#NO THE FUN NEVER ENDS THROW YOUR BEERS IN THE TRASH

[idekwtf-is-happening]

HAPPY TEN YEARS

[envy-of-the-apple]

A Mutual Hatred

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

finally kicking out the fic that’s been a draft for three years:) ahaha...aha...ha if its obvious this was written for another character...no it wasn’t

(Warnings: implied non-con, implied drugging, college!AU, dark content)

Gojo Satoru did not like you. 

He didn’t make it obvious. But, you could see the way he slowly inched away from you. And the fake fake smile he stretched on his lips anytime he was forced to talk to you. 

It was a little offensive. You never obsessed about people liking you, but the fact that someone super popular would rather not exist when you were around...well, it stung. 

It could’ve been worse. At least he didn’t openly admit his hatred of you. It was just the tiny, little things he did that made you know there were boundaries. 

But you weren’t Gojo’s friend, you were Geto’s friend. Which meant, as much as you’d rather not to go the party celebrating their latest win, you were still dragged anyway. 

A loud cheer erupted across from the room. Still nursing your drink, you gave Geto a look. 

“The baseball team,” He sighed, “Shit, sorry. I didn’t know they were gonna be here. I know they’re fucking crazy but they won’t bother you. I promise.” 

You have to laugh at his genuinely apologetic look. You wave him away. 

“It’s fine,” You say, “I don’t mind, Besides, they look....fun.” 

Your words come a bit too late as you spot the team captain trying to do a handstand on top of an extremely fragile vase. That would end well. 

“I’m glad they’re supportive of you, at the very least,” 

Geto is sighing, ready to apologize again. He promised you this would be low-key, just the basketball team and a few mutual friends. 

Now it’s just the basketball team, along with a hundred other people. 

If anything you’re impressed at how quickly the numbers formed. The music was loud, booming, nearly blowing out your ears. People were dancing, at the very least, moving together in disjointed clumps because you are pretty sure alcohol doesn’t help you with dancing. 

Voices tear you away from the scene, and your gaze settles on Geto’s volleyball squad. They eagerly start to wave him over. He shakes his head. You frown. 

“Don’t babysit me,” You tell him, “Go. Have fun.” 

He gives you a look. You roll your eyes. 

“I promise I’ll be fine. The only reason I’m here is for the free beer.” 

You’re planning on throwing your cup of cheap booze away the second you can, but you don’t want him to think he has to guard you for the night. That’s who Geto is, a self-proclaimed protector. You don’t even know him all that well but he’s still more than happy to forfeit hanging out with his friends to sit here with you. He’s a good person. 

You still can’t understand why a guy like him would ever be friends with Gojo. 

They had been childhood friends. Best friends. Stayed together until college. Maybe it was just proximity that kept them so close, because you couldn’t imagine it were their personalities. 

Geto sighs, reluctantly slipping away. 

“If you need anything, lemme know.” You nod, keeping your smile on as he gives you one last look before joining his friends. 

Finally alone, you drop the cup in the trash as soon as you can.

At least, you thought you were alone. 

“Too strong?” 

You jump at his voice. Gojo tilts his head, gazing at you with pretty blue eyes. His glasses are off tonight. 

“I-” you stumble, not really sure what to say. He was going out of his way to talk to you? “I was just-” 

“Don’t worry, I get it,” he laughs, light and airy and you’re starting to get why he has a fanclub, “Nazumaki has shitty tastes. Wanna try what I’m having?” 

He hands you an opened can. Still a bit confused, you accept. It’s slightly better. With a fruity aftertaste. When you go to hand it back, he waves you off. 

“Take it, I gotta’ drive home.” He reasons. 

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, you accept. This was...weird. Really really weird. Gojo Satoru didn’t like you. Not even the slightest. Then, why was he being so...nice?

Or maybe you had it all wrong? You were overreacting? 

“Congrats on winning your game.” You tell him, when the silence stretches on for far too long.

“Yeah,” he responds, “you went?” 

You shake your hade. 

“Too busy,” you responded sheepishly, “but I watched the highlights. You guys were awesome.” 

“A huge improvement from fall semester.” he agrees. “Fuck, you should’ve seen us those first couple of weeks. Like a bunch of....coked up squirrels or something. Horrible passes, jumping all over the place, just-” 

He’s cut off by your laugh. “I’m sorry...coked up squirrels?” 

“You didn’t see our freshmen,” he argues, “It’s a great analogy.” 

“I’ll take your word for it.” You smile.

 It’s definitely the alcohol. On his part too. But conversation flows like you are two old friends. It’s so easy to talk to him. Laugh with him. For a moment, you almost forgotten how much disdain Gojo Satoru used to show you. 

Almost.

“You know....for a while, I thought you hated me.” You confessed, because you had to bring it up eventually. The suspense was killing you, eating you alive.

“What?” 

“I mean.” The floor looks weird. You don’t like the carpet. “On campus, you were always so stand-offish. Like you were mad at me.” 

He shoots you an amused look. “I didn’t hate you. I guess I was kinda’ just pissed.” 

You scrunch your forehead, “Oh, you were? Why?” 

“’Cuz you had a nice ass and I wasn’t allowed to touch it.” 

You blink. And then the world tilts sideways. 

What?

Hands grip your shoulders, holding you upright. 

“Woah, baby. I think you had a bit too much. Let’s go lay down.” Gojo purrs into your ear, as he starts leading you away. 

You weren’t drunk. You knew that. You barely had anything. You make a meager struggle against his unwavering body as your dazed mind starts to piece what’s happening. 

You nearly stumble into another group of people. Gojo takes the reigns immediately, apologizing on behalf of his ‘drunk friend who doesn’t know limits’. It’s so deranged that at one point you’re convinced you’re having an out-of-body experience. That this isn’t real. A dream. A nightmare. 

But this is real. He shows you the moment he shoves you into a closet, shutting the door behind him.

“Wh-what are you doing-” your pleas are interrupted by soft lips. You’ve never once thought about kissing Gojo but his lips are like pillows. It’s his strength that suffocates you. Biting and licking up your blood. 

“Would’ve done this sooner, but your bodyguard would never leave you alone for long. The bastard. Keeping you all to himself.” 

Bodyguard? He’s kissing you again, groping you through your clothes and you can’t stand to even think. Geto, it eventually clicks. His helpful protectiveness. You-you thought he was like that with everyone. 

Something, a second wind maybe, kicks up at you. You struggle against his large hands. Gojo grunts, as though your desperation was a minor inconvenience for him. 

“Stop it, fucking stop.” He hisses, pulling at your hair. You yelp. “Stop fighting this when we both know you-” 

The door opens, swinging in blaring light and the sounds of the party with it. Satoru stills, blinking up at the newcomer. You look up too, heart crackling with relief. 

Geto stands there, chest heaving, and it takes a minute for you to realize he must have ran here. You open your mouth, nothing but a warbled plea comes out. 

You expect him to do something. To grab Gojo by the hair and pull. To save you. 

But he doesn’t. He just stands there. 

When you search his eyes. You don’t find anger. You just see hunger. 

Gojo’s pretty laugh rings through the air. Undisturbed. Expectant. 

“What took you so long?” 

[wardenparker]

Woo hoo! Way to go on the 2.5k followers! You deserve it

I would like to request Joel Miller w/ “put me down”

Pre-outbreak Joel Miller 1,642 words. "Put me down." Co-written with @absurdthirst

Reader has been drinking. Established relationship. Jealousy.

Joel rolls his eyes, wondering again what the hell is in the air tonight. He’s glad Sarah has already gone to bed, although she would probably be snickering at the scene. “Babe, maybe you should slow down.” He grunts swiping the beer bottle that he had been nursing and tossing it into the trash.

“Baby, it’s game day,” you protest with a giggle, even though you know he’s probably right. You made your sangria much stronger than usual and you’ve had more than a few cups while hanging out with his friends.

“Yeah it is.” You’re having fun, which is something that he would normally never deny you. Although it seems like you’ve gotten a little….boisterous in the last half hour. “How about we get a sandwich?” He suggests, thinking the bread would be good to help counteract the wine sloshing around in your stomach.

"But we have so many snacks!" The remnants of a chip and veggies and dip plate, the garnishes from a pile of wings, and the last two cookies from the batch Tommy baked are all out on the counter around you, but none of it constitutes actual eating.

He snorts, shaking his head at your wild flailing as you gesture around the counter and miss when you go to grab a chip. “Yep, sandwich.” He grunts to himself, turning around to grab the loaf of bread off the counter. “Or a wrap?”

"Can you be my wrap?" Alright, so you might be a bit tipsy. If the intense giggling from your silly joke is any indication. That doesn't mean you don't want to take advantage of the fact that you're the only two people in the kitchen right now to snuggle up with your boyfriend.

That makes him laugh, rolling his eyes at your antics and he turns to press his lips to your forehead. “You’re drunk.” He accuses fondly.

"Not totally," you protest, pouting at him as deeply as possible.

“Totally.” Joel laughs, leaning in and squashing your lips between his fingers playfully until you pull back. “Eat a wrap then you can have a glass of water.”

"And a kiss." Tacking that onto the end with a grin, you pull your arms around him so he can't pull away to do anything – let alone make a wrap or get a glass of water.

“And a kiss.” If you hadn’t almost started a fight, your possessiveness might be cute. Amusing even. But you had almost been ready to throw hands and he didn’t need the cops showing up here tonight.

"Oh-kay." The pleasant buzzing in your head and the fact that that bitch Larry Anderson had brought with him isn't in here to eye fuck Joel, combine to put you in a very amenable mood.

“Good.” He pecks your lips and reaches behind you to open the fridge. “Ham, or…ham?” He asks, the fridge slightly bare, but in his defense, he had been buying for the party and not wraps.

You hum, pretending to think really really hard, and realize you've forgotten the question while you were screwing up your face into comical expressions. "Ummm...wine?"

“Jesus.” Joel rolls his eyes and moves to the cabinet beside the fridge. “Water now.” He orders, tone a little sharper than before. He doesn’t want you with a bitch of a hangover tomorrow.

"Don't be mad." A pout overtakes your face immediately, but you lean against the kitchen counter and prepare to take whatever Joel dishes out. Even tipsy you know you probably overdid it earlier. It's not your fault that girl wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

“I’m not.” He grabs a plastic cup, not even trusting you with a glass one at this point. “I just want you to be well hydrated.”

"Well..." The best you can do is shrug, but you're still pouting. "You sound mad."

“And I always look like an asshole.” Joel reminds you with a small chuckle. “So….?”

"I had to be mean to her." He pulls one of Sarah's plastic cups out of the cupboard and moves back to the fridge to fill it with cold, filtered water. "She was looking at you like you were a piece of meat, baby."

“Doesn’t matter.” He reminds with, turning around to hand the cup to you with a smirk. “I’m yours.”

Joel always takes care of you, and you know that even after two too many glasses of sangria, so you take the water cup dutifully. "I knowww. You're my piece of meat. But she wasn't respecting that and that's not okay."

“You don’t need to worry.” He promises softly, moving back to the fridge. “She doesn’t have anything on you.”

"I trust you," you clarify, dutifully sipping the water that he's gotten for you. Joel's loyalty has never been in question. Not when you were friends, not when you crossed the line into dating, and not now that you're living with him and Sarah. But the sangria had made you feisty and that was that.

“Good.” He chuckles as he slaps together some ham and a thick slice of that Muenster cheese you insist is better than Kraft. “Because you are the one sleeping in my bed, hogging the covers.”

"I keep telling youuuu." The singsong in your voice is interrupted by another drink of water. "We need a king-sized blanket. A big blanket. For us two hogs."

“I just will shiver every night.” He teases, folding the wrap up like a letter and handing it to you to eat. It wasn’t pretty, but he never claimed to be a good cook.

"But we could be warm snuggly burritos!" You insist, which is always the argument you give for why you should get an extra-large blanket for the queen sized bed you share, but this time you take a dramatic bite of the wrap he's made for you to punctuate your point.

“You would just steal all of those covers too.” He reminds you, leaning back against the counter as he eat watches you eat.

Giggling, you hold up one finger, crushing your wrap into an accordioned lump in the process. "One snuggly burrito."

“You might be a little cute when you’re this drunk.” Joel huffs, folding his arms over his chest.

"Baby..." Trying very hard to make your face serious fails spectacularly, and you end up giggling again. "I'm always cute. You said so."

“I did, didn’t I?” He huffs. “Finish eating and we’ll go back out to the party.” He bribes.

“Okayyyyyy.” It doesn’t stop you from leaning into his side though, and Joel lets you snuggle him without protest or question.

You eat the wrap quickly, making Joel think that one of your problems might be that you haven’t eaten today. When you reach for the veggies and dip, he encourages you to eat some of it too, not wanting you to have just the wrap on your stomach. Not having realized you were hungry in the first place, you’ve now eaten an entire meal standing in the kitchen and the pout you give Joel afterward intensifies. “Now I’m sleepy…” you huff, indignant at yourself for daring to be tired during a house party. Even a small one.

He chuckles quietly and pushes off the counter to walk over to where you had drifted away from him. Grazing off the table. Smirking, he bends down and scoops you up, about to carry you upstairs.

The squawk you let out could raise the dead, but he laughs so it ends up in half-hearted huffing and puffing as he carries you up the backstairs. “Put me doooowwwn! I can walk!” Not that you actually want him to, of course. Being manhandled by Joel is a privilege.

He smacks your ass, laughing again when you squeal. “No.” He tells you, continuing to climb the stairs. “You’ll go back out into the living room and fight that girl.”

“She put her tits in your face!” You groan, not bothering to fight as more stairs pass under Joel’s feet. He’s far stronger than you anyway. “Only my tits go in your face.”

You’re possessive when you’re drunk and it’s kind of hot. “I like your tits in my face.” He hums, grabbing your ass this time instead of slapping it. “That’s why I stood up. So she couldn’t do that.”

“And I like your little pancake ass,” you giggle, smacking his ass as he goes. Slinging you over his shoulder was a tactical error on Joel’s part.

“Hey.” Joel’s step falters and he snorts as you start to giggle. “Payback, huh?”

“Yep!” Another bright giggle breaks through as he hits the top step.

“You need to go to bed.” He huffs, shaking his head.

He carries you into the bedroom, only setting you down again when it can be directly on the bed. Before he can step away, though, you reach up to snag the edge of Joel's t-shirt and give him a soft smile. "I love you, baby."

“I love you too.” He promises, leaning back down to kiss you softly. “Lay down, I’ll get you some aspirin and water.”

"Then cuddles?" When you're tipsy – or drunk – it's not hard to turn almost any expression into wide, pleading eyes. In this case, it's the wide and pleading eyes that you know Joel just can't resist.

Joel sighs softly, knowing you are feeling a little vulnerable and he nods. “Fuck ‘em.” He decides. “Tommy can keep their asses in line.” He tells you as he brings the bottle of Advil and the cup of water from the bathroom.

“Cuddles!” Maybe it’s simple of you, but ending any night in Joel’s arms is all you want. All you’ve wanted for years now. The day you went from friends to lovers was a gift, and that gift is just as precious to you now as it was then.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

[ruruvxz]

what is making out with newjeans Minji would be like ? Oneshot idea

“DRAIN ME”

Roommate!Kim Minji x Law Major!Reader

↳synopsis: College was hard enough especially ever since your new roommate moved in with a high and mighty attitude. Always berating you for your life choices and the people you constantly surround yourself with; she was the epitome of annoying. But you couldn’t help but be… enamored by her in some weird way.

↳cw: classic roommate troupe, swearing, overachieving, making out, Minji is stuck up, reader is also stuck up, both kinda annoy me, pure fluff, slightly sexual themes

↳wc:2.6k

a/n: how does… how does someone write a kissing scene what the fuck heuahhfhhhhh, i was a little bit too embarrassed to write this. kinda halfassed but idk what else to add anther … Also this is the 5TH rewrite for this Minji fic im trying to cope with the news that they might disband rn.

Harvard was hard enough to get to, especially with the scholarship you broke your back for, no one deserved to be here more than you. Needless to say, you found it awfully annoying whenever, Kim Minji, your roommate who was an undergraduate in the arts section, would belittle your talents—always having snarky to say when you couldn't understand the lecture, and insisting that her life was far more complicated than yours. Not to mention how much of a slacker she was during house tasks, often refusing to do any chores even if she was the sole factor in the apartment was a mess.

Minji often rebutted all your complaints with the same excuse stating that "she shouldn't have to help because your friends were always over, and that they can do it." Which wasn't all that false, you did have someone over almost every day, and you knew she didn't like them because of how loud they were, but that's what made it fun. Seeing the scowl on her face whenever she opened the door another batch (of completely different people) walked in with no remorse. Or whenever she avoided talking to any of them because she simply hated being around them. A stern believer that people like you and all the people who accompanied you were plastic and fake.

It wasn't until she called them out to you that you reached your boiling point. "None of them actually like you Y/N, how do you expect every single person to actually fuck with you like that, let alone the hundreds of people you constantly have over." She spat out, reaching her hand out to grab the trash your guest left all over the living room, Minji didn't even have the curtsey to look up at you while she spoke.

"What is your problem, Kim." You scowled as you grabbed the empty beer cans; shoving them into the black plastic bag you were lugging around. To be fair Minji was far nicer than you thought, even if you were the one who threw the party without her knowledge, she patiently camped out in her room, only coming out once it ended to clean up beside you. It wasn't all that out of character since she was the nicest one between the both of you, always offering to help anyone in need, for example, right now. Minji was somehow so endearing in her weird way, that you almost felt bad taunting her every single moment you could. I mean, she reciprocated the banter, so who really is at fault here?

Minji just scoffed as she pushed her glasses back up from the bridge of her nose, she was about to say something before cutting herself off with a heavy sigh. "Nothin— nothing, they just..." She slurred looking up at your scrunched face before looking back down, continuing to throw trash into the bag. "Y'know what— never mind, forget what I said," Minji mumbled, looking back at her annoyed before picking up a pillow and chucking it at her. She let out a soft yelp before looking up at you, ready to attack Minji couldn't help but notice how you broke out into laughter once the pillow collided with her face.

"Hey, what was that for!" Minji scowled as she dropped the trash bag next to her knees, you, being you, continued to laugh harder as her expression tensed. She grabbed another pillow from the couch and flung it at you, hitting your shoulder with a heavy thud. "Woah! What the!" You bite back rubbing your shoulder with your arm in pain, not realizing she would throw it too hard she reached her hand out, not before she laughed her ass off. "Hah— I'm so sorry—" Minji said before bursting out laughing as well, grabbing the pillow you threw at her from the ground and placing it back neatly on the couch.

Laughing at her action, "Why are you saying sorry? Aren't I the one who threw the first hit?" grabbing the pillow she threw, you dropped it haphazardly on the couch and walked away from her. "Not that." Minji cackled as she fixed the couch again, "I mean, yeah..." she cut her thought off "What I meant to get at, is I'm sorry for the other thing I said."

You stopped cleaning up the trash from the floor and peeked your head up, firstly why was she apologizing for anything, secondly, out of all people, she was apologizing to you. "Uhm, I'm sorry too I guess..." You rubbed your nape uncomfortably, taking your gaze off of her, "Y'know, for everything." Sighing you continued, feeling terrible because most of the stress she had coming back home was due in fact how horrible of a roommate you've been. "I haven't been— the best." It hurt a part of your ego to say that, as out of people you were apologizing back to your art freak of a roommate, Kim Minji.

"Thank you for acknowledging that Y/N." Minji exhaled as she looked back on all the times your bare presence had been obnoxious towards her. Despite understanding how dreadful you've become towards her, you still couldn't let that slide, who was she to talk like that towards you anyway? "Hey!" Was the only that could come out of your mouth, until Minji eventually cut you off. "I'm being honest Y/N, I'm glad you know, and that's not in a sarcastic way whatsoever."

The way both of you stood slightly as you continued your cleaning task was unbearably awkward, trying to figure out what to say next after that comment was gruesome. It finally ended when you had to bright idea to turn a new leaf with your roommate, could you go through your whole college experience hating someone you lived with? And to be fair she wasn't all that bad, she cleaned up to herself, she was mild-mannered, and she didn't actively seek conflict. (unlike you.) "Ahem... so Minji you busy after this?" You asked as you tied the black plastic bag and leaned it against the wall.

She followed in your footsteps as she chucked the last few beer bottles into her bag, tying the note protectively tight and chucking it aside. "I have an anthropology exam to study for..." She thoughtfully answered, you pouted at the thought that Kim Minji, of all people, was going to turn you down. "But that's in a few days, so I guess I'm free?" She moved across from you, heading to the kitchen to wash her hands, coming back to talk to you face to face. "Well, uhm, do you want to watch a movie or something— like to get to know each other... or something." You interrogated, trying your best to be nonchalant about the whole thing. "Sure, that couldn't hurt." She shrugged her shoulders as she made her way to the couch, and you soon followed behind her.

Needless to say, the whole interaction was more awkward than the both of you apologizing to one another. The movie picking was terrible as you both seemingly couldn't agree on what to watch, finally landing on The Idea of You. During the beginning, part felt as if you were having a dopamine cleanse, everything was so oddly boring, and without having any form of enjoyment like stress eating popcorn, you were going insane. It wasn't until the first kissing scene of the film that things got interesting, you were so bored you could only find entertainment from making fun of her expressions throughout. This scene in particular made you more intrigued by her as she was blushing madly while watching the protagonist deeply kiss the main lead, almost as if she's never experienced that herself.

"Pst, Minji." You leaned into her, jolting as your head hovered next to her shoulder "You good? You look like you're bugging out." She looked at you as you laughed quietly, still focused on the movie, only taking a small gaze at her as you leaned away.

"What." She scoffed, covering her face with her hand, "You're crazy. Just watch the fucking movie."

"Alright, just saying." You chuckle as you lean forward, pretending to go back to being 'interested' in the movie.

As the movie reached the peak of its raunchiest moments, Minji failed to hide her blush more and more, having trouble focusing as she stared down at your leaning posture and back at the movie. She failed to focus on the actors, finally reaching her breaking point, "What is with this movie, what is the whole point of recording a whole scene like this..." She muttered loud enough for you to hear. You gave her a noisy laugh, before leaning back up and resting your back on the cushions. "Dunno, maybe that's what does good nowadays— speaking of which, why don't you ever invite people over to y'know..."

"To what?" She scoffed, folding her arms and looking back at you, clearly offended by the insinuation that she was a geeky dirtbag who had the inability to attract suitors. "Not everyone's like you Y/N." Minji insulted, coming back a little more sleazy than intended.

"Oh? And what does that mean?" You pouted, stretching your neck wondering what snarky comment she would say next. "Nothing, I didn't mean it like that, I just hate when people bring that up." She took back her words quickly, turning her head away from you and back at the movie ahead, watching the two actors absolutely go at it. "Makes me feel like I haven't accomplished everything I 'should've already accomplished', catch my drift?"

"Ah, so you think that just because you haven't done anything inherently explicit it feels like you're less than an adult?"

"Woah, that was a quick evaluation, how'd you get that?"

"I mean, I do minor in psychodynamic psychology, maybe that's why? Hah… Sorry didn't wanna sound like a major nerd there, but I don't think you hold base your opinion on yourself over something you can't do at the moment." You spoke, turning your head towards her as she studied you, looking at inspecting every single one of your facial features before snapping out of the trance she was in. “I guess, well if it means anything, you’d ace that course if you kept up with those assumptions.” You both chuckle loudly at her comment, not noticing how both of you are slowly leaning closer to one another.

Minji was closer to your face, the tip of her nose colliding with yours as she inched your lips to hers, the soft huffs as she glanced down at you before finally interlocking your mouths together were exhilarating. Her touch was soft and hungry, she wanted to conquer every part of your lips; not wanting this moment to slip her by, she reached out and grabbed the back of your head gently. Pushing you farther down her lips, Minji felt herself getting lost in you, her eyes squeezed shut as she was in a deep state of euphoria. Before pulling you away from her, she slid her hand off your cheek and back, creating distance.

Her heavy breathing was apparent as she tried to gain composure, stunned by her actions she let out a meek cough, staring straight into your soul to gain back any confidence left within her. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what had gotten into me." Minji tittered, pulling away fully her hands gripping the section of denim on her thighs, you didn't know what was going through her head right now as she fumbled her gaze away from yours. It took a long moment for Minji to open back up, only muttering a few words before clamming up again "I wouldn't blame you if you ended up moving out—"

She couldn't continue as her breath sharpened and took focus on how your hands rested on top of hers, gently rubbing her fingertips, taking a count of how soft she felt under your touch. Smiling, you answered back, confused as to why you would ever do such a thing (despite despising her moments ago, and being quite literally on the verge of signing your lease termination to get away from her) "Why would I?"

Minji was astonished by your sudden change in attitude because if she were to ever be this raw and genuine towards you any time before this, you'd curse her out and avoid any contact after. This was different, you seemed so... empathetic and sweet, it made her heart thump out of her chest, staring at your lips was not making it any better for her. She lacked any self-restraint as she interconnected your lips with hers once more, with much more haste. Minji yearning for your touch, pitifully grabbed onto your hands, holding them tightly with a slight shake.

Despite doing much more sinister things with other people, you felt as if you were flung back to high school and having your first kiss, it was all so electrifying. You didn't want to admit to yourself that you were enjoying this a little more than she was, but gosh, does this woman know what she's doing? From her timid (even borderline, loser-ish) personality, you wouldn't expect her to be dancing her tongue with yours. "For something oddly explicit, she's very delicate..." you wondered to yourself. Finally taking charge, you pull your hands away from hers, Minji pulls back regretfully, questioning why you stopped holding her.

It wasn't until you cupped her cheeks with both your hands and pulled her down on the couch, that she finally got a hint. Minji's cheeks burned up, she was able to rest her elbows to leverage herself up only to be met with your face inches away from hers. She was stunned by the visual you pinned her against and was unable to speak as you kissed the tip of her nose, anticipating more only to be cut off by you pushing yourself off of her. “Woah! Okay, let’s end that there today.” You cut yourself off, not wanting your relationship to be another victim of hookup culture, knowing that you’d be stuck with her for the next few months.

“What…” She furrowed her eyebrows, her cheeks still flushed with a pink hue, “Don’t get me wrong, I’d want to continue, this, with you. But I don’t want the consequences of being in an unhealthy, uncomfortable, and unethical relationship with my roommate, whom I was getting closer to.” You coughed, realizing how fast you were speaking right now, Minji who was still under you processed everything you were spewing out. “So what I’m getting at, is that instead of wanting to sleep with me… you’d rather just have me as company first?”

“Correct, unlike anyone I’ve been with, I’d like to get to know you first before committing to anything that sexual.” You nodded, pulling yourself off of her and sitting back normally on the couch “Not because I don’t want to, I just wrong want to take it too far.” Sheepishly admitting as you watched her sit back down next to you, a bit embarrassed by the situation. “Truly what I want to take away from this, and what I took away from spending this time with you, even if it was fairly short, was to get to know you as you. To take in what you’re capable of and understand if you can handle someone like me.” Minji stared at you in awe, the complete shift from a prudish foulmouthed popular campus student, who couldn’t barely hold her own emotions, was now so prim and proper.

Minji wondered if maybe it was her who did that, or maybe that’s how you were this whole time, but it took one day to bring that out of you. Whatever it was, she didn’t want this moment to slip by her! “Hmm, well then, take what you want.”

[elvenisms]

friday —; s.h.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader [3.5k]

summary: Robin orchestrates the best (and worst) Valentine's Day of your life.

cw: angst, fluff, cursing, no use of y/n, steve is an idiot (per usual), reader cries a lot (relatable), happy ending.

author's note: i got carried away with this, ngl. proof that i cannot write anything fluffy without angst. enjoy!

masterlist

It was Thursday.

Thursdays were good days. You didn’t work, giving you some well-needed rest from wearing that stupid vest, rewinding tapes, and dealing with late returns. You could throw on a movie you’d been meaning to watch for weeks, invite some friends over, and veg out. You could go see a show at The Hideout, if someone interesting was playing. Sometimes, Thursday was laundry day. But today wasn’t any Thursday.

Today was Thursday, February 13th, 1986. The day before Valentine’s Day.

“Vickie and I are going to do something, we just don’t know what.” Robin pushed her lips together, toying with a loose piece of thread on your couch. “I mean, obviously we’ll have a little date during the day, but we thought a group thing would be fun, ya’ know?”

Eddie had come over to watch Day of the Dead with you that day, and when Robin got off work, she called to see what you were up to. “Hanging out with Eds, pretending Valentine’s Day doesn’t exist.” You’d quipped, which is precisely how she ended up in your house, talking about Valentine’s Day.

“As much as I’d love to third-wheel,” Eddie stretched. “I’m going to see a show. Some new guys, but I heard they’re good.”

“Yeah, I’m…” You wracked your brain for something you had to do, trying to get out of it, just as Eddie had. “I’m, uh, working. And then… Oh, I told Max I’d help her study? Some test she has. Science, I think.”

Eddie and Robin both eyed you judgmentally. It was entirely unconvincing, and also a lie. The Max part, anyway.

“Oh, give me a break,” You grunted, their faces saying enough. “I already told you, Rob, tomorrow is just Friday as far as I’m concerned.”

“But you don’t want it to just be Friday,” She remarked. “You want it to be Valentine’s Day, but you’re lonely.”

A huff of air came through Eddie’s nose, trying not to laugh at her well-meaning bluntness. You gave him a sour look, and he quickly dropped it.

“Thank you for reminding me,” You muttered, leaning forward to pick up some empty beer bottles from the table, carrying them to the trash can in the kitchen.

You weren’t actually mad, not at Robin. You were frustrated with the fact that you cared about some stupid holiday, that you couldn’t just be like Eddie, who genuinely didn’t give a shit. Unwilling to admit it to yourself, you were also mad that every guy in Hawkins you’d gone out with was a total disaster; Matthew Campbell probably couldn’t tie a shoelace if you asked him to, and you told him that, so you didn’t suspect he’d be knocking on your door tomorrow.

You waltzed back into the living room to your unsuspecting victims, now on a tirade you’d created in your own head. “It’s not my fault that there is no one in this town for me, okay? I’ve officially given up. I’m tired of putting on makeup, going to Enzo’s, and making awful small talk, for which the reward is a lackluster trip to second base in the back of a ca—”

Robin gasped as if she’d seen a ghost. Your rant halted, staring at her, and she looked back with wide eyes, jaw agape. “How have I never put this together?”

She looked like she’d just had a stroke of genius, discovered a new element, or something. You looked at Eddie, then back to her. “Put what together? That I’m hopeless?”

“No, no no,” She leapt up off of the couch, starting to pace. “You sound just like—oh my God, this is incredible. I mean, this is actually perfect—”

“Robin!” You threw your arms out, exasperated, letting them smack against your sides.

“Steve!” She exclaimed, gripping your shoulders. “Steve, who is also lonely and has no plans for tomorrow!”

Your insides twisted. Steve.

You would’ve been lying to yourself if you said you’d never thought about him that way before. I mean, you had eyes, but your close friendship had never allowed it to last more than a minute. More than anything, the two of you poked fun at each other, constantly trying to see who could get the last word. But you were still close, close enough that you knew he’d come running if you ever really needed him, and that was… nice.

Everything about him was nice, really.

You blinked at Robin, your gears shifting at impossible speeds. She was still holding your shoulders, expectant.

“I think she’s on board.” Eddie piped up with a smirk, and you instantly held a finger out to him, still looking at the girl in front of you. “I didn’t say that.”

“You’re saying it with your eyes.” Robin was containing a giddy squeal. You could almost feel her vibrating. 

“No, no, I’m not.” You finally broke free from her grasp. Now you were pacing. “If Steve was interested in me, he would’ve said something a long time ago.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Are we talking about the same guy?”

“Yeah, dingus, with a capital ‘D’,” Robin gestured with her hands. “I saw a bird land on his head once and he asked me what I was looking at. You think he’d notice he had a shot with you?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Okay, that’s… yeah, you’re right. But I’m not just gonna call him up and ask him to be my Valentine. I’d rather puke.”

“So don’t!” Robin spun around, another lightbulb behind her eyes. “I have an idea.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

This was a terrible idea.

You were staring into your mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles on your clothes. You’d gone for not-trying-too-hard cute; a black turtleneck with a calf-length, patterned skirt, and a thick belt around your waist. You’d done your hair and your makeup, satisfied with them, but this time felt… different. You weren’t going to Enzo’s with some tip-stiffing lowlife. You were seeing Steve.

Robin had suggested a gathering at your place. She, Vickie, Nancy, and Jonathan were sitting in your living room, sipping drinks, chatting mindlessly. When she’d invited Steve, she’d said that the four of them were going to your house—assuming he’d pick up the hint, and jump at the chance to be your date. 

And he did.

The real reason you’d never allowed Steve to infiltrate your mind was because, well, that’s exactly what he’d do. You could handle losing Matthew Campbell, or Ben Taylor, or any of these meaningless Hawkins guys you never realistically saw yourself with in the first place; but Steve was close. Close to your friends, close to your heart, inching ever nearer by the minute. 

It was terrifying. But then again, he agreed to come—–and that made your stomach flutter.

Deciding you’d spent enough time making sure every last hair was in order, you took a deep breath, venturing back out to the living room. You were greeted with warm, knowing smiles. 

“You look gorgeous.” Nancy rose from her seat, coming over to give your arms a comforting rub. “Really, he’s not gonna know what hit him.”

You nodded, trying not to look as nervous as you felt. “Thanks, Nance.”

“It makes so much sense, doesn’t it? I mean, I really should play matchmaker more often. I’m changing lives here!” Robin shook Vickie’s thigh where her hand rested, excitedly. It made everyone chuckle.

Jonathan took another sip of his drink. “Now you’ve just gotta find someone for Ed—”

A knock at the door. Fuck. In an instant, every ounce of confidence you had flew straight out of the window. And your face must’ve shown it, because Nancy began soothing you again. 

“Hey, look at me.” She whispered, and you did. “You’ve never been this nervous to see him before, right? Pretend this is just another day. Just… Friday.”

You swallowed. It definitely wasn’t just Friday anymore.

Nonetheless, you shot a weak, thankful smile at her, making your way up to the door. Usually, you’d be embarrassed to let your friends see you this way—taking deep breaths, shaking your hands to relieve some anxious energy. Right now, though, you couldn’t care less, much too preoccupied with the thought of Steve’s face. Just open it. Open the door.

So, you did.

And there he was, grinning adorably, smelling of his cologne, wearing a well-fitted sweater... Holding hands with a girl.

“Hey,” He spoke happily, though his eyes searched your face for just a moment, as if you’d let the shock slip through. “This is Brenda.”

Your whole body stiffened, knowing that the rest of the group heard him, and were now searing holes through the back of your head. Your stomach flipped over on itself, even your organs mortified.

“Hi, Brenda.” You forced a smile at the girl, as if every nerve in your body wasn’t on fire. “Come on in.”

As you turned around, you studied the expressions in the room, seeking some kind of escape. Nancy and Vickie at least tried to look normal, staring at the ground or taking a sip of their drink; Jonathan’s brow was furrowed in disbelief, and Robin’s mouth was hanging open, eyes locked on you.

You quickly walked to the couch where Nancy and Jonathan sat, just standing beside it, your fight-or-flight instinct physically unwilling to let you sit. At least Steve and Brenda would have a spot now, right?

The embarrassment was already making your eyes water.

As the two of them entered the uncomfortably silent living room, you saw his eyes scan the room, similarly to how you had—like he was searching for something. And when he didn’t find it, his eyes landed back on you, any trace of his previous smile gone.

“It’s so nice to meet you guys!” Brenda chirped to the group, the tension completely unnoticed by her.

You felt suffocated. Suffocated by your turtleneck, by the silence, by Brenda’s curly, blonde hair and perfectly pink lips—but mostly by Steve, who was still staring at you. You refused to look back. 

“Music!” You squawked, mind numb. “We should put on some music, it’s so quiet—” You strided toward your box of cassettes, sat beside the television, and began scrambling with them. “—I’ve got Tears for Fears, or, um, oh! ABBA, everyone likes ABBA, right? Uh…”

Without you even noticing, Nancy appeared at your side, gently grabbing the tapes from your hands. “Hey, hey. I’ll pick out some music, okay?” Her voice was quiet, forehead creased in concern.

Your movements slowed. You nodded, eyes half-welled with tears. The dam was definitely about to break.

“Okay, well,” You stood up again, arms swaying slightly, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. “You guys sit. I’m, um… I’ll be right back.”

You spun on your heel, making your way to your bedroom, closing the door behind you by leaning on it. The tears began to fall immediately, streaking your face with mascara.

You felt stupid. Stupid for ever letting Robin set this up, stupid for spending so much time making yourself presentable, when Brenda looked so effortlessly beautiful. You’d convinced yourself it would be some sort of magical night, which seemed ridiculous now. Why would Steve want you? More importantly, why would you ever let him affect you this way?

Your chest heaved, trying desperately to keep quiet. The last thing you wanted was more pity.

Soon enough, you heard a soft click from the living room, the faint sounds of Kate Bush coming through the speakers. You considered your options: hide in your room until the party was over, risk someone coming to check on you, go back out there and endure stares of sympathy, or… Leave. 

A rush of adrenaline surged through you, bringing you to your feet. You went to your mirror, attempting to smear away the black marks under your eyes—it was useless, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. Eddie would call it metal. So, for where you were headed, it was actually perfect.

You snatched your purse off of the dresser, the hurt morphing from sadness to anger, and marched out into the living room, making a bee-line for the front door. Everyone’s heads perked up. Your hand met the doorknob, gripping it tightly, before Steve appeared next to you.

“Hey, can you just wait a sec—where are you going?” He spoke softly, avoiding the rest of the rooms prying ears. His voice was hoarse.

You didn’t look at him. “I’m going to see a show with Eddie.”

“Can you let me explain? Please, just—”

Your head turned sharply, reddened eyes daggering through his solemn, brown ones. “I’m embarrassed, Steve. I’m…” You swallowed, fighting back any more tears. “I can’t be here right now. Can’t I just go?”

He brought a hand up, running it anxiously through his own hair. He looked dejected, and despite how much you wanted to hate him at this moment, your heart panged. It wasn’t enough to make you stay; not when Brenda was still on your couch. Not when the rest of the group felt sorry for you.

“Okay,” He finally breathed, barely audible. You started to open the door, and he softly took hold of your wrist. “Just be safe. Please.”

You looked at him, heart thrumming in your chest, eyelashes stuck together from the mixture of tears and makeup. “Have a good night. I’m… I’m sorry I ruined it.”

And with that, you were out the door, despite his attempt to say something else.

 · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The show was an adequate distraction.

When you’d shown up at The Hideout, scouting Eddie out in the crowd, he was shocked to see you. He was even more shocked to see the state you were in—makeup destroyed, eyes puffy, a hand clinging shakily to your purse. He immediately threw an arm around you, eyes expectant for an explanation.

“He brought a girl,” you’d shouted over the music. Eddie couldn’t have rolled his eyes any harder, squeezing your arm in frustration. “He’s even dumber than I thought then,” He yelled back. 

Steve was dumb. Purposefully dumb? You didn’t think so, and that made it all the more difficult to stay angry.

You were thankful for Eddie more than ever. He was always great at taking your mind off of things, getting you to let loose, have fun; it may have been the worst Valentine’s Day of your life, but at least he had given it some kind of silver lining. It was almost impossible not to smile around him, especially when he was acting extra goofy, insistent on lifting your spirits.

When he drove you home, the events of the night began to set in again. You dreaded your next conversation with Steve, whenever that would happen—I’m so sorry, but I just don’t feel that way about you, you could hear him saying, shoving the embarrassment deeper down your throat.

You considered never speaking to him again, just to spare yourself that feeling.

“Do you want me to come in?” Eddie laid a gentle hand on your knee, his beaten-up car parked a few feet from your door. 

“No, I’m okay.” You assured him, unconvincingly, and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Think I just need to wallow tonight, y’know?”

He nodded, looking down at his lap. “I’m sorry, seriously. Kind of want to kill the kid.”

That brought a small smile to your face. “Don’t tempt me, I might just give you the go-ahead.” 

The two of you looked at each other, sharing a small chuckle. Eventually, you reached over, hugging him tight.

“Thank you for tonight. Really, I needed it.” You whispered, and he gave your back a comforting rub. “Anytime, you know that.”

You exited the car, already starting to wish you’d said yes to Eddie’s offer, and made your way to the door. Through the windows, you could see that most of the lights were off—everyone had gone home, thank God, though you were sure Robin and Nancy would be calling off the hook to talk about everything.

You jiggled the handle open, greeted by your dark living room, apart from the one lamp emanating warm light. And underneath it, Steve.

Sitting upright on the couch, head leaned back, arms crossed. Fast asleep.

You froze, a tightness in your chest. It was exactly what you didn’t want right now, to see him, have to talk to him. And for whatever reason, something in you was glad to find him there. 

You softly shut the door behind you, sat your bag on the coffee table, and took a seat beside him. The cushion dipping under your weight caused him to stir awake: his head lulled to the side, eyes fluttering open. They widened at the sight of you. 

“Hey.” His voice was gravelly from sleep, and he was quick to adjust himself to a more awake position. He cleared his throat, though it did little for his voice. “You’re home.”

“Yeah.” You mumbled, toying with your skirt. “Did… did you stay?”

“I was worried about you.” He looked into your eyes, and you wanted to look away, but you didn’t. “And I needed to talk to you.”

“What about Brenda?”

“I took her home. Came back.”

“Look,” You started, finding the strength to avert your gaze. “I don’t… I don’t want anyone else feeling bad for me. It was Robin’s idea, and of course you don’t feel that way about me, it was really stupid of me to assume—”

“Stop.” He blurted, somewhat forcefully. You blinked at him. “Please, just stop. I fucked up tonight, really bad. When I got the invite, I thought you’d have someone with you. It just… I’m an idiot. If I wasn’t an idiot, I would’ve never brought Brenda.”

Your stomach flipped familiarly, like it did when you heard a knock at the door earlier. “She was  beautiful, though.”

“She isn’t you.” His hand landed on your thigh, and his eyes darted to it for a moment, as if he hadn’t meant to. You both lingered there.

When he realized you weren’t going to push it away, he continued. “If—if when you went out with Eddie… I mean, if I blew my chance, I understand.”

Blew his chance. You wondered if he could ever truly do that.

“Steve, Eddie was just cheering me up.” You couldn’t help but smile a little, putting your hand over his. “He’s not my Valentine, if that’s what you’re asking. He does kind of want you dead, though.”

“They all want me dead, trust me.” He blew air out of his lips, eyebrows raising.

“What do you mean?”

“After you left, Brenda went to the bathroom, and I got a thorough bitching out.” 

You bit your lip, trying to hide the happiness that brought you. “You kind of deserved it, though.”

“Oh, absolutely.” He affirmed. There were a few moments of stillness, your touching hands drawing both of your attention. 

“Is Brenda your Valentine?” You wondered, voice softer. 

“Didn’t ask her to be.” He looked up at you, voice matching your tone. “Are you still… looking for one?”

Your eyes were locked, melting under each other's gaze. You could almost feel his breath.  His free hand came up to cradle your face, thumbing across your stained cheek. 

“There’s really only one I wanted.”

“Same here.” He whispered.

You quickly leaned forward, disturbing the stillness of the moment, and slotted your lips with his. He tasted like beer and strawberry chapstick, and smelled like a warm summer day—one that broke through the chill you’d been feeling all evening. Butterflies erupted inside you, fluttering in your stomach, your heart, your veins.

Your hands came up to clutch at his chest, the fabric of his sweater crinkling beneath your fingers. The kiss, which had started fervent, softened; the two of you broke apart, and he stole a peck at the corner of your mouth, foreheads resting against each other.

You both took heavy breaths, caused more by emotion than physical exertion, chests rising and falling in unison.

“I gotta make it up to you.” He breathed. You shook your head ever so slightly, a grin playing across your lips. 

“Steve, you already—”

“I’ll be your Valentine every day, for as long as you let me.”

You thought it might’ve been the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to you. Your forehead creased, trying not to let your eyes water, this time for a much better reason. As close as your faces were, you knew he noticed anyway.

“Deal?” His eyes searched your own, voice small, as if he was afraid you might say no.

You couldn’t stop a happy huff from leaving your lips, a single tear fighting its way out of the corner of your eye. “Deal.”

He beamed, pressing his lips into yours, as if he’d been awaiting the opportunity to do it again.

Steve Harrington became yours on Valentine’s Day, 1986. A Friday. A day you’d almost always ignored, until you didn’t. A day you were almost certain was going to be the worst day of your life, until it wasn’t. In fact, it might’ve been the best. 

Because Steve would continue to be yours each Friday after that—and every day in between, too.

[enby-denby]

Seeing as I am in my late 20's, I'll go ahead and do one for the teens out there:

Remember the advice about your job? It is especially true for Part Time jobs. And NEVER work for just "experience". That is not a tangible payment method.

That being said: LOOK INTO TRADE JOBS. The posters glorifying how much more college grads make don't mention the high unemployment rate or the current job insecurity for new grads.

Your teachers are wrong: employers and all but the most elite colleges Do Not Care what your GPA was or what you did for your senior project. Employers will not throw out your application if they see the words "community college" on there either.

Similarly, most friendships and romantic relationships you form in high-school and early college will end up fizzle growing out. This does not make them less real and does not reflect badly on you.

But treasure the ones that don't.

You will have your whole life to develop addictions, including to things like caffeine. Don't start now, while your brain is still growing.

Every cringe moment you have today is going to be a funny story in a decade. Hindsight is funny like that.

You do not have to forgive your parents when you grow up.

You DO NOT have to forgive your parents when you grow up

Let me repeat: if your parents were unwavering in their abuse of you as a child (or did one thing that only a Shakespearian villain would do to their kids) and they start love-bombing you after you move out and set some boundaries, you are not evil or bad for being unwavering in your own self-love by rejecting their attempts to rope you back into a vulnerable dynamic "make amends"

But if your parents weren't shitheads? Call them, visit them, share your interests with them as you grow into an adult. Make the most of the time they have left with you. This goes double for Grandparents.

Don't talk about politics on social media. By this I don't mean don't engage in political discussions online (though be cautious there too), I mean don't discuss any ideas you have for direct action online. The cops can and will get you for digital thought crimes.

You really do need to clean your room, for your own sake as well as for any roommates you may have.

Related to the above: never split rent with a stranger. ESPECIALLY not a studio apartment.

What makes a party fun isn't loud music, alcohol, drugs, or sexy times. Its if one of the following things are there: a gregarious pet, a silly (or spooky) party game, themed snacks, a sports game/obscure anime on the tv, and an outdoor firepit people can throw stiff they want to burn into. The more of these things you can safely do at the same time, the better.

This was mentioned above but PLEASE develop a hobby that isn't a form of media consumption. The best advice I ever got from a teacher was my Spanish teacher breaking her "no English" rule to remind us that consuming products is not a personality trait. And though that was years ago, in the age of Andrew Tate that bears repeating for me.

No, you don't need to memorize the quadratic equation or the cycle of the Heroes Journey to be a functional adult. But they help.

Home Ec and Woodshop classes help a Hell of a lot more in your day to day.

Your parents will probably be more excited than you that you got your license. This is because they had places to go when they were your age and are excited to have a Designated Driver at home.

Speaking of Designated Drivers, here is my short list of Good First Drinks to celebrate your 21st birthday: Moscow Mule, Piña Colada, local craft beers followed by German or Mexican, saké, white wine, grasshopper, cosmopolitan or screwdrivers. A Long Island Iced Teas is NOT a tea and if you want to try only one drink but learn the taste of a lot of different alcohols at once, that would be it.

If you get a letter from a Company called Amway or Vector Marketing, throw it right in the trash. The "job" they're promising is a scam.

And finally: you are not defined by your lack of romantic experiences or the number of friends you have. You are defined by who you choose to be, every day. And you will always get better if you put in even a little effort every day.

I turn 30 next month so here’s what I learned in my 20s:

—don’t work for startups, they’re always one ‘innovative idea’ away adding ‘sell your kidneys on the black market’ to your job description.

—keeping a collection of basic OTC medicine on you will save your life one day. I recommend Advil, Imodium, and TUMS.

—those little single-use glasses cleaning wipes are 1000% worth the money

—overly self-depreciating jokes just make people uncomfortable, wean yourself off of them

—you can buy dehydrated mini marshmallows in bulk online and they’re a godsend for hot cocoa

—people don’t care if you have fidget toys on your desk they just want to play with them

—try to go to bed BEFORE the existential ennui kicks in

[corky-the-gluttony-demon]

DMC: An Absurd Comedy - Card Games

Characters: Nero, V, Felix (OC), Corky (OC), Marcus (OC)

Summary: Some people can take certain games a little more seriously than others...

Location: Devil May Cry shop, Red Grave City

February 26th, 2015

2:58am

The Devil May Cry shop was unusually quiet for this time of night. The soft crackling of the neon sign outside and the occasional clatter of ice in a glass filled the air as the crew had gathered around the beat-up card table in the middle of the shop, a mismatched assortment of chairs pulled up as they settled in for their usual late-night ritual: card games.

Nero and Felix sat opposite each other, eyes locked in.

Nico, perched on the edge of the couch with a beer in hand, glanced between the two of them, smirking. “Y’all look like you’re about to throw down. What’s the stakes this time?”

“Loser cleans the shop for a week," Felix explained, "And no skippin’ out on the hard stuff. We’re talkin’ scrubbin’ the toilets, takin’ out the trash… the whole shebang.”

“You’re on, Felix," Nero said with a cocky grin, "Hope you like the smell of bleach.”

“You two and your pissing contests," Corky muttered, mouth full of pizza. "I swear, this is more fun to watch than to play.”

Marcus was nervously adjusting his glasses from his spot at the far end of the table. He was acting as the designated dealer for the night.

V sat off to the side, a cup of tea steamed in front of him, and he seemed content to simply observe, his gaze drifting between Nero and Felix.

“So, what’s it gonna be tonight, boys?” Marcus asked. He started dealing out the cards with surprisingly nimble fingers.

Felix grinned as he picked up his hand, “Texas Hold’em, of course. Something to separate the men from the boys.”

Nero scoffed, “I’ve got this one in the bag.”

Nico grinned, leaning back and sipping her beer as she watched the unfolding drama. “Can’t wait to see who’s scrubbing the floor tomorrow.”

The first round was tense, Felix occasionally cursing when a card didn’t go his way. Nero, on the other hand, kept his expression carefully neutral, though there was a glint in his eyes that suggested he was holding onto something big.

Felix narrowed his eyes, watching Nero with the kind of focus that suggested he was trying to read his soul. “You’re bluffin’, man. I can see it in your eyes.”

Nero raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Am I? Or are you just sweating because you know you’re beat?”

V sipped his tea silently.

Marcus dealt the next round, with a childish grin. He wasn’t much of a gambler, but he couldn’t help but enjoy the show. “Place your bets, gentlemen. Let’s see who’s got the stones.”

Felix threw in a few chips, leaning forward as he eyed Nero. “I’m all in. Let’s see what you got, pretty boy.”

Nero’s grin widened as he pushed his own stack of chips into the center of the table. “You’re about to find out.”

The others watched with bated breath as the final cards were revealed. Felix’s face twisted in frustration as he saw Nero’s hand—a full house, aces over kings. Nero’s grin turned into a full-blown smirk as he raked in the chips.

“Looks like you’ll be getting real familiar with a mop and bucket, Felix,” Nero said

Felix shook his head with a rueful smile. “You got me this time, Nero. But don’t get too comfortable. Next round, I’m takin’ you down.”

Nico laughed, reaching over to give Nero a playful punch on the arm. “Damn, you really are ruthless. Remind me never to bet against you.”

Corky, still munching on pizza, grinned at Felix. “Better start planning your cleaning schedule, Felix. Those toilets aren’t gonna scrub themselves.”

Marcus, relieved that the round was over, started shuffling the deck for the next game. “Alright, who’s in for round two? Same stakes?”

Felix cracked his knuckles. “Hell yeah. I ain’t goin’ down like this.”

Nero leaned back in his chair, a cocky smile playing on his lips. “I’m just getting warmed up.”

By the time the clock ticked past 3 AM, the pile of chips in front of Nero was looking dangerously large, while Felix’s stack had dwindled considerably.

“Alright, last round,” Nero announced, leaning forward as he eyed his cards. “Winner takes all, and the loser… well, let’s just say they’re gonna be real busy tomorrow.”

Felix threw in his last few chips, looking like he was having much less fun than in the beginning.

As the final cards were dealt, Nero and Felix stared each other down. But in the end, it was Nero who laid down the winning hand, his full house beating Felix’s straight.

“Looks like I win again,” Nero said, leaning back with a satisfied grin.

Felix shook his head, laughing despite himself. “Damn, you really are one lucky bastard.”

"Fuck!" Felix swore, throwing a bottle. "Fuck this game!"

Corky and Nico burst out laughing, while V smoothly moved his head from the incoming bottle as it shattered against the wall. Marcus flinched.

“Alright, Felix,” Nero said, grinning as he gathered up the chips. “You know the deal. Shop’s gotta be spotless by tomorrow night.”

Felix waved him off as he stood up from the table. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever, I'm goin' to Love Planet.”

Felix stormed out, slamming the door behind and as Nico winced glancing at Nero he merely shrugged. "He's a sore loser."

"No kiddin'," Nico muttered.

With the cards put away and the chips divided, the group began to disperse.

[geekfanficwriter]

Weird- Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your friendship with Steve isn't that weird, right? Words: 2.8k Warnings: SMUT (18+, minors dni), dry humping, fingering, oral (m!receiving), slight angst but not really

‘Never have I ever thrown up while giving a blowjob.’ Your best friend, Steve, said looking directly at you with a big grin on his face. You glared back at him as you took a drink, while everyone else made audible noises of disgust.

‘Yeah, yeah. I was drunk. I was going to throw up anyway.’ You waved your hand as if it wasn’t a big deal. It was your turn next so you thought for a second before looking directly at Steve.

‘Never have I ever had sex on a golf course in broad daylight.’ Steve rolled his eyes before taking a drink. You looked around the circle and saw Nancy glaring at you as she took a drink.

‘Oh shit. Sorry, Nance, I forgot that was you.’ You said your eyes widening. You had only meant to make Steve drink, not her.

‘Why does she even know that?’ Nancy shot at Steve, who shrugged.

‘We tell each other everything.’ 

‘Well, your friendship is weird.’ Nancy said, standing up and storming off with Jonathan following closely behind her. Soon after that, the game trickled off with people going to mingle or dance. You and Steve got up heading through to his kitchen to grab a couple beers.

‘Our friendship isn’t that weird right?’ You asked Steve, frowning slightly.

‘No, definitely not babe.’ Steve said wrapping his arms around your shoulders from behind. You rested the back of your head on his chest as you took sips from your beer. You and Steve had been friends since 5th grade, ever since he had stolen a ball from you in the playground and you had kicked him in the shin. Even throughout his ‘King Steve’ phase the two of you had remained friends. Despite him being popular and you being a weirdo who didn’t care about conforming to high school standards, he had always stuck by your side defending you from anyone who tried to make fun of you in any way. 

‘Hey, Rob.’ You greeted her as she walked into the kitchen, looking for a bottle opener.

‘Rob, do you think me and Steve’s friendship is weird?’ You ask as you fiddle with Steve’s hand.

‘Yeah definitely.’ She said leaning against the counter facing the two of you.

‘What’s so weird about it? I mean it’s no different from you and Steve’s friendship!’ You protest, pouting.

‘I don’t stand in the corner of a party, cuddled up to Steve.’ She points out and you look between you and Steve.

‘Okay so fine maybe our friendships are different but that doesn’t make it weird.’ 

‘If you guys were a couple the way you act would be weird but as friends, totally weird. I mean you guys are constantly cuddling, you call each other pet names like babe and sweetheart like I’m convinced Steve doesn’t know your name at this point, you guys always share a bed even though you don’t have to, you-‘

‘Okay, okay fine you’ve made your point.’ You cut Robin off, your face bright red. 

‘Just saying, it’s weird.’ She said, walking away as you turn to face Steve who ruffles your hair.

‘Ignore her, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. And she’s wrong about at least one thing, I do know your name, Y/N.’ He jokes and you smile at him. Your friendship was perfectly normal.

The party had ended and Steve was currently helping an extremely drunk Robin to the spare room while you walked around with a trash bag, throwing in empty bottles that were scattered everywhere. You were pretty drunk currently but not so much that you couldn’t stand just so much that you were completely buzzed.

‘You don’t need to clean up, babe. I’ll do that in the morning.’ Steve said coming down the stairs and wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling his head into your shoulder.

‘I’ll just finish what I’m doing.’ You told him, wrapping your arm that wasn’t holding the trash bag around him.

‘No, we're going to bed. You know I won’t be able to sleep without you there.’ Steve wrapped his arms around you even tighter. You sighed, he always got cuddly with you when he was drunk.

‘Okay, let’s go then.’ You placed down the bag and walked upstairs together. Once you reached Steve’s room the two of you stripped down to your underwear and climbed into bed facing each other. 

As you lay there you thought about what Robin and Nancy had said. Was your friendship weird? I mean sure Steve had seen your boobs before but that was only because you had a weird lump and wanted a second opinion. And yeah, once or twice before you had both masturbated next to each other because you had been horny and didn’t want to leave each other. And sure, when that had happened you had wanted to reach over and touch Steve’s cock but that didn’t mean anything. 

Oh, who were you kidding? Your friendship was weird. If any of your other friends acted this way around you, you’d think they were a creep but Steve was different. He was Steve, your best friend and the greatest guy in Hawkins (not that there was much competition). Of course, you wanted to be more than friends but Steve could have his pick of any girl so why would he choose you? 

A flick to the forehead pulled you out of your thoughts.

‘You’re thinking loudly.’ Steve told you, a concerned look on his face.

‘That makes no sense.’ You respond.

‘It totally does. Now, what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?’ You were happy that it was dark in the room because Steve wouldn’t be able to see you blush.

‘Robin’s right. Our friendship is weird.’ You muttered looking down. Steve reached out and pulled you into his chest, stroking your hair.

‘Oh, babe, who cares what anyone else thinks? As long as we’re happy then that’s what matters. And besides, I personally don’t care if people think I’m dating you, I’d be lucky to be in a relationship with you.’ 

‘I’d be the lucky one if we were dating. I mean I’d be dating The Steve Harrington.’ You grin, removing your face from his chest and looking at him.

‘Oh come on, I’d be dating someone who is smart, hot, funny, kind. You’d be dating a guy who peaked in high school and now works in a video shop. I’d definitely be the lucky one.’ 

‘Don’t talk about yourself like that. You’re the best person I know. Any girl who be lucky to have you, including me.’ It was the closest you were going to get to a confession. The idea of actually revealing the truth of your feelings to Steve scared you and wasn’t something you were going to do in the dark while drunk while you had no escape.

‘Let’s just settle on we’d both be lucky to date each other. Although I’d personally be overjoyed to date you. Now, goodnight.’ Before you could even ask him what he meant, he shut his eyes and adjusted himself so he was in a more comfortable position to sleep. You didn’t move, his words playing through your head continuously. Did he really mean it? Maybe Steve felt the same way about you that you did about him. 

Before you could convince yourself to back out you decide to make a move, knowing that Steve isn’t actually asleep yet. You move your legs forward, wrapping the top one around his waist and pressing your crotch against his. You contain a gasp as you feel that Steve’s already hard against you. You move your hips once, in a way that could be perceived as an accident if this goes badly. You bit your lip as your clit rubs against him, and Steve lets out a quiet groan, eyes flying open.

‘What are you doing?’ He asks looking at you.

‘Did you mean it?’ You whisper quietly. Your forehead was pressed against his, your lips barely an inch apart.

‘Did I mean what?’ Steve whispered in response.

‘That you’d be overjoyed to date me.’ You say it as if it was something simple. As if your heart wasn’t beating out of your chest. As if the entire dynamic of your friendship is about to change no matter what he answers.

‘I- Of course I did.’ Steve stumbles slightly but settles at last on just admitting the truth. That’s all you need to react, closing the gap between the two of you and pressing your lips against his. Steve kissed back hard, both of you pouring all your emotions into that one kiss. He moved his hand up to grip the back of your head, holding you close. Eventually, the two of you pulled away from each other and Steve moved his hand down to stroke your cheek. You felt your heart flutter as you looked into his eyes and he pressed a kiss to your nose. You lean in again kissing him hard as you reach your hands down, gripping his boxers in your hands.

‘Babe, as much as I want to, I want to take you out on a date before we have sex.’ He said pulling away from you. 

‘Okay, but if we keep our underwear on does it really count as sex?’ You smile cheekily at him. Steve thinks for a moment before smiling.

‘No, it definitely doesn’t.’ Steve leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips hard. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pressed yourself against his hard cock. You could feel how big he was through your underwear and you really wanted to feel him in your hand but you respected his boundaries. He started to grind his hips into yours as you let out a moan, feeling him press against your clit. He pulls away from your lips, pressing kisses down your neck as you rub against him. He sucks hard, leaving marks behind as his hands move up to grab your breasts.

‘Screw it. Can I put my fingers inside you?’ Steve groaned out and you moaned slightly at his words, nodding as you do so. He reached inside your underwear and started to rub your clit. You groaned out and rutted your hips against his hand. He slipped his fingers down and rubbed them around your hole.

‘Steve, please.’ You whined out. He slipped his fingers inside you and you groaned out, gripping the bedsheets beneath you. He slowly started pumping his fingers in and out of you as you moaned loudly. He moved his thumb up to rub your clit as he suck on the part of your breast that was exposed from your bra. He sped up his fingers inside you, moving them at the perfect pace. You threw your head back against the pillow as you felt your orgasm building as his fingers kept moving in and out of you.

‘Come on, baby.’ Steve encouraged you. You moaned, clenching around his fingers as he rubbed your clit even harder, causing your orgasm to wash over you. You moaned loudly as you came. You breathed hard as Steve pulled his fingers out of you slowly. He leaned down and kissed you sweetly as you reached behind his neck, playing with the ends of his hair.

‘Steve, can I give you a blowjob, please?’ You asked sweetly as you felt his dick pressing into you.

‘Fuck, fuck yeah.’ Steve nods as he moves to lie on his back. You get up and move down so your mouth was level with his cock. You grip his boxers with your hand and pull them down slightly. You gasp lightly when you see his cock. It’s bigger and thicker than you expected. You’re not sure how you’re going to fit it into your mouth. You lean down and press a kiss to his hip, sucking lightly as you do. You move your attention to his cock and press a small kiss to the tip. You move down and light a strip up his cock before sucking lightly on the tip. Steve's hands fly to your hair as he lets out a loud groan at the feeling. You take him deeper into your mouth and breath deeply as you slowly jerk what you can’t fit into your mouth. Steve moans out your name as you swirl your tongue around him, starting to bob your head up and down as you do so. Steve pulled your hair and you moaned against his cock.

‘Fuck.’ Steve moaned. You kept bobbing your head up and down as Steve’s hands gripped your hair. You could tell he was close so you pulled up slightly so you were just sucking the tip, while you pumped the rest with your hand. He let out a loud moan as he came into your mouth. You swallowed it all as Steve leaned back against the pillow. You made your way back up and pressed your lips against his softly.

‘So what was that about no sex?’ You grinned slightly as you snuggled into his chest, his arms wrapping around you.

‘It wasn’t like full-on sex so really it doesn’t count.’ He grinned back, pulling your head back up to meet his lips.

‘I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.’ You murmur as you pull away from him before yawning slightly.

‘Neither will I, now come on, let’s go to sleep.’ You turn over on your side so Steve is spooning you from behind and close your eyes dozing off into a blissful rest.

You wake in the morning and smile as you feel Steve’s arms wrapped around you. You turn over in his arms and face him, seeing his beautiful sleeping face, reaching your hand up and running it through his hair. He stirs away slowly, eyes opening as he grins down at you.

‘Please tell me last night wasn’t a dream.’ He mumbles out sleepily.

‘Nope, it was definitely real.’ You grin and he leans down slightly, pressing your lips together.

‘Come on, let’s get up and get some breakfast.’ He pulls away from you, standing up and walking over to his wardrobe, grabbing a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, throwing them over to you before sliding on a t-shirt himself. You quickly pull them on and stand up. 

The two of you walk into the kitchen, heading over to the fridge. You pull out some eggs and bacon, before grabbing a frying pan and putting it on the stove.

‘I should probably make some for Robin as well.’ You say as you put enough bacon for the three of you on the pan.

‘Hmm, probably.’ Steve says wrapping his arms around you from behind and kissing behind your ear lightly. ‘Have I ever told you how good you look in my clothes?’ He whispers in your ear, making you blush.

‘You’ve seen me in your clothes thousands of times.’ You reply back.

‘Yeah, and you always look good in them.’ He flirts back and you roll your eyes at his antics. 

‘Hey, guys.’ Robin says, walking into the kitchen, and rubbing her eyes. Steve pulls away from you, smiling slightly as he heads over to a cupboard to grab some plates.

‘Hey Rob, you want one egg or two?’ You ask, turning to look at her as you put the bacon on the plates.

‘Two. I’m starving.’ You nod and turn back to the pan, cracking some eggs over it. 

Once you finished making breakfast, the three of you sit down at the breakfast bar, eating your food. You lean over and rest your head on Steve’s shoulder as you eat and he smiles down pressing a kiss to your forehead.

‘Urgh, see this is what I mean. That is weird for friends.’ Robin scoffs, looking disgusted.

‘But it’s not weird if she’s my girlfriend, right?’ Steve asks a big grin on his face.

‘Wait, no, oh my god.’ Robin says looking at the two of you with shock.

‘Yep, thanks to you calling our friendship weird, we confessed our feelings to each other.’ You grinned excitedly.

‘I knew you guys liked each other!’ Robin said excitedly before a look of horror crossed her face. ‘Please don’t hook up in the back room at Family Video.’ You both laughed slightly at her face.

‘No promises.’ Steve laughed, gripping your chin and pulling your face towards his in a sweet kiss.

‘Eww, no stop. I’m going to be sick.’ Robin fake gagged.

‘Well, it’s your fault we’re together now so you’re going to have to put up with it.’ You smiled as you cuddled into Steve’s side.

[unnecessaryshenanigan]

They’re Not The Younger Brothers I Raised Anymore

Another angst! I’ve been feeling down lately and just.. Just wanna share some of my pains y’all:’) It’s not gonna be that sad though lmao-

—

Isn’t it fun to watch kids grow old? Ah, it’s a beautiful memory to raise someone and watch them bloom and grow to be a better person, in your guidance. But rivals that happiness, is sadness. Sadness to let go of the person. Sadness about how time passed by quickly. Sadness to give up the memories. 

“Mammon.. What are you doing?” The prideful man walked closer, eyeing the bag of trash Mammon was holding. It’s already the middle of the night. Lucifer was just about to get water in the kitchen but then, he saw his younger brother sneak outside. “What is that?”

It took a few seconds before Mammon was able to form a small smile, turning to Lucifer. “O-Oh this.. This is uh.. Nothing! Just– Just some useless things!”

“Useless? As far as I can remember, you don’t have any ‘useless’ things. You always find ways to profit from them, don’t you?” Mammon broke into a cold sweat, feeling small in Lucifer’s gaze.

“Really.. It’s just some useless trash that I can’t sell!” Mammon tried his best to end the conversation but as he keeps continuing to make excuses, the more Lucifer pries.

“What’s with the gasoline then?” Lucifer asked, very wary of his brother’s actions. “If it's trash you would have thrown them in the trash can? Why would you need gasoline?”

“That uhh–”

“Is there something I should be concerned about? Are you planning an arson?”

“Geez Lucifer, could you just stop asking me about that. Stop! It’s none of your business and no. I’m not gonna commit arson!” Mammon scratched his head in annoyance but to no avail.

He was caught off guard when Lucifer suddenly snatched the bag he’s holding.

“I’m really curious what’s in this bag that you badly wanna dispose of. Even burning it.” Lucifer said as he opened the bag. Knowing that he will just figure it out, Mammon crouched, leaned in for the gasoline and slowly discarded the fuel.

“This is…”

“Brings back memories, don’t they?” Mammon chuckled. “It was such a good time”

Lucifer held the cloud plushie. It wasn’t as white as before but it seems to be in a good condition. 

“Didn’t Belphegor give you this back in the Celestial Realm?” Lucifer asked, a warm feeling growing inside his chest, reminiscing the memory. “The one in the stitching class that he went to?” 

“Right.” Mammon smiled, his back still at his brother. “He was really a cute and affectionate angel back then.. Didn’t he also give you one?”

“Yes he did.. But I didn’t manage to get it..”

“Right..”

There was a moment of silence before Lucifer once again broke it.

“This.. A bottle of beer?” Lucifer asked in confusion, holding out the old bottle beer who has some few cracks.

“Ah that..” Mammon stood up and turned at his brother, lips forming a smile.

“That was from Asmodeus.. Remember after we fell?” The greed asked, his eyes glinting as if it was telling a story. “It was the very first bottle of beer Asmodeus had held and the very first beer he drank and tasted.” 

“He gave this to you?” Lucifer asked.

“Uh-huh. He didn't want to throw it away and he just said to hide it and he’ll have it again from me after he drank a ton. Though he never get it back”

Lucifer shakes his head and got another item in the bag.

“Leviathan’s headphones?”

“Uh-huh. Remember that time when I complained about how I hear so many things that it's reaching my brain?” Lucifer watched Mammon have a fondly grin. “Thanks to his headphones, really”

“Why are you throwing these things away then?” Lucifer asked, getting another item in the bag. 

“What’s with this story– Satan..”

Mammon snickered, “Yes, it was from Satan. He used to love that book.. Heck, he’ll even bug me just to read that story. But now he can read and has read a lot so…” 

Lucifer said nothing. During those times, he’s probably either with Diavolo or in his room doing work. Lucifer got the last thing, a recipe book.

“And I presume this was from Beel?”

“Yeah..”

There’s not much explanation of that thing. Lucifer already understood why Beelzebub would give him a recipe book. Mammon is not much of a great cook.

“He gave it to me over a hundred years ago..”

Lucifer then put back the things inside the bag. “I’m taking these with me.”

Mammon then grabbed the bag away from Lucifer. “No, I don’t want any fragments of memories.”

“What.. What are you saying?!”

Mammon took out a lighter. Lucifer watched it as his brother lit it and threw it at the pit where the gasoline was discarded. 

“This won’t help..” 

Before Lucifer knew it, Mammon had thrown the bag in the pit. The fire grew a bit wilder and Lucifer watched helplessly.

“Why would you do that?!” The pride asked. He won’t admit it, but he’s envious of Mammon. All of them.. All of their younger siblings had given him something and he had preserved that but he– But he threw it away!

“What do you mean, Lucifer?” Mammon stared at the burning bag that contained all the memorable gifts he had from his younger brothers. “These things just keep holding me back. How could I move on and forget if there’s still something that makes me remember… All those memories”

Lucifer stayed silent, and didn't know what to say. For quite a hundred years, It’s been a while since Mammon had talked to him, regarding about their younger brothers.

“Sure it’s sad.. But a lot of things had already changed.” Mammon looked at Lucifer. “Right?”

“Yes.. Yes it had but.. Those things. Was it really worth it that you disregarded them?” 

“Now, I haven’t thought of that,” Mammon chuckled. “Was it really?”

“We both know that it’s not” Lucifer firmly said as if talking some sense to his younger brother. “I know we had issues and all but…Did it make you feel better? Did it remove that burden and pain in your chest?”

Mammon was silent for a moment. Did it? Was it worth it? The millions of years that he spent trying to preserve those things that held all his memories with his younger brothers, was it really what he wanted? To move on? To move forward? To forget the long-forgotten memories? Was that what his heart really wanted…?

“Y’know.. I haven’t said this for a while.. But why do you have to be so damn cool?” Mammon asked Lucifer with a frown. The elder smirked, “Because I’m the first born, Mammon”

Mammon smiled… for a while. So was Lucifer.

“Those guys had changed a lot.. Leviathan wasn’t the same sweet brother anymore. Satan wasn’t the same little ball of caring wrath. Asmodeus isn’t the same loving brother. Beelzebub.. What can I say about him? Ah, he’s not the sharing brother he used to be. Belphegor, isn’t the same ray of sunshine..” Lucifer heaved out a sad sigh. 

“You had knew... It already dawned on you right..?” Mammon asked, his eyes staring at the dancing fire. Lucifer watched the objects burn into ashes, exactly knowing what his younger brother asked. 

“They’re not the younger brothers you tried to cover in your wings against the cold.. Not the brothers you tried to keep together,” Mammon met Lucifer’s eyes, both theirs held each other’s gazes with sadness and realization. “They’re not the younger brothers I raised anymore.”

[ghostselena]

Deja Vu

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary: Months after your break up with Jj, you find each other at the bonfire party, reminiscing what it could've been

Warnings: reader getting very drunk, just fluff, 18+

Word Count: 1.4K

BYR: Slightly edited

Do not post this story as your own anywhere, thank you. ENJOY!

Part 2

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Dragged by your friends, you throw your head back as you groan, your legs moving at a different speed, sand getting all over your sandals as you reached the keg table

Today marked 4 months since you and JJ ended things, you haven't gone out much ever since, appearing at a few parties here and there. It was still a fresh wound for you, the thought of seeing him here macking on some other girl infuriated you. Nonetheless, here you are, at the yearly bonfire, all dressed up and ready to get wasted

"You need to go out more, we miss you," Sarah says, handing you a red cup filled to the rim with alcohol, at least you hoped it was

“The streets miss you, y/n,” Kie says teasingly, a big grin on her face while opening the small ice cooler, grabbing a can of beer, pressing it to your chest, “Drink this instead, who knows what shit is inside that keg,”

Holding the small can, you notice Sarah slowly spit back into her drink, sticking her tongue out in disgust, throwing the cup onto the trash can nearby and grabbing a beer from the cooler before turning around to face the two of you, “You could’ve said that before I drank half my cup,”

“What’s the fun in that?” Kie smirks, earning a chuckle from you while you looked around, seeing a few familiar faces, your eyes slowly focusing on a certain blonde-haired boy, walking right next to John b and Pope

You shift your legs uncomfortably, opening the can and chugging it back quickly, a few droplets falling down your chin and into your chest

“Hello ladies,” you hear John b speak, finishing the can before wiping your mouth, fixing your attire while you felt someone’s eyes on you

“Hey there handsome, what brings you by?” Sarah says, wrapping her arms around him, standing on her tippy toes, pressing her lips against his. Your turn your head away as you focus on a random group of girls, who were struggling to keep their friend still as she drunkenly swayed side to side, cup in hand, "Just wanted to say hi to my girl,"

You laugh to yourself as you watch the group of friends, turning back to face Pope, his hand waving at you as you do the same, big smile on his face

Deciding to grab yourself another drink, you excused yourself, heading back towards the cooler, beer can in hand as you opened it once again, choosing to drink it slower this time

The feeling of someone's eyes on you never went away throughout the night, even while you danced with your friends, hands brushing down your body as you swayed your hips to the beat of the music, it was all a blur

You could say you were a bit tipsy, maybe even close to being drunk at this point while you stumbled your way back towards the Keg table, cup in your hand as you poured the liquid into it, Kie's words about the multiple alcohol mixes that were in the Keg long gone in your thoughts.

Pressing the cup to your lips contently, you drank back the liquid with a repulsed look on your face, giggling to yourself before turning back to pour a bit more into the cup, a hand quickly taking the cup from you and throwing it behind them

"What the hell?" you pout, your words coming out slurred, your eyes looking up to meet a pair of blue eyes that you still loved so much

"I think you've had enough to drink y/n, don't ya think?" His voice was soft as he got closer to you, hands placed on your sides to keep you balanced in front of him

In his mind, you were still dating. It was just a small break he thought, there was no way he was letting you go that easily.

"Leave me alone," you spoke, pressing your hands against his chest, eyes on his as he held your hands in his, refusing to leave you alone in your state

He pulled you gently as he walked towards your friends, tapping John b's shoulder, "Let me borrow the keys?"

Your friends were almost, if not, just as drunk as you as the boys held them, nothing but laughter leaving their lips as they danced against each other, stumbling all over the place.

John B just nodded, handing him the keys, observing the way you learned your head on Jj's shoulder, mumbling to yourself, hands wrapped tightly around his waist

He leaned down, wrapping his arm under you before picking you up bridal style, your body betraying you for wrapping your arms around his neck, head laying close to his neck as he walked away from the bonfire, reaching the twinkie and opening the passenger seat with one hand, careful to put sit you inside the car, sliding the seatbelt onto your body with ease. Just as he was about to close the door, he feels a tug against his shirt, your soft hand gripping it before talking

"I wanna party,"

"Not while you're this drunk."

"Why?" You whine, head leaning back against the seat, a pout clear on your face, making him smile and shake his head down at you before speaking,

"Just let me take care of you,"

"no."

"Dont be so stubborn y/n, your parents would kill me if they let me leave you like this,"

"So? you're not my boyfriend."

"Doesn't matter" He mumbles, more to himself as he closed the passenger door, quickly jogging to the other side before getting in, turning on the car, and sliding on his seatbelt.

You felt yourself getting hot, a rush of heat making its way through your body, making you groan, "Jj, I'm hot."

He couldn't even respond in time, your hands already struggling to take off your shirt, huffing in annoyance once you realized you couldn't do it yourself, crossing your arms and facing the window

"You okay?" "No. Leave me alone."

"Suit yourself, princess," He responds, backing up and driving off towards the cut, no way in hell was he dropping you off at your house looking like this, none of you would come out of that house alive.

Tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he sang quietly, your eyes turn to face him as you watched, a frown forming on your face as you thought about the other times he would take care of you when you'd get this drunk, the memory still fresh in your mind.

"Why did we not work out?" you ask softly, looking down at your hands, deciding to avoid his gaze as soon as he looked at you, clearing his throat, "You needed space, I was in the way,"

"But you weren't"

"I was, you said so yourself,"

"I did?" You questioned, sitting up slightly, your mind running in circles as the memory flies back to you, he just nods his head in response

"Yup."

The ride back to the chateau was silent, both of you focused on remembering your relationship, nothing but a recollection on the back of your minds.

Jj parked the van, making sure to help you get out, hand sliding around your waist while you walked up the small porch stairs

He opened the door, guiding you inside and towards the kitchen, handing you a cold glass of water, which you drank without argument, clearly needing to think this through

He made sure to give you your space, legs crossed in front of each other as he laid on the couch, arms crossed behind his head as he watched you recollect your thoughts, slowly sobering up

"I'm sorry," you spoke up, leaning on the counter while you faced him, "I guess I was just so mad that day, I pushed it all on you."

He shook his head, brushing his hair with his hands," All in the past now,"

You nod, drinking the rest of the water and deciding to sit near him, crossing your legs

"I saw you were uncomfortable when Sarah kissed John B,"

You sneered at his words, "I was not," a small smile forming on your face

"I'm very certain you were,"

"Fine."

"Fine" he mocks vivaciously, earning a glare from you," Made me think about us though," his serious tone startled you, your eyes surveying his calm response

"Me too" you sincerely say, swallowing the small lump that was forming in your throat, "Do you think we could ever be together, again?"

"It's possible..but only when we are ready."

"Yeah"

Both of you stayed there, the thought of forever losing him hurt you to the core, but it didn't mean this was the end. He was scared of getting hurt again, but you were his everything, you just needed time and so did he.

-----

I did not want to give this a sad ending, I had this story going different in my mind but I couldn't do this to you guys, maybe a part 2 in the future if asked :)

[sennsational]

pairing : ryūguji (draken) ken x gn!reader

genre : fluff

word count : 1.1k

tw : mention of drinking and alcohol

affiliated with : @hanayanetwork @planetonet

[a/n] : i just love how i mention in my event that the drabbles would be max 500 words, but i end up writing mini length fics instead lol. anywayy,,, this one is for you bby sum sum @suyaboo-ya !! i hope you like it and that draken isn’t ooc 🥺🫂🤍

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When your best friend Draken asked you to come join him to Toman’s reunion at Takemichi’s place, you didn’t expect the mass of drunk people to be there as well. In all honesty, even Draken thought it would only be the founding members and their vice captain’s, but it seems like Mikey had other plans.

Speaking of Mikey, it’s him who you spot first. He is playing beer pong against Baji. You tap Draken on his shoulder and point at Mikey, who by the looks of it, is ready to fight Baji for presumably winning the beer pong match. Draken sighs as he excuses himself and walks over to prevent the two menaces from breaking anything.

“Mikey and Baji have always been lightweights,” you jump a bit, not expecting someone to talk to you out of nowhere. When you turn around you’re met with Mitsuya who is casually sipping from his own red cup.

“You shouldn’t be talking,” you tease as you grab Mitsuya’s cup and down the liquid in one go, before giving it back to him. Mitsuya merely chuckles, ruffling your hair a bit as he walks off into the crowd. You, however, didn't follow him but made your way over to the drinking table, contemplating what concoction to make for yourself.

It’s not the first time you drank, but it was such a long time ago that you forgot how it tasted. Before you know it, you are sixteen shots in and laughing with the other Toman members who are just as drunk, if not even more drunk than you.

You’re never that fond of getting drunk, especially knowing the type of drunk you are. Let’s just say that you’re the type to get overly emotional and right now, that’s exactly the case. You’re seated on the ground in the corner of the kitchen, next to the trash bin while holding a half full cup and bawling your eyes out, because you couldn't find Draken.

However, what you don’t know is that Draken has been looking around the house for you all this time after he prevented the fight between Mikey and Baji. He gets more worried as time goes by and he still doesn’t have a clue where the fuck you are. In his frenzy of trying to find you, he bumps into Mitsuya who tells him he heard the other members mention someone who is crying in the kitchen and knowing the type of drunk you are, there could be a chance they were talking about you.

Draken thanks Mitsuya and hastily makes his way to the kitchen, where low and behold, he found you next to the trash bin. Draken lets out a relieved sigh and walks up to you. “Having fun there, Y/N?” he grinned at you.

Your vision is still a bit blurry from all the crying and it takes you a few seconds to register who’s standing in front of you. When your brain catches up with your vision, you smile at first until suddenly your expression turns sad again.

Before Draken can ask you why you had been crying, you cut him off with a question of your own. “What if rocks have feelings and they are yelling out in pain when we walk on them or throw them around?” Draken takes a moment to register what the fuck you just asked him. “Uhm, why the fuck does that matter?” he asks confused, having no idea what you’re on about.

“ROCKS HAVE FEELINGS TOO!!” you scream at him. Draken reaches out for your cup, but you stubbornly hold onto it. “I have no idea what shit you’re on about, Y/N. But on a serious note; how much did you drink?” you try to answer, but a hiccup interrupts you, which in turn makes you giggle. “I lost count after twenty shots, I think,” Draken looks at you bewildered. “Jesus Christ, Y/N! Do you want alcohol poisoning?!” you open your mouth to answer, but Draken beats you to it. “You know what, don’t even answer that.”

He tries to pick you up from the ground and it would’ve been a cute sight, if you didn’t try to squirm your way out of his hold, all while screaming bloody murder. “GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME, YOU PERVERT!” Mitsuya and Hakkai, who both have been watching the whole ordeal from the sidelines the minute they heard someone scream from the kitchen, don’t even try to hold their laughter.

“Wait Y/N-“ Draken tries to reason with you. “NO! LET ME GO OR I WILL CALL THE POLICE FOR KIDNAPPING!” his patience is getting thinner by the second, as he finally snaps. “IT’S STILL ME, DUMBASS! IT’S DRAKEN!” he screams back.

Draken still feels a bit annoyed at you, but the way your eyes widen when realization finally hits you and the animated gasp you let out are some of the cutest sights to him. Not like he will ever admit that. “Now that you know that it’s me again, can you listen for once and behave while I carry you to my bike?” you let out a giggle while holding your arms up, letting him carry you.

You tap him on the shoulder, indicating that you want to say something and he lowers his face to hear you better. “You know, I don’t care that I’m drunk and probably won’t remember this tomorrow. I really like you Ken and I’m not okay with us just being best friends,” Draken looks at you with an unreadable expression. “Shut up Y/N, you’re drunk,” you let out an offended scoff. “I’m not, meanie. And I mean it.”

Draken’s unreadable expression suddenly changes into a teasing one. “Sober Y/N would never use the word ‘meanie’, dumbass. Also, you are the one who always insists we are best friends in the first place,” that’s when your lower lip starts to tremble. “You never indicated or gave me any hints that you might reciprocate my feelings,” Draken abruptly stops walking.

“ARE YOU FUCKING ME RIGHT NOW?!”

“No, I haven’t fucked you yet,” you say as a matter of fact.

Draken feels his blush growing at your bluntness. “I— shut up! You know what I mean! I have been dropping hints the moment I met you, only for you to always refer to me as your best friend! I thought I should just ignore my feelings, but here you are, drunk out of your mind and telling me that you like me! You can’t just say stuff like tha—'' he cuts his own rant off when he hears you snore softly beside his ear.

Draken turns his head to peek at your face and lets out what felt like the millionth sigh that night. “You’re lucky you’re cute. We will talk about this when you’re sober again,” he has a small smile on his face when he arrives at his bike. Maybe, you do like him like he likes you, but for now he just has to wait and see.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

reblogs and comments are appreciated !

© sennsational 2022 - all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, or repost my works and claim it as yours.

[sif-the-tsunami]

Ok prompt! Sy is teaching you how to cook and maybe things get frisky ? 😁

Oooo I like this. Its not 100% on the nose but this is where the muse took me.

Did you want a novel? Because, I hope you like novels.

Warnings: chili with beans, sweet cornbread, swearing, smut

"Listen hear, you chicken fried fuck. If you don't like my cooking, you are welcome to eat something else at the damn pot luck!" I snap at a grumpy retired soldier who was talking trash about my chili recipe. Like always. Whenever we have a party, he has to say something about how I'm dressed, what I brought, or the beer I was drinking.

"All I'm saying here, California, is that where I'm from we don't put beans in our chili. And don't get me started on this abomination you call cornbread. Why is it sweet, why are there vegetables in my bread?" He says in his drawl.

"Because honey and roasted jalapenos taste good together!"

"I guess. You don't need to fuss so much Princess, I'll gladly show you how to make real Texan food. Make some wife material out of you." He smirked. I think he knew he was getting under my skin.

"Come on, Sy, give her a break. Take a bite of her cornbread with the chili, they are delicious together." One of our mutual friends told him when he could see that I was not having any more of his attitude.

I walked away from the conversation, feeling incredibly salty. The man was Syverson, we had been in the same group of friends for the past couple years and honestly he was usually at least cordial with me, but the sheer audacity of his tone today. The rest of the party was really fun, at least. Occasionally, I would catch eyes the color of the ocean after a storm staring me down. He kept looking like he wanted to say something to me but I would find reasons to leave the room. Fortunately there was always a way to get out and around.

Towards the end of the evening, I go outside to enjoy the cooling air and watch the stars, listen to a couple of the guys from inside sit on the tailgate of a truck and talk about football or something. The breeze would kick up occasionally and I could smell an orange tree blooming in the distance.

"Hey, oh shit, I didn't mean to startle you." I jumped damn near out of my skin when the grump showed up out of nowhere. "I actually really wanted to say that I'm sorry, I can be a real asshole sometimes. You are usually more aware of it than others. I'm used to giving people a hard time. Your food was delicious. I just don't know how to talk to you sometimes."

I looked at the large man skeptically. I'm not used to people going from snarky to nice to me. "Thank you for apologizing. Glad you liked it, Chicken Fried. You can just talk to me like anyone else, I don't mind some teasing, but you just know how to push my buttons."

Sy looked at his feet for a moment. "I will be nicer to you, I promise."

"I'm sure." I had heard that before.

"I still think mines better," back to sounding arrogant already, "I am willing to bet that it would blow your mind."

"Do you really want to bet?"

"Yeah... sure. I'll bet you. If my chili it better than yours.... you have to go on a date with me."

"Is that how you get most of your dates these days? Tinder just isn't cutting it anymore?" I tease. He is actually kind of good looking. Sort of. If you are into that hand crafted by the gods kind of look. I'm not saying I am, but I could get the appeal.

"You'd be surprised. Most of the women I meet want to figure out what's wrong with me. Almost 40, never married, I have a job I like. They keep waiting for my skeletons to come out of the closet. Like shit, girl, I just don't like olives or sweet relish. I think I'm pretty cool otherwise." He said talking with his hands out stretched. I think he might have been being earnest with me, but his tone is almost always sarcastic.

"You were in the military, right?"

"Yeah."

"That's what's wrong with you." The big man started laughing harder than I thought he would.

"Well, California. You up for it?"

"I don't know Chicken Fried, I don't like dating, I would really just like something casual, low maintenance. What happens when I win?"

"When?" He chuckles. "If you are looking for something casual and low maintenance, baby, there is a reason when I was still in the Army they called me Captain Cunnilingus."

"It sounds like either way you win." I smirk, "I would need a real incentive to try to beat you."

"How about bragging rights?"

"If I win... you shave your beard. Then I get to use your face as a chair." He looked shocked.

"Fine, when I win, you have to wear a dress on our date, and heels. Maybe even some of that shit you all put on your lips with the glitter and fruity flavors."

"Ok, now that's unreasonable. I don't even own heels."

"I'll buy you some." Well color me impressed. We decide on the terms of the bet. We would invite a couple of friends over to his place next Sunday and they would pick a winner with a blind taste test. We would also have one canned chili and one restaurant chili to make it a little more interesting.

Sunday came, and we all gathered in his house. This was the best batch of chili I have ever made. Fresh peppers, bacon, beer and some good quality beef all swam together in a symphony of flavors. When I walked into his house, the smell was... pungent. I could smell cooking vinegar. It wasn't bad but there was something just a little off putting.

"Glad you showed up, Princess." He looked me up and down. to surprise him just a little, I did show up in a dress. I figured a special occasion needed a special outfit.

I looked over at the big man as he took my slow cooker from my hands and plugged it in for me. To be fair to both of us, we had enough time to set up sides and toppings. I even baked more cornbread. Sy made his own savory cornbread that he pulled out of the oven in a cast iron skillet.

"It was my mama's." He told me when I asked about it.

"You bake also?"

"Sometimes, if the mood hits me. I like making peach cobbler too. If you are lucky, I'll make you some. Maybe after our date."

"So sure of yourself, Chicken Fried. I hope you got some good shaving cream and a new razor, you'll need it." In his kitchen, I lifted the hem of my sundress clear up to my naked hip showing him that I was ready to win this bet of ours. His pupils blew out with lust as he stepped up to me.

"Princess, you are a hell of a tease. I have wanted you so badly ever since the first time we met." He breathed, lusty and hot. He pinned me to the counter, radiating his desire. He bit his lip, looking me up and down, he looked like he wanted to kiss me or maybe consume me whole. Suddenly he pulls away, leaving me breathless. "We will have company soon. I need to walk this off, but I really do want to continue this conversation when we don't have to risk being interrupted."

Before anyone could walk in on us, Syverson rushed up to me and kissed me more passionately. My knees buckle for a second and its like I've been set on fire.

When our friends came into his house, he set up bowls, spoons, Fritos and cheese. He set up blind tastings for the guests, only he and I knew what everyone was eating.

The canned chili was a flop. The restaurant chili was a better batch but it wasn't as good. When our friends tasted my chili, they all keep saying how wonderful it was.

Then we tried Sy's. Everyone was quiet for a moment and then the group started to try to figure out what it was about the chili that we didn't like. It was too sweet as far as I was concerned and there was a weird aftertaste. It was an overwhelming agreement that Sy's chili was terrible. After we cleaned up his kitchen, Sy was pouting about having lost.

"So, when would you like for me to shave my beard?"

"Maybe later tonight. I think we have to finish that conversation we started earlier."

"Oh yeah, California?" He said, standing close to me. He grabbed me by my hips and lifted me to the counter top. I lace my fingers through his beard hair and pull him closer so I can finally kiss him again. He broke away from the kiss and then started nibbling on my neck. His hand found the seem of my dress and he slid his hand up my thigh. When my skirt was pushed up to my hips exposing my sex to him, he leaned me back. I watched him look at my core and lick his lips like a man starved.

"Wait a second. Before you start, what was going on with your chili? Did you throw the bet?"

"No, not at all." He looked at me confused. "I don't know what happened, I've made this a bunch of times and its always been good. This was terrible."

"Did you do anything different?"

"Well. I was out of tomato paste, so I used ketchup. A buddy of mine suggested it."

"Oh my god, Sy. No wonder! Thank god you are pretty, my guy." I tease.

"Your guy? I like the way that sounds. Now lean back, Princess. I'm going to try to convince you to let me not shave."

[wardenparker]

Vampire Waltz - ch 1

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 9.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships.* Abusive relationship, getting *out* of an abusive relationship, alcoholism, alcohol, mention of sleeping in a car. Summary: One of the worst days of your life takes a sharp right turn into the unexpected when you learn of the death of a long-lost relative. Notes: It's heeeere! Spooky season has officially arrived and with it comes our annual spooky-themed soulmate story! Bringing our two canonical vampires together is going to be endless shenanigans. 🧛‍♂️🧡 Since this story is mostly set inside one of the mansions that I work in, we're planning on using photos of the house as chapter headers some of the time. Visual reference fun!

"Hurry up and get your shit." The drunken bellow from downstairs is followed up by a loud crash, another curse and a thump as your boyfriend – ex-boyfriend – continues to throw the equivalent of a temper tantrum. It hadn't been the first time you've fought, or that the asshole had threatened to throw you out on your ass, but the fist sized hole in the wall that had only been an inch from your face was new, escalating violence.

"Lazy, good for nothing cunt! I work all goddamn day and you couldn't even fucking do what I asked!"

It's not that you don't work. Or that you didn't work. But after getting fired four days ago following yet another day calling out of work to clean up some mess caused by your boyfriend, your manager had said it was the final straw and sent you packing. Since then you had tried to clean up the house, get the back-log of laundry out of the way, and at least make a nice dinner while you applied for new jobs. It isn't your fault that the neighbor's dog got into your yard and ripped a hole in one of his shirts on the clothesline. There is absolutely no way you could have done anything about it. But it is the thing that sent him over the deep end this time and has him screaming at you yet again.

Running upstairs was the best thing you could do to get away from his fist, and now you're just praying that you have enough trash bags in the house to cram your stuff into before he decides to come after you again. You'll be sleeping in your car tonight, but at least all the locks on the doors work. You can manage a few nights in a securely locked car. It's just...that you're not quite sure where you'll go after that.

The sound of the top to a Natural Light beer being cracked open sounds from the base of the stairwell and he takes several loud gulps. Belching from drinking too fast and hitting the wall with the flat of his hand. "Come on, bitch!" He calls out. "I ain't got all night!"

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you pace back to the top of the stairwell and lean down so you can actually see him. Ten goddamn years with this man and this is how it ends. "I'll be gone by the time you get home," you promise him, the resignation obvious in your voice. He'll go to the bar to see his friends like he does after he eats dinner almost every night. You've never been the kind of girlfriend to stop him from seeing his friends, so they have had a routine for almost as many years as you've been together.

"Good." He glares up at you and points a finger. "You better not take any of my shit either." He warns you. "Tired of taking care of your stupid ass. You're in for a rude wake up call. Shit's not easy out there." He burps again and turns around to stumble down the hall. "You are such a disappointment." He yells out before opening the front door and letting it slam behind him, rattling the windows.

"Yeah." You sigh, shaking your head with one of those cheap fleece throw blankets in your hand. It has ballet slippers on it, a relic of a childhood long dream long forgotten. "I know I am." Holding up the blanket to look at it more closely, you debate throwing the damn thing out entirely, but it will keep you warm in the car tonight. It will go into a trash bag along with everything else.

As soon as the blanket is shoved in with your two miniature throw pillows, your phone goes off in your pocket. Expecting it to be Derek, ready to yell at you some more, you're surprised to see Private splashed across the screen instead. If you don't answer it and it is him for any reason, there will be hell to pay. "Hello?"

The smooth, cultured voice on the other end of the line is slightly raspy. As if the person has spent a lifetime swallowing brandy and smoking cigars, or had spent all day talking. In actuality, both of those things are true. Your name is spoken in the form of a question. Asking if he had reached the right person.

"Speaking." The automatic answer doesn't make you feel any less confused, but at least they aren't yelling at you. "Can I ask who's calling, please?"

"Antonio Colette," He tells you quickly. "With Colette and Dupree. I am calling about your late, great aunt, Etienne Brown." He shuffles through the papers to bring up the will that had been laid out, along with the investigators report on you. It was how he had found your current number. "I am executing her estate and quite frankly, it has been a search to find you."

"I'm sorry," you shake your head against the phone as though the man could possibly see you. "I don't know anyone by that name. My, um...I don't know a lot of my family. But that isn't a name I recognize. Maybe you have the wrong person?" There is no reason that any family member you've never heard of would have left you anything in a will, so he must have the wrong number. That's the only explanation you can think of.

"No, ma'am." He tells you. "I don't think I have the wrong person. Is this not a good time to talk?" He can hear something in your voice, and while most were always happy to inherit something, you might have pressing matters to attend to.

Hesitating for a reason you can't quite put your finger on, you glance out the window in the corner of your now former bedroom, the one that overlooks the driveway. Derek's truck is gone, and your shoulders slump a little. You have hours until he comes home now. Usually it's not until after last call. "No...no it's okay. I'm just...not having a great day. What did you want to speak to me about?"

"Ms. Brown was very particular about her will. As executor of the estate, it is my duty to make sure that her last wishes are carried out. As there is no other living relative on your mother's side, she decided that you would be the sole heir of her estate." He explains. "This includes the eight-bedroom mansion and the trust that has been established to pay for the manor. Her private accounts. The total combined monetary worth of twelve point two million dollars."

The crash that he hears from your side of the phone call is you falling over – a product of your legs giving out the second he said the word mansion and then losing your balance all over again at the sum total of the estate. "Wh—what?" You manage to breathe, barely managing not to break down in tears all over again. For an entirely different reason, this time.

"Of course, there is one issue that you must be made aware of." He's used to people being surprised, so he doesn't try to explain. You will soon be holding paperwork that you can read again and again if needed. "There are two tenants in the mansion. Ms. Brown has given them a lifetime estate on the rooms they occupy." He tells you. "Meaning they live there for as long as they wish."

"O—okay..." As fast as your mind can possibly turn, you still feel like you can't quite keep up with it, and you end up curled up at the foot of your bed hugging the throw blanket that was still in your hands when your phone rang. "So...I just...get a mansion? And twe—twelve million dollars? And the only caveat is that I have two tenants?" None of it makes any sense, but you'll be damned if it doesn't sound like the perfect way out of the hell that you've found yourself in.

“Pretty much.” Antonio agrees. “When would you be available to tour the property and sign some paperwork?” He asks, flipping over to his calendar to pencil you in.

"I—" Stumbling again, your forehead drops onto the pillow clutched against your chest before you tip your head back and stare up at the mottled ceiling. "I guess...as soon as I can get there?" It's not as though you have anything else to do at the moment. Or even anyone to tell where you're going. "But, can I ask? Um...where exactly is this house?"

“Newport, Rhode Island.” He supplies. “I must confess that I could not find a current address for you, just this phone number, so I am not quite sure where you are traveling from.

"Dandridge, Tennessee." Six years you've lived in this town and it never felt like home, but maybe now that's for the best. With a sigh, you try to think if you've ever even heard of Newport, Rhode Island and come up entirely blank other than knowing that Rhode Island is in New England. Which is a pretty decent drive away. "It might take me a few days to drive up there. Maybe two days? Depending on how late into the night I drive."

“That’s fine.” Colette agrees. “I will give you my number. If you find yourself here quicker than you anticipate, give me a call and I can meet you with the keys.”

"Okay." For a second the brief fear that your car might not even last a two-day drive flashes through your mind but you push it aside and let out a sigh in favor of sitting up to grab the pen off your nearby desk so you can take down the lawyer's phone number. "I...um...thank you, Mr. Colette. This is..." It's insane. It's completely insane and you can't even wrap your head around it. "It's life changing."

“I will see you in two days.” Mr. Colette responds and then ends the call before he sighs. Dropping his head into his hand, he rubs his temple. Whoever you are, he feels sorry for you. No way you know what the hell you are getting into.

******

The first night you're honestly exhausted, and you end up sleeping in your packed-full car behind the twenty-four-hour diner with the really nice waitresses that don't get upset that you need a safe place to park for one night. Telling them that you're moving had done the trick, and the extremely kind pair of women had gotten their line cook to whip you up a sandwich for dinner and one more to take with you when you left town in the morning.

The gps on your phone – thank god the bill is in your name – says that it will take thirteen hours and thirty-seven minutes of driving. Deciding to go, go, go as best you can, you leave town at sunrise and end up crossing the border into Rhode Island at almost eleven that same night. Stopping for bathroom breaks and to gas up the car – plus traffic, of course – has cost some time, but you made it. Now all you had to do was make the last leg of the journey out to Newport. Surprised to find that Newport is actually on an island (didn't you learn at one point that Rhode Island isn't an island?) you pull into a truck stop to finally sleep for the night. You'll do the last forty-five minutes of the drive in the morning.

******

Feeling and probably looking like shit the next morning is the price you pay for getting here quickly, but you call the lawyer at nine in the morning when his office's website says it opens and arrange to meet him at the address he gives you. Bellevue Avenue just sounds fancy, and when you get to the island you realize why. This entire town seems filled to the brim with mansions, expensive shops, and swanky restaurants.

Antonio had been surprised that you had driven through the night, but perhaps he shouldn't have been. He gives you the address to his offices and tells his secretary to make sure that there is a good selection of bagels and muffins out this morning in case you would like something while you go over the paperwork. You are a very important client, and he would like to keep you if possible.

Tired and more than a little ragged, you pull your car up to the office on Thames Street and cut the engine with a sigh. There’s a lot of touristy stuff around, especially on this part of the island, and that means you haven’t seen a single dingy diner or fast food drive-up since you got here. Everything is expensive cafes and fancy restaurants. The thought that you might have to skip breakfast is discouraging until you walk into the lawyer’s office tentatively and smell coffee.

"Good morning." Raquel stands from behind her desk and smooths her pencil skirt down before she walks around the desk. Antonio and his partner prefer that she personally greet each client and she doesn't let her facial expression change from one of welcome when she sees the tired, beaten down appearance of the woman who walked into the door. Her heart clenches at the sight and even if you are not the client that he had been expecting, she will invite you to have some coffee and pastries while she waits for someone to work you into their calendar. "May I help you?" She asks as she offers her manicured hand to shake.

“I—I’m here to see Mr. Colette.” You give her your name along with the handshake she obviously expects, and try to shake the feeling that that smile of hers is probably plastered on. Of course it is. It’s first thing in the morning and she works in a law office.

"Of course." You are the important client, so she immediately waves you to the glass doors. "Please follow me." She tells you. "Mr. Colette is getting all the necessary documents together, but we have tea, coffee, bagels, and some delicious pastries available while you wait?" She wants you to feel comfortable as she walks you down the short hall to the smaller conference room where she had set everything up for the meeting.

“Thank you.” It doesn’t make one single bit of sense to you that they’ve gone through all this trouble, but this long-lost great aunt of yours must have been an important client. Maybe they think you’re important too? Well – they’ll be disabused of that idea pretty soon.

"Please let me know if there is anything I can get you." She senses that you aren't comfortable and she doesn't want to crowd you or do anything to upset you. "I'll let Mr. Colette know you are here."

There are a few minutes to wait, sitting in that conference room surrounded by food that you don’t dare touch, and you end up staring blankly at a photograph on the wall of a yacht on the ocean. It’s almost trance-like, how you sit there and stare, and you end up nearly jumping out of your seat when the heavy wooden doors open again and an elegant looking, well-dressed man walks through flanked by the woman who greeted you.

“Good morning.” Antonio smiles as he assesses the woman who had inherited a fortune and more. He is aware of the details of the will and the history behind it, so he feels like this is personal. “We will have quite a few things to go through, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to make myself a plate.” He chuckles. “No breakfast yet and I’m hungry.”

“Of course.” It’s a little bit like permission, and you feel comfortable enough pouring a cup of black coffee and putting a croissant on a plate for yourself when Mr. Colette motions for you to join him. In a few mere moments the three of you are sitting down at the conference table and Raquel presents her boss with a thick folder of paperwork in a leather sleeve and takes out her own notebook in turn.

“Now.” Antonio looks down at the paperwork and then back up at you. “Thank you for coming so quickly.” He starts off with. “Hopefully this transition will be seamless for you and perhaps after this I can show you around your new home?”

“It still doesn’t feel very real,” you admit, carefully sipping your hot coffee and looking down at the papers in front of him. “And you said there’s two other people…already living there?”

“Yes.” He nods. “Family friends of Ms. Brown.” He tells you vaguely.

“Alright.” Already you’ve made up your mind not to bother them, these people who live in a house that you’re inheriting out of nowhere. Who are you to intrude in their lives? “I assume there’s a lot of paperwork? I’ve never owned a house before so this is all new to me.”

“The taxes and the maintenance for the home are paid out of the trust. So you do not need to worry about that. If anything happens, call and we will take care of getting the bill paid.” He explains. “I’ve already taken the liberty of ordering you debit cards and credit cards.” He pulls out an envelope and slides it over to you. “All of them are active and ready to use.”

So people really live like this, huh? is all you can think to yourself as the lawyer’s secretary also sets a card down in front of you that has a man’s name and phone number with the title of caretaker listed on it. That along with the cards already has your head spinning, but then a set of keys is set down on the table as well. Front door. Kitchen door. Terrace doors. Each antique key is labeled carefully with a tag in elegant handwriting. Closets. Attic storage. Utility closet. It’s so much to take in — too much, arguably — and then a set of car keys is added to the pile. “What’s this?” You ask, already starting to feel your head spin a little.

“This is the car.” Antonio tells you. “The 1963 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray that Ms. Brown also willed to you.” He hums. “I have all the maintenance records for the car here as well. Her other cars were sold or given away before she died, but this one conveyed with her other belongings to you. I believe she said, ‘it goes with the house’.”

“I—um—wow…” Not that you know much about cars, but it sounds impressive and you’re momentarily thankful that you’ve been driving stick for the last few years, since your broken-down third-hand Volvo came into your life. “Are there any more surprises I should be aware of?”

“I’m not exactly sure what you will consider surprises.” The lawyer chuckles and slides a scrap of paper towards you. “The combination to the safe. It’s where the collection of Ms. Brown’s jewelry is.”

A safe full of jewels, a presumably fancy vintage car, a mansion, and a literal fortune? Frankly, it’s all a surprise. “If this house comes with servants I might black out,” you warn jokingly, staring at the slip of paper with the safe combination like it’s a foreign language.

“Well, the staff is paid from the trust.” He tells you seriously. “If you wish to make changes, please let me know. Right now….” He shuffles some papers. “There is the housekeeper and her assistant, the gardener, the pool company, and the window washer.” He looks up. “The pool company and window washer come by once a week. The gardener, the housekeeper and her assistant are all full time employees.”

The dead pan stare you have for the man is completely slack, and it takes far longer than you’re proud of to shake off the embarrassment of staring at him like an imbecile. “You’re serious?” You ask in equal parts confusion and awe. “I was kidding.”

“I assure you, the help is needed.” He tells you seriously. “A house of this size could not possibly be managed by one person alone.”

“Right.” The best you can do is nod vaguely and try not to have a panic attack over the responsibility landing in your lap, and you look between the lawyer and his clerk again. “You said it’s…eight bedrooms?” That place must be a palace…

“That is…the main bedrooms.” Antonio admits. “That doesn’t include the old servants’ quarters, although they are not occupied now.”

“Fuuuuck…” Even mumbling under your breath is obvious, and the paper that is slid in front of you is a clearly labeled blueprint of the house. Four floors, distinctly marked 38,000 square feet, and with more doorways, closets, and stairwells than you can shake a stick at.

“I can understand that it is overwhelming, but the staff is prepared for your arrival.” You look panicked and he doesn’t think that’s a good thing. It’s almost as if you feel…guilty.

“Can I ask…?” Swallowing down the dear at how daunting all of this feels, you abandon your small breakfast and sit back in the uncomfortable padded chair you’re seated in. “Anything about Ms. Brown? What did she do? How did she pass?” Where did all her money come from? The fact is, you had never even heard of her, but she left you an entire life.

“Ms. Brown died at 91.” He’s a little surprised that you are curious, but you don’t seem to be the type of person that is overly greedy. “Complications of old age.”

“I see.” Jittery fingers curl the edge of one page and you bite your lip, trying to see if anything doesn’t fit. But it all seems to knit together properly, in a way that just accidentally benefits you in the craziest way possible. “And she was just…independently wealthy?” It seems unlikely considering your family has so little, but who knows? Anything is possible.

“Some of it was leftover from her wealthy soulmate.” He admits. “They never had children. Some of it was from investments. She was a smart lady.”

“She must have been.” It’s easy to just waste money, you’ve seen that firsthand too many times. “Well…I assume I need to sign things? Make the ownership…official?”

“Absolutely.” He cracks a small smile. “Sign your life away, is the saying.”

Raquel slides a stack of papers over towards you. “All the places for you to sigh are indicated with a tab.”

A dozen different signatures and initials go by like lightning and before you know it, Raquel is excusing herself with the stack of papers to make copies and file things away. “Is there…anything else?” You ask, tentative about what else there could even be.

“Nothing that I can think of.” Mr. Colette hums. “I had the housekeeper stock the pantry and kitchen with basic items.” He tells you.

“That was very kind of you.” Since you aren’t really sure what else to say, you take a determined look at the pile of keys in front of you and muster a smile. “Would you mind showing me the house? The drive was long and it would be nice to settle in.” The further you get from Derek and his reach, the better off you know you will be. Even if you had loved him as best as you could — it had never been enough. Maybe these next people won’t be too disappointed in you. Not the way he was, at least.

“Of course.” He would make sure that you are comfortable before he turns you loose on the house. Or perhaps abandoning you to it would be a more apt phrasing. “Whenever you wish to leave here. I’ve cleared my schedule for the morning.”

“There’s no time like the present, I guess? I can follow you in my car.” You have half a mind to ask if the other occupants will be there, but you can’t see how he would possibly know that so you put the question aside in your mind.

“Of course.” He can’t think of anything else that needs to be address. “We will file all of the paperwork with the probate court and you will be receiving new registration for the car and a title to the house in four to six weeks. Sometimes it does take a few months.” He warns.

“I can’t imagine I’ll need them with any kind of speed.” After all, you have no plans to do anything of importance. In fact, if you never do anything besides sit in your little corner of this town for the rest of your life and remain unnoticed by everyone, you’ll be happier for it.

“Well.” He hands off the papers to the assistant and stands. “Shall we?” He asks, motioning towards the door.

******

Even with the heavy traffic of downtown Newport, the drive from the Law Offices of Colette & Dupree over to Bellevue Avenue takes under ten minutes. You drive by a grocery store and a drug store on the way – both good things to know the location of – as well as numerous high end shops, restaurants, and cafes. There is a bustling town here and it looks like students, too. Young adults with stuffed-full backpacks wearing all manner of paraphernalia that reads Salve Regina University seem to dominate certain areas.

After what seems like dozens of affluent homes, Mr. Colette’s blinker turns on before one of many stone walls and turns left into a driveway. When you follow suit and drive through the front gate, you’re glad to be alone because the gasp you let out is audible. Chateau-sur-Mer rises up and peeks out from behind trees like a monument. More massive than you ever would have dreamed of, the stone-faced house points north with a beautiful, multifaceted landscape surrounding it in every direction. Three stories, with a beautiful back porch, and spires and a tower to boot, the house is offset by a gigantic weeping tree that you don’t recognize and an otherwise reasonably sized house in one corner of the property that seems utterly dwarfed by the mansion it otherwise guards. Caretaker, you remember after a second. There is a caretaker…and presumably that is where he lives? It’s just…you had already had trouble wrapping your head around it. But now that you see it? It’s just…beautiful.

The sleek Jaguar comes to a stop and Antonio steps out and turns towards the older, slightly perilous looking Volvo. He hopes that you will get rid of it, or replace it now that you have the means. He had watched it seemingly buck several times while stopped at traffic lights.

“This is it?” If your question sounds dubious, it isn’t meant to. Honestly you’re almost too flabbergasted to really wrap your head around everything. There are a few cars parked under a structure to the left of the house that you assume used to be stables, from the look of it. Now the small windows that show you inside give a peak at bumpers and break lights instead of manes and carriages. There are a half dozen cars inside that you assume must belong to the other occupants and the staff, with more empty spaces standing open before the gorgeous black and chrome sports car that you now hold the keys to. “I mean it’s…it’s so much room. I’m almost glad there’s other people who will be around a lot.”

“The property is safe.” He assures you. “There’s a surveillance system that you can access and a security system that nothing in the world can rival.” He chuckles at his own joke and motions towards the house. “Shall we go inside?”

“Sure.” Not that you understand why one little old lady would need such a hardcore security system, but you nod anyway and let the lawyer – your lawyer? – lead the way. The house looms, almost daring you to come inside, but you are faced with an ordinary carved wooden door when you actually get close.

"It was built in 1852. Or completed in that year." Mr. Colette tells you as he takes the large keyring from you to unlock the front door and hands the keys back to you with a small grin. "It was once considered a ‘cottage’." He scoffs. "Although I tend to think of something a little smaller as a cottage."

“This is about four cottages all stacked on top of each other.” Walking through the front door cloaks you in near-darkness immediately. When your eyes adjust you stumble up a half-dozen wide marble steps into a front hall that grows up and up and up into an atrium taller than any you’ve ever seen before. The staircase behind you looks like it belongs to the set of a BBC drama and the thick red velvet curtains hanging in the entryway feel more like an old proscenium theater than a house. But the warm carved wood everywhere and colorfully painted forest scenes on the walls are immediately cozy in their own right. “Oh wow…” Your eyes are wide as you look around. It’s…it’s stunning.”

“Any changes you want to make, you are perfectly able to.” The lawyer reminds you, although he couldn’t imagine wanting to change anything about this estate. The mixture of Victorian and Gilded age architecture is a perfect combination to make a gorgeous house.

“I really don’t think that will be necessary.” After all, people already live here. The last thing you want to do is intrude on other people’s lives. “So this is the Great Hall, I guess?” The floor plan that Raquel gave you at the lawyer’s office is going to end up being invaluable, you think, as you pull it out and inspect the drawing of the first floor.

“Yes.” While he’s happy you don’t want to change anything, your tone makes it sound like it would be rude to do so. “The kitchens have been completely remodeled, modern appliances, but they still kept the charm of the rest of the house.”

“And that’s…” You consult the floor plan when there isn’t an obvious appliance anywhere in sight. “In the basement?”

“It is on the lower level.” Guiding you into the house, he explains. “Heat caused by the kitchens was unwanted so after the kitchens being in a different building fell out of fashion, they decided to make sure the kitchen was in the basement to keep the rest of the house cooler during the summer months. There’s the elevator over here, if you wish to use that instead of taking the stairs?”

Mr. Colette motions to the left of the main stairwell, to a portion of the first floor with red and black patterned flooring, and down a hallway. Curious enough to be led around by the suggestion and also noting that the floor plan in your hands says Servants’ Hall for this portion of the house, you follow him tentatively and watch him open what appeared to be a regular closet door. Instead there is a metal grating behind it, which is also opened, and a carved dark wood elevator car stands waiting for you. The kind of thing that would absolutely get you killed in a horror movie, it’s surprisingly sturdy when you step into it and Colette closes the door and gate easily. He presses the ‘B’ button before you can even ask about stairs and the antique elevator jolts to life, headed downstairs.

“Don’t worry,” he sends you a reassuring smile. “The elevator is safe.” He listens to the clanking and feels the carriage start to slow down.

The basement of this house is not like any basement you’ve ever been in before. The enormously long hallway with red and black flooring identical to the hall upstairs seems to stretch and stretch, and there are more doors down here than you could ever fathom needing. But there are voices coming from a room just a few yards away and that is both comforting and nerve-wracking at once. Other people means you won’t be lonely, but it also means new needs, new demands, and potentially new people to disappoint.

“Mr. Colette?” A woman’s voice sounds, loud and clear with a thick Rhode Island accent, from the room and only half a second later a tall, slim woman with gray and silver peppered through her brown hair and glasses attached to a beaded chain appears in the hall. “We weren’t sure when to expect you,” she says with a thin smile. “And this must be the new owner.”

“Yes.” The lawyer who has spent many hours in this house smiles at the housekeeper and waves your forward. Introducing you by your first and last name. “This is Marjorie Taylor and Renee Green. They are the ones who keep the house sparkling and the linens fresh.” He explains. “Mrs. Taylor would also cook for you if you would like.”

“I insist on it,” Mrs. Taylor informs you, smiling in a sort of polite-but-curious way and she shakes your hand when you offer it. “It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am.” When you falter and repeat your first name, thinking that maybe she had forgotten it or something, she shakes her head and gives you that same amused, thin-lipped smile. “There are a couple of things we stay old fashioned about here,” she tells you. But leaves out that the contract she signed with the rather suave gentleman who hired her specified it. “I’m Mrs. Taylor. This is Renee. The caretaker is Mr. Taylor, and the gardener is Mr. Finchley. The whole staff live in the caretaker’s cottage on the grounds and we are always reachable except for our day off each week. The schedule is written out for you. I left it on the desk in the library along with the necessary phone numbers and other important information.

“You’re very thorough, Mrs. Taylor.” It comes out with a note of surprise and you drop your eyes to the floor, embarrassed. “I mean — thank you. It is very much appreciated.”

“It is my pleasure.” She assures you with a soft smile. “It will be good to have people in the home again.” The others that were here kept to themselves and were often not around.

“I’m just one person,” you assure her, as if to say that you won’t cause trouble or get in the way. Those were things that Derek accused you of far too often. Even if it is the job that these people have taken on — the job not cleaning and cooking and taking care — you would never want to be a burden or a strain on them. “And…I tend to be fairly low key.”

“Well, I hope that you will let us take care of you.” Mrs. Taylor hums. “We have been delighted to hear that you had been located and were coming. I am sure that we will find a way to rub along together.”

“I’m sure.” You say, trying to smile and be reassuring. These people seem to be expecting a boss, not a wallflower, and that isn’t what you are. “I’m very glad to have gotten the call.” That, at least, is true.

“Would you like breakfast after the tour?” She asks. “I can have a tray brought up to whatever room you choose, and Mr. Taylor would be happy to bring up any luggage and boxes you have.”

Renee nods. “I would be happy to help you unpack.” She offers.

“I don’t want to be any trouble.” You protest immediately, but both women give you such placid, polite smiles that you swallow your anxiety about butting into the house and replace it with fear of being rude. “I—I mean…thank you. That actually sounds very nice.”

“Our pleasure.” The elder woman assures you. “Perhaps later on, once you have settled in, we can go over your preferences.” She tilts her head. “For now, do you have any food allergies I should make note of?”

“None.” Just as soon as you shake your head though, something in your gut churns and the smell of Derek’s cheap beer somehow overtakes you out of nowhere. It’s like a sense memory you never needed, and you stammer inelegantly. “But I—I, um…I don’t drink. Alcohol, I mean.” You did before. A long time ago. But seeing what it did to the man you thought you were going to spend your life with has ruined it for you. Soulmate or not, you had really thought Derek was the one. But his one comes in a can.

“Yes ma’am.” If it sounds odd to her, she doesn’t make it visible, just nodding politely. “I will make sure you have a nice tray sent up, I know you will be tired from travel.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Taylor.” “I’ll show our new resident The call buttons after she chooses a bedroom, so you’ll know where to bring her tray.” Colette assures the housekeeper with a smile. “We’ll just head back upstairs.”

“Perfect.” She smiles at the lawyer. “Oh, Max and Eddie aren’t here right now, so if you show her their rooms, just go right in.”

You thank both women again and follow Mr. Colette back upstairs, where he motions to the left of the hallway where the elevator is hidden and you end up in a room that is wall-to-wall cabinets. There are beautiful serving pieces and sets of China in those cases, as well as stunning crystal and glassware. If you ever throw a Victorian themed dinner party, it looks like you’ll be all set for dishes.

“The preservation society on the island has been itching to get their hands on this estate.” Antonio muses as he slows down to let you take in the vastness of the collection. “Ms. Brown always enjoyed thumbing her nose at them.” He chuckles quietly. “I believe that you would have liked her. She was a firecracker.”

“She had great taste.” There is a set of China in the cases that you keep coming back to — the intricate gilding and beautifully painted flowers utterly mesmerizing you for a few moments. There seem to be three different full sets of China here and two full sets of glassware. Every different size dish or glass you can think of is here.

“Now it is yours to keep and use however you wish.” He reminds you as he moves towards the display of real silverware.

“I think it’s actually harder to wrap my head around that now that I’m in the house,” you admit, trying for a laugh and just sort of letting out a huffed breath instead. On the floor plan, the door to the left of you is marked Butler’s Pantry and that seems like someplace you shouldn’t go. To the right, though, the plan says Dining Room. “This way next?” You guess? The door looks innocuous enough — it’s just a dining room. It can’t be that crazy.

“Wherever you would like to go.” Antonio insists as he pushes open the swinging double doors silently. The large dining room table with the massive set of three chandeliers dominates the room.

The gasp from your lips has you pretty sure that you’re going to be saying “Wow” a hell of a lot in this house, and every room just makes the feeling grow. From the forest green walls of the dining room outfitted with ornate carvings in dark wood – to the silver painted walls of the ballroom with its six foot high mirrors and gilt relief work on every wall panel. A parlor room off one end of the ballroom is all decorated in green silk fabric – even the walls – with clean white accents. Beyond that is a hallway with a stained-glass ceiling and a white marble floor that is decked in red leather sofas and contains huge white marble statues and paintings on the walls that are nearly life sized. The library is the most ornate yet, with carvings on every single wooden surface, lush carpeting and sitting space, and even a hidden door built into one bookcase. “Where does that go?” You ask immediately, too tentative to open it yourself.

“This, I believe, goes to the morning room.” He tells you, cocking his head as he thinks. “It has been some time since I have completely gone through the house.” He admits.

“Is it okay to go through? I mean the house is old but it’s not so old that it’s unsafe, right?” The idea of a door in a book axe is too good for anyone to pass up, especially you.

“Absolutely.” Antonio pulls the leaver to open the door. “Ms. Brown and her soulmate would spend quite I bit of time in this room. I believe it was her favorite.”

The middle section of the bookcase pulls toward you smoothly, allowing you and Mr. Colette to pass into a large corner room with enormous picture windows on two sides and built in bookcases on every other wall. Like an extension of the library there are books everywhere, a red leather windows seat that matches the sofas in the marble hall, and even intricate wooden shutters that close over the windows in sections to regulate how much light is let in. One side of the room is dominated by a large fireplace with yet one more large mirror set in the wall above it, and there are small statues all along the mantle. A billiard table takes up most of the space in the middle of the room, but a table and chairs and a desk also fit neatly with plenty of room to move.

“This house goes on forever,” you observe with a laugh of disbelief.

“It is one of the larger cottages.” He agrees. “In fact, it was the largest house until the Vanderbilts built the Breakers.” He imparts that little fact with a smirk as he looks around the room. “But I’ve always been fond of this estate.”

“It’s beautiful.” Having seen it up close and personal, you can imagine that photos don’t do it justice. It must seem crowded or busy in pictures. But in person? It’s like the house is hugging you. After another minute looking around the morning room, you follow Colette back out to the entryway and head upstairs. There is fabric, not wallpaper, hanging on the walls around the master staircase and it is painted with a forest scene that seems reminiscent of folk tales. Like magic could be lurking behind any corner or a satyr just might come out from behind a bush. There is a tree painted on the underside of the enormous staircase, trunk and branches extending upward to sprout leaves and welcome birds, and it crawls all the way up the stairwell to extend out to the ceiling of the second-floor landing and atrium. Dozens of little painted songbirds light on branches everywhere to make you feel like you have climbed into the forest that is painted on the walls.

“Every room has its own theme.” He explains at the top of the stairwell looking down the hallway at the doors. “If you don’t mind. I will step away to make a call.”

"Of course." Far be it from you to stop him from attending to his business, and you follow along the railing in the hallway to make your way into a different hall. This one is just a rectangular room with the now familiar built-in cases along the walls, paintings and intricate light fixtures above the cases, and six doors to choose from. To open them one by one seems like a massive intrusion, but you can't figure out any other way to see what else is up here. The floor plan marks four bedrooms on this floor as well as a sitting room and a nursery, though you can't understand why there is a nursery if there were never any children living here. Maybe your great-aunt and her soulmate wanted children but just could never have them? That's a far sadder thought than you can muster at the moment.

Hoping that you're facing the right direction, you open the door on the opposite wall from where you are standing and – yes, you had it right – the sitting room is full of plush chairs and love seats with a petite fireplace that has a huge flatscreen television over it where you assume a mirror once stood. The fireplace has a small stand inside it that obviously prevents fires from ever being laid, but more importantly seems to be the storage rack for multiple video game systems. Whoever Max and Eddie are, these other occupants of the house seem to thoroughly enjoy video games.

To the right of that room is a beautifully laid bedroom with honey colored furniture and homey gray and white pinstripe wallpaper. A writing desk stands at the ready between a window trimmed in lace curtains and a white marble fireplace, and it feels like exactly the kind of room that you would love to be brought to if you were a guest in someone's house. As much as it is sweet, inviting, and unexpectedly friendly, it feels…spoken for somehow. It’s nothing you can describe fully, but it makes you think that you shouldn’t disturb the room. Like whoever had claimed it originally might still come back one day to curl up in that bed or sit down at that desk.

There are two more bedrooms – one with furniture made of a wood that is somehow remarkably the same shade as roasted butternut squash and the other with a luxurious, if slightly gothic, yellow velvet and dark walnut loveseat and red upholstered chairs in it that all beg to be read in – but both rooms very obviously are occupied. These must be the rooms that Max and Eddie claimed whenever it was that they arrived. The next door to the left of Max's room yields a large, airy bedroom decorated in all sorts of shades and textures of blue with dark wood furniture and soft pink silk and lace curtains over the windows. A painting of a smiling young woman hangs above the fireplace with two lamps in the shapes of cherubs holding the light source aloft. Two cream-colored chairs sit by a small table and two more blue velvet chairs flank another. You could have a whole party in this spick-and-span room without any effort whatsoever.

“This is the one, I see.” Antonio has returned. Lingering in the doorway as he watches you move from Knick knack to knick knack with an almost dreamy expression on your face. “Let me show you the call system.” He gives you an apologetic look. “I’m afraid that I am needed in court.”

A set of buttons by the door to what you very accidentally have apparently selected as your room will summon a member of the house's small staff, Mr. Colette tells you, and there is a similar button on a handle by your bed, almost like the call button for a nurse in the hospital. "Don't let me keep you," you murmur, waving off another apology from the man who has literally swept into your life and changed everything about it. The last thing you want is to stand in the way of anything he has to do. "I'll, um...I guess I'll unpack."

As if on a secret cue, the door to the elevator opens on the other side of the hall and an ornate rolling cart, much like the ones at the posh hotels, rolls out. Your trash bags are all neatly stacked with the few boxes and the one bag you had managed to take from your ex's house. The older, stately looking man pushing it does not judge, his sharp eyes looking for the room where the new owner has decided to take up residence so he can help in any way possible. Renee is behind him, a fully ladened tray on another rolling cart.

You can hear them rolling down the hallway before you see them, and Mr. Colette smiles in satisfaction. “I’ll leave you to it,” he says, looking toward the doorway as the source of the noise comes into view. “If you need anything, you have your staff here, and my number. Please don’t hesitate.”

“Right. Thank you, Mr. Colette.” As soon as you say his name he disappears from view, and you’re left face-to-face with the embarrassing sight of your trash bags in this gorgeous home.

“I took the liberty of moving your car into the carriage house.” Mr. Taylor tells you. In addition to being the caretaker, he also maintains all the vehicles here. Your car is in sore need of some TLC and he is already itching to get to it.

“That’s very kind of you. You really don’t have to go through any extra trouble.” The sight of garbage bags just feels wrong in a house this old and grand, and it just makes you feel like apologizing for that, too. “As you can see it…it really shouldn’t take me too long to get settled in.”

“It just means you can rest.” Renee offers with a smile as she rolls the tray over to the couches and table. “Here, ma’am?” She asks politely.

"Hopefully it won't take too long to find a new job." The offhanded and automatic thought doesn't even phase you, although you don't enjoy the fact that you'll have to explain why your last place let you go. At least you can assure them that it won't happen anymore – since Derek isn't in your life there won't be any erratic or unexpected phone calls to have to respond to immediately. "Thank you, Renee. It...it all looks wonderful." Laden with a steaming silver coffeepot and fresh pastries with butter, jam, and fruit, the delicate China on the tray looks like it has been laid for a queen.

“My pleasure, ma’am.” Mr. Taylor quietly excuses himself, and Renee turns towards the cart with an eagerness to begin. “Do you have some specific organization for your things?” She asks, hoping to know how you would like things. “Or shall I organize them for you?”

Even if you had specific organization, it would no longer apply to this house. The feeling that everything should be in a specific place and that rooms have specific functions is very different from how you were living before. "I'm sure you'll know just where things are supposed to go," you tell her, with a definite air of 'because I don't have any clue'.

“Yes ma’am.” She nods and immediately whirls around to start wheeling the cart into the dressing room just off to the side of the bathroom.

"Renee?" Following her just a few steps and sticking your head into the dressing room, you have to swallow yet another sigh over how beautiful this house is and how grand everything seems at first blush. You shake it away, though, when her head pops up expectantly. "I don't suppose I could ask any of you to call me by my name, could I? Mrs. Taylor seemed rather set on using a title..."

“It— it’s not done.” Renee admits with a bashful smile. “Although Mrs. Taylor did call Ms. Brown by her nickname at Ms. Brown’s insistence.”

"She had a nickname?" For some reason that intrigues you, even though she had an unusual name to begin with. You've never heard of a woman named Etienne before.

“Cookie.” Renee smiles fondly. “She went by Cookie for as long as she could remember.”

"That's very sweet." And actually makes you smile too, though you can't quite figure out why it warms you through the way it does.

“Do you have a nickname, ma’am?” She asks curiously. “I am sure that Mrs. Taylor would have no issue using a nickname for you.”

"I—" About to protest that you really don't, or at least that you can't think of one, a long-lost memory gets dredged up from the bottom of your mind that you haven't given any thought to in a long time. "I used to like being called Dolly. Quite a lot."

“Yes Ms. Dolly.” The nickname is no more unusual than ‘Cookie’ and the smile that thinking of your nickname is soft and real as it makes you light up.

"Thank you, Renee." It actually relaxes you measurably just to have a little bit less formality, and you offer the girl another genuine, if small, smile.

"My pleasure." She turns back to the bag that is opened and starts to carefully remove all of the clothes to sort and organize into piles before she can fold or hang them. "I should have all of this sorted in just an hour or so."

"Please don't feel like you need to rush. It isn't like I have anywhere to go." The fact that someone else is doing your laundry makes you more than a little embarrassed but you try to remember that it's literally her job. "But...again...thank you."

She doesn't bother to remind you that it's her job, just humming quietly as she continues to make note of what you have that needs pressing.

"Renee?" Even after you've walked away, you double back to look into the dressing room where she is sorting through the things you brought from Tennessee. "Was, this...um...was this Ms. Brown's room?"

"It was, Dolly." She stands up and moves towards the door. "Does that upset you?"

"I...don't really know," you admit after a moment of thinking about it. "I think it's more that...I don't want to disturb it? Like if she had a favourite chair, or painting, or lamp or something, then I wouldn't ever want to move it." Saying it out loud makes you sigh, and you huff a laugh at yourself. "That probably sounds silly."

Her own laugh is slightly ironic. "Please don't worry about that." She assures you. "Ms. Brown loved to rearrange her furniture based off of how she was feeling that week." She tells you. "It drove Mrs. Taylor up the wall, but she would almost insist on moving most of it herself. Even up until a few years ago."

"Wasn't she in her 90s?" You ask, surprised to hear anything so active about the old woman who had lived here.

"She was spry." Renee can sense that you are eager for information about the older lady that had lived in this house. "She did love to pull the chaise in front of the windows and read." She tells you. "Especially on rainy days where the storm raged outside. She would sit with a pot of tea or hot chocolate for hours."

"God, that sounds so relaxing." And in a house full of books, who could blame her? You can't even imagine actually having the time to read every book you saw in the house while you were walking around. " I might have to follow suit for a little while. Just...until I find a new job."

Renee frowns slightly and tilts her head. "A job?" She asks. "Are you someone who likes to keep busy?"

"I guess—" It hadn't occurred to you that you could just not have a job, and that makes you frown far deeper than Renee is at the moment. "I guess so? I didn't really think...I've just always had a job. I didn't really think I'd ever be able to not have one..."

"Perhaps you have something you enjoy doing?" She asks. "Forgive me for being so forward, but you have the means to do whatever you wish now, Dolly."

"I guess I haven't really given it a lot of thought." That makes you frown again, this one considerably more confused, and you shrug your shoulders. "I won't bother you anymore. Thank you, Renee." It's a heady thought to chew over while you eat your breakfast, but it's something that you're going to have to think about. What did you dream about when you used to dream of growing up? You can barely remember anymore.

She doesn't want to pry, so she nods again and turns back towards the dressing room again. It's obvious that you are kind of lost and her heart goes out to you. Hopefully being here will make the sadness in your eyes disappear.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie

My Masterlist!

[looooooooomis]

F I N A L  G I R L  |   T W O

You were his final girl. And there was no chance in hell that anyone or anything was going to mess that up.

p a r t  t w o  |  h a l l o w e e n   n i g h t

masterlist here

pairing: billy loomis x f!reader   word count: 4.3k   warnings: implied/referenced cheating, swearing (obv), drinking, implied smut, genuine S M U T, rough oral, thigh-riding, unprotected sex, all that fun stuff.

Billy couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

Not that he ever really could – and who could blame him, really – but tonight? Tonight, you were on a whole other level.

Stu’s house was packed to the brim with people, too fucking packed for Billy’s liking, but he’d make do. He might have wanted nothing more than to ditch the party, throw you over his shoulder, and have his way with you all night long but he couldn’t exactly do that. Not the first two, at least. But the second he could escape, he would, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t getting his hands on you tonight.

Maybe it was your little talk in the cornfield last night or maybe it was on account of that goddamn Halloween costume you were wearing but Billy was ready to have you all to himself. He needed to have you all to himself tonight.

It wasn’t as though he hadn’t seen you in your cheerleading uniform before, in fact, he’d seen you in it a thousand times prior to tonight but the way you wore it tonight made him harder than he could fathom. The skirt was hiked shorter than usual making you appear all the leggier in your white knee-high socks and tennis shoes and the though the top hadn’t changed all that drastically it, like the rest of you, was covered in fake blood. There were drops of crimson corn syrup, now long dried, dripping from those perfect lips of yours and continuing down your throat until bleeding into the material of your cropped cheerleading top. The sliver of skin showing your abdomen had a single bloodied handprint on it as well and your thighs, those gorgeous fucking thighs of yours, had a few more messy handprints that seemed to trail up your leg before disappearing beneath the hem of your skirt.

He was in agony watching you carry on laughing with Tatum from across the room. You had no right to look that fucking good tonight, not when Sidney was directly beside him idly talking to Randy about some stupid fucking test that he couldn’t bring himself to care about.

How could he focus on anything besides you tonight?

“Your girl’s looking hot tonight,” Stu chimed in quietly, smirking knowingly across the room towards where you and Tatum stood. “All that blood. All that leg.” He made a purring sound and grinned. “You going to be able to keep it in your pants until tonight?”

“Subtlety, dickmunch,” Billy growled. “Try it sometime.”

Throwing his hands up in mock surrender, Stu giggled and sprung across the room towards where you and Tatum were. Without missing a beat, Billy watched Stu throw Tatum over his shoulder, much to her chagrin, before running back to Billy, Sid, and Randy. Shooting Billy a wink, Stu mouthed a quick ‘you’re welcome’ before carefully plopping Tatum onto her feet. Sure enough, there you were, following the happy couple with a smile on your face as you joined them.

“Whole party just saw your girlfriend’s ass, numb nuts,” you laughed, playfully smacking Tatum’s ass. “Cute panties though, girl, take me next time. I’ll pick myself up a pair.”

Tatum grinned and cozied herself into Stu’s side. “Deal,” she chuckled, battling with the fake vampire teeth in her mouth. With a groan, she took them out and chucked them into the trash bin a few feet away. “Remind me again why I thought that would be a good idea.”

“So, you’re a vampire,” Randy mused, eyeing her all-black attire. “That checks out. You’ve got the personality down pat.”

Stu furled his brows as his girlfriend smacked Randy’s chest. “We’re both vampires, idiot, isn’t it obvious? I’m wearing a fucking cape.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Randy rolled his eyes and glanced around the circle of friends surrounding him. “The rest of you I got right off the bat. Sid’s a witch, Billy’s a moody looking skeleton boy and Y/N is a dead cheerleader.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” you clicked your tongue and pointed your beer bottle towards him in mock-outrage. “I’m not a dead cheerleader, Randy, I’m a demonic cheerleader. There’s a difference.”

“Oh, so you’re just a regular cheerleader, then.” Randy teased. When all he got was another smack to the chest, he surrendered. “Alright, alright. What’s the difference?”

“Well, for one,” you shrugged, “I’m not the victim. I’m the bad guy.”

“Bad guy, huh?” Billy piped in, watching you with that heavy stare of his. “What makes you so bad?”

“I eat boys,” you simply said, holding his purposeful gaze.

The corners of Billy’s lips raised in a small smirk at the innuendo but rather than let on, he simply ducked his head down and ran a hand through his hair. You were playing with fire tonight and it was obvious to him that you knew as much.

You’d definitely pay for that later on.

“Well, I think you look hot,” Sid smiled. “Blood and all.”

“Thanks, Sid,” you smacked on a smile and took a rather hasty gulp of beer. “You’re look like a babe tonight, too.”

“Thanks,” she flushed and looked down at her red dress. “It’s Tatum’s dress, I was scared it was going to be a little much on me.”

“Just enough,” you corrected with an honest smile. With your mouth suddenly dry and your guilt at an all-time high, you licked your lips and gave her a wink. “Billy’s a lucky guy.”

Leaning into Billy’s lean frame, Sid tilted her head up and placed a quick kiss to the side of his mouth. Averting your eyes immediately to the island between you and the doting couple, you tried not to let your discomfort show as you polished off the rest of your beer. That never got an easier to watch, no matter how much reassurance you got from Billy on the matter. At the end of the day, you were in love with Billy Loomis all the while being best friends with Sidney Prescott, his extraordinarily kind and sweet girlfriend. It was bound to be a tough pill to swallow.

From across the kitchen island, you caught Stu’s eye and for a brief moment, you saw a something eerily close to pity flicker across his face. Clearing your throat, you shook your empty bottle at the group and nodded towards the garage. “Anybody need a refill?”

“Yeah, sure,” Stu shrugged. “There’s a whole other keg in there actually. Be a dear and grab it?”

“A keg?” You snorted. “Who am I? The Hulk?”

Stu’s grin was cheeky as he nodded towards the garage. “Billy’ll help,” he simply said, squeezing Billy’s shoulder. “And hurry up, would you? Crowd’s getting thirsty.”

Rolling your eyes, you glanced at Billy briefly before nodding down the hall. “Come on, lover boy.” You teased, smiling apologetically at Sid who appeared none the wiser. “Be back in a sec.”

The hall leading down to the garage was crowded and full of your classmates dressed to the nines for Halloween. A few of the girls you were friends with smiled at you as you walked by, as did some of the guys, but the only thing you could focus on was the weight of Billy’s stare on your ass as you walked ahead of him. Sure, you mighthave been swinging your hips a little more than you should have been, but who could blame you? You were buzzed and Billy looked stupidly good tonight in his leather jacket and skeleton make-up. Even if said skeleton makeup was mostly gone from the amount of times he’d unwittingly rubbed at his face over the course of the night.

Pushing the door to the garage open, you held it open for Billy and shot him a brief smile as he walked into the chilly garage before closing the heavy door behind him. Walking down the steps towards the giant keg, you glanced over your shoulder and nearly laughed at the smouldering look he was giving you atop those steps. Turning around to face him fully, you gestured to the doorknob. “That thing have a lock on it?”

“Why?” He asked, leering. Slowly, he descended the steps towards you. Every step he took was agonizingly slower than the last but, being just as stubborn as he was, you remained firmly rooted in place with your own small smile in tow. “What would you have me do to you that would require a lock?”

“Who says you’d be doing anything?” You asked. “I’m the one who eats boys, remember?”

With a growl, he snaked his arms around your hips and pulled you into him. You could feel his budding erection through his jeans as he leaned down and nipped the base of your neck. The moan that escaped your lips on account of feeling his teeth dragging along your pulse point filled the empty garage and made Billy smile into the sensitive flesh. “Look at you in this fucking outfit. You’re a fucking tease, you know that?”

“Who’s teasing?” You asked. Reaching down, you gently squeezed him through his jeans and smirked when he swore under his breath. “I have every intention of following through.”

He kissed you hard and raked his fingernails up your bare thigh. The fake blood adorning your body might have been bone dry at this point in the night, but as he slid his hand beneath your skirt and rubbed his finger along the lace of your thong, a throaty laugh escaped his lips. You were so fucking wet. “Someone could come in here any second,” he whispered, pushing his finger beneath the material of your thong. The hiss that tore out of your throat sent him into a frenzy as he pinched your clit. “That get you wet, sweetheart? Knowing someone could walk in on us while I fuck you silly?”

“Billy,” you groaned, instinctually spreading your legs a little more to allow him full access to your slicked folds. “Lock the fucking door.”

“No,” he sucked at your bottom lip. “I want the whole fucking house to see us.”

Despite every rational part of your brain pleading with you to pull away from the infuriating man, you couldn’t. Not with how good he tasted on your lips and certainly not with his methodical fingers rubbing and pinching at your clit.

But two could play at that game.

Uncurling your fingernails from his shoulders, you got to work on his belt. Within seconds, it was gaping open as you fiddled with the button of his jeans and zipper before tugging them just far enough down his thigh for his cock to spring free. Biting down on his lip, you gave him a firm tug. “Lock. The. Fucking. Door. Loomis.”

You heard him laugh under his breath as he backed you into the keg. Once the back of your knees hit the coolness of the metal, you lost your footing and fell back against the piping along the top. The tap managed to hit you right on the tailbone, causing fireworks to explode behind your eyes, but with Billy’s deft hands still working your clit into a frenzy, you couldn’t bring yourself to care all that much. Stepping between your thighs, Billy’s hard cock danced across your wet folds as he tugged your underwear to the side. Your entire body was prepared to feel that familiar rush pure ecstasy that always followed that first, messy thrust. You were desperate for it in that moment, you craved it. But just as the tip teased its way down from your clit to your entrance, the garage door creaked open to reveal Stu’s handsome but mischievous face.

“Knew it,” he pretended to giggle as he quickly slid into the garage, being sure to shut it after to ensure nobody else saw the two of you. “Part of me thought ‘no way, they wouldn’t do it in my garage’ but the rest of me knew better. And, here you are.”

Swearing under his breath, Billy stepped away from you and ensured you were covered up entirely as he re-did his pants and belt. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

Between being caught up in the heated moment and feeling both shame and guilt for being caught, your cheeks must have been the colour of the devil himself as you ambled back onto your feet.

“Cock-block, asshole, the guy who just saved you from your girlfriend walking in on the two of you,” he casually waved it off, “I go by many names.”

“Shit,” you groaned, “how long were we gone for?”

“Not long,” Stu shrugged. “She just thought you two might need help seeing as how you were taking a few minutes.” He grinned. “Seems like you two kids had it all figured out, though.”

“Fuck-off for a second, would you?” Billy sighed and ensured Stu had turned around before looking back at you. Not wasting another second, he gently cradled your face and brushed something off of the tip of your nose. “White face paint,” he explained. Once he was sure it was gone, he leaned in and placed a sweet, chaste kiss to your lips. “Sorry about this.”

“Should have locked the door, Loomis,” you reminded him with a wink. Fixing your skirt, you walked back towards the steps and nodded towards the keg. “I’ll let you two carry that behemoth into the kitchen.”

Sliding past Stu, you opened the garage door and re-entered the crowded hallway. No one looked suspicious of you as you crept out and even when you re-joined Tatum and Sid – Randy having since left to tail some blonde chick in his algebra class – you simply smacked on a grin and asked them what you’d missed.

“Where’s Thing One and Thing Two?” Tatum asked, glancing over your shoulder.

“The keg’s a beast,” you simply said, “Stu showed up to help so I figured I’d leave it to them. Machismo bull-shit and all that.”

You hated how easy it was to lie to them. The guilt was still there, the guilt was always there, but over time the lying had become almost second nature to you. You could have a girl’s night with Sid, watch shitty movies all night long, and then proceed to fuck her boyfriend at two in the morning as she was sound asleep back home. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair.

And yet as Billy and Stu moseyed into the kitchen with the keg in tow, the look Billy gave you was enough to silence the swell of guilt boiling to the surface of your gut. It wasn’t a smoulderingly sexy look, not even an irritated look from having been cock-blocked by his best friend. No, this look was something different. Something softer, gentler, than the Billy everybody else knew so well. This look was one he’d reserved just for you. It was same look you got when he was half-asleep at three in the morning, groggily smiling across at you as though you’d hung the moon. The same one that seemed to take you in and memorize you as though half-expecting you to disappear before his very eyes. It was a look of pure wonderment, pure sincerity.

“You girls want to play beer pong?” One of the guys from the hockey team asked as you, Tatum and Sid watched the pair struggle.

“Yes,” the answer was out of your mouth before you had time to register the request. Dragging Tatum and Sid towards the dining room table, you shot one final glance at Billy before focusing ahead.

You were going to slip-up if he kept looking at you like that.

»»-------------¤-------------««

You’d barely managed to scrape all of the fake blood off of your face when you heard the familiar thud of your bedroom window. You were still dressed in your bloodied cheer uniform and the bloodied handprints smearing up your thighs and along your abdomen were still ever-present as you popped your head out of your washroom only to find Billy casually sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Couldn’t have waited until after I showered?” You asked with a small frown. “I look like Carrie from the neck down.”

Smirking, he pushed himself off of your bed and sauntered over towards you. He had since cleaned the skeleton make-up off of his face and the leather jacket had long been shed, but he still looked handsome as ever grinning across at you.

“I was hoping I’d catch you before you changed,” he admitted.

You raised your eyebrow and leaned against the doorway. “And why’s that?”

He said nothing at first, simply just reached forward to scrape his thumbs against your nipples which were pressing firmly against the thin material of your top. “Just because it’s after midnight doesn’t mean Halloween has to be over,” he slid his hands beneath the hem of your shirt and tugged it over your head. In nothing more than your skirt and knee-high socks, Billy’s calloused hands began to squeeze your bare breasts all the while never breaking eye contact. “Figured the demonic cheerleader might want to get one last kill in for the night.”

You hummed your approval as he pinched at your nipples. “And you’re volunteering yourself?”

Billy smirked and leaned down towards your chest to allow his mouth to consume your nipple. His expert tongue swirled along the sensitive nub a few times before devouring it entirely. Sucking and pinching and biting at your breasts, you barely noticed him steer you towards your bed until the soft material of your blankets were bawled into tensed fists.

“Billy,” you moaned, eyeing him through half-lidded eyes as he teased your nipples. “Fuck. Get up.”

Not listening to you whatsoever, he continued his assault on your tits before you finally gave his cock a firm squeeze from outside of his jeans. “Billy,” you repeated. When his cloudy stare caught yours, you cocked your head to the side and pat the mattress. “Get on the bed.”

With a smirk, Billy released your nipple before clambering onto the edge of the bed. Hitching your skirt up your thighs, you climbed over his lap and straddled him. His hungry eyes swallowed you up as you leaned into his face, your hair fell around you like a blanket, shielding you both away from everything around you as you very slowly tugged his head up to place a kiss to his nose.

His hands were on you immediately. They skimmed down your arms and waist and hips before giving your ass a long, firm squeeze. “You’re fucking perfect.”

You smirked and lowered yourself further down onto his lap so your clit was overtop his jean-clad thigh. “Shut-up,” you teased, slowly sliding back and forth atop his strong thigh. “Kiss me.”

With a quiet laugh, he craned his neck up to capture your lips as you continued to rock back and forth on his thigh. He wasted no time in hiking your skirt further up your body to allow him better access to your bare ass to which he hungrily massaged and grabbed. Moaning into his mouth, you felt his one of his hands wander from your ass and up your waist before giving your naked breast another firm squeeze. His mouth hungrily enveloped your breast as you gently flung your head back. Between the sensation of his tongue on your nipple and the feel of your clit scraping against his strong, muscular thigh, you were in heaven.

But fair was fair. If he wanted to be your ‘last kill of the night’? The very least you could do was play along.

Throwing your head back in ecstasy as he gently bit and sucked at your pert nipple, you reached down and unbuckled his belt. Your movements were frenzied as you worked on undoing his jeans next, and when you finally managed to undo his zipper, you unlatched your tit from his mouth and began to shimmy down his legs.

Billy watched you settle between his legs, barely taking notice of the damp streak on his thigh as you peeled his jeans down his hips. His cock sprang to life for the second time that night and as he watched your hungry eyes scrape over his painfully hard erection, he could have come right there.

Your lips were puffy from your little make-out session, your cheeks flushed. And as your chest heaved with each shallow breath you took, your already perky nipples only hardened. Scraping your fingernails up his thighs, you wasted no time in licking your way up from the base of his cock to the tip, swirling your tongue around his head as your hand gently massaged his balls. With hungry, half-lidded eyes, Billy watched that pretty mouth of yours take him. Slowly at first, but soon you fell into an easy rhythm as you sucked him off. He threw his head back as his fingers curled around your hair and tugged. Fuck, you were so good. And if he wasn’t careful, he’d blow his load in your mouth before you two could finish what you started in that damn garage.

Giving your hair another tug, you released his cock with a resounding pop and furled your brow. “Problem?” You asked stubbornly.

Without a word, he leaned forward and captured your lips in a bruising kiss as he carefully pulled you back onto the bed. Only rather than join you, he took his position between your thighs and tugged your thong clear off, exposing your extremely wet, throbbing pussy.

“Billy, let me fi—”

Before you could so much as think of your next few words, Billy buried his face between your thighs.

A guttural moan tore out of your lips as his dept tongue circled your clit, and as he inserted two fingers inside of you, you bucked into his mouth and grabbed a fistful of his hair. Billy’s tongue was euphoric, methodical. He lapped and sucked at your clit as his free hand reached up to play with your exposed breasts, rolling your nipple between his fingers roughly. “Billy,” you rasped out, squeezing your eyes shut as that familiar heat began to encroach its way up your body. Curling his fingers inside of you, you nearly screamed. Thank god your parents weren’t home. “Billy, fuck.”

You were going to come. Any second now. You felt that mind-numbing pleasure build up in your toes and up your legs and as he gave your clit another long, glorious suck, you let it overtake you. Your entire body shook as you bucked into his mouth. Stars flashed behind your eyes as a strangled moan tore from your throat.

Releasing your clit, Bily kissed and licked his way up your body before leaning forward to capture your lips again. You could taste yourself on his lips as you leaned forward and as your eyes caught sight of his erection, you opened your thighs on instinct. Pulling away from his mouth, you nudged your nose against his to catch his eye and reached down to stroke his unbearably hard cock. “Fuck me, Billy.”

He seemed to search your eyes for a moment as you pulled him back onto the bed. Once he was laying down, you wasted no time in climbing on top of him. Reaching down, you guided the length of him inside of your wet folds and slithered it along your clit before lowering yourself onto him. He hissed at the sensation and squeezed your ass, watching your breasts bounce with every bound you took. Leaning forward, he caught one in his mouth and bit down on your nipple, relishing in the moan he received on account of it. He must have bit harder than intended as within seconds, he could taste a metallic fluid rolling onto his tongue. Blood. Your blood. Looking back up at you, unsure of your reaction, his cock twitched inside of you when all you did was groan and tug at his hair.

You liked it.

Swirling his tongue around your nipple, Billy’s hands held your hips as you swiveled and bounced on top of him. He was going to come soon, he knew he was, but when he watched you reach down and begin to stroke your clit as he was buried inside of you, that was it. Leaning forward, he found your lips again as he came undone inside of you. “Fuck,” he rasped out, holding you firmly in place as his cock writhed inside of you.

Feeling his cock twitch, you waited on his last few pumps before breaking your kiss. “Happy Halloween, Loomis.”

A slow, lazy grin tore across his lips. The pair of you were stark naked in the middle of your bedroom, he was literally still inside of you, and yet there you were. Both grinning stupidly down at each other as your words sunk in. Slowly, you slid off of him and joined him on the bed your naked chest heaving up and down as he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“You going to kick me out of your bed so that you can shower?” He asked quietly.

“No,” you shrugged. “Not yet.”

Billy blinked, mild surprise showing on his face. But, before another word could be said, he leaned in and gently kissed your lips. Unlike the kisses you two had shared in the heat of the moment, this was soft and deliberate. And, as he pulled away, he placed another kiss to the tip of your nose before relaxing into the sheets. “Good,” he mumbled, pulling a thin blanket up your naked bodies.

You smiled and relaxed into the warmth in his chest. You absolutely should be slinking off to the bathroom to shower all the fake blood off of you, but that could wait another few minutes. For now, against Billy’s chest, basking in the pale moon glow shining in through your bedroom window, this was the only place you wanted to be.

LET ME KNOW IF YALL LIKED IT + IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO SEE MORE BILLY IMAGINES IN THIS SERIES BC YA GIRL IS WILLING

[myonepiece]

Hello! First, I'm in love with your writings, especially the ones with Killer and Kid (hope to see more about the Kid pirates in the manga). So, I was wondering if I may request some headcanons about them (separately) being "sweet" (in the own way of course) with fem s/o before and after being together. Maybe how they would behave or how they would talk when they are alone with her. They look tough guys but I think they have a secret sensitive side... God, I love them hahaha

Thank you for your time and your amazing work!!!!

Kid, Killer soft moments with S/O

description: Kid & Killer (seperate) soft moments they share with thier S/O before and after they get together

warnings: none

a/n: 💕💕

before:

this happens before & after, but it starts before- talking trash about people. when Kid got annoyed he would go to you and just pace around the room yelling about whoever/whatever pissed him off, and he would let you do the same with him. he would listen intently but he would also sometimes get lost watching you and when you caught him he would deny it and blush

whenever you were hanging at a bar with the crew, Kid would usually find his way to beside you and he wouldn’t leave your side for the rest of the night, he would tell you it wasn’t on purpose but really it was because he wanted to make sure no one wowuld approach you & you’re safe- and spending time with you~

this also happens before and after but it starts before, he hypes you up, major cheerleader. no one speaks bad on your name and gets away with it, and Kid is honestly the reason you specifically get into fights in bars, because Kid is over on the side lookng like a kid in a candy store (see what I did there) and you don’t want to disappoint him by not beating a poor stranger’s ass 

Kid and you had like a mutual understanding before you actually got together, like you could share a look and understand exactly what the other was thinking. it was a given that Kid would randomly barge into your room and either start complaining about something, drinking, or just tinkering with some mechanics/plans- and he was super happy when you did the same to him

after:

while Kid is brash and tough, he sometimes longs for the softer moments when time slows down and he can just stay in the moment with you, one of his favorite of these moments is when he stands on deck with his arms secured around your waist while you sit on the ship’s railing watching the horizon

after sex is one of the times Kid is most vulnerable and soft, he loves having you trace patterns on his bare chest while he stares up at the ceiling and basks in the innocence of the moment

Kid adores getting drunk with you because it always ends in either rough sex or laughing your asses off just the two of you. you’ll start meeting each other’s eye in the bar when it’s nearing time to go back aboard the ship because you both are piss drunk, and every time you look at each other you both have to stifle a laugh but eventually it gets too hard and you just burst out laughing- all the way back to the ship you’re talking about everything and aything you think it funny and you end up sprawled across the floor of the bedroom catching your breath

when you grab onto Kid for support, affection, to drag him away from a fight, he always feels his breath catch in his throat and his cheeks burn lightly, he’ll always grab you back in some way but his grip is harder, like when you grab onto his coat to steady yourself on the ship, he puts. his arm around you and tucks you into his side keeping you pressed safely and tightly against him

before:

you also have a mutual understanding but because you can’t see Killer’s expression, you actually learn to read his body language and overall “vibes”, Killer goes to stand next to you a lot, going out of his way to do so, and you never question him you just look at him and analyze how he’s standing and what manner he walked over in, and if nothing wrong then you just turn back to whatever- he does this as a kind of unspoken “don’t worry I’m right here”

he would often run into you in the kitchen and you would end up cooking beside each other, you talk about random things and it takes the stress off Killer’s shoulders, makes him forget that as soon as this stops he’s going to be putting his life in danger every second

this is sort of another understanding between the two of you, but whenever there’s a threat he’ll often move to stand in front of you, or if the threat is talking to you like it’s some stranger you met at a bar that won’t stop hitting on you, Killer appears right behind you (pretty close I might add) and he uses his build and intimidating aura to scare the person away

after being friends (hopefully more) for awhile, he knows he likes you a lot but he hasn’t made a move yet, but you haven’t seen him without his mask yet because as his crush he’s more scared of what you’ll think- so sometimes he’ll be laying in bed and you’re talking to him and to be more comfortable he’ll take off his mask and you promise not to look, sometimes literally sitting in the corner facing the wall just to provide extra assurance that you won’t look- sometimes the roles are reversed and he’s in your room sitting against the wall while you guys talk and he has his mask off again, and you’re laying with you back facing him

after:

when you’re laying in bed together, after sex or just because it’s late/really early, he has his arm around you holding you on his chest and you’re reaching up playing with his goatee and it makes Killer smile

when the crew is at a bar partying Killer will actually let Kid do more because he’s watching you instead (Kid thanks you btw), he sits over in the corner away from all the craziness, holding a beer in one hand his other arm is around you waist holding you on his lap, he rests his mask on your shoulder and he’s fallen asleep like this a few times

one situation that makes him appreciate you even more, makes him smile with pride and adoration and just feel so overwhelmed with love, is when someone insults him/makes fun of his mask and you just beat their ass, the insults you throw back at them are music to Killer’s ears and he pulls you off the stranger with a smile dancing behind his mask, he always thanks you after and compliments your hits landed on the guy- Kid loves this too and he sometime holds Killer back so you can keep wailing on the stranger who insulted his bestfriend 

so as much as KIller likes making out for the sexual aspect, he enjoys it for the closeness and romantic intimacy too, when he’s in a softer more vanilla mood that is. holding you flush against him while your lips mold together with his, hands exploring every part of each other’s body, and when you pull away only to compliment him before reattaching you lips to his, it just makes his tighten his hold on you even more and the world slips away and it’s just the two of you 

[scorpionyx9621]

Do you think Jason Todd fandom is kinda toxic? Because it seems like NO MATTER what DC do, there'll always be complains. Forget the bad adaptation like Titans. Even Judd Winick cannot escape the criticism with how he potrayed Robin!Jason. They just never satisfied.

SORRY, IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO RESPOND TO THIS. I just moved from Washington D.C. to Seattle, which, for my non-American friends, that's 4442km away. And I DROVE THERE ALL BY MYSELF. And now I'm trying to find new work in a new city and trying to stay mentally healthy and positive. Life is exciting but hard and scary.

*sighs*

As someone who was a fandom elder with V*ltr*n. I've seen some of the worst when it comes to fandom behavior. I'm talking people baking food with shaving razors and trying to give them to the showrunners. I'm talking leaking major plot details and refusing to take it down unless they make their ship canon (I am looking at you, Kl*nce stans) For the most part, DC Comics has had a decades-long reputation of treating their fans like trash and not caring what they think so from what I've seen, we all just grumble and complain in our corners of the internet about how we don't like how X comic portrays Jason Todd.

The challenge with Jason Todd is that he's your clinical anti-hero, the batfamily's Draco in Leather Pants, he's a jerkass woobie, and on top of all of that, he's a Tumblr sexyman. It's a perfect storm for a very fun but frustrating character to be a fan of. It doesn't help that every writer decides to re-invent the wheel every time Jason comes up so his canon lore is confusing at best and inconsistent as a standard.

I guess starting with a general brief on who Jason is and what is uniform about him with every instance he's appeared in comics/media.

Grew up in a poor family in Gotham with a dad who was a petty-mid-level criminal, and a mother who dies of a drug overdose.

Survives on the street on his own by committing petty crimes and potentially even engaging in sexual acts to keep himself alive.

Is cornered by Batman and taken in after Dick Grayson quits/is fired

Becomes the second Robin, but is known for being the harsher, more brutal Robin.

Is killed by Joker after being tortured, but somehow comes back to life and regains senses through the Lazarus Pit

Resolves himself to be better than Batman by basically being Batman but kills people.

Where there has been a lot of conflict in the fandom is the fact that Jason Todd is not a character that is written consistently. DC Comics loves to go with the narrative that Jason was "bad from the start" and was the "bad robin" when, yes, he has trouble controlling his anger, but he also still is just as invested in seeing the best of Gotham City and trying to be a positive change for the world as any other DC Comics hero.

Where I get frustrated with the fandom is its ability to knit-pick every detail of a comic they don't like while completely disregarding everything that makes the comics great and worth it to read. My example being Urban Legends. To which most people had pretty mixed reactions to. I was critical of the comic at first but as it went along I ended up really liking it. I have a feeling DC Comics went to Chip Zdarsky and told him he had 6 issues to bring Jason back into the Bat Family, and honestly he didn't do a bad job. Did it feel rushed? Absolutely. I wish there was more development of Jason and Bruce's characters and their dynamic as a whole. However, where I see a lot of people being angry and upset with Urban Legends is that they feel Zdarsky needlessly wrote Jason as an incompetent fool who needs Bruce to save him.

Whether or not that was the intention of Zdarsky is up to debate. However, and this may be controversial, but I don't think he wrote Jason Todd out of character at all. For as fearsome, intimidating, and awesome as Red Hood is. Jason is a character who is absolutely driven by his emotions. Why do you think he donned the role of Red Hood? As a response to his anger towards The Joker for killing him, and towards Bruce for not taking action against The Joker and for seemingly replacing him so quickly after he died. Jason didn't care about being the murderous Robin Hood or for being the bloody hammer of justice against N*zi's and P*d*ph*les. He only cared originally about making The Joker and Bruce pay. It wasn't until he trained under the best assassins in the world and realized most of them were horrific criminals who trafficked children and were p*dos that Talia began to realize that the teachers that she sent Jason to train under started dying horrific and painful deaths.

The entire story of the Cheer story in Batman Urban Legends was started because it finally forced some consequences upon Jason. Tyler, aka Blue Hood's father was a drug dealer who gave his supply to his wife and kids. And when Tyler's father admitted he gave the drugs to Tyler, it immediately made him fall within the self-imposed philosophical kill-list of Jason Todd. And Jason, well, he proceeds to kill Tyler's father. When this happens, Jason is in shock. Tyler's dad fit the bill to easily and justifiably be killed by Jason. We've never seen Jason having to deal with the consequences of being a murderous vigilante on a micro-level. When Jason realizes what he's done in that he's murdered Tyler's dad, he's shocked. He tells Babs the truth. He does a rational thing because he's in shock. He doesn't know what to do, he never has had to face the consequences of his actions as Red Hood and now the gravity of befriending a child as a vigilante hero who kills people just set in when he killed the father of the same child he was just introduced to.

(Oh here's a little aside because it had to be said, Jason would not have been a good father or a good mentor to Tyler and absolutely should not have been his new Robin. Jason is a man who is in his early 20's (not saying men in their early 20's can't be good fathers at all) who is a brutal serial killer using the guise of a vigilante anti-hero to let him escape most of the law. the complications of having the man who murdered your father adopt you and make you his sidekick are way too numerous for me to explain in a long-winded already heavy Tumblr essay post. There's a reason why we don't advocate for a story where Joe Chill adopted Bruce Wayne or one where Tony Zucco took in Dick Grayson.)

The next biggest argument is that they feel that Jason is giving up his guns as a means to just be invited back into the Bat-Family. To which I will tell anyone who has that argument to go actually read Urban Legends. Already have and still have that argument? Please re-read it. Don't want to? That's okay, I will paste the images from the comic where Jason specifically says that he doesn't want to give up his weapons for Bruce and his real reasoning down below since the comic isn't exactly readily accessible.

Jason gave up the guns because he felt the gravity of what he had done and knows how it'll effect Tyler. Thankfully his mom is alive and in recovery. But Tyler doesn't have a father anymore. And Jason killed Tyler's father. It may have been in accordance to Jason's philosophy, but it was a case where it blurred the lines. Jason Todd isn't a black and white character, just very dark gray. He doesn't kill aimlessly like the Joker. If you are on Jason's list you probably have done something pretty horrific, and also just in general, being in his way or being a threat to him. Mind you, in early days of Red Hood and the Outlaws (Image below) Jason almost killed 10 innocent civilians in a town in Colorado all because they saw him kill a monster. That being said, Jason isn't aimless in his kills.

(Also can we just take a moment to appreciate Kenneth Rocafort's art? DC Comics said we need to rehabilitate Jason Todd's image and Kenneth Rocafort said hold my beer: It's so SO GOOD)

That being said, the key emphasis in the story of Cheer asides from trying to introduce Jason Todd back into the Bat Family and give an actual purpose for him being there, other than him just kind of being there ala Bowser every time he shows up for Go Kart racing, Tennis, Golf, Soccer, and the Olympic games when Mario invites him, is that Jason and Bruce ultimately both want the same thing. Jason wants to be welcomed back into the family and to be loved and appreciated. Bruce want's Jason back as his son and wants to love and protect Jason. Both of these visions are shown in the last chapter of Cheer while under the effect of the Cheer Gas. It's ultimately this love and appreciation they both have for each other that helps them overcome their challenge and win.

Jason Todd is a character who, just like Bruce, has been through so much pain and so much hate in his life. The two are meant to parallel each other. While Bruce chose to see the best in everyone, giving every rogue in his gallery the option to be helped and give them a second chance, hence why he never kills, Jason has a similar view on wanting to protect the public, but he understands that some crimes are so heinous they cannot be forgiven, or that some habitual criminals are due to stay habitual criminals, and need to be put down. But at the end of the day, the two of them both try to protect people in their own ways.

I am aware that through the writings of various DC Comics authors such as Scott Lobdell and Judd Winick, the two have had a very tumultuous relationship. And rightfully so, I am by no means saying that Scott Lobdell writing an arc where Bruce literally beats Jason to within an inch of his life in Red Hood and the Outlaws, nor Judd Winick's interpretation of Under the Red Hood where Bruce throws the Batarang at Jason's neck, slicing his throat and leaving him ambiguously for dead at the end of the comic is appropriate considering DC Comics seems to be trying everything they can to integrate Jason back into the family. That being said, a lot of these writings have shaped the narrative of Jason and Bruce's relationship and have an integral effect on the way the fandom views the two. It doesn't help that Zdarsky acknowledged Lobdell's life-beating of Jason by Bruce at the very end of Cheer by having Bruce give Jason his old outfit back as a means of mending the fence between the two of them. That does complicate a lot of things in terms of how they are viewed by the fandom and helps to cause an even greater divide between the two.

Regardless, I want to emphasize the fact that Jason Todd is a part of the family of his own accord. Yes, he's quite snarky and deadpan in almost every encounter. However, Jason is absolutely a part of the family and has been for a while of his own will. There's a great moment in Detective Comics that emphasizes this. Jason cares about his family because it is his found family. Yes, they may be warry about him and use him as a punching back and/or heckle him. At the end of the day, we're debating the family dynamics of a fictional playboy billionaire vigilante whose kleptomania took the form of adopting troubled children and turning them into vigilante heroes. Jason Todd wants a family that will love and support him. This is a key definition of his character at its most basic. This was proven during the events of Cheer and is being reenforced by DC Comics every time they get the opportunity to do so.

Now, none of this is to say that I hate Judd Winick. I do not, I don't like the fact that in all of his writings of Jason, he just writes him as a dangerous psychopath, and Winick himself admits to seeing Jason as nothing much more than a psychopath. Yet Winick is the one who the majority of the fandom clings to as the one true good writer of Jason Todd because 'Jason was competent, dangerous, smart' Listen, friends, Jason is all of that and I will never deny it. However, what I love about Jason isn't that he's dangerously smart of that writers either write him as angsty angry Tumblr sexyman bait or that they write him as an infantile man child with a gun. There's a large contention of this fandom that has an obsession with Jason Todd being this vigilante gunman who is hot and sexy and while I definitely get the appeal. It is very creepy and downright disturbing that all of you hyperfixate on his use of guns and ability to be a murderer. It is creepy and I'm not necessarily here for it.

What I love about Jason Todd is that despite all of the pain, all of the heartache, all of the betrayal, and bullying, and death, and anguish. Jason Todd is one of the most loving and supportive characters in all of DC Comics. Jason has been through so much in his life, but he still chooses to love. He still chooses to see the bright side in people. Yes, he takes a utilitarian approach and chooses to kill certain villains, but at the end of the day he wants to see a better world, and he wants to be loved. It takes so much courage and so much heart to learn to love again after one has been abused or traumatized. I would not blame Jason at all if he said fuck it and just went full solo and vigilante evil. He has every right to, but he still chooses to be with the Bat Family of his own accord. That's something that I see a lot of in myself. I have been through a lot of trauma and yet I try to be a better person myself in any way that I can. It is extremely admirable of Jason to allow love back into his heart when he really doesn't need to. He kills and he protects because he has this love of society. It may have been shaped by anger and hatred, but Jason has found his place amongst people who love him and value him. I think Ducra, from Red Hood and the Outlaws put it best in the image given below.

To end this tangent, I love Jason Todd and all of his sexy dangerousness, but it's far more than that. As much as Jason may be dangerous and snarky, he loves his family without a shadow of a doubt. I look up to Jason Todd because despite all of his pain and all of his trauma, he still choses to love. Jason Todd is a character who is someone I love because despite all of his flaws and having a very toxic fandom, he still serves as a character filled with so much heart and so much passion. I wish more writers would understand that. But for now I will live with what I have. Even though the fandom may be vocal about it's hatred for his characterization, I choose to love Jason regardless because he is a character who chooses love and acceptance regardless of his pain. Jason Todd is by no means a good person in any sense of the word. He has easily killed upwards of 100 people by now. He is a character who is flawed and complex but ultimately is one who powers forwards and finds love and heart in a place from so much pain and anguish. That is what I love about Jason Todd. After all, to quote a famous undead robot superhero, "What is grief, if not love persevering?" Jason Todd chooses to love despite all of the trauma and pain and grief. Yes, he is hardened in his exterior, but inside there is a man with a lot of love to give and someone who deserves the world in my eyes.