#I don't even smoke just what are the odds of all three happening at once?

[hardylettuce]

Happy Out of Touch Thursday the 4/20th to all who celebrate!

[elvendria]

Noticing You - e.m x fem reader Part Six

TW: reader gets dress coded, defensive eddie, sleazy teacher, detention, eddie breaks into y/n locker, masturbation, PHONE SEX (kinda), reader is drunk at the end, 18+ Minors DNI Word Count: 5005

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part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven

September 8th

There had been radio silence from Eddie since the day in the library. He would pick us up, drive us to school, drive us home and that was that. He made small talk with Dustin, but he was weirdly quiet with me.

We were halfway through class when Mr Wright looked to the back and stopped the class. Clearing his throat, he caused everyone to look up at him. He placed the textbook on the table before directing his eyes at me.

"Ms Henderson, do you have anything to cover up with?" He asked, peering over his glasses. Slowly, all the heads in the class turned to look at me.

"No, is there a problem sir?" Suddenly very nervous. What the hell is going on?

"Your shoulders, they're exposed. Find something to cover them at once."

I'd worn a sleeveless turtleneck, given that it was still a bit warm out and my shoulders had never been an issue. So why was he pointing them out now?

"But sir, I don't have anything with me at the moment." Feeling everyone's eyes on me, I wanted to evaporate in a puff of smoke. Robin squeezed my hand under the desk, clearly seeing the panic spreading across my face. The only thing I had was Eddie's jacket, and it was at home.

"Well then I'll have to write you up for violating the dress code," He says as he started writing up the slip, "You know that exposed shoulders are a distraction and therefore are detrimental to the work ethic of the men in the class."

Immediately a voice in front piped up.

"With all disrespect, Mr Wright, don't you think it's perverted that you stopped an entire lesson to point out a girl's shoulders?"

Eddie, what were you doing? I willed him to stop, mentally begging him to shut his mouth and to stop talking.

"I agree Munson, considering she's down the back and the only 'man' that can see her is Mr Wright, it does seem a bit odd that he stopped to tell her that her shoulders were distracting the men. Are her shoulders distracting you, sir?" A second voice popped up beside him, cocking their perfectly styled head to the side.

Steve 'The Hair' Harrington was coming to my defence. What fresh hell is this?

Mr Wright looked appalled but quickly started writing 2 more notes. My heart beat rapidly in my chest.

"Month's detention, all three of you! You're lucky I don't ban you from homecoming. And Ms Henderson you are to report to the main office at once to see if they can't find you something to cover up with." I'd never had detention before, not once. I was a straight-A student with a spotless record and I planned on keeping it that way. Why were the two of them fucking this up for me?

Although shocked at what just happened, I was even more shocked at the fact that Eddie and Steve walked up and swiped their detention slips like it was no big deal. I mean Eddie practically danced out of the class.

I stumbled up to my biology teacher, clutching my bookbag like it was a liferaft, before meekly taking the slip from him and heading towards the office.

After leaving the classroom, the dynamic duo stood outside at the lockers their arms both crossed. They looked smug, proud almost. Their faces changed quickly when they saw my expression, and I'm fairly certain if looks could kill they would both be ash right now.

"What in the actual fuck was that stunt in there," turning to Eddie first, gritting my teeth, "I had it under control," I whisper-yelled at him. I felt myself getting angry, and all I wanted was to go home and crawl into bed and not move.

"Under control?" Eddie scoffed "You were about to let that sleazeball walk all over you! I was just trying to help, you could at least be grateful." The fucking nerve of this guy.

"Grateful? For getting me a month of detention? Oh, what am I supposed to do, drop to my knees and let you know how much this meant to me? Maybe I'll make a big fucking speech about it tomorrow, letting everyone know just how goddamn heroic you are," I saw his eyes go wide, clearly not expecting that sort of response from me.

"I think I-" Steve started,

"And you," I said bitterly, "You think just because you're friends with my brother that you need to come to my aid whenever it's needed?" I shook my head at the two of them, absolutely dumbfounded at their antics. "It's creepy enough that you follow him around like a lost puppy, I don't need you doing it for me too."

"Both of you need to grow up," I said, fixing my gaze on Eddie, wanting to say so much more than that. I wanted to tell him that he needed to get his act together, to kiss me right now if he had the guts. His mixed signals were giving me a headache, one minute we're leaning up against a bookshelf, almost kissing, the next he's point blank ignoring me. Apart from now obviously.

I think he could tell by my expression that I had more to say but was holding back. So, instead of letting loose, I turned on my heel to walk to the main office, undoubtedly they have an ugly cat sweater or something equally as hideous that I can wear for the day, ignoring the grumbling from behind me.

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September 16th

Sitting in the detention hall, I was agitated. I didn't want to be here, I didn't fucking deserve to be here. Who cares if my shoulders had been exposed? If Eddie and Steve had just kept their mouths shut none of us would be in this stupid room.

Steve was sitting in the far corner, staring into a textbook, his head resting in his palm. He seemed to get the message that I didn't want to talk to him. Eddie however turned a blind eye, even when I blatantly turned and told him to move away.

I was tired, I woke up extra early every day this week so I didn't have to get a ride with him to school. I always ended up leaving the house just as he pulled into the driveway.

The first morning, I walked over and opened the passenger door. A wave of relief washed over him, which was quickly replaced by a look of dejection as I threw his leather jacket on the seat and closed it, making my way towards the school.

The first two days, whenever he saw me he would start apologizing and trying to pry conversation out of me. He tries to stop me in the halls to talk to me, but I kept walking. People had started to look at me funny because of how often he had been coming up to me.

I should learn to stop caring about what people think of me. This time next year I'll be gone, off to college somewhere far from here.

I wanted to talk to Eddie, but every time I looked at him my head became a jumbled mess that I couldn't decipher. I tried convincing myself he was a distraction, but the truth was I'd never been more focused. In hindsight, I'm being petty, but anyone who knows me knows that I am incredibly stubborn. Depending on how you look at it it can be a flaw or a strength.

I would sit in the back of the detention hall as another note would be sneakily put on my desk. Eddie had been doing this in every class we had together, and I hadn't answered them. I hadn't even read them despite desperately wanting to, I just shoved them into a little pocket in my bag, but it was starting to fill up.

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My head felt like it weighed about 12 tonnes coming out of Math. When was I ever going to use anything I just learned? Pythagoras theorem? A load of bull more like. All I wanted right now was to skip the rest of the day and go home, to curl up under my covers and read. Or sleep, whatever happened first.

Rubbing my temple, I didn't notice that I'd walked into someone. Thankfully I didn't drop anything like the last time I did this. Looking up, I realised I walked into Steve Harrington. Why was this guy everywhere?

"Woah, you ok?" He asked, a look of genuine concern on his face as he placed a hand on my shoulder. His eyes were wide and searching my face for any sign of injury.

"I'm fine," I shrugged his arm off me, not wanting to engage in physical contact with anyone right now. "You barely touched me," I was tired, and I was also slightly annoyed at Steve too.

Let's be honest, I was annoyed with everyone. Right now everyone but Robin sucked.

"Ok, well, just checking." He stepped back, holding his hands up and stepping back.

"Yeah well don't." I pushed past him, deciding that getting Tylenol from the nurse was a better option than listening to Cassidy Quinn warble all through music class.

I hear him come after me, but I didn't stop walking. It didn't take long for him to catch up to me though, given how unnaturally tall he is. "You should hear Munson out, he thought he was doing the right thing." He said as he walked beside me.

The truth was, I wasn't ignoring Eddie because of what happened, or even because of his mixed signals. I was ignoring him because I couldn't deny how I felt anymore. I'd only spoken to him a couple of times, but I've been watching him for what feels like a lifetime.

I felt it when he was working on my car, and again when he gave me his jacket. He was so gentle.

I felt another thing entirely when he stared down at Jason Carver and defended me in Bio. He seemed protective. Is that the best way to describe it?

Either way, each time I felt like there was a growing pit in my stomach and a tightness in my chest.

Each time, I wanted him to pull me close and hold me. To feel his body warmth all over me as he whispers in my ear. To feel his forehead against mine and his breath on my lips. He made me feel weak. It made me feel stupid. Reduced to nothing but a giggling mess at the thought of him.

It was too difficult to suppress my feelings, so instead, I didn't engage with him. Treating my feelings like a scab. If I don't pick at them, they'll heal over and disappear. Leaving nothing but a faint scar and a distant memory behind.

"Look Steve," I sighed, "Things are going on that you wouldn't understand. I don't even understand! All I know is Eddie and I can't be friends," I looked down at my feet, "So just drop it okay? Besides, you barely know me, you just hang out with my brother and best friend sometimes."

Fun fact, Steve and Robin slung ice cream together, yet somehow she was the only one to come out of it with any muscle gain.

"Look all I'm saying is, hear him out. I don't like the freak either bu-"

"I never said I didn't like him." I glowered at him, instantly regretting my words, "And anyways, don't call him a freak, he's a good person."

"This coming from the person who said you wouldn't be friends with him," He said smugly, knowing he was right all along.

"Couldn't, not wouldn't." I finished, before walking away and leaving him behind. Sometimes I wish I was tall enough to punch him in his stupid face.

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"Y/n, I said I'm sorry, can you please just hear me out?" He said following me out of our detention and towards my locker. He ran in front of me and started walking backwards, stumbling once or twice. I felt a smile tug at my lips and I knew he could see it too.

I just wanted to grab my books and start walking home. I had to work the night shift at the diner tonight, and despite manifesting for a quiet night, it was a Friday and there was always a busy night shift then. I was going to be run off my feet. At least it's not as busy as a Saturday. I had back-to-back lessons to give tomorrow, and an English assignment due on Monday that I hadn't finished.

When I got to my locker and opened it, there was his jacket. After putting it in his van on Monday it was in my locker by the time I got to school that morning. The only explanation was he broke into my locker before I got there. I hated the fact that it didn't make me angry.

The day after I tried handing it to Dustin and getting him to give the jacket back to Eddie, but it was back in my locker after lunch. I gave it to Gareth the next day when I saw him in English, and through his stuttering and shock that an actual human woman was speaking with him, he nodded and took the jacket. I saw him give it to Eddie at lunch, and we locked eyes as he grasped it.

He looked like he was doing mental gymnastics in his head. Then, he stood up so abruptly at the time that I was sure he was going to come over and yell at me, but he just fiddled with something in his pocket and stormed out of the cafeteria. He came back 10 minutes later without the jacket, and I thought my eyes were going to get stuck in the back of my head.

It had been back and forth all week. I'd give him his jacket, he'd put it in my locker. If it weren't for my stubbornness I'd have given in and put it in my wardrobe by now.

But now, his eyes peered into me, like they were searching the depths of my soul. I shoved the jacket into his arms and closed the locker door. He immediately whipped out a nail file and started jimmying the lock. I stood in pure shock just looking at him, swallowing quietly as I stared at the way his fingers gripped it.

Scenarios played over and over in my head. Filthy, dirty thoughts and I could feel myself blushing deeply when I looked back at him fiddling with my lock, his tongue poking out over his top lip. It doesn't mean I like him, it just means he's very attractive.

"This would be a lot easier if you just gave me your combination." He grinned like this was funny. I stayed silent, giving in would only just make him talk more, even if that is what I secretly wanted.

He opened the locker swiftly and despite having seen it every day this week, Eddie stared into it. He took in every little detail from Dustin's 2nd-grade class photo pinned to the inside of the door, his teeth all askew as his grin stretched from ear to ear, to the calendar stuck on the back wall, a big circle marked around next Saturday.

"I'm not taking it back sweetheart."

I can't lie, every one of his pet names sent a shiver straight to my core. Each name was an appraisal, whether it was 'sweetheart ' or 'pretty girl', I wanted him to keep saying them. To keep hearing them.

He pulled me out of my thoughts when he placed his hand on my cheek, his thumb rubbing the circles on my skin.

"Not yet," he whispered, and I was once again greeted with the smell of mint and nicotine.

With that, he stepped back and shoved the jacket into my locker, turning around. My face burned where he had touched me, and I was frozen in place staring at him as he walked away.

Every time I thought I knew what was going on, Eddie always came along and made me feel like he'd blindfolded me and spun me in circles. I was dazed, confused and most of all unsure of how I felt.

Of how he felt.

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Tonight was hell, and we weren't even close to quitting time.

We were swarmed with customers. One of the guys had called in sick at the last minute and taken the night off so it was just me and Nicolle waiting tables, cleaning and ringing people up.

Nicolle was by far the best part about working here. She was very assertive, with a "take no prisoners" attitude. They weren't much older, Nicolle only graduated 3 years ago, she took me under her wing and showed me the ropes, even fending off the creepy perverts who would come in just to flirt.

The fact that we get to play our favourite music when we're working wasn't bad either. Luckily we all liked the same kinds.

"So," she spoke, leaning against the counter resting on her arms, looking at the rowdy group of kids loitering in the pop section, "Who wants to go and tell them that if they don't order soon we'll have to kick them out?"

"Not me," I said, taking a step back and throwing my hands up in a defensive manner, "I have to see them in school, it's gotta be you that has to do it." Nicolle looked at me and nodded her head, making vague noises of annoyance.

We'd grown extremely close, but that just caused us to bicker about situations like this more than you'd think. It could go back and forth like this for a while, and that was time we just didn't have at the moment. Pulling a quarter from the register, I turned to her.

"Call it," I said, flipping it in the air and catching it, turning it over onto the back of my hand.

"Heads," Nicolle called out.

"Tails," I followed.

Lifting my hand, I grinned at her. "Looks like you're up Nic," I smiled, showing her the tails-up coin before putting it back in the register.

She grumbled as she walked around to them, and I already knew they were in for it. In a way, it was a good thing that it was just us two because I'm almost certain some of the things she was yelling at the group would have gotten her fired if there was anyone else here.

"Hey," I turned to her as she stormed over, the teens having left. It was hard to take her seriously when she was annoyed, due to her height and naturally adorable face. 

"At least it's quieter now," and together we had to cover our mouths from laughing.

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Pulling down the shutters and walking into the parking lot, I hopped in Nicolle's car. She had been driving me home when we had shifts together due to me currently not having a car.

"So, tell me about Eddie again." She grinned. I told her about the situation every time she drove me home, but she kept asking anyway. She was studying cosmetology at the local community college, and she loved telling me what she thinks is happening between myself and Eddie.

I recounted the week's events to her as we drove down the road, telling her about how he'd broken into my locker every day just to give me his jacket. I told her about all the notes he had left me and how I couldn't read them. I don't know why but whenever she asked about him I always just opened up about everything I was feeling.

I looked at her and saw a big grin stretching across Nic's face like she knew something I didn't. She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, looking too happy to be this quiet.

"What? Why do you look like that?" I questioned her, which only made her laugh.

"Because I know what's going on here, and I can't tell you. This is something you need to figure out on your own." She briefly turned her head to give me a knowing look, just as we pulled outside my house.

The lights were off and I knew no one was home. Dustin was staying in Mike's after Hellfire Club, and Mom was probably at some bingo night or something. Maybe she was buying materials to make tews a dress since she loved that cat so much.

"I hope you know you've become a bitch ever since you started dating right?" I wasn't annoyed with her really, but I wished that she had chosen a different day to clam up about her opinions. She playfully nudged my shoulder as I got out of the car.

"Yeah, and this bitch can stop driving you home whenever she wants, " She laughed as I closed the door. I was about to turn around and fish my keys from my bag when she rolled down the window.

"Look," She huffed, "Just get drunk and do something stupid. You're overanalysing the situation when the facts are right in front of you. Maybe with some lowered inhibitions, you might figure out what's going on in that big brain of yours."

We waved each other goodnight as she sped off down the road. I don't know about the something stupid thing.

But I was definitely down for getting drunk.

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EDDIES POV

I lay on my bed with my head on my arms just staring up at the ceiling. I put on my favourite mix tape and shut my eyes. I thought about the way her eyes lit up as I touched her face today. I thought about how hot she looked when she got angry at me, and when she sarcastically mentioned dropping to her knees I couldn't stop picturing the image in my mind.

Even now, just thinking of her like that and I felt my boxers tighten. I was no better than George, we shared the same thoughts about her, I just didn't voice mine out loud. Only these four walls have heard me moan her name as I gripped myself, picturing her underneath me writhing in ecstasy. Nowadays the only way I could get off was to picture her perfect face.

The image of that towel falling away, of her breasts perking up beneath my fingertips. Those fantasies were like a drug and I was most certainly addicted. Her silence all week had been torture, and the day I saw her looking at me in the cafeteria it took all my strength to not go to her, throw her over my shoulder, walk out of there and just force her to talk to me.

I unbuckled my belt and slipped my hand into my jeans, slowly pumping myself, picturing her on my lap when the phone rang out in the hall. I planned on ignoring it, Wayne could get it, I was too busy in my little make-believe sex bubble.

The ringing stopped and I heard him grumble something down the line. The next thing I know there's a knocking on my door and I'm fumbling around trying to look normal. I open my bedroom door and he's there standing with the phone.

"Some girl looking to speak to you. Sounds drunk." He said holding it out to me. "It's late, and I don't want any visitors." He pushed it into my hand and sulked back to his sofa bed.

I loved Wayne, and I'll never be able to repay him for all he's done for me, no matter how many mugs and trucker hats I give him on Father's Day. But damn did he have poor timing.

It's an unspoken bond between us, I'd gift him a mug or hat and he'd hang it on the wall. He'd always wear it to work for the week that followed, but we never spoke about it.

Cousin Jesse, Wayne's only son, did the same thing before he moved away. Now we're lucky if we hear from him before Christmas. Maybe it's something to do with never knowing his mom. Maybe he just hates trailer parks?

I held the phone and walked back over to my bed, it was probably some girl looking to score last minute, or who thought it would be funny to call up the town freak at a party. Whoever it was, I wasn't in the mood to listen to their shit.

"Hello?" I sighed down the phone, rubbing my eyes. The girl hiccuped before she spoke.

"Why didn't you kiss me?" Y/n slurred down the line.

Ok, I take it back, I was definitely in the mood to listen to her.

"Y/n I-" I thought about it for a sec. Why hadn't I kissed her that day in the library? Or at her front door? Why hadn't I walked up to her and just grabbed her face, leaned in close and kissed her? God knows I wanted to.

She cut me off before I could speak.

"I like blue flowers. I'm wearing a blue dress to homecoming. I like the colour blue." She slurred each word to the point I was in stitches laughing down the phone.

"You have a cute laugh, Munson. You have a cuter face." She said quietly and my laughter stopped.

"How much have you had to drink Y/n?" I knew Dustin wasn't with her, I'd overheard him talking with Mike about what pizza they were gonna get for him and Sinclair staying over. I was only worried about her, she must've hit her head to be calling me cute.

"Half a bottle of Jack. I think. But that doesn't mean you don't have a hot face. Is your body as hot as your face? I had a dream it was. I have lots of dreams about you." I stayed silent, letting the words resonate with me. I so badly wanted to tell her I had dreams of her too. Filthy dreams of handcuffs and her screams of pleasure as I buried my face between her thighs.

"Eddieeeee" She sighed down the phone. I felt my breath catch in my throat and my cock twitch in my jeans. She let out a tired groan, but my filthy mind constructed it into something different. I was throbbing in my boxers, an absolute goner if she made any more noises like that.

"Yes, sweetheart?" I whispered. I was unsure of my words, how do I handle a hot drunk girl on the phone telling me that she finds me hot? Especially when this girl has given me a rock-hard dick that I need to take care of.

"Mmmm, I love it when you call me that." She moaned slightly, the noise permanently imprinted on my brain. This chick was determined to drive me nuts and so far she was succeeding.

Sliding a hand back into my jeans, I relieved a bit of the pressure on my cock. This felt so wrong, and yet so right. I mean, I already picture her when I'm jacking off, the only difference now is that I can hear her moans too. I started stroking myself slowly to the replaying sound of her moan.

My high was building fast, my cock still sensitive from my earlier attempt at this.

"Oh really? What about if I called you my good girl?" I was going to regret her answer, but I needed to know. I pulled my lip between my teeth as I moved my thumb over the tip.

"Apparently I like that too," She sounded a bit surprised.

"How do you know babygirl?" I asked, stifling a moan. God she was going to be the death of me.

"I can feel it. Between my legs. It's like a shiver or a twitch. I really liked that last one. My favourite so far." Her words were like honey, and before long I had nestled the phone between my ear and shoulder as I reached for the tissues, riding out my high and spilling myself into them. I'd never come that fast before, but her sounds and words made my body react in a certain way that I couldn't control.

There was silence over the phone, but it wasn't awkward. Peaceful almost. I lay back on the bed and listened to her breathing, wondering if she'd fallen asleep.

"Eddie?" She asked, her voice soft and quiet.

"Yes, Y/n?" A smile played on my lips as she said my name. If only one person in the world could say my name, I'd want it to be her. I want her to say it over and over again as I do unspeakable things to her. Consensual but unspeakable.

"I'm still mad at you." She said, letting out a deep sigh, and I had a feeling there was more to what she was saying, but I didn't press her on it.

"I know," I chuckled slightly. She could be mad at me forever if she wanted, I wouldn't mind in the slightest.

"Will you pick me flowers? They don't have to be blue." She whispered, almost like she was afraid to ask.

"For you sweetheart, I'd pick all the blue flowers in Indiana," knowing that she was too drunk to remember this conversation gave me a weird sense of confidence, but it didn't mean I lied. Hell, I'd give her the moon on a string if she asked for it.

I heard a small laugh down the line, that beautiful laugh that I wanted to hear forever on repeat. "Goodnight Eddie," She spoke softly.

"Goodnight beautiful, sweet dreams," I said as the line went dead, my head falling back against my pillow.

I think Ms Gullivan grew blue flowers outside her trailer.

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part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven

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[realityhelixcreates]

By Talos, This Can't be Happening ch. 11: Ruins of Empire

The past always leaves its mark, in some way or another.

@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions @whocares-idont I just realized it's been some time.

?~?~?~?~?

They crept away from the farmhouse just before the break of dawn, having been awoken by odd sounds neither of them trusted. They gathered up their things very quickly, dousing the fire and gathering the chickens which had been smoking and drying all night, then began putting distance between the farmhouse and themselves.

“Could have just been a mountain lion.” Helix said.

“Y'get how that's also bad though.” he answered, and they lapsed into silence as the stars faded against the slowly rising sun.

Helix spotted a fallen tree and left the road to examine it while Swag kept a look out for...everything plus mountain lions apparently.

“Thoughts?” he called.

“Hickory. Not new enough to be green, not old enough to be rotting. It's perfect!”

She took her hatchet and began chopping merrily away at a long branch. Little wood chips flew everywhere; she would likely be brushing them out of her hair for hours. After a few minutes, she presented him with a length of solid wood roughly three feet long.

“Good weight?” she asked. “I can thin it out a bit, if you need.”

“No, it...” he hefted the branch, gave it an experimental twist, a spin, a swing. It was thicker, heavier towards one end, and the balance of that was familiar in his palm. ���Yeah, I can work with this.”

“Great!” she chirped, then chopped up the rest of the branch into semi-even lengths, and tied them into a bundle which she slung over her back. “This will come in handy later tonight. I doubt we'll reach the city before tomorrow.”

They made their way back to the road, Swag picking the larger chips of wood out of her hair like a grooming monkey.

“So, can you tell me anything about Markarth?” he asked. “Since I'm supposed to be from there?”

“It's beautiful. I was only there once, but it left an impression. There were great spires of stone that the homes and shops were built into, so the city was mostly vertical. The palace was built into a cliff face. There was an attempted murder in the marketplace in broad daylight, the first day I was there.”

“Sounds like a party.”

“There was a lot going on. The Nords have left their mark on it, but it was originally a Dwemer city, and the architecture and metal works really showed it.”

“Now, what does that mean though? What is a Dwemer? I take it they're some kind of people?”

“Yeah...a kind of elf. But they don't exist anymore. If I've got it right, they went to war with the ancestors of the dark elves, like the ones at Azura's shrine, and they did something that made them all disappear overnight. Probably the biggest mystery in Tamriel.”

“Now when you say 'disappear'...”

“I mean gone.” she snapped her fingers. “Poof! No corpses, no clue where or how. Just gone. Left their cities still running, but empty. They used steam power thousands of years ago, had gas lights, created an alloy that still hasn't been reformulated, and built clockwork and machines out of it! They rejected the known gods and made a religion out of logic and philosophy, harnessed sound as magic, but...we know so little about them. Their language was unique, and no one speaks it anymore...but...if I could get my hands on one of the texts...”

“Do you think? They sound pretty neat. Clockwork, steam power, and machines? In this setting? If you could read the books, you might revolutionize this whole world!”

Something in her face fell.

“I'm...not sure I want to do that. It's just, this world seems quaint on its head, beautiful and fresh. Sure. But it's constantly at war. This is an empire. It has filled out to the edges of the continent, spreading its cultural influence like a suffocating blanket, just like we did, and the British before that, and the French before that, and the Spanish before that, and the Dutch-”

“Right.”

“And the point is, they would dearly love to reach past those edges, and so would every other empire on the planet. They're limited right now, in key ways. But a Tamrielic Age of Exploration-and everything that comes with it-is not something I want to be responsible for. And even if I didn't care about that, if I were to supply this knowledge, I'd never know another moment's peace. Everybody would want me, whether I wanted it or not. I do not belong to this world. I do not belong to any world. And though I might have to live within this empire right now, I won't be a slave to it, and I won't make it any easier for it to make slaves of anyone else.”

Naturally. The only chains on Helix were forged and placed by herself, and could just as easily be thrown off. She would never allow herself to be caged.

He eyed that ring on her hand once more. Only ever by her choice.

“That's a good point. This place feels so different from home, but it's still full of people, isn't it? And people are gonna people.”

“Even the Dwemer were known to be slavers. They destroyed an entire race of elves in that way. Their remnants still wander, down in the depths of their ruined cities. I've seen them.”

She shuddered.

“Those places were...disquieting. So perfect and precise, so united in their aesthetic. It made the parts that were broken almost more beautiful by comparison. Everything exactly as it had been left. Beds made. Plates on tables. Steam still hissing through the pipes, gears still spinning. The sounds of industry still groaning through an empty, otherwise silent city. It was...almost obscene. It wasn't even a tomb. Not even a memorial. It was a...a lie. 'Wait for us', it said. 'We've just popped out for a moment. We'll be back soon.' But no one's coming back. Their leavings should at least be allowed to return to the earth. It made me want to bring it all down.”

“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings?”

“Yes. That's how its supposed to be.” she replied to his poetic interjection. “I was in a terrible place when last here, and I never want to go back down into those empty lands.”

“If we see any, we don't have to go in. Maybe we can kick over a stone or two and then leave.”

It was kind of a shame to leave info on the table like that, but this world would develop at its own pace, and on its own cycles. Helix lived by cycles, and it wasn't his job to rain advancement upon these masses.

The morning fog burned away as the sun climbed higher, lighting up the crumbling tops of mostly toppled stone walls in the distance.

“Speaking of ruins...” he murmured.

“Looks Imperial from here. Another watchtower maybe? Wanna go look?”

“Looks like the road is taking us that direction anyway. If there's any more of that grainy hard cheese, I'm taking it all.”

Helix giggled.

“You're gonna miss it when we leave.”

“Nah, it's like a Grana Padano, I can get it back home. You ever tried it? I'll get you some, the really good stuff. We can feed each other little bits, figs and pomegranate seeds, finocchiona maybe, that apricot preserve you make. That one cocktail you like. That silk wrap dress of yours, the purple one that comes off easy if you pull the ties right. Make a night of it. Whatever avenues of hedonistic debauchery we decide to wander down.”

She smiled, favored him with that glance of hers that always felt like it was about to set his hair on fire.

“You spoil me.” she purred.

“You know I love it.”

“I do.”

She did. They knew each other's love languages to fluency. Give. Share. Touch. Adore.

Off the road, inside those crumbling walls, no one would be able to see them. He didn't particularly care if they were watched, but she did, and that was part of it.

That little flame tickled his blood, lightened his step, and she skipped along beside him, buoyed by that same anticipatory elation.

The ruins were larger than he'd thought; three towers at least, and a wall all the way around. Almost none of it remained, no roofs, and only portions of wall. But that was all they needed.

Maybe it had been an important place once, sacred ground or a military outpost. Now it was merely overgrown grasses, flowering bushes, and moss-covered stone, a place to back her up against a stable section of wall, to grasp at warm flesh beneath layers of cloth, to thrust tongue between yielding lips-

-To screech in surprise as a sword tore through his cloak and stuck between stone blocks, barely missing Helix's shoulder.

“Goddamn cockblockin, motherfucker-!” Swag snarled, rounding on their attacker, only to scream again and press Helix harder against the wall behind him.

Creaking and clacking, a fully de-fleshed human skeleton tugged uselessly at its trapped sword. Several others emerged from behind the flowering bushes, carrying weapons, but nothing to identify who they might have once been but rotting scraps of armor.

Terror washed through him. It was ridiculous. Skeletons were a joke. A cartoonish spooky-scary holiday decoration, or a goth kid's aesthetic. They weren't actually frightening.

Right up until they were right there, in all their radiant wrongness, advancing with weapons raised. Until they outnumbered you. And no amount of pedantic killjoy Twitter rationality made them disappear, no perfect understanding of how the lack of muscles, ligaments, and tendons should mean they shouldn't be able to move, they just did. They had no eyes to see him, and it didn't matter. They knew where he was. They had no brains for motor control, and it didn't matter. They held their swords anyway. Logic and reason were no longer a shield, and he was completely disarmed.

One of them dashed forward, sword swinging, and Swag took Helix to the ground with him as the ragged blade whistled through the air where they were previously standing. Helix screamed beneath him, a startling sound of hatred and fury. She whipped one hand out from under him, and unleashed a bolt of purple lightning that blasted the bones apart.

Helix wriggled free from his protective panic, and destroyed the stuck skeleton with a double handed swing of her hatchet, shattering its naked skull.

“Edward, your cane!” she hollered. “Fuck 'em up!”

That galvanized him, the weight of the branch in his hands dredging up years-old know how. Weaving between them-they were clumsy, erratic-dodging stabs and swings, bashing limbs and splintering bones with the heavy end of the cane. They were brittle things, vulnerable to a good smash, to Helix's crackling electricity, but they had numbers.

“Over here!” Helix demanded, backed up against a crumbling section of wall. “Bring them over here! Just do it!” she cried at his wordless protest.

He danced back over to her, several skeletons recklessly chasing him.

“What now?”

“Get ready to duck!”

Helix slapped her hands against the decaying wall, releasing a ball of lightning that demolished the blocks. The wall wobbled; Helix dragged Swag back down to the ground as the top several feet of stones toppled down onto the approaching skeletons.

The last of their bony foes continued to advance, whatever fell magic that animated it unable to return any brains to its weathered head. Swag kicked its legs out from under it, dashing its skull against the stones.

Helix dragged herself back to her feet and stalked the area with her hatchet, demolishing every skull she came across, loathing swirling around her face. Swag rested against the wall, just letting her do it. Maybe it kept them from getting back up again, like zombies.

Oh god, were there zombies too???

Shoulders heaving and hands trembling, she returned to lean against the remnants of the wall beside him, catching her breath.

“All okay?” he asked.

“Lucky.” she breathed. “They were poorly made. Old. Fragile. Ugh, I hate the undead. I hate the magic that makes them, and I hate the people who use that magic. Necromancers. I hate Necromancers.”

“I can...understand that.” he said, but he was thinking, thinking...

And she caught the thread of thought, wound it around her fingers.

“Narci is a wight.” she said simply. “A spirit. All worlds are full of spirits. They aren't like this. They typically have their own minds and wills. But these? These are just slaves. Dolls. Mockery and desecration. They need to be returned to the earth.”

“That was a fuckin' nightmare. Never thought I'd be scared of skeletons.” he said. “They were just so...wrong.”

“They are dead. And we have freed them forever. Now put me up against that wall and fuck me senseless.”

He raised an eyebrow, but his blood was still high.

“...As my queen commands.” he said, reaching for her shaking shoulders.

?~?~?~?~?

[person-with-a-terrible-username]

Hi there! If you're here, then I linked you to this big ass wall of text cuz I wanted to explain my OCs to you. If you just randomly found this, cool! Feel free to read. (Sorry I don't know how to add read more)

Okay, first an introduction to the setting: imagine a huge city, hidden from the rest of the world,

a vast amount of people from all over the planet, either brought here by curiosity or lured by the idea of a better life, are stuck in a giant struggle to survive under the harsh control of the Cavalanti mafia, a crime family so powerful they now control the government.

Fed up and sick of the lives they have to live, a large handful of this city's population have ganged up to form revolutionary gangs dedicated to taking the Cavalantis down and ruling the city.

This, is New Corritan. The Hidden City.

Our story revolves around one such gang of revolutionaries, a group of odd and strange individuals that started as nothing more than a weird group of friends.

These people are known...

as the HYSTMEN GANG

The story of how these high school pals became a deadly gang started with the story of the faceless pyromaniac, one whose original name was never known, only ever going by the name of his most prominent feature....

Helmet.

Helmet didn't live a life one would call fancy, but it was perfect to him. He lived with his mom, dad, and older brother in New Corritan's suburban district, his mother and father worked on cars for a living, and his brother was the star of his school's beatball (a New Corritan sport) team, all while Helmet rode around on his bike delivering papers.

But nobody lives a peaceful life in New Corritan.

One day, both mother and father came home from work beaten badly, barely able to stand. They told a story of how a Cavalanti gangster came in to have his car repaired on short notice.

Now, the parents were good mechanics, but finding the replacement parts for such a fancy car was above their pay grade, and there ain't a lot they could do about bullet holes either.

So the mobster did what any Cavalanti does to those that don't listen. Unspeakable things were done to each parent, while the other watched.

Enraged beyond belief, Helmet's once tender hearted brother turned to violence.

After tracking the nightclub the mobster owned, the brother and Helmet himself went out to seek an apology...in blood.

A rage never felt before surged through the two brothers that night.

Heads were bashed with borrowed tools, bullets were fired, people were killed, hell. Even money was stolen.

But in the end, the brothers got what they came for.

That night, Helmet's brother helped find a good hiding spot for the money and laid his parents and little brother to rest.

But Helmet woke up early that night...to the smell of smoke.

Fire engulfed the house, screams could be heard, but there was nothing he could do except instinctively put his helmet on. Nowhere to go...except out the window.

Helmet crashed onto the grass and watched his entire life turn to ashes. His family turn into fading screams. His thoughts turn to....where the sound of laughter was coming from.

He saw them, men in Cavalanti colors. Chucking molotovs and laughing...he recognized one of them. He recognized his hair, his beat up bloody suit, but most of all...

He recognized his shitty, beat-up car.

Rage took the wheel.

He didn't care that his only weapon was a welding torch.

He didn't care it was a 3 v 1.

He didn't care what would happen.

He didn't care how he was gonna kill them

He didn't care how painful it was going to be.

After all, that man didn't care either.

By the time Helmet had control of his senses, there were three smoldering, melting bodies at his feet. One still screaming.

The house was just ash now. Same with whatever was left. But before he heard sirens in the distance, Helmet had something he wanted to do.

Still squirming and begging for death, the man who started it all was laid against his front door, along with his colleagues. Using the rest of what the mobsters brought to burn the house and a camera that the jackass brought, he set them aflame and took a picture.

...

It was told that Helmet still roams the city now, mercilessly killing any group of Cavalanti gangsters he finds, burning down their establishments and taking pictures of their charred corpses.

That was, until someone decided to make him part of their plan, a plan that Helmet was immediately sold on.

Now, he prowls the city in search, not for enemies...

But for old friends.

[scarletsaphire]

The shattering of glass was not at all uncommon to hear in Crime Alley at two in the morning. Johnny hadn't gotten used to it over his year or two here, and it was a bit more like a soothing lullaby than something to be concerned of it. Getting cursed at was also not uncommon for him, and that stretched back long before he'd moved to Gotham. Longer than he'd been dead for, even.

What was uncommon was Johnny's window getting smashed in and getting cursed at by a six foot something guy dressed in body armor. Uncommon, sure, but it'd happened at least twice. Three times if you counted the incident at the ramen place a few blocks away, but that time Johnny wasn't the one getting cursed at, so he didn't count it. It was enough for him to look up from the microwave, if nothing else.

"What the fuck are you doing?" the guy asked. Johnny couldn't remember the name of this particular guy, but experience told him it was probably red. He was two for two on superheroes wearing red being named red, so odds were on his side.

"C'mon Red, what's it look like?" Johnny asked, leaning against the microwave. He ignored the smoke coming from it that clouded his vision. "I am making a burrito."

There was a moment of silence, where Johnny thought he might've gotten the name wrong, but when Red continued, he didn't correct him. As far as Johnny was concerned, that made it three for three. Success. "In that shitty thing?"

"Well, what else am I going to use? Last time I tried to use that bitch," he pointed his thumb out at the crappy burner the landlord had tried to pass off as a stove, "I set the place on fire. Still cleaning the ashes out of my shoes."

"Yeah, well that bitch is currently on fire," Red said with a slight nod to the microwave.

Johnny looked down. Sure enough, there were visible flames in the microwave. He nodded, pleased. "Duh. That's how you know it's working."

His many years of practice allowed Johnny to hear Red's eye roll. "Are you... going to take it out?"

Johnny shrugged. "When its done."

"Fine, whatever, cook your shitty burrito in a shitty microwave if you want. I came here to kick your kneecaps in for the shit you pulled with Two-Face, but I think that's got it covered. Don't let it happen again, or I'll be taking your knees."

"Sorry dude, no promises. I'm hoping if I grow out the douchiest mustache ever I'll be able to get past his recruiters again."

"And why the fuck would I let you go when you just told me that?"

"Because if I do get in, he'll have to fire me for a third time, and he'd be so pissed."

Red paused. "Fine," he said eventually. "Just this once."

"Knew you had a sense of humor!" Johnny called out as Red walked back out the shattered window. When he looked back down at the microwave, the flames had managed to get through the half hinged door and were climbing up his jacket's sleeve. He reached into the flames and pulled out the completely burnt microwave burrito. "Perfect."

He bit into it. It was still cold in the middle.

I'm not going to lie, there's some sweet, sweet allure in a premise based on "Johnny 13 ends up in Gotham just for shits and giggles only to accidentally settle down there."

This dude just happens to be Haunted as Fuck™️. His vibes are rank and he's rude as shit. Negative rizz. You literally can't pay him to do your goonery for you, but if you phrase it as a bad enough idea he'll do it for free...? But then like the whole building will explode for no reason or something else as equally as catastrophic and improbable?? What the fuck man

Just. This dead dude and his supernatural manifestation of bad luck is completely indecipherable from Gotham's natural toxicity to the point where he just...makes friends. Is a shitty upstairs neighbor. Shops at the corner store. Despite the odds, he's just Some Guy™️. He gets signed up for the Goonion. He reasonably could be any age between 19 and sixty. Two-Face kicked him out of his gang twice.

[bored-writer101]

Sherlock Holmes X Reader ~ Sneaky Cigarette

A/N: just a lil random one shot idea i had. hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: smoking… is that even a warning??🤷🏻‍♀️

Summary: John convinced you and Sherlock not to smoke, but one day the two of you can’t help it.

Words: 1018

(not my gif)

To say you had a smoking habit was an understatement. John had never thought he'd meet someone with a worse smoking addiction than Sherlock, until he met you. John said you were more irritable than Sherlock when you didn't have a cigarette. Sherlock was already trying to quit, so John suggested you try to quit with him. At first you had declined. Your habit had been getting much worse. You honestly didn't think you had the ability to quit, but Sherlock and John somehow managed to convince you. You and Sherlock made an agreement that if one of you smoked, the other was allowed to. Neither of you wanted the other to smoke, so you did your best to quit.

It was rough for the first few weeks, but after a while you started to feel a bit better. You and Sherlock always had nicotine patches strewn around both of your flats. On bad days, the two of you would have three or four patches per arm. It had been a few months before either of you had even touched a cigarette.

You were stood next to Sherlock in front of all the evidence from the case you were currently working on. You had hung up all the pictures and clues you had collected over the mirror above the fireplace. You stared at the different pieces of evidence in silence, both of you in your own thoughts.

"I need a cigarette" Sherlock muttered angrily. "Me too" you muttered in response. "No you don't!" you both turned and glared at John in sync. John only shook his head with a chuckle at your synchronization. "You both are doing so well! It's been what? Three and a half months since either of you have smoked?" you both ignored him, turning back to look at the wall of evidence. John only chuckled again as he looked back down at his computer.

There was a few more minutes of silence before Sherlock spoke up. "I'll be right back" he said, quickly rushing over to the door. He grabbed his coat and pulled it on as he walked out of the flat. You furrowed your brows in confusion. You turned to John who only shrugged. You shrugged too, opting to ignore Sherlock's odd behavior.

A few minutes had gone by. You were beginning to get suspicious. The case was long forgotten as your mind raced. You finally decided to go see what was taking him so long. You walked quickly and wordlessly out of the flat and down the stairs. You pushed open the heavy wooden door to see none other than Sherlock standing on the sidewalk. You watched him blow a cloud of smoke into the air as the door closed behind you. "So this is what was taking you so long"

Sherlock chuckled. "I was wondering how long it would take you to realize" you shook your head with an amused smile as you walked over to stand next to him. He held the half smoked cigarette out, offering it to you. You looked between him and the cigarette before muttering a quiet 'fuck it' before taking the cigarette from him.

You took a long drag, loving the burn in your lungs. You sighed out a cloud of smoke before holding the cigarette back out for Sherlock to take. "Please, smoke the rest. I was saving it for you anyway" you shrugged. "Your loss" you said before taking another long drag. "It's only half a cigarette, so does it really count?" you questioned him with a smirk. "Yes, of course it still counts" you rolled your eyes with a laugh. "You're supposed to say no. That way we can both pretend this never happened, and John never has to know" Sherlock nodded knowingly, an amused smile on his face.

You smoked the rest of the cigarette in silence. Once you were finished, you threw it down on the ground and crushed it with your shoe. You shivered as a cold breeze blew past you. "Let's get back inside. It's cold" Sherlock said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you along with him back inside.

You walked back up the stairs and into the flat. "What took you two so long?" John asked. "We got carried away talking about the case" you lied quickly. Sherlock nodded to back you up. "Mhm" John hummed in response, not fully believing you.

Sherlock took his coat off and hung it back up as you walked over to the wall of evidence. "If you talked for so long about the case, I assume you had a breakthrough?" you cursed John in your head for being so nosey. "Uh, no. We just said some ideas back and forth, and went over the evidence again" you lied a second time. Sherlock had made his way over to stand next to you in front of the evidence wall once again.

After a few seconds, you heard sniffing behind you. "Did you two smoke?!" John exclaimed loudly. You and Sherlock both attempted to keep your laughter in as your turned to face your friend. "Of course not. Why would we ever do that? We're trying to quit remember?" Sherlock defended the two of you, pulling up his sleeve to show two nicotine patches stuck to his forearm. "Yeah!" you said as you pulled up your sleeve too, showing three patches stuck to your forearm. "Fine. But don't let me catch you two smoking" John aimed a threatening finger at both of you. You held up your hands in mock surrender and John seemed to give up with his pestering.

You and Sherlock turned back around, unable to hide your smiles. He leaned over just enough so he could whisper into your ear. "If you ever want to smoke another sneaky cigarette together, I wouldn't be opposed to the idea" you turned to look at him and he winked at you with a smirk. You shook your head with a smile, turning away from him so he couldn't deduce how nervous he made you. "I'd love to" you whispered back.

[stressedemoblackbratz]

cruela like reader dating stu and billy

parings: billy loomis x reader, stu macher x reader

request: don't know if your requests are open but- someone like cruela, born brilliant, bad, and a little bit mad dating stu or billy

a/n: when I saw this request I was multitasking aka, in a twitter space, trying to skim the requirements for a scholarship, eating some greasy ass pasta, watching smackdown, and lowkey tired, but I was NOT finna miss Roman coming out. so I deadass read it wrong. I thought you meant we evil with a bunch of dogs and bougie BUT I re-read it on Saturday and was like??? girl tf was you smoking? they didn’t even request that- ENOUGH OF THAT THOUGH! I made this in headcannon form because I wanted to do both and it be easier on me in a way. I hope you enjoy it babes 😭

words: not proofread

both would obviously love the fact you acted like that. it fit them perfectly.

dating Stu and acting like that gave him a rush. he loved it.

dating Billy and acting like that made him feel like he was right at home. I mean we all go a little mad sometimes…right…okay moving on-

to be honest I feel like when it comes to your relationships with your friends you and Billy could quickly become intimidating and too overpowering. they’d feel suffocated at times.

same with stu except your both just overpowering. they’d probably get annoyed.

when it came to getting rid of the friend group you saw why the boys did it. Billy had been wronged and Stu loved a “just cause” moment.

would you join in? no. of course not. you would point out people who have wronged you though and told them to do what they will with that information.

when the girls who spread rumors about you cheating at a party suddenly were found like Casey had been you didn’t question it.

when Mrs. Gill, your social studies teacher, made you present in front of the class after just finding out your grandma died and could careless about your distraught appearance they paid her a little visit by her car late one night.

both found it odd you wouldn’t join them though. you were mad and not once wanted in on any of their activities?

you were smart though. you loved Billy/Stu don’t get me wrong, but you definitely wouldn’t be going down for any murder.

you got what you wanted and they got to do what they did best.

they wanted to go torment somebody though? you were down. a little teasing wouldn’t harm them as much as whoever was in that costume later that night.

the night of the party you joined in on their scheme.

Billy would tell you the plan a few days before it actually took place.

Stu would tell you while he had you bent over in the school bathroom.

neither one of them were going to stab you though. not that you were going to let them though anyways.

you took your role and became the helpless damsel in distress locked in the closet.

Billy and Stu both told the police they were being stabbed by Ghostface when you came and tried to take him down.

Ghostface attacked you and rendered you unconscious before throwing you into the closet.

Ghostface’s attack leaving you with a bit of both boys blood on your shirt and hands. your nose was bloody from your own encounter.

the police entered the home and saw Billy crying, clutching his bleeding side, and trying to open the closet door while Stu was bleeding out in his lap.

the police cleared all three of you and labeled you as the only survivor’s of the Woodsboro serial killer’s attacks.

Billy and you would eventually get married after everything and live a comfortable lifestyle.

as the years went on you and Stu would get married and travel all over the world on his trust fund money. maybe even have a few kids down the road.

with both boys you would reminisce with them about how life was previously.

they didn’t regret what happened, but they did miss the happier times. like movie nights, late night’s in Waffle House while high, and parties.

[oro-e-diamanti]

The one with Ethan’s suggestion

Description | Ethan suggests something that you had never seen coming - but for how long will you be able to resist him?

Content | smut with a bit of fluff

Pairing | Ethan x fem!Reader

Word Count | 3138

Tagging | @ginny-lily @mywritingonlyfans

***

"You did not just ask me that."

Ethan didn't even seem bothered by your shocked reaction. Instead, he simply kept looking at you, waiting, as if he had posed a completely normal question. You were certain it wasn’t though - who the hell just came out and asked one of their best friends to start hooking up? Surely this wasn’t just you thinking this was more than odd. You couldn’t stop looking at him, relaxing on a lounger in the sun, book still open in his hand, and how he didn’t seem to care.

“Oh, come one, Y/n,” Vic interjected from where she was relaxing on a pool float. “Poor Ethan hasn’t been with anyone since the pandemic started. The least you can do is help him get laid.”

“Get laid by me?!”

“Who else?” Victoria laughed. “It’s not like he can go out and pick up someone when we go on a promo tour in a week. We’re barely allowed to meet anyone as a safety measure.”

You shot her a pointed look and Victoria being your friend for the longest got it immediately.

“And no, I’m not gonna hook up with him. So it’s gotta be you.”

You couldn’t believe the conversation you were having. Had everyone simply gone crazy? Surely, Thomas wouldn’t be on their side in this, right? You watched as he lazily strolled towards your loungers, cigarette in hand.

“Thomas!” You shouted over at him. “Ethan wants me to hook up with him!”

“Fucking finally,” Thomas laughed as you stared back in horror. Was everyone in on this madness? “He’s been moping around for ages. About time he gets laid and relaxes.”

“See?” Ethan interjected. “Everyone thinks it’s a good idea.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea!”

“Fine,” Ethan shrugged. You hated how much he didn’t seem to care - how he had posed a question like that without an ounce of awkwardness and how your rejection didn’t seem to faze him in the least. You knew he was open about sex and sexuality, you’d been part of countless conversations among the band and had seen him pick up people at parties more than once, but this unnerved you. "If you change your mind, I'm available."

And with that Ethan went back to his book, Victoria went back to floating around the pool and Thomas went back to smoking his cigarette. But you weren't going to go back to anything, because whether you liked it or not, Ethan's suggestion would continue playing in your head for the unforeseeable future.

***

Three days. It had been three days since that fateful day at the pool and you could barely stand to look at Ethan. It wasn't because you were embarrassed - you all spoke about such things quite openly - nor were you angry at him having asked in the first place - if anything, it was flattering, a man such as Ethan considering you attractive in that way. It was more of a constant thought in your head whenever you were in the same room with him or he talked to you or you looked at him or he so much as popped into your mind. You kept lying awake at night, intrusive thoughts of Ethan towering over you clouding your brain. You didn't know what it was but you knew you didn't like it.

You were pulled out of your thoughts as Victoria approached you, taking a couple of tomatoes you had spread in front of you and started cutting them up. You had been in charge of making dinner most days, with one or the other coming to join you in your cooking endeavors sooner or later. Today it seemed to be Vic, who was giggling away beside you, quite obviously dying to tell you something.

"And what is up with you?" You asked, a smirk on your face. You were happy your friend seemed so giddy and it had you itching to know why.

"I have a date!" Victoria was never one to keep things like these to herself for long - whenever she was positively excited about something, the world simply had to know. "Her name's Paula, she's on holiday here and we're going to go out for wine."

"Just wine?"

"Well, I'm gonna say, don't expect me back here tonight." She couldn't stop herself from smirking and then breaking out in another round of laughter and you joined freely. Good for her.

"I miss dates," you mused. "Or maybe - I don't know. Maybe I just miss at least staying the night with someone."

"You really need to get laid, babe."

"Who needs to get laid?" Damiano had appeared without warning, sneaking up on the two of you and pinching both of your waists teasingly before hopping on the counter next to where you were working. A slice of tomato was stolen and ended up in his mouth before you could react, only hitting him in the arm when it was much too late.

"Y/n," Victoria answered nonchalantly. You stared at her in annoyance but she didn't even catch your eye.

"So does Ethan! You guys should fuck."

"Not you too," you groaned. All of this seemed like a bad joke. In fact, you were starting to wonder if this was all some weird plot your friends had to get you to sleep with Ethan. But why would they?

"Huh?" Damiano sounded surprised but you didn't put it past him to simply put on a good act.

"Ethan asked her to hook up the other day."

"No way!" Damiano exclaimed. "He actually, fina- I mean, he actually asked you that?"

"Yup, and she shot him down," Victoria explained. You were getting more annoyed by the second. Especially because it felt like your love life (or lack thereof?) was being discussed without you. Plus, you couldn't shake the feeling they knew something you didn't.

"Aw, poor Ethan. You know, you should really give him the chance. Make the most of the fact that you've both got the house to yourselves tonight." Damiano's eyebrow wiggle earned him a tomato slice to the face due to pure irritation on your side. He wasn't bothered, quickly shoving it into his mouth and happily munching away on it.

"Wait, what do you mean? Where are you going?"

You sounded much more panicked than necessary. So what if you were alone in the house with Ethan? You'd survive. Easily. You'd read a bit of your book, maybe watch a movie, go to bed. You didn't even have to spend time with him. Right?

"Going out with my girlfriend, she's in town for work. Not sure where Thomas is off to but he's already left" Damiano shrugged, finally hopping off the counter to hopefully stop being in the way. "So, if there's anything you want to do, do it tonight."

***

So this was it. You were alone with Ethan. No, this was nothing. So what if you were alone with him? Not like it was going to change anything at all.

You had said your goodbyes for the night to the two lovebirds, wishing Victoria the most possible fun on her little date, before pouring yourself a glass of wine and retreating to the patio. You had no idea where Ethan was and you didn't mind.

The sun was setting, the temperature was more than bearable and you had your book lying next to you. Eyes closed trying to enjoy the last rays of sunshine, your hand grasped the stem of the wine glass, and fuck that moth scared the living daylights out of you. And caused you to spill your wine all over your blouse. Red wine. Crap. One was supposed to wash those out immediately, right? Right? You realised you had no idea, as you sprinted towards the upstairs bathroom, already unbuttoning for fast removal.

You threw the door open, feet set to move towards the basin, when you realised you weren't alone in the room. It happened in slow motion, as much as you hated the cliché of it all.

Ethan's back was towards you, strong, hard muscles visible under an array of water droplets that were slowly, slowly making their way downwards, hypnotising you and keeping your gaze locked on them. Your eyes were still travelling lower and lower when he noticed your presence, turning around out of reflex, and you could not help but notice he was not wrapped in a towel, nowhere close, when your eyes fell on-

Oh.

Oh.

In a rare moment of clarity, you tore your gaze away, looking up at his face instead, just to find him eyeing up your cleavage. Your blouse was halfway undone, putting your white lace bra on full display. Then his eyes snapped away and looked into yours instead. For a second, it felt like the world was standing still. Your brain only worked for another moment before it decided to let your body - or potentially your heart? - take over.

You told yourself 'fuck it' - or maybe you said it out loud, judging by the sudden smirk appearing on Ethan's face - and reached for the man in front of you. He reciprocated without hesitation, pulling you in and meeting your mouth with his, as he walked you backward until you hit the wall. His body felt hot against yours, providing a stark contrast to the cold tiles pressing into you. His hands cradled your face softly, fingers stroking along your cheeks, while he kissed you, open-mouthed, in a way that left you breathless.

If you had ever had doubts that sex with Ethan would not be worth it, they had evaporated into thin air altogether.

His hands had started roaming your body, finally landing on the last buttons of your blouse. You had expected him to slowly open them up, but instead, he tore the fabric apart in one swift movement, buttons flying and hitting the ground with little clacking noises. You wrecked your mouth from him for a moment, staring at him in both surprise and awe.

"Spiacente," he murmured, although he didn't look all that sorry. "I couldn't help myself. I can get them sewn back-"

"Ethan, stop talking and start fucking me."

Your bold words took both of you by surprise but none of you minded, simply relieved that you were on the same page. His hands were now grasping tightly onto your thighs and, and without giving you a warning, he lifted you up, still pressed against the wall. Your legs wrapped around him instinctively and he took a step back, finding his strength and balance, and slowly carrying you into his bedroom.

You couldn't stop staring at him. Ethan's beauty was a sight to behold on any given day, but the way his lips looked kissed after just a short while and his eyes had that kind of shine to them that had never previously been directed at you, it felt like you were looking at something ethereal. Never mind the fact that you knew he was completely naked, not just the toned chest that was pressing into your torse, but everything else. Hell, you were sure you felt a certain something press into the back of your thigh quite shamelessly.

He dropped you on his bed, leaving you to bounce slightly on the mattress as you lied on your back. He looked like he was about to devour you and you just knew you'd bend to his every wish.

Without any further hesitation, Ethan moved onto the bed, immediately grabbing onto the shorts you were wearing and slowly pulling them down your legs. He held eye contact with you the whole time and you were convinced you had never seen anything sexier in your life. Your panties were the next piece to leave your body. Normally, this would be the point you got nervous about, crossing your legs, hiding behind hands, anything to protect what little of your modesty you had left, but this was different. Ethan took all shame away from you.

"Is this okay?" He asked, as he slowly crawled upwards, spreading your legs and leaving hot, wet kisses along your calves. As much as you appreciated him asking for consent, you almost had to laugh - at this point in time, you had lost all willpower to deny him anything. So, with a blissful smile on your face, you eagerly nodded at him, your hand reaching down and tangling itself into his hair. He groaned as you gave a little tug and the sound was more than enough to get you even wetter than you already were.

At least that was what you thought up until Ethan put his mouth on you. You had been expecting a bit more foreplay, maybe his fingers, but instead you felt his tongue lick along the length of you. Your moan loudly echoed through the room and you had never been so glad that Vic, Thomas and Damiano had deserted the two of you in the house.

Your grasp on his hair tightened as he started flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue. The fact that you could feel his hair tickling the inside of your thighs only seemed to make you more sensitive. Suddenly, one of his fingers entered you, quickly to be joined by a second. Your back arched off the bed in an involuntary reaction as your breathing became more and more laboured. You could hear- hell, you could feel him chuckle against you.

With a sharp tug, you pulled his head away from you.

"I'm not going to be able to take much more, Ethan," you confessed. He looked up at you with wide eyes, chin wet from going down on you and fingers still slowly moving in and out, and you momentarily forgot what you meant to say. "So if you wanna fuck me, I suggest you get a move on."

He didn't need to be told twice. You still sighed in disappointment when he actually removed his fingers from you but you were quickly distracted by him moving them to your mouth and slipping them in. You eagerly sucked on them, twirling your tongue around them, tasting your own arousal, and his composure was slipping with every second he looked at you. He quickly pulled his fingers from your mouth to crawl further up your body, his cock moving against your leg. He was so well endowed it would have almost been frightening if you hadn't been so turned on.

Ethan kissed you with a force that was unparalleled. There wasn't even a question about who was in control. As his fingers trailed from your neck down past your collarbones you both suddenly seemed to remember you were still wearing a bra. You made short work of the piece of fabric, carelessly throwing it across the room, and he thanked you by squeezing your soft flesh in the most delicious way. You repaid the favour by letting your hand wander to his cock and giving him a few strokes. He immediately let out the most sinful moan you had ever heard, head collapsing onto your cleavage.

"I don't think you need any more help from me down there," you giggled.

"With you lying under me like this, I sure don't."

Moving your legs around his waist once more, you slowly guided him into you, your walls swallowing him bit by bit, careful not to stretch you out too fast with his size. It felt like heaven on earth. You both moaned in pleasure as Ethan slowly started moving, making sure you were comfortable as he looked into your eyes, while you broke the eye contact time and time again, too overwhelmed to leave your eyes open every time he thrust into you. You kept grabbing onto what you could, the back of his head, his shoulders, his butt, as he increased his speed, hitting you in all the right places every single time.

You knew you weren't going to last long, not with him on and in and all around you, not with his fingers playing with your nipple, not with his lips clumsily attaching themselves to various places around your neck and shoulders, and as you felt his hand between your legs, softly circling your clit once again, you were gone. You came in waves of euphoria, unashamed of the volume of your moans and the strength with which you pulled on his hair. Your actions, combined with you clenching around him and a few more thrust, had him follow you moments later.

He carefully slipped out of you, never once letting go of you, and turning you onto your side with him so you were facing each other. Both of you were still breathing heavily, vision cloudy, but intertwined. You were convinced he had ruined you - there was no way anyone was ever going to live up to how he made you feel.

"So, did it live up to your expectation?" You couldn't help but giggle as you posed the question. "Getting laid again after such a long time?"

Ethan pushed a damp strand of hair from your face. You hadn't expected such softness.

"It wasn't actually about getting laid, you know."

"Huh?"

"It was about you."

"Okay, you've lost me now," you said, brows knitting as your hand searched for his, finger entangling the same way your legs were doing. "What are you talking about?"

"I... I've liked you for a while. And I tried so much, but you never even noticed."

Your mind replayed the last few weeks you had spent with the band in their summer house. Instances of Ethan bringing you food, cocktails, adjusting the shade to make sure you were in it, offering to put sunscreen on your back. Moments of him searching for your company, moving much closer than necessary in the heat, arms constantly touching when you were sitting next to each other. Jokes and teasing from the others, drunken remarks. You hadn't paid attention to any of it. You wondered how you could have been so blind to a man so wonderful.

"Wait, so instead of asking me out like a normal person, you suggested we hook up?" You couldn't keep the laughter in now. The situation was simply too ridiculous and you had not yet stopped riding on your high from the endorphins he had caused.

"It was Vic's idea." He buried his head into the sheets, but you could still see his cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink. "She knew I missed sex and she said you mentioned something similar so she thought this was the way into your..."

"Pants?"

"Heart, actually."

You snuggled closer, arms wrapping around him so that your noses were touching.

"Well, as embarrassing as it is, it somehow worked, didn't it?" You stroked over his head lovingly. "And I'm sure not letting you go any time soon."

[little-cereal-draws]

Moon Knight Vampire Au for spooky season

Harrow's a vampire and so is everyone in his cult

it's like some deal w Ammit or smth idk, everlasting life

I guess he bites Steven? To try to get him to join his side?

It's Steven bc he's still learning to fight (even tho he's so good and we're so proud of him) and tries to talk things out the most. And Marc and Jake would never let Harrow get that close in the first place

Now they're a vampire. They don't join Harrow (surprise, surprise lol)

Honestly Marc is probably the least disrupted by this change bc he's so jaded and has seen so many crazy things this might not even make the top ten

sure, they're a vampire now. Why not?

Not to say he isn't freaking out, he's just reacting the least

Steven is heartbroken. He's gone from a vegan to a monster that has to eat HUMANS overnight

When he's in the body, he tries not to eat for as long as he can until he's going to pass out if he doesn't. Then he cries and apologizes profusely the whole time to his victim

He also fights Marc and Jake for control when they try to eat someone to stop them but always loses bc he's outnumbered

He's tried a bunch of vegan substitutes of his own making (like bean juice and vitamins or smth) but it never works

Steven still tries to go to work too. Just bc they're a vampire now doesn't mean that they don't need money

He almost dies like 50 times just getting there and Marc convinces him to quit by the end of the day

Jake honestly was kinda a vampire already? In the sense that he's super deadly and would come out at night to kill a bunch of people

He is digging all their new powers and definitely uses them the most out of the three

He especially enjoys flying and turning into smoke. Those are his only means of transportation now

Layla brings them little blood juice bags (don't ask where she got them, shhhhhhh. It doesn't matter, shhhhhh)

she's also the only one who knows what happened to them

Once they get the hang of vampirism, there's a big vampire fight against Harrow and it's really fucking cool idk

somehow, against all odds, they win ofc

the end

The art for this au is here

[soggylizard424]

I have cursed myself with this. Have fun. I'm not.

TW for threats, blood, and just general red life Grian.

Grian looked at the other red names. There were three of them. Joel, BigB, and himself. He could have sworn there was another, but after his fight between Bdubs and Lizzie, it was hard to keep everything organized. Especially with the strong urge he had to leap at Joel and plunge his sword into his gut. The feeling had gotten much stronger will every kill he gained.

“We all clear?” he said finally. The two nodded. Grian grinned. “Wonderful. Now go find Scott. I've got Pearl.”

“Good luck, Grian,” Joel said.

“See you,” he replied. “Tango, lets go.”

Once they had parted ways, Grian started walking. Tango beside him. They didn’t talk much. But he could barely contain himself. There was finally some action. He made it to Scott and Pearl’s base, hidden snugly in the mountains near where he had shot Bdubs down. He could see Ethos footprints in the snow where a splatter of red was. He grinned to himself, proud of his aim, but wished he got those soul speed 3 boots.

He broke the blocks to the hidden passage, avoiding eye contact with the enderman that greeted him. He nearly jumped as he met it.

“Scott? That you?” Pearl’s voice came from below the green base. Grian kept a close eye out for traps. He took a deep breath, feeling the pounding, natural instinct to attack. He let it envelop him like a think smoke.

“Not quite,” Grian said, smiling as he appeared in front of her. She jumped, brandishing a strength potion and a diamond sword in the other. “Pearl,” he said before she could so anything, “Do you really want to do that?”

“Of course I do, Grian,” she replied, voice hard. “I don't want to, but I will.”

“There is a way you could not, of course,” he said, his voice soothing. He pulled out his communicator, beginning to behind his back. Casually, he took out his pickaxe and started carving a hole in the wall. He counted the bricks and placed obsidian in a small cubby in the wall.

Pearl tensed as he did so.

“Will you leave me alone afterwards?”

“Of course, Pearl.”

He could see her guard lower the slightest bit.

“What do you want?“ she said quietly.

“Give all three of us reds a life and you'll be safe,” Grian declared. He could feel the urge to whip out his ax growing stronger by the second.

“What? No. Grian, do you even hear yourself?” she laughed. “I have four lives and you have one. Plus, I have Scott.”

And Grian grinned.

“Do you?”

He pressed send on his communicator, and the chat lit up.

<Grian> do it

<Smajor1995 has been slain by SmallishBeans> Scott spawned into his bed, as soon as he did so, the block was broken by Tango and he fell. What was happening? He was just talking with Martin and then a searing pain, a cackle, and then falling.

Pearl yelled as Scott landed on the hard obsidian Grian had put there moments before. Grian’s large ax was summoned to his hand in an instant, and Pearl‘s splash potion crashed into the ground as BigB rushed down from where he had been hiding in Scott‘s respawn room. He had also built the tunnel, connecting it to Grian’s obsidian box. “Like I said,” Grian cackled, “You‘re going to give Joel, BigB, and I a life, or we’re going to kill Scott all the way.”

”Grian! What are you doing?! Are you insane?”

“Yes! Have you missed the bit where I killed two people on yellow because they slapped me?”

”I’m not giving you a life!” Pearl yelled.

”You're a monster,” Scott hissed. Grian got a flash of some odd memory. something distant. With Ren and an enchanter. An explosion.

He cackled, the sound filling the tunnels around them.

”Give me the life, Pearl,” he said quietly. Dangerously.

”Pearl—“ Scott said, his voice anxious.

“No!“ she shouted again. Grian shrugged.

“Okay then. Tango?”

”Gladly,” Tango said, grinning and there was a screech of steel as the sword was drawn from it sheath.

There was a slash. A scream. A cry from Pearl as Scott collapsed.

”Stop! Stop it! Three hearts! Stop!” Scott said, recoiling to the back of the box, holding the shallow but wounding gash across his chest.

”Give us a life, Pearl!” Tango cackled. “I’ll do it again and he’ll be out.”

”I don’t have enough for all the red. I only have four,” Pearl yelled, throwing herself in front of the box.

“Perhaps you have something we can substitute it with,” Tango suggested.

”What do you want?” Pearl hissed.

”We’ll trade three lives for the nether star.”

A long pause.

”okay.”

”Pearl-“ Scott started.

She pulled out her communicator and typed. Grian grinned at Tango. They were both aware of the question who wouldnt get the life?

The truth was that they both knew it had to be either BigB or Joel, since they weren’t there. The highest chance was BigB. Joel had been a red name so long and BigB had no kills under his belt as far As Grian knew. He made up his mind. He would kill Tango as soon as he got his life.

Etho reclined quietly on his old base. His soul speed boots tapped against the wall. He was thinking of Bdubs again. It hurt more than getting hit by that wither skull. It stung more than the wither rose. Quiet snowflakes under his palms were numbing his fingers.

A message in the chat.

<PearlecentMoon> etho, I need you at the base.

He sighed, pulling up his mask. The world had to keep going. Whether or not it was with Bdubs or not. His communicator chirped again. It was a private message.

PearlecentMoon whispers to you: Grians here. Get your bow.

Etho was gone in an instant. He was sprinting. He had everything already. He hadn't unpacked anything. But he knew one thing.

He was going to kill Grian with his bare hands if he had to.

[spookyfoxinc]

So uhh you said that you wanted to read some DHMIS family fic so I wrote you a family-ish fic, this is my first time writing fanfic but I hope you like it! Also thank you for doing some of my anonymous requests, i appreciate your work ily :D

"But I want to stay up late with you and Red-" "No, it's seven minutes past your bedtime. You are not going to stay up any later than you need to." Red could hear a pause between his roommates as he flitted about their shared kitchen. All these drawers, and he couldn't find a single measuring spoon. The only sound was softly streaming from their  television, as Manny had wanted to watch Grolton and Hovris before going to bed. "Well ... can we at least finish watching this episode?" Red fumbled with the drawers below the sink, cursing under his breath. "... Okay, but just this one! You'll be sleepy tomorrow otherwise." Red, having stumbled upon a couple of tablespoons, began to spoon sweet cocoa powder into three mugs of warm milk. As he loaded the steaming mugs onto a tray, he heard an odd scraping noise and indistinct chatter from behind the thin wall separating the kitchen and the living room. Curious, Red took the tray over and opened the door.

The living room never changed too much from day to day, but today it was strange in it's normalcy. No bloody ripped-up boards in the corner, no car-train hybrid spewing smoke and oil. Only one thing was different: their three chairs had been pushed closer together, so the trio would all be able to huddle around the television once the last member arrived. Red had never known Duck to let people into his personal space, and yet here he was - sitting just a few inches from Manny without even a murderous gleam in his eye. "Oh Grolton, always an inspiration." The pair watched as Grolton, the man, threw a plate at the head of Hovris, the dog. Duck hardly looked up from the spectacle as Red arrived with the drinks, Manny standing up to thank him "Don't spill any," Red cautioned the puppet. "We don't need you getting burned." "I won't. I don't want to get my pajamas dirty." Manny sat back down, clad in his blue-white striped pajamas as Duck took a cup from Red, mumbling thanks. Red sat in his cushiony chair and sipped his drink, feeling drowsy as Hovris let out another shrill whine. He closed his eyes for just a second, not being able to remember another time when he had been so relaxed. Manny screamed. Red's eyes flew open to see that Manny had dropped his half-empty mug of hot chocolate, the handle snapping off. "Look at what you did!" squawked the bird, brow furrowing. Manny stared at Duck, his own eyes wide. He began to cry softly, turning away. Duck paused for a moment. "No, don't ... it's just a mug." He would never admit it to anyone, not even himself, but he abhored the idea that he could make Manny cry. Duck picked up his own cup and handed it to Manny, who stopped crying for a moment and took a sip while the bird picked up the broken pieces. "Get me a towel." he instructed Red, who was glad Duck could not see him smirking under his rush of red hair. Perhaps Manny had really grown on Duck, or at least he didn't feel particularly violent that afternoon.

Duck and Red left Manny to watch TV while they cleaned up. Not only was there broken glass in the living room, Red happened to have left a small mess in the kitchen while making the drinks. "Honestly, are you even an adult? You should be the one doing this, not me", Duck snapped as he wiped the spilled milk on the counter. "Okay, Dad.", Red huffed. Duck turned. "What?" "You said it yourself. You're the dad, he's the pet, and I'm ... something else?" Duck went silent for a second, staring back into his ... something's eyes. What was Red to him? He turned away. "That's none of your business.", Duck snapped. "Why are you asking such nosy questions anyway? You could be helping me instea-" Red bent down swiftly and pulled Duck into an embrace. The bird didn't know what the sudden gesture was for, nor why he felt his face getting hot as he was pulled closer. "Get away from me, you pest!" Duck squirmed in his arms as Red laughed, finding the strong reaction amusing. Red finally let Duck go, the latter muttering insults and smoothing his ruffled feathers.

The kitchen finally clean, Red and Duck (who careful to not get captured again) walked back into the living room to find that Manny had finished both mugs, Red's being untouched. Grolton and Hovris was rolling the end credits as Manny leaned back into his chair, eyes drooping and breathing slow. Red strided over and switched off the television. Duck, always the opportunist, picked up Red's cold mug of cocoa as Manny mumbled "Night, guys." before closing his eyes. Not wanting Manny to fall asleep downstairs, Red leaned over so Manny could sleepily grab his shoulders as the taller puppet hoisted the other onto his back. Red stood up straight only to see Duck with his beak hanging open, his face a mix of shock and annoyance. "Jealous?" Red teased. He was surprised at Duck's indignant gasp, figuring that he would be too haughty to be jealous of such a gesture. "I most certainly am not!" Red didn't reply, only smirked. Duck saw and knew, giving his beloved something a glare before turning away his face and sprinting upstairs to their shared bedroom, Red and Manny not far behind. Secretly, Duck was smiling to himself. They never smiled before, because they didn't know they had a reason to. All they had was an endless, unwanted tomorrow. Now, they were all safe, in a way. They didn't truly know what happened to Lesley and Roy, but they didn't care. No teachers, no deaths, no fear anymore. They were happy.

WAGDJDHHD THIS IS SO SWEET AND CUTE IM SO OBSESSED if u ever start writing more fic and post it everywhere so i can read it waaa

thank you for sending this to me!!!!! 🥹🥹🥹

[lostinthewiind]

Piss Off Your Parents - Part 5

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren’t a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner’s 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: PG13

Warnings: arguing with parents, stereotyping?, reader's parents just being generally horrible people, angst

Song → 18 by Anarbor

Previous → Part 4

Next → Part 6

"This is a horrible idea," you whispered to yourself as you got ready in your bedroom mirror, unable to concentrate for more than five minutes without a small panic attack taking over.

Your eyes flicked over to your clock every few seconds. Keishin was due to arrive at your family house for dinner in about thirty minutes and with every minute that passed, you asked yourself over and over again why you ever agreed to this.

Originally, when your parents had insisted on meeting your 'boyfriend' over a family dinner, your heart had dropped into the pit of your stomach; it was the worst feeling you had ever experienced . . . until you told Keishin about it jokingly and he actually agreed. Never before had you felt so sick to your stomach. Dinner was the last thing you wanted, and to make it worse, it was going to be dinner with your parents and fake boyfriend.

Shit.

More than once you had contemplated pretending to be sick or throwing yourself down the stairs, but you just couldn't go through with it. Every time you got close to backing out, a small part of your brain reminded you that this dinner might be the thing that changed your parents mind, and even though the odds of that actually happening were close to none, you couldn't give up without even trying.

So, with knots in your stomach and your palms sweating like never before, you continued getting ready for the evening and prayed that everything went as smoothly as possible.

If only you had known then that it would take much more than a prayer to save this evening.

When you heard the doorbell ring approximately thirty minutes later, your whole body froze and the thought of jumping out your second story window was starting to sound really appealing. But then, you remembered that it would be way worse if your mom or dad answered the door before you could so you rushed out of your room and down the stairs.

"I've got the door!" you shouted throughout the house, almost as if you were marking the front door as your territory and trying to scare anyone else away from it.

Standing in front of the door, you drew in a few deep, calming breaths before plastering a forced smile across your face and pulling the door open. Let the night of hell begin.

As soon as your eyes settled on Keishin, your smile faltered and you gasped. His dyed blonde hair was slicked back like usual, but instead of a headband, it was clear he had used gel. He had every hole in his ear stuffed with a black earring, and to top things off, he had showed up in jeans, a black t-shirt, and a leather jacket.

"What?" Keishin took a step back and examined his outfit. "You said to go all out. I did."

"I know, I know . . . I just . . ." You took a moment to compose yourself. "I didn't even know you owned a leather jacket."

"Yeah, well, you don't know everything about me," Keishin smirked devilishly, proud that he still had a few secrets to himself. "Well, are you going to let me in? I kind of want to get this dinner over with."

Opening the door wider, you stepped to the side and let Keishin inside your house. "You and me both," you agreed. "You sure you want to do this? We could both make a run for it right now if we act fast."

Shrugging the jacket off of his shoulders, Keishin shook his head. "Come on, at least give your parents a chance to change their minds."

Just then, your father's heavy footsteps could be heard exiting the kitchen and approaching the front door where you and Keishin stood together. Swallowing hard, you wiped the sweat from your palms on your clothes and sent one last pleading thought up to the heavens above, hoping that if there was a great being up there, they could be on your side tonight.

This was it. No turning back now.

"If your boyfriend has arrived, Y/N, please don't keep your mother and I waiting. Introduce us." Your father rounded the corner, stopping in his tracks when he set eyes on Keishin. Sure, you had told your parents all about your 'boyfriend', which was why they had insisted on this dinner in the first place, but Keishin was a man that words couldn't quite capture. "Oh. Hello." Your father reluctantly held out his hand to greet Keishin.

"Hello, sir." Keishin shook your father's hand without hesitation. "I'm Ukai Keishin. Keishin is fine though."

Seconds later, your mother joined the three of you. She had a similar reaction as your father had and was not subtle about it in the least. "So this is the man you've been seeing?" Your mother gave you an almost pleading look, like she was silently begging you to come clean and admit that you were joking.

Right off of the bat, things were not going well.

"Well, let me take your jacket and hang it up in the closet." Your mother stepped toward Keishin with the fakest smile you had ever seen on her face.

"Oh, there's no need." Keishin hung his jacket on the banister of the stairs. "I'll just end up taking it out in a little while anyway when I go out for a smoke. It's easier this way, but thank you."

You watched your mother's eye twitch and the smile she had forced threaten to crack. "You smoke?" You could tell that both of your parents were on the brink of snapping right then and there, but they had promised to actually get to know Keishin, and despite all the horrible things your parents did, breaking promises was not one of them.

"I do." Keishin grinned. "I know, I know, it's not good for me. Y/N tells me to quit all the time so I'm trying."

You let out a nervous chuckle as both your parents turned to face you. "Shall we head into the living room?" You started ushering everyone into the other room, hoping to change the subject as quickly as possible.

"Yes, let's have a seat." Your father nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Keishin, watching him like a hawk. "Can I get you anything to drink, Keishin?"

"Just a water is fine, thanks." Keishin had obviously decided not to push his luck too hard because you had been fully expecting him to ask for a beer.

With that, both your mother and father disappeared into the kitchen; your mother to finish dinner and your father to collect the drinks.

Taking the brief moment of reprieve to breathe, you looked up at Keishin. "I've never seen my parents struggle between their flawless hospitality and kicking someone out of their house so much in my life," you chuckled lightly.

"I'm a bit of a shock." Keishin placed his hand on your lower back and led you toward the couch. "I brought out all the stops in the beginning so they could have the whole night to get used to me."

"How kind of you." You sat down, slightly caught off guard when Keishin sat down right next to you and slung his arm over your shoulders. You were about to ask him what he was doing, but then you remembered that the two of you were supposed to be an actual couple and this is what couples did.

As soon as you felt his touch on you, however, your mind flashed back to that night in the park a few weeks ago. Since then, neither one of you had spoken about what had happened on that bench; a wordless agreement between the two of you that you would just move on and pretend it didn't happen.

But as much as you pretended to forget, you never actually could. The feeling of Keishin's hands on your sides and his warm breath on your lips kept you up at night. As much as you tried not to think of him like that, you just couldn't help yourself.

"You seem really nervous," Keishin leaned closer to you a whispered. "You okay?"

Snapping out of your thoughts, you nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just trying not to freak out is all."

"Hey." Keishin tilted your head toward him so he could look you in your eyes. "You're their daughter. No matter what happens, they will always love you. Remember that."

You flashed a smile. Somehow, Keishin knew exactly what to say to help you relax. "Yeah . . . thanks."

Just then, your father returned with two glasses of water in hand. Handing one each to you and Keishin, you didn't miss the way his gaze settled on the sight of Keishin's arm around you.

"Thank you." Keishin grabbed his glass right away and took a sip. You, on the other hand, let your glass sit on the coaster on the table. Despite how dry your mouth was, you didn't trust your shaky hands to pick up the glass.

"Dinner should be ready soon," your father said as he sat down in his armchair across from you and Keishin. "So, Keishin, tell me about yourself. What do you do for a living?"

"Well, currently, I spend most of my time coaching the boys' volleyball team at Karasuno high school," Keishin answered, his eyes lighting up a little when he spoke about the team he coached; you could tell he really enjoyed it. "And my family owns Sakanoshita Market and I work there sometimes."

"Sakanoshita Market," your father repeated. "That sounds familiar."

You rolled your eyes, not surprised in the slightest that your father had forgotten the name of the place you had been working at for the past few months. "That's where I work, Dad," you told him. "That's how Keishin and I met."

"I see." Your father eyed Keishin and you were surprised that Keishin didn't shrink under the cold, hard gaze like you usually did. "So do you go after all the young women who work at your family store or just my daughter?"

"Dad!" you gasped, unsure whether to tell him off or apologize to Keishin on behalf of your father.

"It's okay," Keishin told you calmly before answering your father's question. "Actually, the store hasn't seen a new employee in years. For the longest time, it was just my mother and me. We are both very grateful for all the hard work Y/N puts in to help us with the store. She is a wonderful employee."

You couldn't help the blush that tinted your cheeks at the compliment. "Thanks."

"No need to thank me. It's the truth," Keishin said before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. "And good thing you took the job too, or else we would have never met."

Keishin then shot a sparkling grin your father's way, completely blinding him and distracting him from the shocked expression on your face. You knew you told Keishin to act like the two of you were really a couple, but you never expected him to play the part so thoroughly.

Your father opened his mouth to no doubt interrogate Keishin some more, but before he could, your mother began setting the table and announced that dinner was ready.

Moving over to the table, you took a seat across from Keishin while your parents sat at the ends of the table. As your mother brought the dishes of food over, you took the chance to drink some water and parch your dry throat.

The thought of having to keep this awkward conversation up gave you a headache, but thankfully, Keishin seemed to be handling everything quite well. Just as you had expected, he took everything with a grain of salt and refused to let your parents get under his skin.

You wished you were able to do that.

After the four of you bowed your heads and said thank you for the food, you dug in. At first, everyone was too busy eating to say anything. Somehow, the silence was worse than when your dad had been firing off questions rapid fire.

"This is delicious," Keishin was the first to speak. "Thank you again for inviting me for dinner."

"Yes, o-of course," your mother wavered a little but somehow managed to voice her fake pleasure nonetheless. "Y/N has never dated anyone before so we were curious as to what kind of . . . person . . . had caught her eye."

Keishin nodded, letting the not-so-subtle rude comment roll right off his back. "Well, here I am."

"Yes, here you are indeed," your father muttered under his breath. Thankfully, it didn't seem as though Keishin had heard it, but you certainly had. "So, you said you coach high school volleyball. Is this a long-term thing or?"

Keishin thought for a moment before shrugging. "I'm not sure, honestly. I do enjoy it but I've never given much thought as to if I want to do it long-term. I started coaching because of special circumstances and just haven't stopped yet."

"Well, plenty of people coach and teach," your mother said. "You seem to enjoy working with kids, so have you ever considered becoming a teacher?"

"That doesn't sound like the worst job, but that would require me to have a teaching degree, which I don't have," Keishin responded.

"What degree did you get in university?"

Keishin chuckled. "I didn't go to university."

Oh God. Your jaw dropped and you wished that a black hole could just open up underneath you and suck you in. Out of all the things your parents hated most, people who didn't go to university were at the top of the list. They always told you that 'people who didn't go to university had no interest in investing in their future.'

Hence why they always pushed so hard for you to go the university they wanted so you could study what they thought would be best for you.

You watched your mother's face go red as she reached for her glass of wine a take a particularly large sip. "Community college, then?" she squeaked out.

"Nope, afraid not," Keishin answered, completely unashamed and even proud. "I started working for the family store right after high school."

The looks on your parents' faces that they didn't even try to hide filled you with a deep sense of shame. You didn't know how they could be so blatantly rude to someone they barely knew . . . well, actually, you did know, and that was the worst part. As much as you wished you could deny it, you had thought the same things about Keishin when you had first met him.

Hanging your head in shame, you let the suffocating silence of the dining room take over.

Feeling something brush against your leg, you looked up to see Keishin smiling at you from across the table. 'It's okay' he mouthed to you. You thought back to the time Keishin had told you he was a big boy who could take a little verbal ribbing and exhaled through your nose sharply, your mood lifting ever-so-slightly.

Keishin brushed his foot against your leg a few more times to remind you that you weren't alone at this dinner before he attempted to restart the conversation. "So what do you two do for a living?" he asked, looking to your parents.

"We are both lawyers," your father said.

You nodded and sighed. "Hence why they want me to go to law school."

"Oh, honestly, Y/N, you say that like paying for you to go to law school is abuse." Your mother shook her head disapprovingly. "Do you know how many children would kill for the opportunities you have been given and yet you want to throw them away just like that? You should be grateful."

You were about to retort but stopped yourself before you did, knowing that it would only serve to start the same argument that you had lost over and over again. No matter what you said on the matter, your parents refused to try and see things from your perspective.

It never once occurred to them that you might actually not want to be a lawyer.

"Tell me, Keishin, if you had a child who you could pay for to go to law school and they told you they wanted to pursue their dream of playing soccer, what would you do?" Your father turned to Keishin, suddenly interested in what he had to say on the issue.

"Dad, let's not talk about that now," you spoke softly, hoping to get him to change the subject.

"No, no, let's hear what Keishin has to say." Your father insisted.

Keishin thought for a moment before answering. "Well, I think I would just want my child to be happy," he said, his eyes leaving your father to look at you. "I made the mistake of not following my dreams after high school and I regret it every day, so I would tell my child to follow their dreams and try my hardest to be there to support them."

You smiled wide, surprised by how emotional Keishin's words made you feel. For a moment, it was just you and him, and he was saying everything you had ever wanted to hear. All you ever wanted for was someone to be in your corner . . . someone to support you whether your choice was a mistake or not.

"Congratulations, Y/N, you've found a dreamer just like yourself," your father scoffed, breaking you out of your happy trance. "Too bad dreams don't pay the bills."

"Well, when your future is working at a family-run corner store, dreams are all you have," your mother cackled, not even trying to be quiet about it.

Your father laughed as well. "Too true, honey."

"Mom!" you shouted at her, your anger taking over before you even had the chance to think about your actions.

"It's okay," Keishin told you again, reaching across the table for your hand.

You shook your head and tugged your hand out of his reach. "No, it's not okay!" You rose to your feet, finally having had enough. "This dinner was a terrible idea. I cannot believe you!"

"If you've finally come to your senses, darling, we can send Keishin on his way and-" your mother reached for you as well but you shrugged her off.

"I'm not talking about Keishin! I'm talking about the two of you!" You slammed your hands down onto the table, shaking the dishes of food. "The whole night you have been making offhanded remarks and rude comments about Keishin while he has been nothing but the perfect guest. I'm sorry, Keishin, but I can't sit here and let you take their abuse anymore. I've dealt with it my whole life and I won't let them do the same thing to you. You don't deserve that."

"Y/N, you're being a bit dramatic, don't you think?" your father asked, sipping his wine as if nothing was happening, which only made you angrier.

"No, father, I don't think so," you snapped back. "I think that you and Mom are being horrible and I cannot believe that this is how you're acting when meeting someone for the first time. What makes you think that you have the right to treat someone so poorly just because they don't live the same life or have the same ideals as you? You think you know what is best for me but you don't even know me, so how could you?! I would rather work at the corner store for the rest of my life if it meant being genuinely happy over being a snobby, emotionless lawyer any day."

While you vented in front of your parents, Keishin just stared at you wide-eyed, completely floored by how quickly your demeanor had changed from shy and uncomfortable to enraged and animated in mere seconds. The last time he had seen you like this was when you were going off on him and he was grateful your rage wasn't directed at him this time.

Aside from relieved, Keishin felt proud; proud of you for standing your ground.

An embarrassed look flashed across your mother's face. "Y/N, please-"

"No, just don't," you lowered your voice and took a few deep breaths. "I can't do this anymore. I can't keep pretending that I'm going to put up with your plans for me just so I can have a roof over my head. Mom, Dad, I'm not going to law school. I'm not letting you dictate my life anymore. I'm done."

Stepping away from the table, completely emotionally drained, you looked over your shoulder at Keishin. "Come on, let's go." You waved for him to follow.

Without a word, Keishin stood from the table and followed you to the front door where the two of you grabbed your jackets and got ready to leave.

"If you walk out that door, don't bother coming back!" You heard your father call after you as you left the house, but his threat didn't phase you in the least. If anything, never having to return to that house sounded like bliss right then.

Wrapping your jacket tight around your body to fight the cool evening wind, you sighed. "I'm sorry about that," you told Keishin as he walked silently beside you. "I should never have dragged you into my mess. You don't deserve to be treated the way my parents treated you."

"You don't need to apologize." He wrapped his arm around you once more and held you close, both to comfort you and to keep you warm. "I'm just worried about you. Are you okay?"

You felt tears begin to well in your eyes and frantically wiped them away. "I . . . I don't know," you answered truthfully. "I suppose I should just worry about one thing at a time, and since I've apparently got nowhere to spend the night now . . ."

"You'll spend the night at my place," Keishin stated plainly, not even bothering to ask if you wanted to or not. It was more like an order, but right then, you had nothing against him making decisions for you. As long as the choices weren't made by your parents, you didn't care who they came from.

"Okay," you exhaled. "Thank you."

As the two of you walked through the quiet night in the direction of the store, Keishin pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. Without thinking, you wrapped your arm around his waist and leaned into him, the warmth he radiated bringing you some semblance of peace.

"I'm sorry tonight went so shit," Keishin spoke as he exhaled, smoke spilling from his lips.

"It's not your fault," you told him. "In fact . . . I don't think tonight could have gone any better. In the end, this is how it was always going to turn out. It's better I realize that sooner rather than later."

Keishin stopped and looked down at you. "That's not-"

"It's okay," you said those two magic words this time. "You remember when you told me that no matter what happened they would always love me because I'm their daughter?"

Keishin nodded.

"I wish you could have been right."

[asirensrage]

there's a heaven above you (don't you cry) - Part 3

Rating: M Pairing: Lost Boys/OC Fandom: The Lost Boys Warnings: swearing, vampires, violence, blood, sex, power plays, murder and attempted murder, probably more to be added Summary: The thing no one ever tells you about time travel is that you don’t have any control over where you end up or when you leave. It just happens. It also hurts like a bitch. Notes: I don't know what I was thinking but there is way more sex so far than I planned lol. Or at least there is before chapter 10. I love writing this OC though. This will be a poly pairing, so if you’re not into that, don’t read. previous/masterlist also on ao3

Part Three: Cherry Bomb

She dreamt of blond hair and laughter that echoed around her. She snapped back at it but all it did was make the voices laugh more. Endlessly amused at her frustration. Needless to say, she did not sleep well. Again.

Darcy opened the store in a worse mood than yesterday. This whole lack of sleep thing was not working for her. Thank god she picked up a pack of smokes. She couldn’t bring herself to smoke inside the store though, even if it was legal. God, she’d never get the smell out of her clothes if she did that.

She fell into the motions of opening the store, which included pulling up the blinds and checking the donation bin which looked like it had been broken into. They’d need to get the lock fixed. It wasn’t uncommon that people decided to steal what they could. This place was filled with lost souls looking for somewhere to belong, but that didn’t mean Darcy had to accept it. It hadn’t even been a week since the last break-in. They were just lucky she hadn’t caught them in the act yet.

For all that she had lost, Darcy liked working in the thrift store. It was an easy job and Sampson paid decently for the time. She wasn’t entirely sure how he made his money since some days passed and no one bought anything, but she wouldn’t complain. If it was a front, she couldn’t be held as an accessory if she knew nothing. The only odd thing was how no one had been working here already. Though, with the rate that missing posters got plastered to the bulletin boards around the town, maybe she just had good timing.

---

Clark showed up again when the sun was high in the sky and she had already given directions to two different sets of tourists. She didn’t know why they needed them. The town wasn’t that big and the Boardwalk was pretty straightforward. She figured out where everything was within a day.

“You look like shit,” he said.

“Language,” she admonished without any real bite. She leaned forward to look at him. Her hair was held back in a couple of simple victory rolls but mainly left loose. The last thing she needed to do was give herself a headache on top of the lack of sleep. She needed coffee. “If I give you five bucks, can you grab me a coffee and bring it? You can keep the change.”

He looked at her. “How do you know I won’t just take the money and run?”

“And miss the pleasure of my company?” she asked. “You do that and you won’t be allowed back in.”

He stuck out his tongue at her. “Alright, alright. I’ll do it.”

“Good. Add a bit of sugar in it, but that’s it. I don’t like milk.” She opened the cash register and pulled out a five-dollar bill. She’d replace it with her own once she felt more human again and actually had the desire to move.

Clark took it and disappeared. Thankfully, he was only gone for about ten minutes before he returned with the nectar of the gods. She winced slightly as it burnt at the first sip.

“So what happened to you?” Clark asked. He was browsing through one of the racks as he left her to wake up.

“What do you mean?”

“You look like you got totally wasted.”

“I feel like I did,” she said, “only without actually doing so. I didn’t sleep well.” She paused for a moment. Clark had been here longer than she has from what she could tell. “You know the gangs here, right?”

He turned to her and scrunched up his face. “The Surf Nazis?”

“Ugh, no, the other assholes. The bikers.”

It took him a moment before he answered. “The Lost Boys?”

She snorted. She was right that it had something to do with Peter Pan. So which one wore the tights? The image of Paul in his tight pants the other night sprung to mind and she tried not to laugh. That answered that question.

“Why you asking?”

“I met them with Frankie the other day.” She took another sip of her coffee. God, she wanted a cigarette. She held back on the desire though.

“Yeah? You like them?”

“Don’t know them. Just wanted to know what you think.”

“They’re assholes,” he said instantly. It made her grin. “They ride into the crowds all the time. I don’t go near them, but girls love them. They always find their way to some party.”

“Good to know,” she said. That didn’t really explain anything about them. Perhaps that was one of the things about gangs. The only ones who really know about them were those in the gang itself. Hopefully, they’d lose interest soon so she could go back to minding her own business.

Clark left without another word. She turned back to her coffee and tried to wake up. For the first time since Sampson told her, she was grateful he was hiring someone. Then at least she could sleep in.

---

Night was never a quiet thing in Santa Carla.

The Boardwalk filled with people, like ants on food left on a sidewalk, and the noise and lights made it seem far brighter than it had any right to be. At least in Darcy’s opinion. She headed in the opposite direction.

It wasn’t far to the motel where she rented a room. It would have been ideal to have an apartment, but there were few places that rented a place out. She didn’t want to live with roommates that were strangers.

There had never been any interruptions when she walked back from work. Aside from a few catcalls when she was still close to the boardwalk, she was usually left in peace. Apparently, that was no longer a thing.

She was already getting tired of the sound of motorcycles. That didn’t stop the one that had reared up from the side street she was about to cross. He stopped by her, not quite blocking her way but still making himself known. She pulled out a cigarette. It wasn’t the blond but she had a feeling she was going to need it.

He held a lighter out before she could grab hers. Her eyes narrowed at him but she leaned forward and lit it.

“Are you stalking me?” she asked as she exhaled.

“Do you want to be stalked?” he asked, grinning widely. It was the other mullet. The one with the curls. He had an easy smile, looking far more innocent than she suspected he was.

“No.”

“Why you out here? Don’t like the boardwalk?”

“No,” she said again. “Not really.”

He bit the nail of his thumb as he continued to grin at her. “So where you going?”

She took another drag of her cigarette and blew it out slowly. “Home. I’m going to bed.”

“Want company?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m good, thanks.” She moved forward and much like the last interaction she had with one of them, he followed. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Trust me, babe, no place I’d rather be. Can I give you a ride?”

She paused, contemplating it for a moment. She didn’t have an aversion to motorcycles but she didn’t know him. The reminder of the missing posters lingered in her mind. “I’ll walk.”

“Aw come on, I’ll be good!”

“Somehow I doubt that,” she drawled. She kept walking. There was another roar of motorcycles and she glanced at the one next to her. “You guys really travel in packs, huh?”

“You’ll like it,” he said, looking far too amused at the suggestion.

She barely got another two steps before the other motorcycles were circling her. Marko joined them seamlessly. She stood there, smoking and waiting until they finally stopped. A couple of them veered close but they finally eventually stopped when she dropped the butt of her cigarette, stomped it out and asked, “are you done?”

“Where you going, Darcy?” the blond mullet from the other day asked.

“Home. Get out of the way.”

“Come on, chica,” Paul called out, leaning forward over the bars of his bike. “Let’s party.”

She ran her tongue over her teeth before she looked at him. “Where’s Frankie?” she asked. “Last party you invited me to was with her and I haven't seen her since.” The men all started to laugh and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up again.

“Who?” Paul asked, blinking at her. He still had a smile on his lips and she half wished she was closer just to wipe it off of his face.

“You know who,” she snarled. They all laughed again and her eyes narrowed. “Alright, I’m done.” She moved, going to push her way past them or kick over their bikes if she had to. She was over this already.

“Darcy, wait,” the curly one said.

“Yeah, babe, we’re just playing,” Paul called out.

“I’m not. I don’t know who the fuck you are and I’m not interested.”

“Dwayne,” the dark-haired one finally spoke.

“I’m Marko,” the curly mullet spoke up.

“You know me,” Paul said with a wink. “And that’s David.” He motioned to the bleached-blond mullet who was staring at her. They were all staring at her, really.

“Pleasure,” she drawled. “Now get out of the way.”

“Darcy,” the one named David called out. “Join us.”

“No,” she looked at him. “I’m going home and going to bed.”

“Aww,” she heard someone call out. Her version swayed slightly. Join us, Darcy. Come on, Darcy. She could go out with them. Not like she had many friends or the store was that busy. She could...she dug her fingers into the pressure point between her thumb and her index finger, trying to use the pain to focus. It broke through the pressure building around her and she glanced down, reaching for another cigarette.

She lit it herself, ignoring the offer of a lighter from Paul and Marko. She inhaled slowly and held it for a second before exhaling. “I’m going home. Get out of my way.”

There must have been something in her tone because two of them finally moved back slightly, granting her an exit. She walked forward only to realize they were following. She turned and glared at them.

“I didn’t ask for an escort!”

“What type of men would we be to let a woman walk home alone in the dark?” David asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah!” Marko called out. “Never know what’s out there.” That made them all laugh.

God fucking damn it. She turned and walked. They followed behind and she ignored the fact that she could feel their stares on her. She just wanted to get to bed.

They reached the motel.

“Shit, babe, you live here?” she heard Paul ask. “Just come home with us.”

“There,” she said, ignoring the blond. “You walked me home. Go away.”

They all grinned at her. “Goodnight, Darcy,” David said.

“Yeah, night babe! Dream about me!”

“Dream about us!” Marko called out, fixing Paul’s comment. Dwayne just watched her. She ignored them all and went to her room.

It was only after she cleaned herself up and was finally drifting off to sleep when she realized they never answered her question about Frankie.

---

taglist: @raith-way @ocfairygodmother @lokitrasho @zeleniafic @jewelswrites-ish @tessasocs @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle @chickensarentcheap

[yuichi-ro]

1an: this is actually my first yuichee.♡ self ship fic on this blog! took me long enough cw: it's self ship trash, fem!Reader, violence, language, blood, fluff (?) word count: 1.9k synopsis: Kurono's been at Haijima for a few years. So have you. No one's been to safely deescalate Kurono yet.

Violet consumed your senses.

Screaming coworkers scrambling up and down the halls as they shouted about a immediate code violet. The cast of purplish hues on the walls from the warning lights strobing. You could hear the thuds, thumps and shouting from behind the sealed room.

And while all you saw and heard was purple. What you felt was closer to the claustrophobic blackness of the smoke filling room right in front of you.

"Get out of the way!" A higher up, someone you'd actually work studied under two years ago, brashly shoved you aside as they flipped through the papers secured to their clipboard, "What's going on? What did you do?"

"N-Nothing!" The poor nurse they were talking too. You'd been there before. Scolded and held accountable for something out of your hands, "It's the patient! He burnt through one of the straps!"

"There should be five secured at all times!" Exacerbated for use of a better word the doctor who'd shoved you out of the way went to the intercom on the outside of the door. Smashing their finger into the single button and bringing their lips close to the mic, "Kurono! We need you to stop right now! The nitrogen tanks are queued to go off if you don't settle down, do you hear me?"

Radio silence from the other end.

Unbelievably so you felt your heart thump in your chest. Like this hadn't happened before in the few years you'd been here. Something felt off though. The silence from the other side made you sure of that.

Pinching the bridge of their nose, the lead doctor shook their head and waved off the now smoke saturated room no one could seem to reach, "Is everyone out of their?"

"Yes. Staff was removed and sent to medics."

"Good. Just douse the entire room. We'll salvage what we can from him if he didn't break it all."

"Wait!" Your voice ripped from your throat before realizing it was you. What tipped you off really was the odd look both your coworkers were giving you. Then it hit you that you interrupted them. Clearing your throat with a short deep breath you stood up straight and re chose your words, "Before you do that- Let me go in there. I've been basically working his tephrosis case since starting I can probably-"

"We evacuated several people from that one room alone, the smoke alone is deadly," Quickly shot down from the doctor on the floor.

Still the scowl dipped in on your face and you shook your head, "Somethings not right. Kurono was doing so good- I mean- The patient. We've talked for hours every day, he's doing really well if you would just let me-"

"This is asinine to even be talking about," The doctor shook their head, "Let the nitrogen tanks empty out now we'll-"

"Don't you'll hurt him!" At the risk of your employment there you lurched forward and put your hands over the kill switch that kept the nitrogen tanks in the room from just dumping all at once.

Quickly and unsurprisingly that earned you a scathing glare, "He has just sent three nurses into the the care unit and a few more for possible smoke damage to the lungs. At the risk of having to redo this entire room I will have him-"

"Five minutes-" You blurted, "Give me five minutes. I'll sign a waiver. I'll get fired, whatever. I don't care just let me try before you do anything."

For a second the it was tense. Both the head nurse and doctor exchanging a look that otherwise looked like a no would be the answer. Then the doctor removed their hand from the nitrogen switch and sighed, "Four minutes. If he doesn't respond then out before the four minutes is up or it's your job."

Almost impossible. And stupid at that. But you gave your word and your career. So when the sliding door opened there was no turning back.

Hit with the acrid smell of burnt. It filled your lungs and made you panic for a second. Heated soot would kill you if you lingered too much. If your bet was wrong, he would kill you.

Behind you the door sealed. A single glance back at the two faces watching you. And then they were gone. Swallowed up by the shifting smoke swirling around you.

Just like outside the container, your heart was thudding. Now though it felt like it might pop right out of your chest.

"...Kurono," You managed barely above a whisper. It was silent in the room but somehow the smoke made it feel like there was old airwaves static clinging to everything in the room. Chances were he might not have heard you, "Kurono! I know you're in here. Please, just for a second, lower the smoke?"

Nothing.

"Kurono please." Your voice louder but breeching on desperate. Suddenly you didn't know how long had passed, "Please say something. I know this isn't like you. Lower the smoke, I'm not going to get upset please."

Static silence that was slowly making it harder to breath. Not sure where the door was anymore. Or even where the emergency exit might be. You stood in the room with a beast and no way to safety. Heart pounding in your ears as the choking feeling of smoke crawled over you.

"Yuichiro-" You spoke softer, sure you were wrong now and that your hunch had been a fools errand, "Please- I just want to help you-"

A shift in clarity. Like the smoke thinned and a real breath of air filled your lungs. Sure the smell stuck but you didn't feel the claustrophobic crawling in them anymore. It wasn't away from the windows though. Behind you the smoke thickened but what you could only guess as the middle of the room seemed to clear.

Seated on the ground was one barely twenty year old man. Slumped over with nothing in his hands.

"Kurono!" You could recognize that head of hair even in the smokiest of rooms. Forgetting about the time limit placed on you, you quickly made it over to him in the chaos of the disorderly room. Sinking down to his level in the hopes to end this before your time and job was up, "There you are! What happened they said-"

"Weak- Weak!" Unlike anytime before, in the months and now years you'd been working with him, Kurono hadn't a single layer of protection between him or you. Raw as the feeling of his black blade piercing your forearm. It sunk in further with a little gush of blood dripping onto the floor. His knuckles worn raw from rubbing them on the straight jacket. The other hand still as burnt with tephrosis as it had always been. What wasn't the same was the fact you couldn't see his face.

Wet in such a distinct noise. Your blood dribbled onto the concrete floor of the testing room. Grand contrast to the black smoke swirling on the floor as well as the greyness of the concrete itself. For a second, while shock hadn't worn off yet, you stared down at the knife plunged into your non dominant hand. And when the pain came flooding to the front gates. You all but swallowed it with a shaky breath.

"Kurono..." Your unharmed hand reached out to touch the warmth of his tephrosis. Like a soft warm thudding heart beat. His skin was charred but still very much alive, "It's ok."

His yellow eyes dilated and his head finally tipped up. Just to see you weren't the last person he'd lashed out at. In fact, he didn't remember you being in here at all.

"...I told you to call me Yuichiro." Was all he managed even when those eyes fell onto the dagger lodged cleanly through your forearm.

Teeth clenched you managed a small laugh through them even as you gripped his burnt arm in an attempt to ignore the pain, " 'm sorry. You know how I am on the job. Are you ok?"

What a stupid question. He blinked at you and looked back down at your arm. Soot weapon still lodged in it. But his response silent.

"Yuichiro." You said again, softly and only to him. Making Kurono's unnerving yellow eyes stick to you this time, "...are you ok?"

This time silence didn't stay. He dropped his arm. Taking with it the weapon that vaporized as it left your skin. The bandages normally used to cover his arm now mostly off. Kurono took them even as they unraveled completely on his arm and offered them to you, "...weak."

A grimace and a smile crossed your face. It wasn't life threatening but god did it hurt. The offer was taken when you began winding the bandage nice and tight along your arm to at least stop the dripping onto the floor, "Yeah I know. I need to hit the gym more or something."

"Not you." Kurono interrupted, "Me."

Not what you had expected. And one look down at your wounded arm might make you disagree, "That's certainly not the case I would say."

"No dreams."

"What?" Your arm hurt like a bitch but you still stopped to look at him oddly, "Dreams of what?"

"Dreams of doing something. I'm supposed to have dreams or that's what that one lady said." Kurono wasn't making much sense. But as chance might have it he wasn't in his straight jacket. And he might have very well broken out of it just to the tune of something said wrong to him. You could choose to pick your words carefully and hope nothing else happened. Or you could simply talk to him like you had been doing for the past year.

"Well, dreams are shooting pretty high," You tightened the bandage on your arm, "What about hopes? Do you have any hopes?"

Kurono looked at you. Each word you spoke the smoke seemed to thin out. But that wasn't something you could really pay attention to in the long run as you looked at his pupils dilate and return to only the smallest slits like he was sizing you up for something unknown.

"I don't have hopes."

As expected. Then it dawned on you the nitrogen tanks hadn't gone off. The alarms quieted down. And before when all you could see was choking smoke. Now you could clearly see Kurono sitting in front of you. Like he'd always been.

"We'll," You offered a crooked smile and a hand you weren't sure should be rested on his knee or on his arm. So you simply set it on his fist and looked over at him, "I'll have hopes for the both of us. And I hope we'll be able to be friends for a long time to come, Yuichiro."

Just like the clearness in his eyes. The smoke vanished. No more violet alarms going off. And a quietness that didn't make your heart beat of your chest settled. Panic replaced with really only the dull ache in your arm that seemed more tolerable the longer you sat here with him like this on the ground.

Kurono looked down at your hand a top his. Unflinching and unmoving. Stone still as he always was. But save for the little nod he gave when your words finished up, "...I'd like that."

[liyuesbian]

✧ pygmalion!au [ningguang]

notes: btw idk how commissions from museums work i just made the process up LMAO and this one's kinda angsty? i mean, it is the pygmalion greek myth so iykyk. also, i describe this figurine of ningguang here but w/o the colour... i've linked it in case any1 needs the reference. (btw, this is not set in ancient greece specifically)

only yesterday had you been commissioned by an art gallery in the capital to create a piece for their up-and-coming collection titled desire, love and identity. yet here you are, slaving away to make the perfect image you had in your head come into fruition. your vision is exquisite once sketched on paper—you can't find any faults in it so you take the risk.

as soon as your chisel meets the marble, a feeling so invigorating dominates your body. no further references are necessary as you place your trust entirely on your hands, coarse from the labour. you find such mindless toil addicting and you work day and night, only stopping for a half-baked meal and the odd collapse into bed.

for months, love streams out of the tips of your fingers and through your sculpting tools to arrive at the stone figure. you sincerely hope the intimate emotion has been reached.

when you finish, you wipe the bead of sweat running down your forehead, rest the other palm on your hip and take slow steps backwards all while maintaining eye contact with the statue. a wave of sweet relief hits you and you fall to the floor, uncontrollably sobbing into tired hands that still grip the hammer and chisel.

it's beautiful.

you stagger, struggling to get up with your bruised knees while clumsily wiping the tears off your stained cheeks. setting the instruments aside, you lift your head to admire your handiwork up close. a woman made of stone sits elegantly atop an oriental chair, crossing her smooth, white legs over each other. her left elbow is propped on the arm of the chair while on the other side, a long smoking pipe is balanced between gloved fingers. around her lies an assortment of objects: a vase containing scrolls, a floor lamp, and a charmingly decorated folding screen.

you see, you had already thought it all out. you'd imagined ningguang's preferences for a life of luxury, her affinity for constructing and sprucing up interiors. she would be a master of the trades and a woman who likes to keep an air of mystery around her. and like how you increasingly project her to be more of a person than she ever will be, there is a creeping concern in the corner of your mind that you will lose your rationality just as quickly.

the sculpture's body is clad in a qipao with a slit that reveals alabaster skin below the waist. the dress—embellished with patterns and neat linings—hugs her figure and shows off a lean build. the extensive train and sleeves of the fabric are shaped curvaceously to mirror the flow of a waterfall. and her face. the section you strived so hard to refine. she stares at you with an imperious expression and a hint of a smirk. her gaze, so piercing, makes you avert your eyes in shyness but you find yourself gravitating back to her profile.

you muster up the courage to draw closer to your creation and unconsciously stroke her cheek with your thumb, captivated. if she were an empress, you'd be a common peasant—undeserving of setting your sights on such a goddess. you can feel your soul being sucked into eyes devoid of emotion—of anything, actually. after all, the woman sitting before you is not a person but an inanimate object.

the weeks following the completion of ningguang—which is the name you've picked up the habit of calling her—are spent in said lady's company. every minute of every day, you surround yourself with her presence as if she is your closest friend. you eat with her, tell her your troubles, even going so far as to decorate her with various types of jewellery and bringing her gifts you think she'd like.

"thank you," you whisper. "for always listening to me." in truth, you're always so immersed in your work that you forgot what conversations could feel like. though, you fear your art would never be on par with something so transcendent ever again.

you become curious, wondering what she would be like if the nymph in front of you were not just a figment of your imagination.

you perch yourself on top of ningguang's stone-cold lap and trace the contours of her visage. you inspect each crease on her lips and the minuscule crinkles in her eyes, applauding yourself for the well-crafted details. you don't know what possesses you but you close your eyes and press your lips against hers, hoping that once you open them, a living being would erupt from underneath the marble. but, of course, as soon as the light hits your retinas, ningguang is as unmoving as ever.

realising what you've just done, you drop off of her thighs and laugh anxiously. however, you could've sworn that you had felt warmth in the lips of your beloved muse.

"i've finally gone mad!" you cry aloud.

hell, you say to yourself, is it even possible to fall in love with such an... an artefact? you dismiss your glaringly obvious infatuation.

"nonsense," you mutter under your breath, sensing your heart breaking slightly. how can something so painfully humanlike also not be human at the same time? you must've caused a tremendous atrocity in your past life to have made the gods harbour a grudge against you. of all things, you'd never have guessed that a lifeless piece of art would be the object of your desire.

you can't bear to look at the handcrafted lady any longer and with an anguished face, cover her with a large cotton cloth. the plan was to wait until you could hand the statue over to the curators and try to ignore its existence until then.

for a few days, you act according to the plan, going about your daily routine but eventually, your stoic demeanour crumbles. you lock yourself in your room refusing to eat or believe that your affection would never be returned.

during the hours of sunlight, you weep under your sheets, drowning in self-inflicted sorrow. and at night, you do the same, lamenting over the loss of what could've been your true love. she would've been so perfect in your eyes, your other half, and the only one who could calm this growing turmoil!

the reality pains you. hence, you do the only thing you can do: you pray. you pray to the gods for a miracle, that the light of your life would stride into your room and pull you from the depths of despair... but she never does.

your last day "cohabitating" with the sculpture has arrived and for the first time in—what felt like—an eternity, you open the doors to your workshop. taking a deep breath, you unveil the stationary maiden.

it's still as beautiful as you remember.

you give it a sad smile, wanting to get its departure over and done with. you manoeuvre about the room to prepare the things for the movers who're due to come in a couple of hours. while you go down your little list of errands to be done, you cough and bat away the smoke—wait, the smoke? frantic, you spin around, eyes darting everywhere in search of its origin until they land on the smoking pipe you so intricately moulded for the commissioned piece.

it's strange, you don't recall colouring the statue. and how on earth is smoke coming out of the pipe? suspicious, you approach the motionless entity and almost stumble when you spot its chest rising.

oh lord! — i really must be descending into madness! you clutch your head, clawing at your hair in hysteria.

"stop, please don't hurt yourself." the sound of a low, worried voice penetrates your ears. you shut your eyes tight.

"no, the gods have cursed me! i mustn't listen to your poisonous words!" you exclaim. your state of agitation is alleviated when the woman caresses your tensed arm.

"what has happened to you? i haven't seen you lately either." the tone is more soft and more tender than you had imagined. you release your grip.

"is it really you, ningguang?" your voice cracks at the end, and the woman you sought after witnesses your features twist into an expression of longing and hope.

"yes, my darling. i dare not go anywhere else."

helplessly, you rush to cup her face to check for heat, for the blood traversing under her skin—anything that would prove that your sweetheart is truly alive and breathing. and when you do get the confirmation, you beam, trying to withhold tears born from elation.

you bend down to kiss ningguang, who is still seated on the chair, once, twice, and three times to rid your scepticism. oh, deities! she's real.

"i love you," you declare.

"i know." you watch as the same creases you'd etched on the corners of her eyes spread into a loving half-moon shape and you kiss her again.

you reach a conclusion: you couldn't give away your lover—let alone a live person—to be displayed as part of a museum exhibition so when the workers arrive, you hide your muse away in another room. you apologise profusely and spin a lie, rambling on about how you had nothing to relinquish for the piece you had prepared had been oh-so-viciously stolen by a mob of trespassers!

the movers share with you their sympathies and ask what the work of art looks like and maybe they could sort something out with the authorities. nodding, you recount—so ardently—the details of your divine maiden. you feel heat rush to your face, chuckling when you realise that you'd run your mouth for too long.

in response to this, the two labourers exchange dubious looks as they peer at the static sculpture standing in the middle of the studio—its appearance unmistakably matching your elaborate description.

[downtonabbeyrevisited]

Season Two Episode Four

A 1918 timestamp ushers us into one of Downton’s more slow moving episodes where three parts painful banality has been mixed with one part life-or-death peril.

Providing more interesting political and cultural conflict than WW1 (at least at Downton) is Isobel’s ongoing grating at Cora’s very soul. Cora has had the temerity to ensure that the staff don’t collapse on their feet and has done something with the linen that I can’t quite fathom which, of course, Isobel takes as a slight upon her medical knowledge. Isobel makes the fatal error of calling Cora’s bluff threatening to ‘seek some other place’ if she is not appreciated at Downton. Major Clarkson also takes sides with Cora and Isobel now has no choice but to throw herself and her messiah complex upon the Red Cross in Northern France. I am sure they will be thrilled. 

With Isobel’s departure, Moseley and Mrs Bird find themselves at a loss having deep cleaned the house and moaned about their employer’s eating habits. Turns out that one thing they forgot to do was deploy any semblance of a security system as a random man with a drama school limp wanders into the house looking for food. In a manner that would make the current Conservative front bench recoil with horror, Mrs Bird starts up a soup kitchen out of her own (presumably rather small) pocket. In her latest attempt to not do her job, Mrs Patmore drags Daisy out for some fresh air and in the process uncovers this particular bit of well meaning but financially unsustainable charity. Mrs Patmore scales up the operation, creating a “special storage area” to squirrel away surplus from the army’s stock, which O’Brien conveniently overhears (but to be honest, it’s not that much of a coincidence. I imagine most of the kitchen heard it considering that Mrs Patmore practically yelled it). In an effort to try and inject a bit of actual drama into this episode, O’Brien reports this to Mrs Hughes but (un)fortunately, Mrs Hughes could not care less. But after watching the world’s most appalling secret handover of goods in the village, O’Brien rallies and this time is successful in bringing Cora to the nefariously compassionate Bird-Patmore coalition. To absolutely everyone’s surprise (viewers included) Cora orders food to be taken from the house stock rather than army and with all the over-confidence of a consultant sets about re-arranging tables and streamlining the workflow. 

Feeling much less charitable than Mrs Bird, Moseley heads to the Abbey and attempts to make himself indispensable and reach the dizzying heights of ‘Valet to the Earl of Grantham’. But not long after the peels of laughter that such a notion invites have died down, Bates returns and takes Mr Molesley’s shoehorn which one can’t help but think is emblematic of something. The return of Mr Bates is, naturally, a painfully protracted process that involves key protagonists not talking to each other, Thomas smoking on a wall, and the obligatory invocation of Kamal Pamuk. Robert invites Bates back to help him through the ‘veil of shadow’ and as such I was intrigued to learn that he is a World of Warcraft devotee. Bates reappearance downstairs also allows for the return of two other key Downton Abbey tropes: Anna and (John)Bates having a heart to heart under the cover of darkness, and Thomas and O’Brien’s irrational loathing/scapegoating of Britain’s most infuriatingly lovelorn character (outside of Thomas Thorne) to resume with aplomb. 

Less happy to be within the confines of the Abbey is Edith who continues to signal that all of this is really a bit beneath her (certain elements quite literally). Ever the teacher’s pet, Mr Molesley reports the sighting of an Officer by the maid’s staircase to Mrs Hughes who hears that there have been lots of rumours on the timeline tonight and comes out to say that she does not live in a sack. Unfortunately, Major Bryant does not live in one but definitely frequents one and, as such, it is of course Ethel is dismissed. As she rapidly packs all her belongings, Anna pleas to Mrs Hughes on her behalf confirming that she is indeed the friend we all want but probably don’t deserve. But Mrs Hughes can’t get rid of her that easily as Edith (and passenger) skulk back to liven up the end of the episode with news of an oncoming baby *Eastenders drums intensify*. 

Talking of undeserving relationships, Sybil and Branson receive more air-time than usual, providing the latter the opportunity to demonstrate that at times he really can be a muppet. And a slightly malevolent one at that. Sybil is firmly under the cosh this week with Violet making thinly veiled references to inappropriate alliances and Mary asking probing questions whilst she tries to get on with her job. Mary thinks that she has spotted her sister and Branson having some kind of romantic exchange but in reality, all that she has seen from afar is Branson telling Sybil that she is in love with him which when you think about it, is all kinds of awful and hardly the basis for a healthy relationship. After a long walk through the grounds where I am half expecting Branson to appear on a horse Willoughby-style, Sybil eventually caves and confesses to Mary that she doesn’t know if she likes Branson despite his eminently creepy voice over. Sybil then relays her sororal confidence and rather than taking this as an opportunity to ingratiate himself, Branson for whatever reason attempts to coerce Sybil into a relationship but not before he belittles her job. Sybil looks rightfully outraged as some equally emotionally manipulative strings wail in the background in an attempt to try and make us think that anything that has just happened was evenly slightly dreamy. 

Threaded through this glacially paced episode has been the looming threat of a both a concert and the death of Matthew and (to a much lesser extent because that is how class works) William. In an effort to break the monotony of walking around the exact same bit of French trench (see previous re-caps for further details), William and Matthew take to wandering across some largely unadulterated land and into the path of some nonchalant Germans. Daisy’s lack of (presumably fawning) letters from William starts off a chain of enquiry which confirms that the War Office has declared Matthew and William missing enabling Mary to once again deploy her signature move: weeping into her gloves. But only one hand this time because she needs to keep a bit of composure for the show must go on! Apparently. Following some abysmal piano playing (I grew up in an appallingly musical household and we all had to endure the torture of other people at the early stages of learning an instrument. It was of course blissful when we got good but, heck, I was thrown straight back to the horror of it all with that ‘accompaniment’ and had an odd sort of stress response which I won’t describe here), Mary and Edith do a rendition of If You Were the Only Girl (In the World) as everyone looks on stony-faced before participating in the millenia’s most morose sing-a-long. With a very good sense of drama, Matthew and (to a much lesser extent) William make their return. Matthew takes his place at Mary’s side and joins in the signing to what is now presumably quite a bewildered audience. Ah, Downton. 

Romantic declaration of the moment 

Violet raises reasonable concerns about Richard Carlisle but Mary is more interested in expanding her real estate portfolio and agrees to throw her lot in with a fiscal agreement disguised as a marriage. Upon his ‘miraculous’ return, Matthew gives the union his blessing on the condition that Richard remains deserving. Not that he ever really was. But the sentiment is what matters here and what is more loving* than putting another’s presumed happiness before your own.

*there are actually a lot of other more loving things but in the interest of formatting, we’re going to sweep those under a very large rug for now. 

Expressive eyebrow of the week 

Rather than training as a nurse or being actually pretty useful in a convalescent home, Mary’s contribution to the war effort is being amicable with Edith. Violet declares that she has now “seen everything” as the spirit of Mrs Adelman moves on. 

Wait, what? 

“I wish we had a man” Presented without comment 

“If I am not appreciated here, I will seek some other place” Yes. PLEASE. 

“What must he do to persuade you he is in love with Lavinia? Open his chest and carve her name on his heart” No, Mary. Matthew merely needs to carve her name with a compass on his forehead to prove that… 

“I hate the word ‘missing’. It leaves so much room for optimism.” Robert is a bit emotionally weird isn’t he? 

“We haven't kissed or anything. I don't think we've shaken hands. I'm not even sure if I like him like that. He says I do, but I'm still not sure.” And lo, another red flag is raised. But because Branson is Downton’s version of a Bolshevik, both Mary and Sybil view this not as a warning about the boy’s behaviour but rather a symbol of his political leanings and such signals are duly ignored.

“He always seems a romantic figure to me” Daisy Robinson writes fanfic. Pass it on. 

“Sometimes in war, one can make friendships that aren't quite…appropriate. And can be awkward, you know, later on. I mean, we've all done it.” Once again, Violet, tell us more! 

Bates says that he has returned to “Downton at war” which sounds like a lucrative exhibition name if I ever did hear one. 

Despite Mary’s most valiant efforts, no musical performance had ever gone out to such an impassive audience until Rosalind came along 

Matthew of course is used to a much better quality sing-, sorry, song-a-long