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[some-kindofgnome]

tastes so bitter (tastes so sweet)

You’re driving back from an out-of-town mission with Hawks when your car breaks down on a very sparsely-populated highway. While you await relief, things get... personal. 

characters: takami keigo (hawks) x f!reader

word count: 7.1k

warnings: smut (18+ please!), car sex, pro hero!reader, angst, emotionally unavailable hawks

notes: ta-dah!!! the car sex fic! this turned out way longer and way more feelsy than I ever intended it to be. but I’m grateful for the chance to show you how I play with plot and emotion as well as some good porn. porn with feelings, y’know? 

EDIT: The supremely talented @la-saffron​ has created an absolutely spectacular piece of artwork for this fic! Please go and look at it right here, it’s really quite splendid

Masterlist

The shadowy trees on either side of the highway cast a chill across the pavement as the sky went dark.

It was far from sunset, but the woods were so tall and thick that the light had disappeared from the road a long time ago. The overpriced navigation system laid into the dashboard of Hawks’ luxurious car was no help at all; not when you were taking the only road for miles around.

The highway narrowly passed for two lanes, winding precariously down from the mountains. Dotted with reflective yellow signs- deer crossing, bear crossing, creatures-of-unimaginable-horror crossing. Bigfoot himself could have wandered into your headlights and you barely would’ve flinched.

But that was to be expected, given where you’d come from.

That day’s mission brought you both far, far away from the city. There was a national forest about three hours away- one of the biggest in the country- and you and Hawks had been called in at the crack of fucking dawn to drive all the way out to the woods and investigate some ‘strange reports,’ as the rangers cared to call them.

Most park rangers knew what they were seeing when guests came in from the woods reporting abnormal happenings. Nobody was truly immune to fear, though, when faced with the impossible.

Whether there were paranormal creatures lurking in those woods or not, you couldn’t have been sure. But after spending the day exhausting both your quirks combing every spare inch of those woods, you were relieved of your overnight duties by a group of other, more nature-savvy heroes.

Hawks had been miffed, but too exhausted to argue. He didn’t like to think he’d been overshadowed. You were just thankful to be going home to your own bed.

“Okay,” you sighed, nursing the last of a lukewarm soda from a burger joint at the edge of the only one-horse town you’d passed through. It was a pretty unassuming stop for dinner, but you and Hawks both agreed that the burgers were way too good to be sold to so few patrons.

Keigo was driving, with one palm splayed lazily across the bottom edge of the wheel. His scarlet wings stretched into the backseat, draping over the shoulders of his black leather backrest like some bizarre kind of seat cover.

The fact that his car was so luxurious was not lost on you- although you were more surprised to find out that he had one at all. Hawks seemed like the last person in the world to need a car, after living in a fantastic downtown penthouse. And owning a pair of wings, come to think of it.

He owned it because he could. And because he knew how good he looked in the driver’s seat.

“What?” He turned a curious eye toward you, though he never quite pulled his gaze from the road.

“I know we started this conversation on the way here,” you began, “but… we never exactly finished it.” You swirled what was left of the ice chips in the bottom of your cup, considering the best way to voice your thoughts.

“Alright.” He sounded vaguely amused, slouching a little further down and drawing an idle palm over his feathered hair. “Shoot.”

“Well…” You trailed off. “You’re kind of… a city guy.” You were already starting to talk with your hands. The racket coming from your half-drunk soda was proof enough.

“What makes you say that?”

“You are,” you defended. You let a playful edge creep into your tone. “And the agency’s kind of a city thing.”

“Am I really as one-note as you’re making me out to be?” He was chuckling. Your cheeks were going hot. You weren’t sure how this became a personal conversation, but you were determined to steer it in the proper direction. You course corrected.

“I just mean, we don’t take a lot of jobs outside the city. Like… ever. So, what’s with this one? Why this call?”

He didn’t answer right away. When you glanced across the car, he was licking his lips and appearing to be, very genuinely, thinking.

“Well,” he began. There was an immensely appealing depth that wore around the edges of his voice when he was deep in thought. You hung on tightly, trying your best to hide how intently you listened.

“I was just… bored, I guess.” He gave a lazy little shrug. His eyes were still trained on the windshield, but you could feel the weight of his urges. He wanted to look over. You turned your head, willing him to.

“Probably sounded like bullshit, now that I think about it,” he confessed, “but if there really was somethin’ freaky in those woods… I dunno. I wanted to see it.”

You resisted the urge to snort.

“Maybe you should start a ghost hunting branch at the agency.”

“Aw, c’mon,” he protested. This time, he really did drag his eyes away from the road for a second. They glinted playfully in the dark. You got a flash of pearly canine from the barest hint of a grin, but it was enough to put a stupid smile right across your face.

A sickening thud from beneath the hood zapped any false confidence you’d been building. There was a dull pop, then the engine died.

“What the- shit.” Hawks scrambled to put both hands on the wheel, navigating the car with what momentum remained over to the narrow shoulder. The tires hit gravel and soft mud, rolling pathetically to a stop and settling in damp silence.

“What the hell was that?” You leaned over the dashboard as your pulse came down from near-terminal velocity. There were half a dozen lights blinking away on the dashboard- symbols you couldn’t understand.

“Not sure.” Keigo was doing his best not to sound too perturbed. As a result, he was just perturbed enough.

You knew what those lights implied, though. Service due. Oil change due. Battery maintenance due.

“Jesus Christ,” you hissed, “when was the last time you took this car in for service? It’s a miracle you even made it out of the goddamn garage.”

Hawks was in the process of mashing the engine start button like an arcade game. When you spoke up, he pushed it down and held. The engine gave a dull, sad sort of sputter, but nothing roared to life.

“Look, look,” he dismissed, waving a hand in your direction as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “I don’t drive this thing that often, okay? I’m gonna go check under the hood.”

He climbed out of the driver’s side and slammed the door before giving you the chance to remind him to pop the hood. For a minute, you let him wallow in his mistake, watching gleefully as he pried at the seam of it. Finally, you unbuckled yourself and leaned over, flicking the release for him.

He gave an unamused glance toward the windshield and lifted the hood, obscuring all but the very tips of his drooping wings from view.

After about fifteen seconds, he ducked back into the car with a rush of cold air behind him. He rubbed his palms together as you watched, arms folded over your chest.

“So?” You prompted. He gave a sideways glance in your direction, blowing into his chilled hands.

“So what?”

“Oh my g- what’s wrong with the car?” You tried your best not to let panic set in.

“I don’t know. It’s just a bunch of pipes and wires under there. They didn’t exactly give me a map of the thing when I bought it.”

You’d seen Hawks pull people out of burning buildings before. You’d see him think on his feet, devise a plan and act on it in the blink of an eye. Usually, he was impulsive. Confident. Clever.

Tonight, on the other hand, he was demonstrating a very clear affinity for money over brains.

You flopped into your seat, scrubbing your hands over your face. You were not going to freak out. You refused to. It didn’t matter that Keigo had suddenly become useless in the face of disaster. You were heroes, even if you had to save your damned selves.

“Oh,” he quipped from beside you. “Still got bars. See?” As you peeked over at him through one cracked eyeball, he waved his illuminated phone screen at you. “It could be worse, kid. If this were a horror movie, this thing’d be dead.”

He tapped away on the screen, seeming very pleased with himself. Even his wings gave a little ruffle, draping themselves smoothly over the back of his seat again.

“I’ll call us a tow. We’ll be outta here in no time.”

A few minutes later, you had a map pulled up on your phone while Hawks’ brow creased deeper and deeper.

“Uh-huh.” His voice had taken on that irresistible deepness to it again, but this time it was sending pangs of dread through your gut.

“Right.” He brought a palm up to smooth over his jaw, fingertips bending and pressing idly against the patches of scruff that dusted it. “Y-yep, yeah, I understand. Fifty miles is a long way. I know it’s gonna be a lot to send a truck that far. But-“

As he was abruptly cut off by the other end of the line, those idle fingers slipped up to his temple, pressing inward and rubbing in stiff little circles.

“Okay. Alright. Yeah, I guess we’ll wait, ‘cause there’s not much else we can… I understand. Yes, thank you. Thank you. Okay, we’ll be here. Or within a ten-foot radius. Thanks. B-“

He blinked rapidly at the screen as he pulled it away from his ear. “Have an excellent night, sir,” he muttered under his breath. He let out a deep sigh, lifting a hip to tuck his phone away again.

“They said they would send someone,” he said, “but the depot is, like, fifty miles from here. Could be a couple of hours.”

“A couple hours?” That cold dread was settling into your chest again. So much for sleeping in your own bed.

“Yeah. C’mon, get out.”

“What?” You glanced past him at the frosted driver’s side window. “It looks freezing out there.”

“Well then, you’d better bundle up. C’mon. I’m gonna fly us back to the city.”

“No way. Hawks- Keigo.” You grabbed his arm and squeezed tightly as he made to get out of the car.

“What?” Exasperation was creeping into the edges of his voice. The sides of his gaze, too, as he landed against the seat back with a thud and turned his cheek to look at you.

“You’ve been flying all day. Your wings are shot. You’re not flying anywhere.”

“What? They’re fine.” He gave the appendages in question a defiant flutter and a cloud of expiring feathers floated into the backseat.

You folded your arms across your chest. Hawks gave a frustrated growl.

“What do you suggest, then?” He retorted in fierce opposition to your silence. “Just sit around and fucking… die of old age before the tow truck comes?”

“Oh my god, you’re the number two hero,” you snapped back. “When did you become such a drama queen? Yes, we’re going to wait. Like a normal person would have to.”

“I’m not being dramatic; I’m presenting you with a legitimate solution and you’re ignoring it!”

“If you try to fly us both out of here, you’re gonna hit the ground before we’re halfway home. And then we’ll be really stranded, with no water and no shelter. So, if you’d like to fly back all by yourself, I can’t stop you. But I’m not going to let you kill both of us.”

“Fine!” Hawks’ cheeks were flushed with temper as he kicked the door open and clambered out of the car. He kicked it shut again so hard the whole body rocked, and for a moment you were left, trapped in shocked silence.

He was really going to leave you out here. Alone.

Half a dozen heartbeats passed before his boots crunched on the shoulder and he wrenched the door open again, flopping back into the car with an immense sigh of irritated defeat.

“Fuckin’ freezing out there,” he muttered as quietly as possible.

You wanted to punch him.

“You ready to wait?”

His wings stiffened behind him, then drooped so lowly they seemed to disappear into the backseat. He looked at you from the corner of one tawny eye.

“Yeah.”

For the first hour, you honestly enjoyed yourself. As soon as Keigo accepted his fate, he got much closer to his usual mellow self. You finished off cold fries from dinner, listened to true crime podcasts on your phone, (you listened- he talked over the whole thing) and played a few ruthless games of hangman on a couple of napkins you found in the glove compartment.

You’d spent a lot of time with Hawks in a professional capacity. As partners, you took most of your missions together. You were well-versed in the way that he liked to think, the way he approached a job, a conversation. You worked well with each other and you were drawn to his quick wit and laid-back humour. Even if he was a piece of work at times, you made a strong team. But you didn’t do a whole lot of hanging out.

“Okay, that’s it,” he chided as you added an extravagant top hat to the completed, dressed hangman scrawled onto the inside fold of your last napkin. The word he’d failed to guess was ‘patience,’ and the irony of his struggling was not lost on you.

“Aw, c’mon,” you protested. “You’ve still got gloves and a bow tie left.”

“No, no, no.” He held up a palm, shaking his head. There was a good-natured grin curling his lip as he bowed toward the door. “I’m callin’ it. I gotta take a leak.”

You snatched your soda cup from the drink holder, clutching it protectively against your chest.

“You’re not going in here.”

Next, it was Hawks’ turn to shoot you a deadpan stare.

“How about in the woods? Is that allowed?”

Your cheeks went hot. “It’s pretty dark out there.”

“Aw.” Hawks shoved the door open. There was an unfamiliar glint to his eye as he tossed a mischievous look over his shoulder. “Guess you won’t be able to sneak a peek, then.”

You slammed your fist into his back. “Shut up and go take a piss.”  

As the car door clicked shut, you turned the other way out of sheer habit. All you could see in the opposite window was the reflection of your own face. Maybe it was just the dim light, but you looked exhausted. Keigo had seen you caked in blood, streaked by mud and soot before. But you’d both been awake since four o’clock that morning and there was a special kind of ugly feeling that came with overtiredness.

You were dreaming about the first thing you’d do when you got home again when Hawks climbed back into the car. He looked considerably brighter as he ducked inside, and he brought a flush of rich, earthy forest-smell along with him.

“Don’t tell me you couldn’t find it in the cold out there,” you quipped. Payback.

But Keigo just chuckled, shaking his head.

“Close the door,” you whined as the frigid air from outside finally reached your bare arms. “It’s already cold enough in here.”

“Aw,” he crooned, tugging the door shut behind him. “You scared of a little cold now, kid? It’s not so bad out there. Feel.”

He lunged at you, ducking rapidly to rub his frigid cheek against your shoulder. You let out a terse yelp and squirmed, trying to shove him back amid a sea of chilled giggles. He got a few passes of his icy skin on yours before you both realized how close you’d gotten.

Hawks cleared his throat and scooted away from you. In the bare light from the shitty overhead lamp, you were starting to see the outline of a flush creeping into his cheeks.

The light abruptly went out, leaving you in darkness again.

“Tell me something,” he mused, grabbing for the abandoned takeout bag and digging a hand into it. He produced a tiny wrapped square and tore it open with his teeth, removing the folded alcohol wipe from inside and gliding it with impossible grace over his fingertips. He eyed you sideways.

“How come we don’t hang out more?”

Your chest went cold. You’d been dreading that question all night. Longer than that, even.

“What d’you mean?” It was a gut response, but you instantly kicked yourself for even attempting to play dumb.

“You know,” he chided, dumping the wipe back into the paper bag once he was finished with it. “We work. We do interviews together. We do those bullshit PR functions together. I’ve known you- what, two years? And we’ve never even been for a drink. What gives, kid? Don’t tell me I grate on you.”

“I get plenty of you on company time,” you retorted. You were starting to panic. You weren’t ready for this conversation, but it didn’t seem like you were going to be rescued by the timely arrival of the tow truck.

“Okay, okay, I’d take that,” he laughed, “if you hadn’t agreed to take this mission with me. C’mon, this wasn’t exactly a nine-to-five gig.”

He paused. “Come out with me this weekend.” He nudged your shoulder with a bony elbow. You tried your best not to snap.

“Stop,” you pressed quietly. “You know why we don’t.”

The smirk slipped from Keigo’s face.

“What? Why?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Wait a second, there’s an actual reason? What the hell is it?”

The confusion was genuine on his face. Hawks could be a smarmy little shit when he wanted to be. But you could tell he wasn’t fucking with you.

“Oh my god.” The words slipped out like a deep breath. Your hand drifted to your mouth as cold shock ran over your skin. “You really don’t remember.”

“No.” His confusion was bordered with fear. He sat back a little, letting his eyes drift over your expression. “No, I really don’t.”

You swallowed hard. You should have known that you’d have to talk about this eventually. But he didn’t even remember the night that had been changing the way you acted around him for nearly a year.

“Last Christmas,” you began. Your breath was so short that it put a desperate hush to your voice that you absolutely hated. You revelled in your ability to act casual around him, but the more probing he got, the harder that composure was slipping.

“At the agency gala. You remember the party, right?”

Hawks rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, and I got trashed.” He paused. Realization dawned on his face, and he shot you the deepest, most sincere look of concern you’d ever seen. Even more sincere than the look that crossed his face when you got shot off the roof of a house and broke a rib.

He leaned forward.

“Did I do something?” He swept a palm over his mouth, fingertips dallying at his chin. You knew exactly how he felt in that moment. You’d been there before, too, realizing that you’d lost control. Blacked out. Understanding that you might have done something you were going to regret.

“You really don’t remember a thing?” It was your turn to be horrified. How could something that consumed your every thought stay so damned far from his?

His fingers were still curved around the point of his chin. He’d gone white, and he shook his head as his eyes cast down to his lap.

“You fucking kissed me, okay?” You snarled with a whip of frustration. “There was mistletoe and you kissed me under it and-and Christ, I can’t believe you.”

“What? What?” He demanded as his voice grew defensively sharp.

“I had no idea what you were gonna do. What you were gonna say, what was gonna change between us. I showed up to the agency the next morning and your hungover ass acted like nothing had ever happened.”

“Of course I did,” he defended, “I didn’t think anything did happen. Oh my God, did I really kiss you?” His wings were coming to life all of a sudden, bristling on either side of his seat. There was a dull whisp as one edge of them brushed against the window. They seemed to expand, along with his horror, to fill the entire car.

He pushed further. “Well, did you… did you want me to?”

You could see where his thoughts were taking him. The answer was an impossible dilemma. To lead him further down that path would not only be cruel, it would be untrue. But to tell him the truth- that you had wanted it- would be to shatter the fragile illusion of casual, platonic intimacy that you’d been building over the last two years.

You chewed your lower lip. Hard enough to hurt.

“Oh god, you didn’t,” he gasped. That was enough for you to lift your chin and shoot him a sudden, sad, pathetic little look.

“Jesus,” he gasped again, deeper this time. “You did.”

“Look,” you snapped. “I was never gonna say anything to you. I was never gonna push it. You didn’t feel that way and I knew that and I just wanted to work.”

He told you enough about his personal life as it was. Every date he swung in from on Monday morning, every Friday night he spent preening in the last hours of the workday hurt enough already. If you’d grown close, fallen harder, it would’ve become too much to bear.

“What do you mean, I didn’t feel that way? What way don’t I feel? How could you even know that?” He was beginning to raise his voice back at you and the adrenaline was pushing you way too far to listen.

“Because you never said a fucking word to me about that kiss! You pretended like it never even happened, Kei! What was I supposed to think!”

“If you’d asked me, you woulda known that I didn’t speak up ‘cause I didn’t remember a goddamn thing!” Keigo jammed a finger into his temple. His golden eyes flashed. He was so fucking hot when he was angry, but this was not a fight you ever wanted to have.

Luckily for you, he was having it without you.

“What do you want me to say to that?” He snarled. “Huh? What- you want me to tell you that I’m sorry for not having psychic powers? That I’m sorry I didn’t hire a mind-reader to tell me what the fuck was going on with you?”

He scrubbed his hands over his face. You were on the verge of tears.

“I-I never-“ you began, but Keigo beat you to the punch,

“You know, maybe I noticed that you were actin’ funny around me. And maybe I should’ve asked. But maybe if you ask yourself, and if you really, honestly give yourself the truest answer, you’d be able to admit that you knew how I felt about you. That you always knew.”

“Of course I knew!”

Your response echoed raw and deafening in the silence of the car. You’d lost your temper and shouted it at him with every decibel left in your breathless chest. Your fists were clenched atop your frigid thighs as you bent over in your seat, shivering. To your immense embarrassment, warm tears trickled down the sides of your nose.

He was right, after all. Every sideways smile he’d given you was just a little too broad to be friendly. Every time he caught you by the hand, he held it just a little too long. Every time he offered you the crook of his elbow at a stuffy charity gala and every time he poured you into a cab at the end of the night, he promised to take good care of you. Every time he looked at you at all it was with a depth that you had recognized, but never understood.

“But look at us, Kei. Look at what we do to each other.”

You sniffled, scrubbing tears off your cheeks with the heels of your hands. He reached for you, seeking to comfort, but his hands twitched midair and he drew back instead.

“Yeah,” he croaked. You tossed a glance in his direction. He looked more dejected than you’d seen him in a long time. He rested both hands on top of the wheel, the rest of his body sagging against the seat back.

“Except now I’ve told you,” you continued. “And now we both know, so everything’s fucked no matter what.”

You were met with silence. The truth was dawning on you. You hated to even consider it, but it felt like what needed to be done.

“When we get back to the city,” you started. Hawks interrupted you with a low rasp of your name.

“No, when we get back, I’m giving you my resignation.”

“Fuck, stop.”

Keigo lunged, grabbing you by the back of the neck and pulling you toward him. He rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. The warmth of his closeness weighed on you like a heavy quilt. You couldn’t even pretend not to be immensely comforted by affection from him.

“I’m not gonna let you do that, kid.”

You were both drawing deep breaths- slow, rolling gulps of air that matched over gradual time. You licked your lips, bracing your chilled palms on his shoulders. Your fingertips brushed the very edges of his feathered hair, dull and soft in the dark.

You’d talked each other down from bigger, badder edges before. But this one had sharp, jagged rocks waiting at the bottom. This one, you were going to have to jump from together.

“I can’t do this,” you pleaded. “I can’t keep myself away from you like this.”

“Don’t.” His voice was hushed and so achingly tender, like he couldn’t take the command himself.

“I can’t-“

“Then, don’t.”

He was firmer this time, and the pad of his thumb brushed the bottom of your lip. He pulled back just a hair, grazing the tip of his nose across yours. The heat of his breath puffed over your lips and his blonde eyelashes threatened to tickle your cheek.

He drew in a slow, calculated breath.

“Lemme kiss you. Lemme try again. I’m not gonna forget it this time, I swear.”

“Keigo, please.”

“Just lemme try. Just once. I’ll never ask you again, if you don’t want me to.” He pulled back the rest of the way and your body keened at the loss, but he looked deeply into your eyes. Deeply like he’d never been allowed to look before.

You licked your lips. Considered it for half a heartbeat. Then you gave a slow little nod.

“Okay.”

To your surprise, he didn’t lunge again. He took his time with you. He cupped your cheeks tenderly between his bare palms, memorizing the curve of your face. He stared, taking you in like this. At his mercy.

Finally, he leaned in and captured your mouth in a soft kiss, heartbreakingly loving. You responded eagerly, blossoming beneath his touch and bracing your hands on the broad plane of his chest. Your fingers curled in the fleece that lined his coat.

You kissed back with near-desperate urgency, shamelessly showing him how touch-starved you’d become. Dating was pointless when Keigo stole your whole heart every time you showed up to work.

The quiet press of his tongue had your jaw going slack in his hands. Your kiss went needy all at once, and he licked into your mouth with a hunger behind his movements that you never anticipated sensing from him.

You broke from him first, turning your cheek to him as your lungs burned. Your mouth was swollen, and you gasped greedily for whatever stale air lingered between you. He grabbed your chin and forced your eyes back to his.

His gaze was fearsome. Ravenous. You were powerless beneath it.

You combed your fingers through his hair like you’d always wanted to, settling your palm at the nape of his neck. Your own voice was nearly unrecognizable, nothing more than a feral growl.

“Get in the back.”

Hawks took one look at the narrow gap between his seat and yours and sat up, nudging the driver’s side door open. He climbed eagerly into the road and then back into the back seat, settling in the center with his legs and wings splayed wide.

Meanwhile, you took the opportunity to wiggle out of your boots and pants and slam dunk everything into the foothold of the passenger’s seat. You climbed over the center console in your underwear and settled into his lap.

Even though you had to bow your head against the cushioned ceiling, it was a holy sensation. Your thighs settled perfectly into the crooks of Keigo’s legs, and his hands slid so naturally over the curves of your hips. It was as if you’d done this before.

You kissed him again, using the weight of your newly boosted height to descend hard and loving against his lips. He grabbed you hard by the ass, drawing you smooth and tight against his hips.

“God,” he groaned eagerly into your mouth.

“You’re so. Fucking. Perfect,” you hissed back into his, and he squeezed you harder, breaking his lips from yours to trail a hungry path of kisses along the edge of your jaw. His scruff scratched at your chin just like you imagined it would. You loved him like this- trimmed, unshaven. The rougher, the better.

“Don’t say that,” he purred dangerously close to your ear. “You’ve seen me at my worst.”

You tried not to grin, remembering Keigo barfing over the balcony of the Plaza after one too many charity-benefit martinis. Keigo caked in ooze after cutting open that sludge villain from the inside. Keigo on the verge of tears, just a few minutes ago.

“I still think so,” you pressed, and he smiled against your cheek. His wings, tired and bruised but majestic as ever, stiffened proudly. They were capped firmly by the cramped space that surrounded you, but the feathers that spread across the back seat were sleek and graceful.

You dug your fingertips between his jacket and his t-shirt, feeling the warmth of his torso all over. He did his best to shrug it open, but the material was caught up on his wings- no getting it off now.

He wound his hands into the hem of his shirt and tugged it up for you. The skin you could feel by slipping your fingers underneath was all you were going to get.

Not that it mattered to you. It was far more than you’d let yourself so much as picture before. While you felt your way across his heated abdomen, he dipped his head to your pulse point. He scraped the points of his teeth across your tender flesh, making you sigh and shiver. He pressed a hand to the small of your back to keep you close and nibbled all the way down to your neckline, leaving a trail of tiny welts in his wake.

They would fade by morning. Tonight, the feeling was enough.

He glided smooth, tender fingers up your sides. You straightened, letting him wedge your long-sleeved t-shirt up around your shoulders. You had to bend even further and press your forehead awkwardly against his shoulder to wrench it off. Once he peeled the fabric over your head, you tossed it haphazardly toward the front seat. Keigo was already going to work on his fly.

The tender press of his erection had grown apparent by that point, stiff and needing down one thigh of his thick pants. You reached between your legs and palmed it indulgently. There was an answering throb of arousal in the pit of your belly as you felt the shape and thickness of it trapped against his body, and an even stronger one when his hips pressed into your touch and he gave a low rumble of approval.

“Don’t act so surprised,” he crooned. With his pants unfastened, and the bulk of his cock shifted to the stretchy pouch of his undershorts, he slid a fingertip down the plane of your belly and curled two graceful digits between your thighs.

“Are you wet for me yet?” He shot you a deep, lustful stare. You rocked your hips against his fingers, hopeless in resisting the pleasure he offered. Keigo nudged the crotch of your thong easily aside, dipping his middle finger against your slit.

He sucked a sharp breath through clenched teeth as you gave a simultaneous yelp of stimulation. When he looked up at you again, he bore a sly little grin. You’d seen it a thousand times before, but never with such desire. And never all for you.

“You’re drippin’, kid.” He arched his palm, slipping that finger slowly upward and easing it inside you. There was no stretch, but the sensation of intimacy- of being felt in such a way by those hands that you’d never dared to fantasize about- was intoxicating in its own right.

Keigo was, apparently, feeling it, too. His eyes were deeply lidded, glazed completely by his own desire. The tip of his cock had found its way over the waistband of his undershorts, weeping shiny precum against his stomach and the bottom of his shirt.

He curled a blunt fingertip inside you, massaging your tender front wall. The feeling rappelled up the column of your spine and brought deep trembles forward. It brought fresh handfuls of wet slick from your depths, gliding down his palm and between his fingers. He took the hints your body offered and rubbed faster, watching the way your expression morphed from desire to pleasure.

“Stop,” you hushed, leaning forward and pushing your lips to his. He drew his hand back from you immediately, settling it on your thigh. The wet little print it left against your skin wasn’t lost on you.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” you replied. “Just ready for you.”

He gave a low, loving little chuckle and shifted beneath you. “Can’t hold out any longer?”

You smiled into his hair. “Don’t want to.”

“Fair enough.” His smile was even, but the tug in his voice betrayed his fraying nerves. It thrilled you to know that you weren’t the only one putting way too much emotional stock in this. It was immensely validating to discover that he’d been anticipating it, too.

He wiggled and squirmed against the backseat, shucking his pants and underwear down over his thighs and letting his cock pop out. It bobbed against his stomach- thicker than you’d imagined- framed by a trimmed scruff of tawny hair that disappeared under his shirt.

“Fuck,” you sighed in spite of yourself.

“I know, right?” He rasped. He reached for you, cupping your jaw. He brought your forehead down to his, giving a weak laugh. “What the hell have we been waitin’ for?”

“We just needed the bottle episode to shove us together,” you giggled. “C’mon, we’re a walking trope right about now.”

“We’re about to become a different trope if you don’t let me fuck you.” It was his turn to play the desperate card. But the ache between your thighs had not dulled, even a little.

He wrapped his fingers around the base of his shaft and you lifted your hips. He gave the heated tip a playful little swipe along your slick slit, but his game backfired when both of you let out tight cries of sensation.

You rocked your hips forward, taking his tip eagerly inside. The sensation was toe-curling, made even better by the way he held you tightly against him, nosing at your ear and kissing any patch of skin he could reach.

He brought his free palm to your ass as soon as you were situated, helping you slide the rest of the way onto his cock. With your knees braced on either side of his lap and your feet pressed tightly against the front seat, you let him bottom out. And for a moment, you just sat there.

“Jesus,” Keigo sighed, lolling his head against the seat behind him. You still had your head deeply bowed, trapped in the space that seemed just an inch too tight.

“I…” Your thighs shuffled. Your hips gave a little squirm. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough. Keigo cracked an eye and lifted his chin, sensing a problem.

“What’s the matter?”

“I just…” Your cheeks went hot. You licked your lips. “I can’t move.”

His gaze cast downward, to the place where you were joined. He took in the press of your thighs, the curve of your neck. He snorted.

“No, you can’t. C’mere, kid, I gotcha.” He planted that palm on your ass again, drawing your hips forward and up, as far as you could take them. Your head and neck bowed with the rest of your back as he draped your upper body over his chest and held you tightly against him.

Then he planted his feet and gave one good, deep thrust. Your innards gave a jerk. Oh, fuck.

“That’s it,” you panted into his ear. He nodded tensely.

“Yeah?” He prompted. “That’s workin’ for ya? Alright, alright. We’ve got this, kid, c’mon. Lemme show you somethin’ good, okay?”

One thrust sent you spiralling. But the rhythm that he dove into- steady, tough, fluid- sent every nerve through your body into meltdown. You were entirely incapable of dealing with such pleasure, combined with the emotions that swirled through your lovestruck brain.

It felt as though you had been holding out needlessly for all this time. Like all the hurt and frustration and heartbreak you shed over him would be evaporated, now that you understood that he wanted you like this, too.

Like that was all there was. You, Hawks, and the free love you could now share.

“I’m n-not-“ Keigo stuttered, piping up after a series of breathless pants and airy groans, “n-not gonna last much longer, kid, you’re… really gonna make me feel it.”

“Yeah,” you breathed back. You looped your arms tightly around his neck, tilting your hips forward. You could feel the barest hint of stimulation when your clit brushed his belly, so you leaned into it- aching for your own release.

His rhythm doubled as the intensity of your pleasure spiked dangerously high, and when you gripped him hard and rocked your hips in time with his, there was a low, warning pull that echoed all the way up to your throat. You were close. Very close.

Your head dropped backward and Keigo leaned forward, drawing his mouth up the vulnerable column of your throat. He panted hard and heavy against your pulse point.

“That’s it, kid, that’s fuckin’ it, baby, oh, God, I’m g-gonna f-fucking… I- shit, I- can’t… fffuck!”

Keigo let a vicious roar tear from his throat as he reached his vibrant peak. His erratic thrusts brought you to a tight little climax, too, and you clung to him and whined and rode through the pleasure as he fucked madly up inside you, spurting messy shots of cum into your depths.

Gravity took hold of his pleasure, dripping it onto his shaft and pooling it in a sloppy mess between you. And when it was all finally over, you collapsed against his body and you both stayed, airless and spent, wrapped tightly around one another.

It was the bright flash of headlights on the back of his neck that brought you to the surface, moments later.

The inside of the car was warm and stuffy and damp. Had you just come in from outside, you might have realized that it reeked of sex. Sweat and breath and fluid and feeling. The windows were near-opaque, fogged by the dampness of your lovemaking.

It was a moment you might have loved to capture, if you weren’t about to be so rudely interrupted.

The light in your rear windshield was bright white and flashing orange. Unmistakable.

“The tow truck,” you wheezed, scrambling off of Keigo’s lap. “Oh, fuck.”

“Get dressed,” he muttered weakly, already scrambling to get himself cleaned up and decent. He was far more dressed than you were, so you did your best to climb back into the passenger’s seat and slide back into your own clothes. You banged your shin hard on the center console, and your head on the ceiling as your body flailed in retaliation. You crumpled into the front seat and nearly kneed yourself in the mouth trying to scramble back into your pants.

By the time you climbed out of the car, fully dressed, with a few additional bruises, Hawks was already standing on the shoulder, talking to the driver. The driver was wagering a few guesses on what might be wrong with the car. Hawks’ eyes had already glazed over.

“Hey,” he greeted, as he spotted you emerging over his shoulder. He introduced you quietly to the driver before the ballcap-wearing, bearded man spoke again.

“Yeah,” he gruffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll give you a lift to garage nearby. It’s kinda late, but he keeps weird hours. I bet he’ll take a look for you, it’s prob’ly an easy fix.”

“That sounds great,” you gushed, clasping your palms together. There was a lot of stiffness settling in around your hips and thighs. You couldn’t be sure if it was a result of the compromising position you’d nearly been discovered in or the whole lot of not moving you’d done for hours before that.

Either way, it felt good to stretch your legs.

“You c’n go ahead and hop in the back,” the driver directed, waving the key that Keigo had apparently already given him in indication. “I’ll get you hooked up, no problem.”

Keigo opened the truck door for you, and you climbed over the passenger’s seat into the back. He followed closely behind you, tugging the door shut and slouching into the opposite side.

You sat in silence; hands clasped between your knees. A confusing air settled between you.

You felt vulnerable and raw and moony. You wanted to hold his hand and curl up to him in the back seat. Kiss his cheeks and tell him how good it was, tell him how much you felt.

For you, though, it could never be that simple. There was no free love for heroes like you.

Pay later, always.

Keigo felt the weight of your gaze. He turned to meet your eyes and shot you a thin smile. You’d seen the look that he’d turned to hide from you, though.

The truck driver climbed into the front seat before words could pass between you. But you didn’t need to hear them to know what they were going to be.

You didn’t need a warning to understand what Monday morning at the agency was going to look like.

[garbage-tozier]

problem - r.t. (part one)

prompt number: three - “now? now you listen to me?”

fandom: it (richie tozier x reader)

rating: e for everyone

warnings: a bit of profanity, and yo mama jokes (it’s richie though, come on)

word count: 2.6k (this is the longest thing i’ve written in a while)

--------------------------

the wind rustled the leaves of the trees outside your bedroom window. you lay up in your bed, listening to them, urging your body to fall asleep.

thump.

you shot up in your bed, instantly turning towards the window, where the sound had come from.

you couldn't see out of it, and the sound didn't come again, so you told yourself it was nothing.

"probably just a bird," you thought, laying back down.

thump.

you ignored the sound this time, rolling over onto your side and pressing your eyelids shut tightly.

thump.

"oh, come on!" you cried, throwing your legs over the side of your bed and standing up. 

you made your way over to your window, pushing it open and trying your best to see into your pitch-black yard.

"y/n!" you heard someone yell. hearing what you assume to be an armful of rocks fall to the ground. startled, you jump back.

suddenly, something clicked in your brain. the throwing of rocks at your window. the familiar voice. the only rat child you knew who would ever be awake at such an obscure hour.

"richie??" you said, squinting. you inched towards your window, and though you couldn't quite make out his face, there was no doubt: that was the silhouette of richie tozier.

"can i come in?" he asked eagerly.

"what the fuck are you doing at my bedroom window at-" you paused, glancing at your clock. "what does that say? one? one thirteen am? why, richard tozier, are you standing in my yard, pelting my window with rocks, at one thirteen am?"

"i was bored," he said simply. you couldn't see his face clearly, but you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was sporting a shit-eating grin.

"ugh," you rolled your eyes. you had been friends with richie tozier for years now. from him, this kind of stuff wasn't exactly expected, but when it did happen, no one was surprised.

"so can i come in?"

"get your ass up here, you idiot," you pushed up the screen and stuck your hand out into the darkness.

you felt richie's hand hook onto your arm, and the two of you worked together to hoist him through your bedroom window.

"alright, rich," you said, lowering the screen and re-closing the window. "what did you need?"

"what!" richie feigned offense. "can't a guy lovingly visit his best friend at one am without needing something from her?"

"cut the bullshit, tozier." you crossed your arms, leaning on the wall. "what. do. you. need."

richie eyed you before letting out a loud, exaggerated sigh. he collapsed delicately onto your bed. "okay, y/n," he placed the back of his hand to his forehead, resting his other hand upon his heart. "you've caught me."

you sat at your homework desk, flicking on your desk light and watching the boy perform. he was now fake crying into his hands.

"i have no choice but to tell you," he continued. he added a couple of sniffles, even wiping his nose on his arm. "i have..... a problem,"

"many," you corrected, pushing him over so that you could sit down next to him on your bed. "what's up?"

as you observed your friend's face, something looked... different. before, richie was pretending to be troubled. but now, the look on his face was one of genuine nervousness.

he bit his lip. "promise you won't freak out?"

you were starting to get worried. i mean, this was richie. richie "i don't give a shit" tozier. what could be so incredibly wrong that he looked so scared?

"i promise," you said, sticking out the pinkie finger of your right hand. he looped his left pinkie through it.

"alright," he took a deep breath. "i need you to pretend to be my girlfriend,"

it took everything in you not to start hollering at the boy. here you were, actually worried about him, and it turns out this was all just another one of his stupid fake pick up line jokes.

"fuck you," you said, throwing down his hand. you stood up from your bed and went back to leaning on the wall.

"no, y/n, i'm serious!" you looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. "my mom's family is coming to our house for a party, and i've been telling her i have a girlfriend."

"which you obviously don't" you filled in for him. he looked slightly offended, but said nothing. you surveyed his face. he looked serious enough- but that was the thing. richie tozier was an incredible actor. he was kind of hard to trust sometimes.

"will you?" he begged. under your judgement, which if you did say yourself was quite good (seeing as you'd been best friends with him since the two of you were in kindergarten), he was for real.

still, you were hesitant to say yes. knowing richie, pretending to be his girlfriend would most likely entail a holding hands, standing with each other at all times, and maybe even... kissing.

it wasn't that you didn't want to kiss richie- oh, how you desperately wanted to kiss richie!

but what if you went a little to hard with it? what if you made richie uncomfortable? what if you were holding hands and your hand started sweating? what if his parents didn't like you? what if-

"y/n?"

oh shit. you'd gotten so caught up in thinking about richie that you'd forgotten he was actually in your room.

"damn, rich, i don't know," you said, pulling yourself together. you pushed yourself off of the wall, now standing directly in front of your friend, staring down at the floor. "i..."

you looked up at him. if he wasn't serious, you were going to murder his ass. that clown bitch wouldn't be the only thing haunting his dreams.

"ok," you said, finally giving in. richie immediately brightened.

"thank you sooooo much," he popped of from his seat on your bed and ran over to give you a hug.

"hey, watch yourself, bigfoot! my parents are still asleep, you can't just go stomping around like that!"

"your mom would be happy to see me," richie smirked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"shut your fucking mouth, tozier," you moved to kick him in the shin, but he dodged you. "you don't want me to break up with you, do you?"

"fiiiiine," he sighed, walking back over to your bed and flopping down. "i won't go into detail about what fun me and your mom had last-"

"richie!"

"okay, okay, i'm sorry," he laughed. the air was still for a while as you moved to sit next to him again.

"so about this party..." you said casually, crossing your ankles. "what day, time, who's gonna be there, things like that,"

"well..." richie stared at the floor, as if he were thinking. "it's this saturday, and it's.... 10am to 2pm? i think? but we don't have to stay the whole time."

"okayyy," you said. "who's coming?"

"my aunt, and her kids. they're around georgie's age, but they're not dead-"

"richie!" you scolded, whacking him on the shoulder. "stop that!"

"sorry, 'm sorry," he rubbed his eye with his fist. "there's three of 'em- my cousins. they're all about a year apart. then my grandma and great grandma are coming, and my uncle, who, if i'm being honest, is kind of a creep, so we'll steer away from him,"

you nodded, logging this information in your head. "you tired, rich?" you asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. he yawned.

"no," he replied. "not-" -another yawn- "-in the slightest,"

"wow! looks like trashmouth tozier is not, in fact, a machine! he lives!"

"how do you know my battery isn't low?" he snapped. he blinked, letting his eyes stay closed for just a fraction of a second longer than usual.

"i can't let you bike home in this state," it was true. he was practically falling asleep! if he got on his bike, he might crash! and richie never wore a helmet (not unless eddie convinced him to). "you wanna stay over?"

the boy sitting on your bed was finally beginning to give in. "okay, whatever," he yawned again. "but what about my parents?"

"we'll have you back home before they wake up," you said confidently, glancing at your alarm clock. the time read 2:17am. "we can get four hours of sleep and be up by six if we go to sleep now," you set the alarm as you spoke.

"okay," richie agreed, which was surprising to say the least. "good night, y/n. and thanks, by the way,"

he stood up from your bed, grabbing a spare pillow and blanket from your closet, where he knew you kept them. this wasn't his first time sleeping over.

he made himself comfortable on your bedroom floor. he curled up into fetal position, and closed his eyes.

you switched off your desk light, then walked back to your bed and got under the covers. "g'night, richie,"

however, just like before richie had come, you weren't able to sleep. after a couple of minutes, you decided to get one last question in with richie.

"hey, rich?" you said softly.

"yeah?" you heard him murmur from his position on your floor.

"would we have to like.... i don't know... kiss and stuff?" you tried to be as casual and possible as you slipped that in there.

"i guess?" he said from the floor. "it would sell it better, but we don't have to do anything,"

"m'kay," you said simply, trying not to start hyperventilating.

that was the last thing you remember happening before you finally drifted off to sleep. richie had absorbed all your energy- and for once, you were thankful.

~

"y/n!" you heard as you felt your body being shaken. "y/n, come on! we slept through the alarm!"

"what?" you mumbled, rubbing your eyelids with your fingers. you glanced up at the clock, and instantly felt a pulse of energy run through you. "oh shit, richie, it's 7:45!"

"i know, we have to go!"

the two of you jumped out of your window,running down the street as fast as you could, praying that both of your parents would be sleeping in.

you reached his house, circling around the back to his the closest window that led into his bedroom. you bent down, letting him climb up on your shoulders so that he was tall enough to reach the window.

"lift me higher!" he yelled, stretching his arms up and grabbing the window ledge. "i don't have enough upper-body strength to get my legs through!"

"i'm trying!" you snapped back, pushing the boy upward.

"i got it, i got it!" richie squealed. he now had one leg through the window, and no longer needed your shoulders to stand on.

you pulled away from under him, watching him climb into his bedroom. everything was going according to-

"richard tozier!" a woman's voice suddenly boomed. you hurriedly ducked down under richie's window, praying she hadn't already seen you.

"h-hi mom..." you heard richie wimper. he always made fun of bill's stutter, but look where he was now.

"where have you been all night?" mrs. tozier shrieked. "i come in here at 1am after hearing the window open, worried sick! i thought you'd been kidnapped! and then i check in the garage, of course, because it hit me- maggie, your son isn't exactly a little angel- and your bike is gone!"

fuck. richie had left his bike at your house. you were just about to run off and get it for him, when mrs. tozier started again.

"and don't think i didn't hear you talking to that little friend of yours, whoever is standing outside my house! who is that down there, anyway? the little kaspbrak child? oh, i'll have a word with his mother, alright,"

without warning, mrs. tozier appeared at the window, staring down at you.

"it's a- richie is this? ugh," in an instant the woman disappeared through the window.

"ow, ow, ow, ma you're hurting me!" you heard richie whine.

you were left alone outside for a good two minutes. you stood there, contemplating whether or not you should walk away.

mrs. tozier didn't know your mother, and richie would never rat you out. as annoying as that boy was, he was a loyal friend. you could get off scott free.

as you thought though, you heard richie's front door open. "you, girl!" richie's mother said, in a slightly softer voice than she'd used with her son. "come here,"

she gestured for you to come over and opened her front door. there was no escaping now.

you hung your head and walked over. the entrance of the tozier home led into a sitting room.

richie was planted on a couch, hunched over and staring at the floor, a blank expression dawning his face.

you moved to sit on a different chair, but richie's mother entered close behind you, taking that seat before you could get to it.

"sit," she motioned towards richie, so you sat next to him. "now i'll make this quick, in case you can get off free with your parents,"

you and richie glanced at each other, confused. "you're my son's girlfriend, yes?"

you pried your eyes away from richie's to look at his mother. "yes ma'am," you answered her, keeping up your and richie's lie.

"alright," mrs. tozier sighed. "i won't ask any further questions. all i want to know is what you were doing last night? and for the live of god, richie, where is your bike?"

"well, you see, ma, y/n and i met up over at the uh..." he stopped. 

the two of you made eye contact and you knew he'd just stopped himself from saying 'kissing bridge'.

"we met up by the park...." he glanced over at you, making sure you were following his story. "and we... fed the ducks,"

"oh, richie that's lovely!" his mother cried, placing a hand on her heart. "now tell me the truth."

like mother like son, you thought. mrs. tozier was like a grown-up, female version of her son, in almost every respect.

"alright. we didn't feed the ducks. we rode our bikes around town, and picked flowers," at this, you elbowed richie in his side, trying not to let his mother see. "ow!"

"it’s okay, richie, just stop lying! i won't get mad!" his mother pleaded.

he met your angry gaze. "i guess maybe i should tell the truth, huh?" he said to you.

"really, tozier?!" you rested your head in your hands in frustration. "now? now you listen to me?"

"alright, y/n, since richie seems to be fixed on lying, why don't you tell me what happened."

"he showed up at my window at one am, said he was bored and we talked for a while. then we fell asleep."

she raised her eyebrow at you explanation as well. "it's true," richie chimed in. "that's all that happened."

she looked doubtful, but she seemed satisfied. "alright," she stood. "you get home now, y/n. and bring richie's bike back when you get the chance,"

you smiled politely, waving goodbye. you winked at richie, before standing up and bolting through the door.

as you ran down the street, all you could do was hope your parents hadn't woken up yet; well, that and that no one had broken into your home. you and richie had left the window open.

you jumped into your room, using richie's bike as a hoist, and climbed into bed. fortunately, you were luckier than richie.

you pretended to be asleep as you heard your mother enter your room. "up and at 'em, y/n," she said.

you allowed your eyes to flutter open, giving your mother a smile.

this was going to be a good day.

[gem-quest]

[ QUEST 04. — I N F E R N A ]

taglist: @bebemoon​ @now-on-elissastillstands​ @armadasneon​ @mysteriousdeathofpoe​

[ A . MIDWINTER’S . NIGHT . DREAM . LEVEL . 20 ]

Inferna was with Neddy, throwing sugar cubes covered in Inferna Sauce at Jack (who had been shrunken down with a Drink Me potion), when the announcement scrolled across the sky.

<<< YOU HAVE 24 HOURS. SURVIVE TO ADVANCE. >>>

“What the fuck is that all about?” Inferna asked, pointing upwards. Neddy paused and looked up as well.

The two of them had originally gone to Level 20, A Midwinter’s Night Dream, to play with Jack in the snow-covered gardens in front of the palace (the maze was behind the palace, and those stupid fucking bitch ass snow angels flying around that place could all go eat a dick. Inferna was so tired of being pelted with snowballs as soon as she got within a ten-foot radius of them. And it was all because she wasn’t a Moonstone player!!).

The pale winter sun gleamed against the pristine snow of the level as she and Neddy started making their way towards the maze to investigate. A large, chattering crowd had formed around the entrance, blocking their view, and Inferna grabbed Neddy’s hand, waiting for her to settle a shrunken-down Jack into his basket before she viciously elbowed her way to the front, until she could see what all the fuss was about.

A sleek metal half-dome had materialized into existence. The harsh steel was a stark contrast against the delicate statues and glittering fountains lining the edges of the maze.

Inferna narrowed her eyes as she took in the scene. Items had begun shimmering into existence, beneath the dome - there were some miscellaneous food stuffs (were those the apple turnovers from the Tearoom that Inferna liked so much????), medi-elixirs, oh and was that silver dust? And even an ignitium potion? - and some players were dashing forward to snatch them up before other people could get to them. Inferna was inclined to join in (free stuff was always good. Especially free food. Those turnovers were hers!), but she held back, and turned her gaze in the direction of where 90% of the players were looking.

“What the hell?” she said, glancing over at her friend. “What are those Bigfoot-lookin’ things?”

“Abominable snowmen?” Neddy suggested, shrugging her shoulders. 

Inferna frowned. She was spared from replying by a ding! from her player-plexus, indicating a new notification. All around her, other player-plexuses were dinging as well, and Inferna quickly pulled her own out to see what this was all about.

“Yeti stats…” she muttered under her breath, quickly skimming over the message that’d popped up on her screen:

YETI STATS 

STRENGTH: 7 DEFENCE: 7 CHARISMA: 1 PSYCHE: 3 WILLPOWER: 5 CAUTIOUSNESS: 2 AGILITY: 4 ENDURANCE: 10 INTELLIGENCE: 5 LUCK: -

She looked up, and squinted. “So they’re Yetis, then,” she said to Neddy. Her player-plexus pinged again, and Inferna swiped open one of her Obsidian group chats.

Anyone in 20 rn? I heard it’s going into lockdown until tomorrow

Another ding. 

Oh dang yeah, i just tried to ictuium in, and no luck. Dont think ictuium-ing out will work either

Inferna sighed, and showed Neddy the messages. “I guess we’re shit out of luck, then,” she mused, watching the Yetis slowly get closer. “What is G doing, ripping off Fortnite? Well, I guess it’d be more like a Hunger Games rip-off, because Fortnite is just Hunger Games with guns.”

She squinted. The half-dome with randomly appearing items must have been like the Cornucopia, then. Fair enough. And the Yetis were...Yetis. 

It’s really damn annoying that the only thing we got were the stats. Nothing about what they can actually do. 

A shout rang out, from somewhere to their right. Inferna turned her head just in time to see a huge blast of icy magic slam into the roof of the palace behind them. The tiles cracked, and began tumbling downwards.

“Fucking shit!” Inferna swore. “If we make it out of this alive, I’m going to need more fake magical potion vodka from Morningstar. And, you know, just more college frat party alcohol in general. This is bull!”

Inferna ducked and began to run, pretty sure that she did not want to be buried under a pile of rubble. When she figured that she was a safe enough distance away, she stood up, scanning the crowd for Neddy’s familiar lilac hair, but her friend was nowhere in sight. 

Inferna frowned, and as she ran in the opposite direction of the Yetis, she quickly tapped out a message to Neddy: hey lmk if u want to meet back up - think i lost u just now.

After she’d retreated to the very edge of the level, a ways into the snowy forest that surrounded the palace and maze, Inferna let herself slow down and catch her breath. She leaned against the barrier of the level, which was a transparent Plexiglass-ish kind of thing that let players look out through it into the rest of the woods, but didn’t let them pass through. It shimmered with some kind of energy - magical, maybe? - where Inferna’s body made contact with it, but otherwise, it felt like a normal invisible wall.

You know. Because once you’d been inside the game for long enough, this kind of shit was the norm.

Inferna wasn’t sure that she wanted to stay in this specific spot for too long; although the Yetis weren’t supposed to be all that intelligent, she would bet her right hand that G had programmed them to traverse the entire level. Inferna wasn’t entirely certain how she would fare, against one of them - on the one hand, her own strength and defense stats were higher than those of the Yetis, meaning that she’d probably have a pretty decent chance fighting one of them head-on (especially with her added advantage of being, you know, basically the Gem Quest equivalent of a fire bender), but the Yetis had higher endurance stats than her. And, given that she was fire and they were ice, if the Yetis managed to land a blow on her, Inferna would probably be in trouble.

With that thought in mind, Inferna dragged an ignitium potion out from her inventory. If one of them did try to target her, Inferna would hit them back with the breathe-fire-from-your-mouth potion, like Uncle Iroh in ATLA. Because that guy was #goals.

Once she’d wolfed down a raspberry tartlet (fliched from the Tearoom) and taken a pull from the handle of fake magical potion vodka (okay, so it wasn’t actually a handle - just a standard large-sized potion bottle) Morningstar had given her, which tasted just like the shit Inferna knocked back with her friends in real life but was somehow made from ingredients within the game, Inferna set off again. This kind of stupid event was best done drunk, high, or both, in Inferna’s opinion. Since she didn’t actually want to get herself killed, she was just going to settle on tipsy.

(Besides. Was it just her, or did her fire-mage powers seem stronger when she was inebriated? Weird, but she’d always take an excuse to get drunk.)

The first Yeti she encountered happened to be barreling across her path in pursuit of some other player, narrowly avoiding the invisible wall. Said other player was probably smarter than Inferna and quickly disappeared into the nearby shrubbery, their dark hair and clothing providing ample cover among the trees, but Inferna was a dumbass and had chosen this exact week to pull out an H-rank cosmetic potion and dye her hair bright orange. Bright glittery orange. So the Yeti, upon turning around, immediately caught sight of her and began lumbering her way.

“Fuck this shit,” Inferna muttered under her breath, downing the ignitium potion all at once. She waited a moment for the effects to set in - and for the Yeti to get close enough - and then sprang forward.

Flames leapt out of her mouth, curling and crackling and rippling with heat, and when she noticed other Yetis coming closer, Inferna spun in a wide circle like that legendary scene of Uncle Iroh in Ba Sing Se. The Yetis, temporarily stunned, fell back with a series of angry roars, formerly-white fur now a charred black. Inferna took that as her cue to get the fuck out of there, and - after shouting a completely, totally, stupidly unnecessary “see ya later, motherfuckers!” - she zipped off into the forest, taking advantage of all the speed and agility bequeathed upon her for picking the rogue class when she first started the game.

Inferna paused to catch her breath once she’d reached the edge of the forest, stopping just behind the end of the treeline. She checked the time - it’d only been an hour - and groaned. 

“This is so stupid,” she said out loud, to the random tree on her right. “I just want to go back to the Tearoom or something and get more food. What kind of lame-ass food is there in this level, anyway? Fucking snow angel food, that’s what. Fuck those guys.”

Inferna looked around her. There was a handy-handy rock a few feet away, so she trotted over, brushed off the snow, and sat down, propping her chin up with her hand to very angrily glare at a patch of snow-dusted grass, because she wanted some pastries, dammit, but stupid fucking G and his stupid fucking devs decided to make a stupid fucking event in the coldest, stupidest level of the entire game. 

Inferna was still angrily contemplating a blade of grass when the sound of someone approaching made her look up. She had one of her flaming daggers out in an instant, just in case whoever it was wanted to try some funny business.

However, once the figure got closer, Inferna lowered the dagger. She grinned, eyes lighting up in recognition.

“Ace!” she called out, waving. 

The brunette turned, caught sight of Inferna and her glittery orange hair, and started in her direction.

“Vicky, what the hell!” she exclaimed, lightly punching her arm. “It’s been ages.”

“No kidding,” Inferna replied, still grinning from ear-to-ear. “How’ve you been? I thought you went back out.”

Ace (well, Ace of Angels technically, but Inferna didn’t care enough to call her by her full screen name, and AOA was already the kpop group. And the other Obsidian player didn’t like being called ‘Gertrude’...Inferna couldn’t blame her) shrugged, the motion jostling her scary black wings. “I took the week off, to come back in. I’ve got a good amount of relinquium potions left, so might as well try to make use of them for the Plexipedia.”

“What’s happening with the Plexipedia?” asked Inferna. “Am I still IP banned from it?”

Ace snorted. “You tried to replace the screenshots of every NPC you didn’t like with gifs of Dr. Doofenshmirtz. Among other things that I won’t even mention, right now. Yes, you’re still IP banned.”

Inferna made a face. “Jerk. Can’t even do little ol’ me a favor and use your mighty admin powers to unban me?”

Ace just rolled her eyes, and ignored her question. “What’s happening with the Plexipedia is that we’re compiling a list of players that are still trapped in here. And, on the DL, tallying up how many relinquium potions are left. Did you see? They jumped from B-rank to S-rank in, like, two months’ time. I didn’t even know that items could jump ranks.”

“G must’ve done something,” Inferna mused. “Dammit, G, controlling the economy like that. What a fucking communist.”

Ace gave Inferna an inscrutable look, her hazel eyes gleaming with something Inferna couldn’t quite place. “He’s a murderer, Vicky, that’s what he is. Don’t you know how many people have already died?”

Inferna was quiet, for a moment. “The rumors are true, then? I heard about how we couldn’t bribe Jackie anymore, and the relinquium potions. But I wasn’t sure about the, you know. Dying.”

Ace nodded. “You remember Cheshire? She was in our party, but only for like two days.”

Inferna’s mouth went dry. “She…?”

Ace’s solemn look was all the answer Inferna needed.

Inferna sat back down on her rock, heavily. “Shit,” she said, “I thought it was all just BS that people were making up to fuck with other people. I mean, I knew about the potions, but I didn’t think G would actually…”

“That’s why I come back in-game when I can get off from work. Nobody really knows anything, I think.”

Inferna was quiet for another minute. Then, she gave Ace a suspicious glance. “Is there a Plexipedia page for me, too?”

Ace laughed out loud. “Oh, boy,” she said, amused. “Yes. Yes there is. We had to clean a lot of it up - it was basically just Angie roasting the shit out of you for a hot sec. She’s never gonna let you live down the fact that you tried to make spicy Doritos out of an Everlasting Flame and some bread, you know. Or that time you tried to smoke that powder from the Descend out of a bong you made from an empty potion bottle. Or the time you tried to make a Vine reference to Finvarra in Level 10. I could go on.”

Inferna scowled and jumped to her feet, indignant. “Fuck her! Just because Lisa’s my bias instead of Rosé doesn’t mean she gets to fucking harass me like that. I mean, I never said Rosé was bad; I’m a goddamn Blink too! When you go back out, you tell her to fuck right on off, you hear me????”

Ace smiled wryly. “Alright. Jeez, chill out. It’s not like you don’t give Angie shit, either,” she pointed out. 

Ace’s player-plexus pinged, and Inferna stayed quiet, letting her check her messages.

When Ace next looked up, she was frowning. “I’m going to head out. Elaine’s with me - she found one of the leads we’d been following.” She paused, and glanced up at the sky. “I guess we’ll be stuck in here until tomorrow at 12, huh? But we’re usually pretty busy, so I’m sorry we can’t stop and chat with you.”

It took Inferna a moment to remember who Elaine was. “You mean the girl who tried to make me a Reveluv?”

Ace nodded. “Yep, she’s Drakla on here. And speaking of Red Velvet, they have a new comeback, by the way. It’s a red one.”

Inferna grimaced. “Aw. I like their velvet side better, but I’ll always stan anything they do.” 

Just then, a thought occurred to her. Inferna hesitated, but said, “Hey, Ace - tell my parents I’m alright, okay? When you get back out.”

Ace nodded, again. “Sure. You want me to email them, or something?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that works. You’ve got your headset on record mode, right? My mom’s email is Jenny-underscore-Chang-underscore-65, at yahoo.com. Just...just tell them, you know, that I’m fine.”

Ace gave her a small smile. “I can do that,” she said, her wings shifting as she prepared to take flight - presumably, to find Drakla/Elaine. “Do you just want a potion? To leave?”

Inferna shook her head. “No, give it to someone who actually needs it.” And someone who actually wants it. Inferna knew she’d have to go and confront her real life at some point - AKA applying for jobs in an industry she didn’t give two shits about, and sleeping through boring lectures about Ruby or C++ or whatever, and spending all her free time debugging her stupid fucking code - but right now, she just wanted to have fun while she still could.

“Sure thing. Don’t die, okay? We’re all still waiting on you to go to a Blackpink concert with us. Their Kill This Love World Tour stages have looked awesome, from what I’ve seen on YouTube.”

Inferna gave Ace a two-fingered salute. “Nothing’ll keep me from my wife Lalisa Manoban. Tell Angie she’s a bitch for me.”

Ace rolled her eyes one final time before she took off in a flurry of black feathers and swirls of shimmering silver light, leaving Inferna alone in the forest.

Inferna pulled her player-plexus out again. She wanted to find Neddy, and she wanted to find food.

[whitepolaris]

Melonheads Creep Through the woods at Night

When you get tired of hearing the same old stories about Bigfoot, Skunk Apes, and the Loch Ness Monster, head over to Lake County and check out the Melonheads: weird humanlike creatures with enormous heads that roam the countryside in and around Kirtland and Chardon.

As for the origin of the Melonheads, the popular belief is that they were part of secret government testing that involved strange experiments on human subjects. Whatever they were testing, the result was that the subjects’ heads all swelled to enormous sizes. As with any good government conspiracy, it was decided that the best thing to do would be to cover up the whole thing up. A secret location deep in the a woods was quickly established, and the Melonheads were all shipped there in the middle of the night. 

Since they were well taken care of, the Melonheads were, for the most part, a passive bunch. However, every once in a while one of them would grow restless for contact with the outside world. Usually waiting until the cover of darkness, a Melonhead or two would slip outside their little commune and creep toward civilization. More often than not, just a glimpse of the outside world would be all the Melonheads would need to send them scampering back to the safety of their little town, which is said to be somewhere in the woods near Wisner Road. 

There are a few offshoots of the Melonheads legend in which a doctor features prominently. In those versions, the doctor’s name is Crowe (or Crow). In the first version, Dr. Crowe has somehow managed to acquire, either by kidnapping or through a secret deal with the mental hospital he works at, several individuals that he he subjects to bizarre experiments, most of which focus on the brain and head. Due to the severe trauma, the individuals’ heads are deformed and misshapen. But since some Dr. Crowe’s experiments also included lobotomies, the Melonheads are rather docile, if not a bit slow. So they every once in a while Dr. Crowe would “lose” a few subjects for a short period of time, he would always be able to round them up rather quickly and return them to his lab. 

There is also a variation on the tale, which focuses less on Dr. Crowe and more on his wife. This time, Dr. Crowe and his are living in an isolated cabin in the woods and have been asked to care for a group of children stricken with hydrocephalia, a disease that affects the cerebrospinal fluid in one’s body and causes the head to swell. Due to the swollen heads, a mean-spirited locals began calling the children Melonheads, and the name stuck. 

It is said that while assisting her husband in a lovingly caring for the hydrocephalic children, Mrs. Crowe began to see how the Melonheads nickname was hurting the children’s feelings. Her motherly instincts kicking in, Mrs. Crowe drew the children closer to her, protecting them from the outside world. In turn, the children began to look at Mrs. Crowe as their very own mother. Unfortunately, Mrs. Crowe passed away one day, sending the children’s collective world crashing down. 

Feeling they were now lost, the children panicked and began running and thrashing about the Crowe cabin Dr. Crowe attempted to calm them, but to not avail. In the ensuing melee, a lit  kerosene lantern was knocked to the floor, which set the old cabin on fire, engulfing everything, including Dr. Crowe and all the children. The Melonheads said to roam the woods in this version are the ghosts of the children who burned to death in the cabin fire. 

The final legend associated with the Melonheads doesn’t even mention them, but it bears discussion because again Dr. Crowe is the central figure. Besides, it’s the most disturbing of all the variants. Here, Dr. Crowe performs illegal abortions in his cabin in the woods and even managed to find the time kill a deformed baby or two in his spare time. Afterwards, he would bury the tiny bodies around the knoll near his cabin. Abandoned now, the basement of the doctor’s house is said to echo with the cries from the departed babies, so does the area surrounding the knoll. With that in mind, it should come as no surprise that the bridge near where Dr. Crowe’s cabin is said to be is now officially a Crybaby Bridge. 

No matter where they came from, most kids in the area know somebody whose sister’s best friend knew a guy whose dentist saw the Melonheads. Not to be outdone by the dentist, local high school kids drive around the area late at night, looking for the Melonheads. Some say that at one time there was a family with a mentally disabled child with an oversized cranium who used to stand at the fence at the edge of his parents’ property, and that all the myths and horror stories are much ado about one unfortunate kid. 

At any rate, the Melonheads are almost strongly associated with Wisner Road, near Chardon. They are also often sighted on King Memorial Road, especially in or near the King Memorial Cemetery. (When the road enters Geauga County it becomes Mentor Road, and the graveyard commonly called King Memorial is technically named Larned Cemetery.) Why they like it here is anybody’s guess. Maybe Dr. Crowe and his wife are buried there, and they come to visit the graves. . . . Hey, we just made that up, but it sounds like as good an explanation as any. 

Animal Corpses Mark Trail Through Melonheads’ Woods

I live in Eastlake, not far from Kirtland. I’ve seen the burnt shack of Dr. Crowe and saw the chain that the “Melonheads” hung his dead corpse from. I can say as one person that the Melonheads are in fact real. Close by Kirtland, there is a small castle for picnics and BBQs and miles of hiking trails. When you walk down these trails, you can see some mutilated animals in the deep parts of the woods. I’ve been hiking back in the woods for as long as I can remember. Not one time while strolling have I seen small dead animals and mutilated corpses and bones. -Rich Gleir

Bad Moon Rising over Melonhead Country

The story as I have heard it is that Dr. Crowe injected these kids’ brains with water. This caused the heads to swell up like melons. Anyway, he kept them locked away in cages in a green barn next to his house. Now at this point the story gets a little fuzzy-either the barn burnt down in an accident and a few of the Melonheads escaped, or the barn is still there. Anyway, these Melonheads still roam the area out the bear the Holden Arboretum. Supposedly, they come out only at night, and if it is a full moon they are extremely vicious and will attack any humans they see. However, they have a hard time seeing. If you wear dark clothes-blacks, reds, dark greens, or blues-you will be safe. But if you have on any bright colors or white, you are a prime target. -Justin V.

Caught a Glimpse of a Melonhead at Mitchell’s Mill

I know the Dr. Crowe story is sorta true, but there are some facts missing. First of all, Dr. Crowe did exist, but he lived in the 1940s and was a dentist. There could have been another Dr. Crowe, though. Second, full moons have nothing to do with the Melonheads’ nasty behavior. I know this from experiences with them and from experiences that others have had. My first experience with what I think were Melonheads was on the East Branch of the Chagrin River. 

My brother and I were driving along Mitchell’s Mill, and I saw a quick flash out of the corner of my eye. I looked right and saw something by a tree. It was very blurry, though. I was so scared I screamed, and my brother looked over of his window. “What the hell was that?” he said. I guess he saw it too, because he turned around at the spring and we headed back. This was near Mentor Road, which is off of Auburn. -Jay

Ditched Melonhead Along Roadside

On October 5, 2001, my stepfather, mom, stepbrother, and me were driving down Chilocothe Rd. in Chardon when we came upon this stretch of road that had fields on both sides and an irrigation ditch running parallel with each side of the road. Just then, I looked out my window and I saw him-a Melonhead! He, or it, was running along next to the ditch. Since the ditch was too wide to jump over, it was coming close (like it was about to jump), then pulling away. At the time, we were going about 45-50 mph. The Melonhead was actually keeping up with us. 

He looked about the same height as me (five feet seven inches) and was wearing brown pants that were ripped up and were held together at the seams by what looked like corn husks. Its head was swelled up, and its eyes were very big looking. Just as we turned a curve, it jumped into the woods. -Tony

Solving the Melonhead Mystery

My father’s house rests in a secluded, thickly wooded area off of Mitchells Mill Road in Chardon. When my family relocated there in the mid-’70s, my older sister’s middle school classmates turn white as a ghost when she told them where our house was. 

“You live in Melonhead Country!” they exclaimed. She was then frightened with tales of Dr. Crowe, the evil man who had performed cruel experiments on hydrocephalic children to make them into cannibalistic fiends. 

The legend states that Dr. Crowe’s laboratory was located on Wisner Road near a bridge, but this road is actually split in half due to a washout. One half is in Chardon, one is in Kirtland, and both feature a different bridge as landmarks. I also became aware that high school students from Chardon often disguised themselves as Melonheads to frighten necking teenagers. Still, even if the reported sightings had been pranks, there had to be been entirely invented by locals. 

Despite the passage of several years and my own relocation to Los Angeles, I was haunted by the secrets of the woods in northeast Ohio, so I decided to get the bottom of the Melonhead myth once and for all. A conveniently planned trip back to Ohio for the week of Thanksgiving afford me the opportunity to solve some mysteries about my hometown.

Stories tell that Dr. Crowe was either killed by his patients or perished in the fire when his cottage burned down. Another tale has him swinging by the neck from a beam of the Arch Barn on Mitchells Mill in an apparent suicide. 

I went to the library and found an article from the West Geauga Sun claiming that “Dr. Kroh” had been influenced by Gregor Mendl and was experimenting on humans to increase the size of their heads. His experiments failed, and in a fit of pique he piled his genetic mutations into his car and left them by the side of Chagrin River Road in Kirtland, where they presumably fled into the woods and have remained to this day. 

I next visited the Health Department to look up death certificates on any Chardon residents name Crow, Crowe, or Kroh. There were records of people with these names, but none of them appeared to be doctors, and all had died of natural causes. My investigation was hindered by the fact that I could not pin these events down to a specific time period or location, assuming they had happened at all. 

Just when I thought I would be returning to Los Angeles empty-handed, I tracked down an expert to local folklores who was able to give me the official versions of the Melonhead legend and the facts that it originated from. 

According to her, Dr. Crowe and his wife had lived together in a cottage where they cared for children afflicted with hydrpcephalus. The children adorned Mrs. Crowe but weren’t so keen on her husband. One night, the couple got into an argument, and Mrs. Crowe fell against a cabinet, suffering a fatal blow to the head. Thinking Dr. Crowe had murdered his wife, the Melonheads attacked and killed him. They then proceeded to tear the place apart, setting fire to the cottage in the process. Some of them survived to dwell in the surrounding woods, living off animals and occasionally attacking humans when threatened (or really hungry). 

In the late ‘50s or early ‘60s, there were a few children with hydrocephalus who lived in northeast Ohio. One of them lived on Wisner Road and was enrolled in the Kirtland school distinct. At that time, the road was desolate, and teenagers would often go there to park. The  boy and his “normal” friends, who were all preteens, would creep up on parked cars and scare away the older kids. The frightened students would tell their peers at school that they had been “chased by the Melonheads!” 

Children afflicted with hydrocephalus do not live very long, and while the other “Melonheads” are now businessmen in Kirtland, the original Melonhead died of natural causes and is buried in Kirtland South Cemetery. 

There was apparently a man named Crow (or Kroh) who moved to Ohio from Chicago in 1957 and lived on Wisner Road. He was working on a cure for tuberculosis. Any connection between him and the boy with hydrocephalus is unsubstantiated, who knows? The woods along Kirtland-Chardon Road have produced many strange tragedies and mysteries. As my plane took off for Los Angeles, I could feel the magnetic pull of those mysterious woods drawing me in for further adventures-Ryan Orvis

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