy for all those Harrington family get togethers, huh?”

“d’Agostino get togethers actually. My mom’s family. Dad’s an only child.”

“That explains a lot.”

“You’re an only child, aren’t you?” Steve said, but he didn’t sound mad, just matter of fact. 

Eddie had to admit his point.”Touchè, your Majesty.”

“They were going to have more kids I guess,” Steve went on, “But mom says she ruined her figure enough just having me.” His tone was light but in the weird flickering light from the flashlights, everything seemed to have a kind of gravity.

“You have a lot of cousins,” said Eddie looking over the photographs- dozens of people with symmetrical faces, standing in symmetrically arranged poses in rows symmetrically arranged frames.

“Yeah. We haven’t seen them in years. Mom stopped talking to her family after my grandpa died. It was tough on her and- ” he cut himself off abruptly.

“And what?” “Nothing.” “Tell me.” “Rich people problems. You don’t want to hear about it.”

“Sure I do,” and to his surprise Eddie did. “Lay that Park Avenue drama on me Harrington.”

“My mom’s got three brothers, she’s the only girl. It’s just that my grandpa was really old school, traditional, you know? He divided everything equally among his kids in his will, but instead of leaving my mom’s share to her he... he put it in a trust. For me, when I turn 21. I don’t know all the details, I was only 10 when he died but I remember she was going to leave my dad. She had an apartment and a lawyer and everything.” He drummed his fingers nervously over the dresser and went on. 

"Then her dad died and she was gonna use the money he left her to get away and start over. Only she didn’t get any of it. And her brothers wouldn’t help her out, because they thought she was asking for more than her share. I think she was kind of mad at me too, because grandpa left me the money instead of her. I tried to give it to her once when I was a kid but she just got upset and told me not to mention it again. Anyway she stopped talking to her family after that so. Not many family get togethers.”

“That’s not fair though. It wasn’t your fault, you were just a kid.”

“I know, I think she just couldn’t help being a little mad about it. She’s a good mom though.” Steve raised his chin, defensive. The beam of the flashlight lay across the long column of his neck. “Oh yeah?”

"She could still have left my dad, but he would’ve kept me. His lawyers are really good. And she wasn’t going to leave me with him.”

“I get it,” said Eddie because suddenly, weirdly he did. He had something in common with Steve Harrington. Upstairs in the dark house, it felt like they were the only two people who existed, not in Steve’s parents’ guest room, but some weird pocket realm, through a wardrobe, or a looking glass.

“Do you?”

“I really do Steve.” Eddie cleared his throat, “My mom tried to leave my dad a bunch of times. Sometimes she had to leave in the middle of the night without even a bag but she always took me with her.”

“Oh.” Steve looked at him, this common ground seemingly just as surprising to him as it was to Eddie. “Is she- where is she now? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Drunk driver.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah me too.” They stared a bit, not directly, but pretty steadily at each other’s shoes. Then Steve shook himself, tossing Eddie the towel.

“I’ll get out of your hair. Thanks again for helping with the kids. I really hate it when they get so- when I have to disappoint them like that.”

“Any time you need someone to play the big bad, just whistle. Especially if I can claim all the amenities of chez Harrington, seriously this towel is like a cloud had a baby with a lamb.”

“Aren’t lambs already babies?”

Eddie snorted. “Semantics. Now shoo.” Steve shooed. 

[manifesting-life]

Today was great!! So many fun things happened!!

My art class was super easy. I swear my creativity just skyrockets every day. I got compliments from nearly everyone on this piece. I'm so proud of it.

My journalism teacher (Ms. A) basically let me handle the new students since she trusts me. I was so, so confident and didn't stutter a single syllable. Ms. A didn't even correct me on anything since I completely understand all journalistic concepts!! Madi complimented my hair, too! I mean, she did give me her hair care routine lol but I don't really follow it. My hair is naturally this smooth and shiny.

Lunch was absolutely delicious. Super healthy, too. I started wanting to eat healthier earlier this year, and my mom decided to oblige! I feel so good and energized now.

Science and math are coming easy to me now. I don't think I have been confused since February; I genuinely think I could be the smartest in the grade. Well, I might as well be because of my killer ACT score. I thought I wouldn't like having my banner up on the walls, but it's actually pretty cool!

DE is easy, too. Mr. LA definitely gives me favoritism because of my constant inquiries. Ms. D probably loves me too; I mean, every assignment I turn in to her is 100%. All of my grades are high A's. I'm so happy.

I got multiple compliments in the hall today!! And also from people in my class!!! Even guys, which is a surprise. They told me how beautiful I am, how my face is so symmetrical and clear, how my eyes are so bright and amber, how my height makes me look like a model, and how my style is impeccable. Plus, I swear my clothes are getting bigger and bigger by the second. My waist is so thin, and I honestly think a feather would weigh more than me.

Really, life is going great for me right now. I couldn't be happier.

[marble-needs-therapy]

Shopkeep Intro

You walk into a shop, and pretty quickly realize you probably shouldn't have. It's a *mess.* Items are strewed haphazardly about the place, and the interior is lit not by torches, but by the sheer amount of glowing nonsense lying around (and some neat wall-mounted crystals.) The only thing that seems to be any sort of organized is the large potion shelf, kept behind the counter.

Then your other senses kick in. First, the smell. The scent would be subtle, almost alluring, except that it seems to be an impossible amount of alluring scents all vying for your attention, and you think that if you hung around for too long you'd get a headache.

And the noise! The shop isn't loud, not by any means. You'd almost swear something was muffling it, which is good news for your poor ears. Soft hums and whirrs, the bubbling of a boiling liquid or two, mechanical clicks, and some distinctly organic sounds from the next room all combine into something that would be cacophonous if not for the muffling. As it stands, it just makes the place atmospheric.

And the whole place is magic. You don't have to cast any spells to be sure of that -- it washes over you, emanating out from every corner of the place. If you knew what radiation was, you'd be tempted to liken it to getting radiation poisoning.

After you've finally reigned your errant sense back into place, you take stock of the shopkeep. It's a Tabaxi, it's always a Tabaxi running these sorts of places. Well, sometimes it's a Kenku, but they have trouble bargaining so their establishments don't last long. Every now and again it's a goblin or kobold, but goblins tend to wind up on the wrong end of their more mystical wares pretty quick, and kobolds have a tendency to keep the coolest stuff for themselves, which is also bad business practice. So yeah, it's a Tabaxi running the place.

She's sleek and slender and smiling at you smugly. You get the distinct feeling she enjoys newcomers being entranced by her wares. She's what you expected, in that she's a Tabaxi, but she's also not at all what you expected the shopkeep of such a fantastical place to look like. You were expecting someone... older, maybe. A bit more predatory, or mystical, or some other fantasy adjective that gets applied to magical shopkeeps. Instead, she's an uncloaked, bright-eyed youngster. She really doesn't seem any older than the fresh-faced adventurers you see in big city taverns, just back from clearing out their first kobold warren.

Credit where credit is due, though, she *does* have plush black fur that seems to sparkle like galaxies in the pulsing glow of the shop. And you aren't sure if it's facepaint or fortunate genetics, but she has symmetrical white dots under her crystalline eyes and a big white star down the center of her forehead. You'd call her cute if you didn't have the evidence of her prowess invading your personal space.

Her smile turns more agreeable, and she steps out from behind the counter to greet you.

"Hello! I'm Hidden Tempest, from clan Winterstorm Mountain, but everybody just calls me Hidey. I'm told it's a common human name. Welcome to my shop, the Hidey-Hole!" She pauses for a moment. "It's a pun, you see. Tabaxi like puns. It's based off of my name, and that you can only find your way in here if you're in the know, so to speak. Or if you hear the explosions and go through the holes they leave. So I guess, now that I think about it, it's a three-way pun." she shrugs.

She gestures at the room, and all the items within. "Please, feel free to look around! I would recommend *not* touching anything, though. Most of it's fine to touch but... well, better safe than sorry. Wouldn't want to lose a potential customer!"

You're apprehensive, and for good reason. She frowns. "I assure you, everything in this shop has been tested. If not by me, then by my friends. I'm very well-connected, you see. I can offer an explanation for anything in here."

So begins your journey into the Hidey-Hole.

[nekowithascythe]

I swear to God I will either give up at the first sign of trouble or repeatedly slam my hand against a wall until I have to stop myself because I'm about to smash something. And then I go, "I'm going to sort a deck of cards sequentially by Solitare rules, by suit, making sure all cards are right side up (except diamond because they are perfectly symmetrical), and then put them back in the box, Red, Black, Red, Black with the Ace of Spades being the front facing card. sadly I have no pictur of this.

[misseviehyde]

COMPLEX VICTIM

Brad laughed as he cornered his three victims and choosing the smallest pushed Gabriel hard up against the wall.

"You pathetic little dweeb. My sexy girlfriend dumped me and I want to make her jealous, so you're going to drink this gender changing Elixir and become my new girlfriend."

Gabriel squealed as Brad slid his hand round his neck. His skinny frame was no match for the muscled quarterback.

"Refuse and I'll beat the shit out of you and kick your friends asses for good measure." Laughing he lifted Gabriel one handed and dropped him to the floor.

Choking and gagging Gabriel gasped as a pink vial was thrust into his hands.

"But I don't want to be a girl," he sobbed, "and I definitely don't want to be your girlfriend."

The bully laughed.

"Like I give a shit what you want. Justine has all the other girls in school on her side. so I need a new girl. This stuff better make you pretty."

Standing threateningly over his victim Brad smiled as he watched the little nerd drink the whole vial.

"Good boy. Now let's see what kind of slut you turn into."

Gabriel's friends watched in horror as their friends face took on a dreamy expression. He began to tug and tear at his clothing uncomfortably, groaning as he arched his back and they heard the clicking of bones starting to pop and shift.

"Unnnnnhhhh feel... so... hot... I'm mmmmmh burning up."

With a low moan, Gabriel threw his head back and the transformation began to accelerate. His short brown hair began to lengthen and grow and his face was tightening and reshaping. His already small body wasn't changing in size, but the hips and ass were swelling out.

"Fuckkkkkkk," groaned Gabriel his voice unbreaking and his friends shocked to hear him swear. "Fuckkkkk YESSSS!"

Gabriel's short bitten nails shot out and extended into manicured claws. His spotty complexion cleared up and his face took on a symmetrical shape with long delicate lashes and a soft pouting mouth. Deep brown eyes that twinkled with slutty mischief fluttered in pleasure as his hands went to his chest.

"Mmmmh ohhhh yeahhhhh," he laughed, rubbing his chest with glee and ripping his shirt open to reveal two huge swelling globes of flesh. Two massive teenage tits, full and firm filled his hands as his skin took on a soft tanned complexion and the transformations began to slow.

The smiling, panting hottie in the ripped remains of Gabriel's clothes tossed back her hair with a feminine gesture and admired herself with a grin.

"Mmmmmh, wow... what a rush. What's the matter stud - cat got your tongue?"

Brad seemed a little taken aback. He was staring at the new girl in shock. He hadn't quite expected the Elixir to work THIS well.

"G...Gabriel is that you?" squeaked one of the former boys friends.

"Yes and no. I was him, but now I'm me. Gabriel isn't here right now, maybe you should call be Gabbie instead?"

"Alright then Gabbie," grunted Brad stirring himself and trying to take charge of the situation again. "You're gonna be my girlfriend and do as I say or I'll hurt these loser friends of yours real bad."

Gabbie laughed and standing up walked over to Brad with a swaying motion. "Haha, like I give a shit what you do to those losers. I'll be your girlfriend, but because I WANT to. Beat the shit out of those dweebs for all I care."

Kneeling before Brad she giggled as she began to unbutton his fly. "No... let me show you why I want to be YOUR girlfriend and let's see if the rumours are true."

The bully groaned as Gabbie whipped his eight inch dick out and murmuring appreciatively she began to suck it.

"Mmmmh I'm such a fucking slut for a bad boy. I'm your naughty little bitch now baby," groaned Gabbie as she went to work and began to suck dick like she had been doing it for years.

With a scream her former friends ran away whilst Brad was distracted.

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

A week later and Gabbie's friends plucked up their courage and went on a rescue mission to the mall. She had changed further - now dressed in a slutty outfit that showed off her massive tits. Her belly button was pierced and her face enhanced with makeup.

Gabbie was turning out to be as big a bully as her new boyfriend.

Runour was she had recently beaten Justine up in a cat fight. Brad had decided not to take back his begging ex - seemingly under Gabbbie's spell.

"Gabriel," they cried. "We've come to rescue you from being Brad's victim."

Gabbie laughed and flicked her hair. She clicked her long manicured fingers commandingly.

From a shop behind her emerged Brad. He was laden with shopping bags and carrying all her things. "Where do you want to go next babe?" he asked in a tired, beaten down voice.

"Do I look like a fucking victim?" she giggled as her pussy whipped boyfriend staggered away behind her and she dragged him off to another shop as she turned her back on her former life.

[buckysdolls]

She’s a Freak Part 8 *Eddie Munson*

Eddie Munson X Henderson!Reader

General Warnings: Mentions of swearing, drugs, death, mature content

A/N- Couple of tings: 1. Sorry about the wait lol.

2. Sorry about the tag list... I’m rubbish. Please comment again for the tag list so I can keep a propper update of it. 

3. ILY guys

4. Reminder this doesn’t follow the same storylines as ST, we’re going off on our own adventure now.

Part 8

"Boy he can talk'' Eddie said as he plonked himself on your double bed. He observed his surroundings, your vanity table with your perfumes in one corner of the room, a desk with all your homework and revision notes sprawled out in the other. Light peach walls, with some fairy lights hanging. A photo of you, Dustin and your mum outside the house…Dustin looked so young, he must have been about five. He ran his fingers across your soft grey blanket that was neatly folded at the end of your bed, it was your favourite object in your room, not a night passes when you’re not hugging that blanket when you fall asleep. Arms and legs wrapped around it. Your room was the total opposite of his trailer, it was light and neat, not dingy or messy. 

"Mum hangs onto his every word. I'll be back, I should probably show my face so she knows I'm okay"

As you were leaving you popped your head back round the door and put your fingers to your lip to gesture Eddie to be quiet whilst you were downstairs. As you came down your mum was already at the bottom of the stairs looking up at you suspiciously as to how you got past her without seeing you.

"Where have you been? Both of my children went missing during a serial killer spree and now you appear out of nowhere!"

"One, it’s not a serial killer spree and two, I've been with Robyn, she's been consoling me about Seth you know." You quickly responded without hesitation, you felt a little bad using Seth as an excuse but it worked. She looked at you and her face softened, ushering you to join her for a hug. You embraced your mum tightly and Dustin stood behind her giving you a thumbs up. 

"I'm so sorry about Seth hunny." She spoke softly, you didn’t really know how to feel about Seth anymore. One minute you would feel utterly heartbroken and guilty then you would remember what it was really like to be with Seth and how he had treated you in the final months of the relationship. 

It was fake but it was the only way she'd leave you alone so you said "I need to be alone right now. I'll be in my room but please give me some space" you smiled sweetly yet upset as you could to be convincing. Your mother nodded and watched you walk back upstairs.

"Be down in the morning though, we need to talk as a family" you heard your mum call out and you responded with a yeah before closing your bedroom door. You pressed your back firmly against the door breathing out a sense of relief.

"We should be good." You whispered and collapsed onto your bed staring up at the ceiling. Eddie joined you, laying next to you, his hands resting behind his head. Eddie's head cocked to look at you, his smile instantly made you smile and a quiet laughter ensued. A smile like his was so rare, it was perfectly symmetrical and you adored his dimples when he smiled… Eddie Munson was never really defined by this word but he was cute.

"Never thought I'd ever be here"

"Then again, never thought I'd be wanted for murder either" 

“Second one may be more believeable” You chuckled.

“Oh really?” He asked raiisng his brows,

You laugherd the conversation off before silence lingered.

You rolled onto your side scooting closer to Eddie until your head was rested on his shoulder, it felt nice to find comfort in him. He watched you from the corner of his eye as you did this and so he moved his arm from behind his head and rested it on your hip as he held you close.

"Do you miss him?" Eddie murmured, your arm draped over his midsection.

"Who?" 

"Seth"

"I feel so guilty for saying no but I wish I could have had a proper goodbye." Eddie hummed as he stroked your arm delicately. His touch created goosebumps but it was soothing.

"I'm happy you're here Eddie" Eddie looked down at you with that smile. It was the first time in his life that he heard those words, somebody actually wanted him around. Somebody he cared about made him feel loved. He finally knew what love felt like.

"Yeah?"

You nodded in response as you looked up. He kissed your forehead kindly as you enjoyed each other's company. For the first time in years you felt blessed, being with Eddie like this, made the current shit storm feel calm as if none of it was real. You moved your head upwards a fraction till your lips were inches from his and making the move you kissed him. His free hand settled on your cheeks, his thumb drawing small circles as your heads moved together in the kiss. This is how you alway imagined your first time, relaxed in your own bed, your comfort blanket in reach and being in the presence of your own home made this decision an easy one for you. Though the thought of Eddie being in your room because you were hiding him was not in the plan of how you wanted to lose your virginity. Keeping the kiss locked in you hoisted yourself up and placed yourself on top of Eddie, Eddie desperately wanted to let his hands roam your body like he’d done before but he wanted to remain respectful of you and your home. That was until you pulled away, maintaining eye contact with Eddie you removed your top and then your bra. Eddie rolled his eyes in pleasure at the sight of you. You shuffled down a few inches unbuckling his black jeans and then leaned over to your bedside table pulling out a condom. Eddie gently held your wrist. 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m crazy about you” Eddie’s words from the other night played in your head as you thought about your decision. 

“I’m sure” You grinned before putting your lips back on his.

Morning soon rose and you and Eddie were sprawled out across the bed, the sheets woven in between your bodies, Eddie clutching your sides, keeping you close to him. A loud knock at the door followed by your mother calling out your name frightened both you and Eddie. You shot up grabbing at the sheets to cover you, repeatedly whispering ‘shit’ under your breath, before quickly rolling Eddie off the bed and instructing him to get under it to hide.

“Yeah, what is it!” You called out to your mum. Her head popped around the door frame, she shot you a confused look at the way you were holding the sheets against your body.

“Please come down, okay” You nodded and smiled to appease your mum. The door closing was a signal of safety for Eddie, he gripped the wooden bedframe and pulled himself out halfway.

“Under the bed really?” He was smirking as you threw yourself over to the side of the bed to see Eddie sticking out. 

“Cliche much?” You questioned with a snigger. 

“Maybe this is how I murder you after hiding under your bed” Eddie wiggled his brows. 

“Now that's cliche. Take the girls virginity, hide under her bed when her mum walks in then murder her and leave through the window. No one would suspect a thing” You rolled your eyes before attempting to get up from the bed. But Eddie reached out to you bringing you back to him, your stomach flat against the mattress and your face meeting his. 

“You’re beautiful” Eddie told you, meeting your lips to kiss delicately. Pulling away reluctantly you jumped up and threw Eddie’s clothes down on his face.

“Get ready” He couldn’t see it but you were smiling so widely, you didn’t think it was possible to smile that big. No one had ever made you smile like right now, they say the key to happiness is to be happy for the moments you cherish, because those moments are your life. The moments of giggling with pure laughter whilst trying to be quiet, the moment of intimacy you shared with Eddie, him covering your mouth with his hand to stop you getting too loud, the moment after when you laid in his arms as he told you how perfect your body, face and whole being was. That was happiness, angelic happiness.

[drabblingdraco]

✬Arranged✬ Draco Malfoy X Reader (Request)

This is a request I received!

"Hello! I would love if you wrote something around reader and draco being forced into an arranged marriage by their parents. They hate each other at first because draco used to bully/insult her in school, they're constantly at each other's thoughts at first but then they begin to not mind each other's company... idk if that makes sense feel free to ask any questions. if you don't mind writing it I would love you see your take on it ❤️ oh and maybe the reader would fit the whole pureblood Slytherin comes from a wealthy family thing too. Something like that..."

I’ve read various imagines with a similar plot, but here’s my take on it! If you’d like a Part 2, let me know! I love this story line

Warning: swearing, slightly mean/bully Draco

Very long like 2k oops

Draco's POV:

I was awoken by the sound of Father walking in to my bedroom. He told me I needed to get up and ready for the day, as the (y/l/n)'s were coming. I ran my fingers through my hair, stressing over the fact I had to see (y/n) again. I couldn't stand being in the same room as her. She made me feel emotions I refused to let out. Although we were arranged to be married, I would never let her in my head. She wasn't getting anywhere near my vulnerability. I looked up at Father as he walked towards my bed, grabbing my chin.

"Son, you know how important this is. She's one of the only good pure bloods your age. Not to mention her great, great grandfather was the founder of Slytherin house. Don't fuck this up, Draco." He spat his last sentence before exiting.

I sighed, getting out of bed. My warm feet adjusted to the cold temperature of the wood floor. I went into my closet and picked out my usual attire: an emerald button up, black slacks and black laced dress shoes. I stared at my reflection in the mirror as I combed my hair back to a suitable placement. After spritzing some cologne on my neck, I saw a silver town car pull up outside the window.

(y/n)'s POV:

As the car came to a stop, I sighed while slouching in my seat. I could see Draco peering out the window pane. I wasn't looking forward to spending another day at the Malfoy's, yet again. I've been coming to the Manor my whole life. I knew the Malfoy's like the back of my hand, except Draco. He repeatedly threw his aggression towards me. Every time we spoke, one of my flaws came up in conversation. He always pointed out the (y/birthmark) on my (y/body part).

"Out the car now darling, time to see your fiancé."

"Mother please stop calling him that."

"Why? He is your betrothed after all." She grinned.

I rolled my eyes. After all these years, I still can't imagine being married to that foul mouth. I wanted to marry someone I loved, like my parents. But all they cared about was the Malfoy’s and keeping their great image in the wizarding world.

I stepped out of the car and mother shouted at me from the other side. "Go ahead inside love, I'll meet you in there." She had a slight smirk across her lips. I was suspicious, but not enough to ask questions.

I make my way up the grand stairs, Narcissa waited for me in the doorway.

"Hello dear! Delighted to see you again." She gave me a hug and a peck on the head.

"Draco will be down in just a minute- DRACO!" She smiled. I internally groaned.

A figure came walking down the spiral staircase. His hair was placed just right, making his piercing grey eyes stand out. His sleeves were cuffed right above his wrists, the green really accentuated his skin tone. I quickly shook myself out of admiration coma.

"Draco." I said with a straight face.

"(y/n).." he replied.

"Draco, why don't you take her to the gardens while your father gets her trunks?"

"Trunks? What do you mean?"

Narcissa looked confuzzled. "Oh dear, don't know you? You're staying at the manor for a short while."

My eyes went wide, "What?"

"WHAT?!" Draco grasped the railing of the stairs, the veins on his hand popping out as he strained against the wood.

"Draco! Behave yourself," Narcissa gritted through her teeth, she turned to me smiling.

"I don't have any clothes," I stammered, trying to make up excuses to avoid my dreadful stay.

"Yes you do!" Mother said, walking through the door.

I turned to face her with stink eyes, "is there a reason you didn't tell me I had to stay here with this twat?!" I motioned to Draco.

"And you didn't tell me this bloody-" Draco shouted at Narcissa, but she quickly stopped him.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence."

There was a brief, awkward moment of silence between the four of us. 

"My love, it's time you got a taste of the married life," she grasped my shoulder shaking me subtly. "After all, you are older now and soon enough, you'll officially be husband and wife."

"But mother! I-"

"No buts! Now I really must be going. I have to meet your father at the council meeting, but enjoy yourself! I packed you enough clothes for a few weeks, so you're all set dear." She kissed me on the cheek as I stood there, dumbfounded.

"Goodbye darling!" She shouted as Lucious shut the door behind her, exiting the manor.

I turned around to face the two Malfoys that stood before me. How could she just dump me here? And for weeks?  It's bad enough she married me off before I could even breathe. There's no way I would be able to last that long here with Draco. I look at both him and Narcissa, he looked enraged and I couldn't blame him.

"Now take a walk in the gardens, get some fresh air." She stated as a command rather than a question.

We both looked at each other with disgust, but we followed her wishes and headed towards the courtyard. We walked in silence for quite awhile. It was a cumbersome stroll, he wouldn't look me in the eyes or even my direction. I shouldn't be surprised, he was always like this, but something was different. He seemed tense, like he was holding something back. I tried to enjoy myself as if he wasn't there, admiring the lilies and pansies scattered perfectly symmetrical. Unfortunately my eyes kept falling back on him. His tapered slacks rested right above his matte dress shoes. The way his shirt grasped his frame. I felt a chill going down my spine. I adjusted my cardigan, wrapping it tightly around my chest. For some reason this got his attention and he whipped his view towards me.

"Don't tell me you're cold?" He scoffed, scrunching his nose.

"Is there a problem with feeling normal human reactions?" I spat.

He laughed, "just find it rather odd you'd wear such a short skirt on a day like this."

I shook my head in anger. It was typical he pointed out something to do with my attire. "It's summer Malfoy..what, would you rather I wear jeans and sweat like a pig?" Looking me up and down, his eyes lingering at the hem of my skirt.

He ignored my words and continued to walk faster, heading back to the manor. I scoffed and continued at my pace, in no rush to go back inside with that jackoff.

I closed the door to the courtyard and locked it. My eyes traveled around the room, I remembered memories from my childhood, when Draco was actually pleasant towards me and didn't act like a dick. We used to play with fake wands and babble made up spells to each other. I snapped out of my thoughts when I saw Narcissa approaching.

"Why don't you come have some tea? I just brewed a pot." I nodded and followed her to the dining room.

I sat down in one of the many chairs seated at the table. A minute later she came back with a kettle and two dark green teacups with silver snakes on them. Typical Slytherins, but I was one to talk. We chatted a bit about how I've been since we last saw one another, even though it was only a mere three weeks ago. Then we diverted to the subject of Hogwarts. She went on about Dumbledore and how Lucious couldn't stand him. At this point, who didn't know about his vendetta against him.

After a few hours of conversing, she said she was tired and was heading to bed.

"You'll stay in Draco's room this evening."

"Um, are you sure? Can't I stay in the guest room?"

"Oh..the guest room is being..remodeled at the moment. Draco knows of the arrangements. I assure you dear, don't worry about about a thing. Sweet dreams." And with that, she left me standing in the dining room.

I clenched my fist together, wanting nothing more than to obliviate myself and forget everything that was happening, but alas, I couldn't go through with it. Like the kind, forced houseguest I was, I took the teacups and kettle back into the kitchen to be cleaned when I ran into Dobby.

"Hello Dobby how are you?"

"Hello Miss (y/n), you're always so worried about Dobby, it warms my heart. Dobby's keeping his feet on the ground. Dobby keeps hearing things from Mr. Draco about you."

"I'm sorry but I thought I just heard you saying Draco's been talking about me.."

"Oh dear, Dobby has said too much! Bad Dobby." He reached for the teacup but I stopped him before he could.

"Don't hurt yourself, it'll only make me sad, and I know you hate to see me that way." I bat my lashes.

"Sorry Miss (y/n)..since I've already said too much...Mr. Draco talks about you nicely. He likes your (y/h/c) hair and the way your nose scrunches when you're laughing. Dobby hears him talk to Mr. Crabbe and Goyle about these things and much more.." He shyly looks away, looking up the stairs towards Draco's room.

"Hey, hey, I won't tell him. (y/n) keeps secrets Dobby tells her." I smiled at him.

"Thank you Miss, Dobby likes you much more than his masters."

"I like you more than them too." I gave him a peck on the head and went up the staircase.

I trailed down the hall towards his room. The halls were dimly lit by small candles on the walls, as well as moving paintings on the walls of their family tree. I arrived outside his bedroom, scared out of my mind to knock, but I brought myself to do so. Shortly after knocking, he opened the door to his bedroom. I stood there admiring his night clothes; a fitted white v-neck tee shirt and boxer shorts.

"Are you just going to stand there like a git and gawk or come in?" He smirked.

"I- Uh- Coming in." I slipped past him and stood there, unsure of my next move.

"It's getting late," he shut the door behind him. "You should put on some more comfortable clothing to sleep in."

"Right..oh, my trunk is downstairs. I should go get-"

"It's right here," he pointed towards it. "I brought it up a little bit ago. Didn't want to risk you breaking a nail, I'd never hear the end of it."

I scoffed, walking towards my case. I unbuckled the clasps and opened it to find clothing that didn't belong to me, or so I thought."

I've bought you some more appropriate dressings for your stay with Draco. Enjoy them, I know he will too.

-Mother

I was taken aback by her note. It's like she's asking me to fuck him, and we're not even married yet. She's already desperate for grandchildren, I thought to myself. I rummaged through my new wardrobe and ogled in shock. Lingerie, bodycon dresses, even shorter skirts. Are mothers supposed to be like this?

I picked the least revealing item I could find to sleep in. It was a silk green nightgown with lace detailing on the chest, lingering a little too low on the chest for my liking..but it was the only thing that didn't expose my entire body. I grabbed my toiletry bag and my feet brought me to the bathroom. I peeled off my current attire and put on a new set of panties along with my nightgown. I brushed my hair up in a ponytail and brushed my teeth. Gathering my belongings, I slowly walked out of the bathroom and locked eyes with Draco. Now he was the one gawking at me.

"I know I'm always being a dick but..you look dashing (y/n), really." He said shyly, looking down at his feet as he sat on the bed.

"Thanks..." I wasn't sure how to respond.

I put my dirty clothes and bag on top of my trunk. I scratched the side of my arm in nervousness, not knowing how the sleeping arrangements were going to work, although I had an idea. There was nothing else to sleep on besides Draco's bed. He stared at me with anticipation as if he was waiting for me to join him.

I proceeded to the opposite side of the bed. I peeled back the sheets on my side, snaking my legs underneath. Draco still sat in his place, shifting a bit, but stayed in his current position. I laid down, facing his direction, closing my eyes. Maybe if I kept them closed long enough, I'd eventually fall into a deep slumber without any further conversing with Draco.

I felt the sheets ruffle as he too laid down, I couldn't tell if he was facing my direction or not, but I ignored it. I adjusted my pillow to a more comfortable position. We both laid there, within the same vicinity, completely silent. After a few moments, I peaked my eyes open ever so slightly to find a pair of silver eyes looking deep into my soul. I shuttered, unaware of the fact he was staring at me. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Couldn't help myself."

"Couldn't help what?" I asked in confusion.

"Having the pleasure of looking at you," he licked his lips.

"I don't think I understand.."

"My god (y/n)...I never took you for dumb."

I raised an eyebrow, "how am I dumb?"

"Because you can't see it," he paused. "You can't see how madly I'm in love with you...and you can't tell me you don't feel the same." He reached for me chin, grasping it ever so slightly.

I didn't dislike his touch. His hands were ice, melting on my warm skin. His thumb caressed my jaw, heading towards my lips.

"I- I will admit..I do have f-feelings for you, I've been suppressing them..but you make it very convincing that you have a..distaste for me. Ever since we were young.."

"I don't think you understand the common thing about us males...we tease the ones we love," he chuckled.

Not knowing what the hell came over me, I forcibly grabbed his face and slammed my hungry lips onto his.

Taglist: @bbeauttyybbx 

[wornoutmouse]

Sukuna pt 1

So i wrote this man's name wrong in this whole thing but you got me fucked up if you think I'm going back and editing. It will be fixed in the part 2

Dubious Concent, very breif religious themes, manipulation

Spoiler: this takes place after the deal

"So there's something I have yet to tell you about." You raise your face from your textbook and look over at Yuji.

It was Saturday and you two had agreed to study together well, you were studying, he was more or less watching you solve problems that "had too many letters to be math."

"What is it Yuji?" The pink haired boy scratched the back of his head as he looked anywhere but your face. You raise an inpatient eyebrow and glare at him over the rim of your glasses. "Let's talk about it today not tomorrow please."

A faint blush formed over the bridge of his nose as he made eye contact with you again. "Well you see, I kinda got a curse demon thing named Sakuna inside of my body cause I kinda ate 4 out of 20 of his fingers."

The room was filled with silence as Yuji waited for your response. You blinked once. Then twice. Then thrice. "Get the hell out my house Itadori." Was all you said as you returned to your book and mumbled a quick prayer.

"What seriously I didn't even get to explain!" You closed your book and threw it at him. "I am a child of God if you don't get yo demonic self out of my bubble of safety!" Yuji dogged the incoming stack of literature with a playful smile on his face.

"Aw come on Y/n, you haven't even met the guy! What happened to don't judge a book by it's cover?" You put a hand on your hip, "Yeah well this book doesn't have very good reviews."

You walked up to your desk drawer and pulled out a cross and a spray bottle you had blessed. "If you really got all that in ya guts, let me meet him then." A concerned face comes over Yuji's features. "Well uh...I was joking."

 You cross your arms over your chest and trap your foot, Yuji gulps slowly and you can't help but notice his eyes briefly travel down. You drop your arms and wiggle your jello like body to get his attention.

"I don't think it's a good idea right now he hasn't shut up since we've got here." You roll your eyes, "Oh no backing out now, let me meet him since he has so much to say!"

You saunter up to Yuji with a smirk on your face, "Don't be a chicken, if I get in trouble you can just come save me can't you?" Yuji nodded but looked to the side still conflicted, "All right but only for a moment." 

You shrugged and walk back to your bed,  truly not believing that your friend was 'cursed'. As you go to put your cross back, hands come to hold your waist. "Wow Yuji, take me to dinner first!"

Itadori doesn't respond and you tense as you feel a warm breath caresses your neck. "The hell…?" Turning around you look up at Yuji with a bored face. "Are you still doing your little demon bit?"

Yuji's eyes are closed but his mouth is spread wide in a grin as dark lines creep onto his smooth skin. To your complete horror, his eyes finally open along with two others from what you had first assumed to be some type of symmetrical scarring.

"Well would you look at that, the brat actually trusted me." You pull away, the harsh feeling of your desk behind you, burned like fire as you realised you had nowhere else to go.

"T-This can't be real, stop playing with me Yuji." A sharp smirk formed on Yuji's face but you knew it wasn't him. "Oh no this is as real as it gets sweet cheeks." The curse, Sakuna backs away from you and looks around your room.

"So this is a modern home now a days?" You slowly pork yourself away from your desk and back towards your front door. "This would be a dorm but yeah." Sakuna glances at you from the corner of his eyes and you violently found yourself standing in front of your bed.

"What the hell!?" You yell as you stumble in place. "Why are you trying to run dear, the party is just starting." You frown and  turn back to see Sakuna's grinning face. '

'forgive me Yuji but I'm about to beat your body to a pulp' 

Calculated eyes go down your figure and you couldn't help but shiver with anticipation. "You know the kid was right. Ever since we arrived I couldn't stop talking about what a glorious piece of ass you were." 

The new personality rolled Yuji's head in thought as he gazed at your pudgy figure, "Alot of ass it seems."

A presence formed behind you and rough hands enveloped your cheeks, turning your face to glare up at Sakuna. "I don't know if it's the foreigner blood in you but you're a gem doll!" Sakuna purred into your ear.

A warm tongue swipes your cheek and you cringe away. "Would you look at that, you kinda do taste like chocolate!" You jerk your body away from the giggling curse and wipe your face with the sleeve of your shirt. "Ya know I'm really starting not to like you dude."

Sakuna blinked with wide eyes, "Dude?"  The air around the two of you seemed to cool a multitude of degrees as an unseen force flings you at the wall above your bed. "Ow-" your complaint is cut off as Sakuna appears before you with the same wide eyes.

"You need to learn some damn manners 'dude'." Sakuna pushes you down on your back with one hand while the other props him up above you. "Let's get to know each other huh, have a lil fun?!" 

Sakuna leans down and kisses you. It's harsh and unforgiving and consists mostly of gnashing teeth. It may have been your imagination but you swear you could taste hints of metallic forming on your swollen lips. Any further investigation is forgotten as Sakuna's tongue roughly explored your mouth, swallowing your whimpers.

You weakly raise a hand against his firm chest as he growled against your mouth. After long last, you were able to break away long enough to speak as air returned to your lungs, "Y-Yuji!" 

Sakuna covers a hand over your mouth, "Not yet, I'm not finished." Sakuna looks at you for a moment, clearly annoyed. "Let's make a deal coco." Your nerves twitched at the nickname.

"Don't call me that, and why do you think I'd make a deal with you!?" Sakuna grinned as he squished your cheeks together with a mocking tone in his voice. "Because I have the power to hold your precious brat back long enough to snap your pretty little neck."

This of course was not true as per his previous agreement  but you didn't need to know that. "What kinda deal you talking about, it ain't got nothing to do with my soul do it?" Sakuna tossed his cotton candy head back with a honk of a laugh. "You mortals are so funny."

A bit of an adoring look came over Sakuna's face as he looked at you. The expression was so unexpected, for a moment you thought Itadori had regained control. "The deal is; I have 4 minutes to do whatever I want with you and then I hand the reigns back to pretty boy."

You glare into Sakuna's many eyes, "Promise?" Sakuna pressed a clawed hand across his heart and a sky smile washed over his face.

"I make no promises I make deals."

I already got the rest but i kinda wanna hear y'all beg