#catch me cramming my friends into this fic

[vaaaaaiolet]

“Tell me a story, please?” you add, hiding a smile under the edge of the blanket. A kiss is bestowed upon on your forehead and the cave opens for the night. Leon clears his throat theatrically. “This story is about a girl, and a boy who loved her very much.”

Leon keeps his best tales under lock and key, and you crack one out of him on a particularly sleepless night. He thinks you might like this one.

f / m, fluff sprinkled in with angst and emotional hurt, insomnia, grief + mourning, leon is a sweetheart he just loves you :(, he basically tells you a fairy tale before bed

word count: 1.6k // read on ao3

a/n: um. norman fucking rockwell, baby. if you catch the lyrics from "How to disappear", i love you. i wrote this fic like i was possessed 😭 nothing was planned

There aren’t any waves outside your landlocked bedroom window to lull you to sleep, but there is another ocean view you can think of. You turn to the other side of your pillow, biting your lip hopefully.

“Hi, sweetheart,” the view mumbles, ocean eyes groggy and losing the fight against sleep.

You’re in luck.

“Leon,” you whisper. 

“Mm.”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Don’t know why…you’re not tired,” he yawns, his blond lashes almost fluttering closed before snapping open at your wide-eyed expression, “when you’ve been running through my mind all day.”

You cram the comforter to your chin and flip to the other side of the bed with a groan. 

Leon chuckles, giving your shoulder a sleepy shake, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” 

He’s not sorry. But you relent anyway. 

“Tell me a story,” you mumble as he tucks you back in.

You brush a strand of hair across his forehead to unveil those ocean eyes again. They’re faded and tired, yes, but they’ve also seen more of the world than you could ever dream of. The only good thing to come out of Leon’s mysterious missions to the ends of the earth is the treasure trove of stories he brings back with him, like a Cave of Wonders, filled with only the best for you to unlock. You don’t know anything about the outside of that cave – he stops telling the story if you ask – and you’re not in any position to argue as the clock ticks closer to morning.

“What’s the magic word?” he nudges.

Is he really going all open sesame on you too?

“Tell me a story, please?” you add, hiding a smile under the edge of the blanket.  

A kiss is bestowed upon your forehead and the cave opens for the night. Leon clears his throat theatrically. 

“This story is about a girl, and a boy who loved her very much.”

“One thing you have to know before I start anything though, sweetheart, is that this girl was a spitfire. Completely unreasonable. She was the type to pack a grocery cart full of ice cream she swore was on discount only to have all of it be full price and melt in the checkout line.”

(“That was one time!”)

“Never said a thing about it being you, sweetheart, shh. You’re supposed to be trying to sleep. But either way, this girl couldn’t be you because she was a princess – a real pretty one at that. Sweet, smart and kind like little girls grow up wanting to be. She lived in a castle by the sea on an island in the middle of nowhere, and here’s what I heard about her on my last mission. You’ll like this one.

“Life on that island was as peaceful as you can get in a fairy tale. She had plenty of mermaids for friends and animals to keep her company, but you can’t help getting lonely after the years start passing by. The princess was stuck there, you see.”

(“How’d she get there to begin with?”)

“Uh-uh, you’re interrupting me.” Leon teases. “Story or no story?”

(“Story, please.”)

“Magic, alright? Say she got stolen away by some evil witch like Rapunzel did and her kidnapper drowned in the sea. I don’t know. But it didn’t really matter because that island became home after a while. A beautiful home, but lonely all the same. The mermaids all returned to their castle under the sea when the moon came up and the princess wished had somebody she could sleep next to when it got cold at night. 

“She was fond of stories too, like somebody else I know, and after all those years on that island, she’d read every book in the castle and longed for someone who could tell her something new. All she ever wished for on her birthday was a friend. ‘Just for a little bit’, she’d beg.”

Leon sucks in a careful breath.

“So one night, the ocean decided to send the princess a birthday present just like she asked. A magic tide deposited a little boat on the edge of her island, and when the princess woke up the next morning and looked outside her window, she saw something – or rather, somebody – slumped inside of that boat.”

(“And inside that boat was a prince?”)

“No prince. The princess made sure of it too, brave thing that she was, walking right up to the boat and taking a good look at who was sleeping inside of it. 

“The boy inside that boat was dead to the world with cuts on his face from fighting too hard. He gave the princess a good scare ‘cause he was so asleep she thought he was actually dead. When he woke up and asked ‘Who are you?’, she nearly punched him out of fright.”

(“You were right, I think I like her.”)

Leon laughs, bright and warm.

“But this boy was a real charmer, and the princess was kind, remember?”

(“Bummer.”) 

“She didn’t go around punching people out of nowhere. Especially not the first human she’d ever seen. Her curiosity got the best of her and she took the boy to her castle, where he told her he was a mercenary from a faraway kingdom. He’d been on his way to kill a rampaging sea monster when a mysterious wind blew his boat off course and right onto the princess’ island. 

“Over breakfast, the mercenary told her stories about monsters, jungles, fire-breathing dragons, stuff she’d only ever read about. She was entranced. The more he spoke, the more the princess wanted to see for herself even though she knew she couldn’t. She had to be smart about it.”

Leon swallows. He nestles the blanket around you a little tighter, like you’d slip out of his grasp, and continues.

“The boy was battered from the beating he took from his voyage, so the princess nursed him back to health. I told you she was stubborn, right? She wouldn’t take any of the gold or jewels he tried offering her from his travels. All she asked for was a new story each day he stayed with her. He agreed.

“The first week went by in a flash. The princess borrowed magic green herbs from her mermaid friends to heal the mercenary faster. The herbs made him strong enough to move mountains if he wanted to, so he pounded a couple to the ground outside her castle just to prove he could when she asked, and with the new space, the princess made him a place to stay. Turns out she was a great businesswoman; the boy spun tale after tale for her while she fixed a loneliness deep in his bones. Everything was perfect.”

(“Aww…”) 

“The boy stayed longer than he thought he would. His boat collected dust as that week turned into months. Those months grew into a year. The princess’ birthday rolled around again.”

(“Did they fall in love?”)

“They did, sweetheart.”

Leon chuckles softly.

“He ended up loving her a lot, and the princess loved him too, don’t get me wrong, but that’s not usually how it goes in fairy tales, is it? There’s a catch.”

You reach for Leon’s hand in the deep of the comforter, not remembering when he let go.

“Good sailors know not to mess with the ocean. It wasn’t too pleased with the princess keeping the boy to herself for more than just a little bit, not when he needed to get rid of that sea monster that had been killing millions of innocent people. So on the night of the princess’ birthday, the sea asked the boy to go back to being a mercenary. He needed to do his job and the princess wasn’t part of it.”

(“Tell me he stayed, Leon.”)

“Princess, I can’t-”

(“Make him stay.”)

And for the first time, Leon stutters because he never changes the story.

“A-Alright, so the boy stays. He tells the sea that he fell in love and can’t bear to leave the princess behind.”

(“And then?”)

“And then…and then he finds out he’s in over his head. The tide comes and goes, everything has to have a balance. He needed to go because he had to protect all those people, and he couldn’t do that by staying with the princess no matter how much he loved her, right?”

Lifting the blanket aside, Leon falls onto his back. You watch the ceiling fan blades spin in the dull sea-blue of his eyes. 

“The princess asked him to stay and he couldn’t say no to her. She meant well. She didn’t…she didn’t know. And they were happy together on that island until the boy’s decision caught up with him. The sea monster he was supposed to kill found their island one day, sweetheart.”

(“...Leon, no. That’s not supposed to happen.”)

“It’s how the story goes,” he murmurs, gently pressing his lips to yours.

You barely feel it; you taste saltwater in his kiss, feel it running down your face.

“But you changed it!” You’re crying, can’t find his hand. Where’d he go? He’s supposed to be here, you changed the stupid story, you have to make him stay. 

The ocean might not be outside your window, but you still see it behind glass as you prop yourself up on your elbows, heaving for breath only to find Leon’s framed picture sitting beside your pillow.

His eyes are so blue. Ghostly in the dark. 

You must have dropped it when sleep took you under. Your earbuds are still hooked up to a podcast in an earlier effort to bore yourself to sleep, but you don’t really want to hear about relaxing Zen gardens right now. Tugging everything out of your ears, your shaking finger opens the notes app. 

Right now, you’re in the mood for a story. A story with a happy ending where no one goes anywhere.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[blackhairedjjun]

the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

pairing: choi yeonjun x gender neutral reader | genre / tropes: fluff, friends to lovers, reader who likes to cook, ft. friend!taehyun | word count: 2.7k | warnings: food, some profanity

author's notes: yeonjun birthday fic made it on time!! this was more rushed than my usual writing bc i was cramming it in between work, i've been super busy these days :'( but i've wanted to do yeonjun with an s/o who loves to cook for him for a while, and his birthday was the perfect opportunity to write it. so i'm relieved to get this out!

this fic has been cross-posted to ao3 here

the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

you never believed the sentiment yourself until your friend taehyun invited you to hang out with some of his other friends. at the first mention you had doubts about going, but when taehyun mentioned the word potluck, you just couldn’t resist 一 he knew it was a magic word for you.

you didn’t prepare anything too fancy, just a modest batch of tteokbokki. you love how comforting the dish was, from the warm and spicy aroma of the sauce to its soft and springy rice cakes, and it’s a safe thing to make to leave a good impression on taehyun’s friends. at his house you set your tteokbokki on the makeshift buffet table that he had set up, and pray that the guests would actually give your dish a chance.

you underestimated just how much of an impact it would have.

taehyun’s friends love it, but one friend in particular catches your eye. as he takes his first bite his expression changes, his whole face seemingly glowing with delight. his smile is so wide that he’s barely able to keep his mouth shut to chew, and he squirms in his seat in a little dance.

you’ve cooked for others plenty of times before, but you’ve never seen anyone so utterly transformed by your cooking.

“this is so good! mm, i’m so happy... this is so yummy, really... wait, who brought this again?”

taehyun gestures towards you. “y/n cooked it. they’re really good, right? this is, well, it’s their thing.”

his friend whips his head towards you, the wide smile still plastered on his face. it reaches all the way to his eyes, and you see the way they shine in appreciation.

“thank you so much for bringing this,” he says. “can you make this again when you come back?”

you’ve only known this friend for an hour or so and he’s already talking about coming back, which makes your heart flutter and your face grow warm. “s-sure, i’d love to.”

it’s a few months before you’re free again to come to the next hangout, and when taehyun reintroduces you to his friends you note the name of the one whose face lit up at your tteokbokki: yeonjun. this time you’ve brought some spaghetti cooked in freshly made tomato sauce, and again it’s a hit. yeonjun loves it as much as the tteokbokki, and when he’s slurped up his plate and cleaned up he thanks you profusely and looks at you as if you were a saint 一 the patron saint of good food, perhaps. you can’t help but give him a shy smile, and you swear that his cheeks turned a little pink at the gesture.

the day flies by in the presence of good food and good company. when you finally have to leave, yeonjun stops you for a moment; he meets your gaze head on, but the fidgeting of his hands betrays him.

“d’you want to hang out sometime? just you and me, i mean.”

“oh, are you sick of taehyun too?”

from the corner of your eye you see your mutual friend laugh and give you a sly grin. your remark seems to fluster yeonjun, though; he turns his head away to collect himself, which only makes taehyun laugh a bit more.

“i was kidding, i was kidding. but yeah, i’d love to hang out.”

“cool, great.” 

“yeah, cool.”

you try to play it off but your heart pounds in your ears. and though yeonjun is leaning against the wall and trying to seem calm about the whole thing, his heart is racing just as much.

you don’t cook for your first hangout together (he brings you to his favorite ramen shop in the area, which also happens to be your favorite ramen shop in the area) but on your second hangout you make an impromptu meal by cobbling together a stew from whatever you have in your fridge. yeonjun devours it, eating every vegetable and chunk of meat and sip of stew with pure joy all over his face, and when he’s done he stands up to wash the dishes for you. you try to stop him, only for him to gently take your hand before you can grab a sponge. his touch sends a jolt of electricity right through you.

“let me do this for you,” he says. “i wanna thank you for the meal.”

“you don’t have to, yeonjun, i just threw a bunch of stuff together in a pot一”

“please?” he says with a pout. “you’re so sweet for making this, let me repay you.”

his eyes meet yours and you feel your heart soften at the way he looks at you. “okay, fine... and thank you.”

you hang out with him many more times 一 sometimes he invites you, other times you invite him. there’s always a bit of food to share, whether it’s snacks from the convenience store or a home-cooked meal by yourself, but it’s the little moments between the bites of food that make the time worth it. 

one hot afternoon yeonjun helps you clean up after your ice cream has melted and dripped on you, and his hands brush against yours as he dabs an extra napkin against a messy spot on your sleeve. another evening you laugh when he spills some of his pasta out of his plate from too much excitement, and you tut playfully as you give him a bit of your share. on another day you plan to have breakfast together at a nice restaurant to watch the sunrise, only for both of you to stay up late and oversleep. instead you invite him over and team up to make lunch, and soon your kitchen is a mess of flour and breadcrumbs from the breaded pork cutlets you’re trying to make. you sing along to yeonjun’s playlist as you soak a piece of pork in egg, and next to you he draws a heart with the flour residue on the countertop.

you don’t know when exactly your hangouts cross the threshold into dates, but at one point you realize that things feel different when it’s just you and him around. the world feels smaller, the light of day feels brighter,  and even the meals you cook seem to stay warmer for longer. taehyun catches up with you over text as usual all throughout, and when you tell him about your friendship with yeonjun, he simply texts back: friendship?

一

when yeonjun’s birthday draws near, you know exactly what you want to do: make one of his favorite foods, pho, from scratch. finding a good recipe online is easy, and visit to your local market provides you with every ingredient you need. it’s not the most complicated thing you’ve tried to make, and watching videos of other chefs try it out gives you a bit of confidence.

so why on earth are you so damn nervous to make it? 

“i’ve never been so scared to fuck up a dish in my life,” you tell taehyun as you skim some fat off the top of the broth simmering away in a pot. it’s the day of yeonjun’s birthday and you’ve got another hangout (or date?) later that night, and taehyun has offered to help with preps. 

“when you’re scared for something, it just means that you care a lot about it,” he says. he looks up from chopping the onions for the pho and gives you a nod. “you’ve cooked gifts for other people before, you can definitely do this.”

“that’s exactly it!” you say, tossing away the scum you’ve collected. “i made a whole pizza for your birthday this year, taehyun. i roasted pork for my parents’ wedding anniversary, and that should’ve been way scarier than this. but with yeonjun, i… i feel like i can’t fuck this up. if i think about serving him bad pho or even mediocre pho and him getting sad over it, it makes me want to throw myself out of here and go into hiding forever. i’ve never felt like that about anything before.”

“you’ve known him for a few months, not as long as you’ve known me. you want to show the best of yourself for him.” taehyun smiles. “that’s not a bad thing at all.”

“i guess.” you fidget with a wooden spoon as you mull over his words. he’s right, but it’s not like you wanted to settle for mediocrity with your other friends or with your parents either. there’s something else at play, but you dare not admit it out loud. (taehyun already knows anyway, you figure.)

you’re glad to have your friend’s company in the hours it takes for the broth to fully absorb all the flavors. taehyun puts on some of your favorite shows and helps you stretch to ease away your stress, and though you check on your pot from time to time, the two of you also prepare your space. he tells you about his own forays into cooking — he recently ordered a new set of knives that he can’t wait to try — as you place a clean tablecloth on the dining table and wash a set of bowls. his company grounds you and makes the nervousness swirling around in your stomach feel more like a gentle current than a roaring wave.

with the broth done and most of the pho ingredients ready for assembly, the two of you are waiting for the rice noodles to cook when a text from yeonjun arrives.

i’ll be there in 15 mins!

taehyun reads the text over your shoulder and grins. “do you need any more help with the pho?”

“nah, i’m good.”

“that means i can leave, then,” he says with an odd half-smile you rarely see on him. “enjoy your dinner with yeonjun.”

“thanks, taehyun. hey, wait一”

he picks up his bag in record speed and when you blink, he’s at your doorway. “tell me about it over text.”

“hey!”

he’s gone.

you’ve never seen taehyun leave your apartment so fast, and you suspect he knows something that you don’t. still, you don’t let yourself worry about it too much, not when preparing your pho should be the first thing on your mind. you check back on the noodles boiling away in your pot and let out a sigh.

i hope this turns out well, you think.

一

“so, y/n, what do you have ready for tonight? i hope it’s go一 oh...”

“happy birthday, yeonjun.”

whatever remark he was about to make fades into silence when you set down two bowls of pho in front of him. he’s entranced by the savory aroma, the steam swirling upward from each bowl, the noodles and thin slices of onions nearly glistening under the light. you see his lips form a perfect O, the way it always does when his favorite food shows up in front of him.

he doesn’t notice the way your hands tremble as you set down each bowl, or the way your eyes nervously dart back and forth between the pho and his expression. you wonder if he’s excited enough, if the pho will live up to his expectations, then you look at his bowl and think maybe he would like more noodles, maybe the cilantro should be fresher, maybe the broth isn’t salty or sour or spicy enough...

taehyun always said you’re your own worst critic, and you feel all the little criticisms coming in one after the other as you settle down opposite yeonjun. he does a little dance in his seat as he squeezes the lime over the bowl, then looks at you with a smile that lights up his whole face. “it smells so good,” he says. “i can’t wait!”

that’s one good sign, but nothing definitive.

“well, i won’t keep you waiting any longer,” you say. “dig in!”

“thank you for the food!”

the moment it takes for him to slurp up the noodles feels like an eternity to you. as you watch him eat, you pray that the first slurp was as good as it should be, that the noodles were firm enough. then he looks up from the bowl and at you, and you pray that—

he’s smiling. 

it’s different from his earlier excited smile. this one also reaches all the way up to his eyes, but it’s laced with pure adoration. you’ve seen the way his face changes after eating good food countless times, but now this expression seems more tender; he gazes at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life.

you swallow. “is it… good?”

“good? it’s amazing. y/n… you’re so good to me.”

you’re smiling back at him too, and something blooms in you as you gaze back. you feel full of many things: relief, appreciation, affection…

maybe even love.

you feel it bloom as you watch him slurp on the broth and savor each piece of beef with gusto, stopping only to gush about how good it is and how good you are. you feel it settle in you when you dig into your own bowl, savoring the rich flavors of the beef and spices and lime that you poured yourself into, not caring when a bit of broth dribbles off your chin or a noodle falls off and yeonjun giggles at the sight. and you feel it grow in your heart when you try to reach for his empty bowl to wash up, only for him to take your hand again. this time you feel not a jolt of electricity but a wave of warmth.

“rest, you worked hard today. i’ll clean up.”

“it’s your birthday, yeonjun! you are not washing the dishes on your birthday.”

“but what if i want to?” he pouts at you and he knows you can’t resist. “or we can wash them together? what if i want to spend my birthday washing up with you?”

you sigh but relent.

you don’t dare say it to him, but washing up with yeonjun is… comforting. it takes longer than usual, but you don’t mind as he talks about the gift his mom mailed him or about his plans with taehyun and the other guys tomorrow. he tells you some pretty bad dad jokes and you nearly drop the last bowl you’re rinsing from laughing at how awful they are.

he’s still laughing as he pries the clean bowl from your hands and sets it on the rack to dry, and as his hands brush yours, you meet his gaze. he’s looking at you with that same tender look from when he first tried the pho, and your cheeks begin to warm.

“thank you for cooking for me.”

“of course, i want to—”

“you’re always so good to me,” he says. he takes your hands in his, and yours start to tremble; it’s okay, because his do too. “i’ve never had someone who treated me like this before. i want to… i…”

he falters and looks away from you, and you see a hint of pink spreading across his cheeks. he sucks in a breath and when he looks at you again, you move your face closer to his.

you don’t remember who initiates the kiss; all you know is that his lips are on yours, soft and sweet. he wraps his arms around you and you relax in his arms, knowing that nothing your ever make will taste as sweet as this.

when you break apart for air he looks sheepish, nothing like the confident friend you’ve known, but you love the way his eyes shine. his voice is breathy when he speaks: “i like you, y/n.”

“i like you too,” you say, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and brushing your nose against his. a second kiss would be even sweeter, and his lips nearly brush against yours when…

your phone rings and you nearly jump out of his arms.

“what the hell!”

it’s taehyun.

beomgyu i think hyung would be confessing right about now

oh wrong chat

hi y/n :)

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

taedros taedros

part two: taedros twodros ☆ part three: taedros tresdros**NEW wc: 2k reader: femme afab warnings: MINORS DNI EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ -- porn with plot, oral f!receiving, swearing, calling tae a virgin loser as a joke, mentioning the weeknd LMAO summary: loserbestfriend!taerae makes you watch the idol on hbo max with him for movie night, but a certain convertible scene sparks your "curiosity" more than the others... and taerae proves he might not be such a loser after all. :0 omg who am i?? i even wrote in all lower case letters in the fic to throw you off... i know you'll know right away though but that's not the point lmao!! i just didn't think i should be this horny for taerae on main so. here's the dedicated zb1 smut blog no one was asking for (except me. i was asking for it so let me live.) thank you to taerae for posting these pics next to each other and ruining my life. also the idol sucks and sam levinson and the weeknd are horrific for creating it. i only know some scenes from it because i watch comedy commentary videos about it. jennie is beautiful tho love her. ALSO i thought of this title and i cried laughing. mwahaha okay thanks for reading byeeeee

“this is the worst show I’ve ever seen in my life,” you say with a laugh, throwing a piece of popcorn in your mouth. “i can’t believe we’ve made it through two episodes already.”

🚨 SMUT BELOW CUT -- MINORS DNI -- 18+ 🚨

taerae sighs, “i think i’m gonna need to bleach my eyes.”

“throw some in my ears while you’re at it,” you joke, letting a leg drape over your best friend’s. you’re crammed together in the bottom bunk of his dorm room bed, watching the idol on the tv that’s hung at the foot of it. “i will never, ever be unable to hear the weeknd whispering, ‘stretch that tiny little pussy for me’. and every single day i will beg the lord for mercy.”

“are we sure we wanna watch the third episode?” taerae asks-- shifting a bit next to you. “this show is so graphic.”

“of course the virgin wants to chicken out,” you tease, smacking his stomach with a pillow. he grabs it from you and leaves it there. “you’re the one who wanted to watch it! now you wanna quit two episodes in? not gonna happen. we can make it through this.”

if you hadn’t pressed play at that exact moment, you would’ve heard taerae gulp beside you. 

the intro of the show plays, assaulting your eyes with an up-close and personal view of jocelyn’s bare chest. what else is new? you yawn, hoping the third episode’s graphic scenes (at the very least) won’t be repetitive. bitch has put on a blindfold to end both episodes so far...

sitting with your back leaning against the wall, you try to steal a glance at taerae. his upper back is propped up on his pillow as he lies perpendicular to you, facing the tv screen. you watch his eyes, catching the subtle dilation of his pupils. it could be the light from the television in the otherwise dark room shifting their size, but you find yourself curious nonetheless.

“do you think she’s pretty?” you ask suddenly.

taerae coughs. “me? do i think the actress is pretty?”

you nod, eyes returning to the screen in hopes that the lack of eye contact will make taerae feel comfortable enough to give you an answer.

“she’s pretty, yeah,” he says after a moment. 

“like, you’re attracted to her?” you clarify, throwing another piece of popcorn into your mouth.

“uh,” he hesitates and you feel his legs tense up under yours. “i guess. i mean she’s not really my type, but--.”

“but you like her tits.”

“exactly,” taerae agrees too quickly. “wait, no--.”

“no need to walk it back,” you cut him off with a snort. “boobs are hot. end of story.”

taerae sits up a bit more, seemingly trying to relax after your probing. you didn’t talk to taerae about sex or girls all that much, but you’d be lying if you said the show hadn’t suddenly made you a bit curious. what experience did your lovable loser of a best friend have-- if any at all?

the interrogatory questions you’re suddenly wanting to ask are thrown from your brain, however, as the show now cuts to a shot of the weeknd (you and taerae refuse to call him tedros tedros) and jocelyn in the back of a convertible-- their poor assistant driving these two insufferable cretins down the freeway.

nothing’s out of the ordinary until jocelyn crawls from her seat and lifts one leg to straddle the weeknd. she’s in a slinky tangerine bodysuit and little black shorts and the weeknd’s hands easily envelope her waist. you roll your eyes, already having grown so sick of these two. 

but when jocelyn is suddenly pushed to the edge of the seat, her back against the car door and her head resting on the frame-- your attention is piqued. the weeknd wraps his hands around her thighs, prying them apart so he can pull her shorts to the side just enough to fit his tongue. the actress’s head lolls back over the car door frame; her blonde hair dangling over the side and flowing in the wind. her face is screwed up in absolute bliss and the sounds coming out of her confirm her state.

would she really be screaming like that just from his tongue?

“um,” you hear taerae say and you look over at him curiously. “if-- if he’s good with it, then yeah. she would be, i guess.”

you frown. what was he talking about? if he’s good with what? ... oh fuck, you think as you realize that you’d accidentally said your previous thought out loud. and now poor taerae is stumbling to give you an answer.

what did he say? if he’s good with it then she would be.

“huh,” you mumble, your brow furrowing as you ponder his answer.

you turn back to the tv, but taerae clears his throat. “what?”

“what? what do you mean, what?”

“why did you say ‘huh’ like that?” he asks, the pillow on his stomach rustling as he shifts slightly. “do you not agree or something?”

“oh, uh,” you stutter as you feel your cheeks start to heat, not sure what to say. “um, i guess i wouldn’t know.”

the silence from taerae is deafening as your eyes stay locked on the tv. you’re not sure why you said that. you could’ve just lied. you should’ve just lied.

“are you a virgin?” taerae asks softly. the accusation whips your head around to stare at him angrily and his eyes widen cautiously.

“obviously not,” you answer in a huff. “i just... i’ve never...”

you look down at your lap, picking at the skin on your fingers. you should stop while you can. you don’t need to tell the truth. why are you even considering telling him this?

“no one’s ever gone down on me or anything.”

“oh,” taerae manages to respond after a long moment, but you can’t even look at him.

“yeah.”

another moment of silence. “you shouldn’t be, like, embarrassed by that. that’s... that’s entirely their fault for not prioritizing you, you know?”

your bottom lip tucks between your teeth, the aforementioned embarrassment flushing your skin as you nod. the show is still playing, but you can only hear garbled sounds. why did you tell him that!? now taerae has to awkwardly comfort you when you could’ve just shut your mouth in the first place. you didn’t really talk about these kinds of things with taerae. your best friend was there for movie nights, chinese food binges, laughing until you cry, and most importantly taking the absolute piss out of... 

and here you were making him uncomfortable by randomly talking about your oral virginity.

“would you want me to do it?”

taerae’s voice is so quiet that you’re positive for a moment that you hallucinated it. you look over at your best friend tentatively to find his knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping his pillow to his stomach. 

“what?”

taerae blinks nervously. “if you wanted to, you know, try it... i could--.”

“WHAT!?” you shout; hands grabbing the pillow on taerae’s stomach and throwing it across the room. “are you-- are you fucking joking!? you think i’m desperate enough to ask my best friend to eat me out?”

“no, no, no,” taerae respond quickly, hands flying up in defense. “not at all!”

“then what?” you ask, jaw setting in anger as you wait for a good enough answer to keep you from punching him in the balls.

taerae’s lips form the slightest pout. “you seemed really curious about it. i just... i just thought i’d offer.”

you bite your lip as you think. “what do you even know about that kind of thing? I thought you were a virgin loser.”

“ouch,” taerae says but quickly shrugs it off. “i guess you’re only right about half of that statement.”

you frown. even though you’d never talked about it before, was taerae secretly experienced? more experienced than you?

“you don’t have to say yes though,” he adds quickly. “i’m sorry; i probably shouldn’t have said any--.”

“okay,” you cut him off softly.

taerae’s eyes widen in surprise. “okay?”

you nod slowly. “i don’t believe you that you’re not a virgin loser, but if you’re offering...”

taerae sits up, leaning on his hands as a little smirk lights up his face. “i’ll eat you out and then you can eat those words. how does that sound?”

the way your heat flutters at his words catches you off guard. so does the way he swiftly flips you onto your back as you take the position he was just in.

“whoah,” you exhale, your best friend absolutely knocking the wind out of you as he positions himself between your thighs. he takes the hem of your shorts in his fingers, eyebrows raising at you expectantly. you lift up your hips enough for him to shimmy them off, discarding them on the floor without taking his eyes off your still-clothed center.

you glance at your underwear, panic immediately hitting you when you realize you wore the only clean pair that you had left...

a black, lace thong.

they were the only pair left, because you honestly hadn’t had a reason to wear them in a little while.

“fuck,” taerae curses, hands wrapped around the outsides of your thighs. “were you going somewhere after this or...?”

“if you don’t shut your mouth, i’ll be going somewhere before this,” you threaten, but the words come out shakier than you would’ve liked as taerae begins to plant open-mouthed kisses up your thighs. “... ‘s laundry day tomorrow.”

“mm, I see,” he replies, shifting his weight to one hand so he can bring his right hand to your heat. your heart rate rises as he moves towards where you’re quickly growing to need his attention most. two fingers press at your clothed-core gently and the sound of the tv in the background does nothing to dampen the moan that escapes you from just the small amount of pressure.

“laundry day’s coming just in time i think,” taerae says, a smirk highlighting his cavernous dimples in a light you’ve never seen before. “from the way you’re soaking through these.”

“shut up,” you groan, bringing your hands up to cover your face. taerae hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, tugging at them playfully to get your attention. peeking out through your fingers, you glare at him.

“do you want to stop?” he asks, removing his hands quickly. “we can stop if you want to or need to or anything.”

you reach down and grab both of his hands in yours, reattaching them to your underwear. “please keep going.”

he blinks at you for a moment before nodding, pulling your thong down your legs as you lift your hips up for him. taerae lies down fully in between your thighs now, guitar-string calloused hands wrapping around your thighs and guiding them to rest on his shoulders. 

“so pretty,” he whispers. eyes focusing on your throbbing cunt, taerae’s grip on your legs gets a little tighter-- a little more desperate. “really.”

“thanks,” you respond shyly, watching as a bit of steam begins to coat the rim of taerae’s glasses. you can’t help but smile as you reach for them, carefully removing the frames and placing them on the stand next to his bed. 

“thanks,” he echoes. 

“i’m still not convinced that you aren’t a-- oh fuck...” just as you’re about to tease your loser of a best friend again, his tongue finds your core and licks a long stripe up from your opening to your clit. taerae exhales a laugh against your pussy, tongue circling your clit as his hands now take hold of your hips.

“wait, what the fuck?” you whine breathlessly as he works you over with his mouth. “tae, i thought... oh my god.”

“taste so good, baby,” taerae moans like he’s enjoying it just as much as you are. he slips a finger in your entrance carefully, stretching you until he deems you ready for a second. “Think this pussy might be perfect.”

his eyes are closed; eating at you like you’re his favorite meal. it’s hot. way hotter than the scene from the show. way hotter than anything on that stupid show-- in which another sex scene is playing on the screen behind taerae. you suddenly feel so much pity for jocelyn; one of the hardest characters in history to pity. but the fact that there’s no way tedros fucking tedros is eating her out as good as taerae’s eating you out right now is tugging at your heart strings.

“tae,” you whimper, feeling the knot in the pit of your stomach begin to tighten. your hand tangling up in his hair at the nape of his neck causes him to moan into you and the vibration only makes you tug harder. “please, please wanna cum.”

“already? you sure?” he says, disappointment coating his voice. “could eat this pussy all night.”

“holy shit,” you exhale. you didn’t even know taerae was capable of talking like this. the only time he ever said pussy around you was if he was calling you one. now as he looks up at you from between your thighs, his pretty dimpled-smile covered in your juices as he continues to fuck you with his fingers and press his thumb against your clit...

you’re nodding frantically now. “please, please tae. make me cum.”

“fuck, baby, okay. whatever you want,” he agrees quickly, the lust in his eyes at your demand reaching a whole new level. he removes his thumb from your clit and the sudden lack of contact causes you to whine pathetically. “sshhh, don’t worry baby. i’ve got something even better, i promise.”

just as some tears from frustration are welling up in your eyes, taerae’s lips close around your clit and he begins to suck. “oh my GOD,” is all you can manage as your orgasm starts to wash over you. “taerae. oh my god, tae... c-cumming.”

you’re grinding your pussy against his tongue now to maximize the friction and the way he lifts your hips a bit to bring you even closer tells you that he’s loving every second of this. your moans match the ones that taerae is mewing into your core. he places your hips back down onto the mattress, holding them steady as you start to squirm a bit from the overstimulation. he continues to lap at you gently as your hand falls from his hair to his shoulder, causing him to look up at you.

your cheeks are red now from both your climax and the new wave of embarrassment that’s creeping up on you. you’re not sure what to say, but luckily taerae’s got you covered.

he inserts two fingers inside of you again and then pulls them out-- covered in your juices. without hesitating, he sticks them in his mouth and sucks them clean. “you’ve tasted yourself, right? probably a lot. fuck, i’m so jealous.”

your jaw drops a bit, now doubly unable to speak at the filth pouring out of your best friend’s mouth..

taerae frowns at you. “what? you want to make this awkward now?”

you shake your head. 

“was it good?” he asks, head tilting to the side as he squints slightly. you reach over to his nightstand and grab his glasses, handing them back to him. he puts them on; raising his hand to ruffle his hair.

“you know it was good,” you mumble annoyedly.

he grins. “yeah. i do.”

“UGH,” you groan, hiding behind your hands again. “i hate you.”

“please, pleeeease tae,” he mocks, climbing up closer to your face to really rub it in. “make me cum.”

“SHUT UP!” you shout, hitting his chest with your fists in annoyance. “do not get cocky about this.”

taerae shrugs, biting his lip to keep from smirking. “i guess you never wanna do this again then?”

you sigh defeatedly before replying softly, “i didn’t say that.”

“good,” he says with a smile-- shifting to the edge of the bed and standing up. “i’m gonna get you some water and a towel, okay? don’t move a muscle.”

you don’t. taerae had made sure of that with the orgasm he’d just pulled out of you. as the door to his dorm room closes behind him, you’re left with only your thoughts and the sound of that shitty tv show playing in the background. you reach for the remote weakly, pressing pause on a bizarre scene of the weeknd jerking it over a clothing rack (?).

all you can think about, though, is taerae lapping at your pussy like a starved man. what the fuck just happened? did you really just let your best friend eat you out?

and how the fuck had he managed to leave you wanting more?

[angelliicc]

peach soda

“you're a peach soda, flavor of my heart

a fruit that resembles the shape of love.”

masterlist

a/n HI EVERYONE! lowkey changed careers tbh. anyways enjoy this fic and go stream aboutzu!!

warnings not proofread, angst, mentions of ex bf

| "alright, time for jeopardy. move the chairs and desks in tables." your math teacher said. jeopardy was a fun way your class could study for any math tests. he was your favorite teacher.

"ellie, you're on my jeopardy team." you told her. you never really liked ellie as a person and you avoided her most of the time. she was kind of a bitch, but she was one of the last options. she was smart, but not as smart as you. she would only get in trouble for doing something stupid.

"you need help?" she whispered. if people were caught helping each other, they were eliminated from that round. "really quick before we get disqualified." you told her. ellie showed you her notes, and they way she solved the problem. it made sense now after seeing her notes.

you raise your hand, waiting for you answered to be checked. your teacher notices your hand raised, looks at the whiteboard and analyzes is. "that is correct." he told you.

"thanks." you told ellie.

"anytime." you were flustered by the kind gesture, since she only rarely interacted with you.

after school, you text dina about the situation that happened in math. d: "i need a little more background history with her."

r: "she used to bully me and be an asshole, but shes sweeter now. she likes to tease me. and her laugh, its so cute."

the next day at school, you had p.e outside. you decided to play basketball because you needed to get some work in. ellie was walking to the bathroom while seeing you play, her waving and smiling to you. you waved back and shot a smiled. when you didn't see her anymore, your cheeks turned bright red. when she came back, she went down the stairs giving you a hi-five, but intentionally missed, a laugh escaping her mouth. "fuck you." you replied, then both end up smiling.

after that interaction, you saw ellie at a different court, playing king of the court. you dropped your ball and ran to the other court. you invited yourself in until she spoke; "check up."

you bounce back the ball, being in defense. "wide out your stance." she told you. "thanks...??" you said confused, but also relieved with her advice.

she scored on you, but after that she went and played tennis with some of her friends.

a couple of weeks later, the trimester ended. which meant you switched seats in every class except math.

in social studies and religion, ellie sat next to you. in ela, she sat across from you in a table.

social studies had a trimester long lesson, which meant you had to cram for tests and take speedy notes. you finished yours early because you followed the slideshow on your computer. "can i see your notes?" she asked you, since she couldn't catch up. "sure." you replied. "can you help me?" she asked quietly. you helped ellie on the notes. government was really easy to you, so you explained it as simply as possible.

on thursday, you were back at social studies with ellie. you had p.e. before then, so you sprayed perfume in the bathroom. she notices by the smell of you. "whats that smell?" she asked you.

"its my perfume." you told her.

"can i have it really quick?" she questioned. you grab the perfume out of your backpack and hand it to her. as you hand it to her, you both hold hands for a split second, which made you grow a smile you had to keep hidden. she grabbed the perfume and sprayed it on herself, smiling at you. "not bad." she said. you smiled back.

after that, you both did more notetaking together. you guys were ahead, so you played wordle, helping each other out.

in ela class, a classmate asked ellie a question. "hey ellie, who are your reposts about?" they questioned

"oh, just this beautiful girl." she replied to them, looking at you while the words exited her mouth. you froze.

"what the fuck did she say?" you thought.

"nah im playin." she told the classmate, easily dismissing them.

"so, then are your reposts about d?" they replied. you didn't know who d was.

"yeah, i like her."

your jaw dropped, not it sadness, but in surprise. not expecting her to like another girl, after all of this? she just lead you on, and for what? you were incredibly pissed.

a week passed, so you texted dina.

r: "i dont like her anymore."

d: WHAT??

r: "i know. shes been distant and ignoring me. so im just like 'okay fuck you i don't care about you anymore."

weeks later, feelings slowly started to burn out. you had a math test earlier today. after any tests or quizzed, your teacher lets you take a haul pass and lets you walk outside to get fresh air. just by coincidence, you and your ex walked around the school at the same time.

"i gotta take a retake later this week." he told you

"just take your time and memorize the answer sheet since you already have it." you replied.

later in the week, your ex came up to you, asking for a favor. you both were on student council together and had to lead morning prayer and pledge.

"hey, can you do me a favor?" he asked, walking up to you before assembly started.

"whats up?" you question, curiously.

"i have 2 tests to study for, and the teacher told me i can ask someone to do it for me. if not ill ask someone else." he spoke

"sorry, i have to study for a test too. if i didn't though i would." you told him.

"its alright, thanks tho."

at lunch, you saw him again. you realized he completely forgot about. you walked up to him, telling him about it. "yo, go do your retake." you reminded him.

"oh shit i completely forgot, thank you for reminding me." he replied thankfully.

after school, you usually stayed later because of sports. you had some free time before practice, so that day you planned on walking to the boba shop. before you left you overheard a classmate asking your ex if they both wanted to walk together. you go up to them, "hey im gonna go right now if any of yall wanna come with me." you asked. "im gonna wait a while, thanks tho." your ex said.

you walked to the boba shop, placing your order. just as you were about to leave, you see both of them. "you both gonna stay after school a while?" you asked.

"nah, im gonna head home." he replied.

"alright, see you tomorrow." you told him.

a few weeks later, ellie started to talk to you again. you folded--as one does and added her to your close friends.

hours later, she liked your story. you were jumping for joy.

the next day at school, she was back to being flirty with you. maybe its because she heard about the interaction with your ex boyfriend? in science, you had to proofread reports. and to by some surprise, you were assigned to ellie.

in your report you decided to show her a graph you were proud of. "do you like it?" you asked her. she grabbed your computer and analyzed the report, then after going through the whole report, taking her time to make sure you had no mistakes whatsoever. you tried to not blush during the whole time. "good job." she told you

after you proofread hers, she commented on your hands. "god, your hands are so small? and you're older than me?"

"idk, genes maybe?" you told her.

"here." she grabbed your hand and compared hand sizes with you. you stomach was doing flips. "maybe i do like her again. fuck." you thought.

you both had ela next period. seats were changed earlier this time, since people couldn't stop talking. ellie, somehow, sat near you. this time, behind you.

you wore a slim fit jacket, enhancing your body figure. ellie noticed. "like your jacket." she commented.

"thanks." you said back. she kept touching your back with her fingers, playing with your jacket, freezing with every finger she laid on you.

the following days, more social studies classes with her. she kept flirting and smiling with you. she shushed you today, in a cute way. god it made your heart skip a beat.

later in that same class, you were walking. all of a sudden she trapped you in a hug form. "oh my god ellie, let me go." you say smiling at her. "alright, alright, fine." she said surrendering, then smiling back at you, having that rosy touch on her cheeks.

from that day on, she kept being flirty with you. touching and tapping your shoulders constantly. with every touch, your heart rate always increased. she was acting so cute towards you, it was driving you crazy. like she was a little puppy who couldn't be apart from you.

few classes and tension later, a classmate asked ellie a question. you were too far away to hear them, but since ellie was next to you, you heard her response. "oh yeah? shes my valentine." ellie replied.

you were screaming inside, trying to not show a reaction. few minutes later, it was back to notetaking time. ellie put her hand on your shoulder for 10 seconds, which felt like an eternity to you. after that, she patted your back, 3 times. you turned and faced her, face turning red.

you noticed ellie likes to play this stupid game with you. she'll whisper your name, then act completely clueless. she whispered your name, hearing it loud and clear. you looked at her.

"what! it wasn't me!" she tells you defensively.

ellie then dropped her pen, so she got up from her desk. as she went to sit down, she pat your shoulder, then looking straight into your eyes and telling you "im just playing, it was me." it was like you get sent into another dimension. you fell, hard. you got butterflies just from that sentence alone.

the next day, you completed a spanish test. your teacher was returning back the test with the scores on them. ellie asked you, "what did you get on the test?"

"oh i dont know, i haven't gotten my paper back yet." you told her.

"when you do, tell me your score please." she begged.

the teacher called your name, and you went up to get your paper. "98." you said to ellie with a chesire smile. "whatever." she replied back, smiling. you both then started laughing and smiling while looking at each other.

after spanish, she did those stupid hi-five tricks again. unintrigued, you asked her, "are you gonna miss?"

"nah, i wont." she said, with her hand in the air.

you decided to give her a hi-five, and she didn't intentionally ditch you. "you didn't miss, what a shocker." you told her. she then grabbed tictacs out of her backpack.

“can i get some?” you ask her. she handed you the container, allowing you to get how many you want.

a few months passed and you noticed ellie wasnt talking to you anymore, but to a new girl, doing the exact same things she did to you, but to her. then all of a sudden, she stopped talking to you. she didn’t flirt with you, give you tictacs, touch your hands, or tap you on the shoulders. it all started to become flat, like soda. you decided you had to let her go. because what she gave you wasn’t love at all, it was lust. she led you on the entire time. all for what? it was all one-sided love. you felt like a fool.

my feelings for you, which have melted like ice, have become clear

i say goodbye with a wave, peach soda.

[sturniololoco]

Can you PLEASEEEE write a fic about Nathan and hockey🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

Big Game Pt 1

SLS x Nathan Doe

warnings: Not yet hehehe

Nathan's POV

Today was the big hockey game of the season for Somerville High School. We had made it all the way to the State Finals.

Matt and Chris, my best friends and a part of the Sturniolo Quadruplets, were playing in the game as well. Nick was there for photography reasons, and their sister, SLS/N, was tagging along to cheer us on.

-

It was lunch time and the boys, SLS/N, and I were at our usual table in the back. We Chris and I were talking about the game while Nick and Matt were getting lunch in line. SLS/N was sitting quietly, writing in her notebook

She had her nose scrunched, biting her lip in concentration. Looking absolutely adorable while doing it. I couldn't help but look at her, getting distracted from Chris talking.

"Hey! Are you even listening?" He laughs snapping in my face.

I laugh, may face turning a little red. Lucky for me, Matt and Nick walk over. Matt gently ruffles her hair, as she looks up at him and smiles, showing her dimples. Adorable.

"So, you guys excided for your game?" I hear her ask.

I look up and she's looking at me. I quickly look down, stabbing at my lunch with my fork.

-

The bell rang for lunch, the triplets taking the left to get to PE, while SLS/N and I take a right so I can drop her off at her Spanish class, just like we do every day.

Just before I drop her off, I work up the courage to take my home jersey, the one that I won't use because we're playing away today and toss it at her.

"Wear it at the game. You need a little spirit." I say, giving her a smile while running my fingers through my hair.

She catches it and unfolds it, holding it up and reading Doe on the back. She looks up at me and smiles.

"You know I can wear matt's or Chris's, right?" She asks, but kept the jersey all the same, tucking it into her backpack.

"Yeah, but my last names way cooler than theirs." I say, giving her a wave and walking to my class.

I hear her giggle then walk into her class.

-

As soon as the bell rang, I rushed out of my calculus class, down the main stairs, and out the door to get to the student parking lot. We had an hour and a half long drive to get the the ice rink, so we needed to get going.

Matt, Chris, and I all chucked our hockey gear into the back along with our backpacks, shutting the car door. We then hopped in the car, only to notice that SLS/N was not in the car yet.

"Oh my god, i thought I told her to get out quick." Matt mumbled under his breath, eyeing the long line of cars, cramming together while trying to get out of the parking lot.

We only had to wait about five more minutes until I see SLS/N running towards the car. The hops in between Nick and I in the back, out of breath and her cheeks pink from running all the way here.

"Matt-I'm so-so sorry. Some idiot spilled paint all over me." She says in between breaths.

only then did I notice the blue paint, running all the way down her shirt. Her shirt was wet, like she tried to get some of it off with water, only to make it spread worse.

But I was shocked at what she did next.

"Chris, can i borrow your hoodie for the game?" She asked her older brother.

He nodded, taking off his black sweatshirt and handing it to her. Much to my surprise, she peeled of her wet shirt, leaving her in just a sports bra before throwing Chris's hoodie on.

I felt my cheeks turn red, noticing how close I was to her bare skin. She then dug around in her backpack, and pulled out my other jersey, and put that on over the black hoodie.

I smiled at myself, admiring how good she looks with my name on her back.

New series y'all!!! Part 2 tomorrow if ur interested, let me know in the comments!!!

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Grey Zone 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, age gap, bullying, toxic parental figures, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your parents has never been good, and that with a family friend takes a strange turn(goth!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Note: We're back

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Your bedroom door swings open, the handle knocking against the short shelf of figures behind it. You clutch the black skirt in your hands and face your mother as she gives you that look. The one dripping in disappointment and loathing. She’s hungover, you can tell by how she squints.

“Are you not ready yet?” She sneers, a Louis bag dangling from her elbow.

“Almost,” you assure her, rolling your tongue nervously, “mom, are you sure I should come? Work isn’t very happy about the time off and–”

“How dare you,” she accuses, flinching at the spark of her own temper, bringing her manicure to her temple, “Lloyd has been very nice in inviting us all to the lake house and I will not have you spoil it with your attitude.”

“I wasn’t trying to… I just thought…”

“Stop thinking,” she points at you with a long shellacked nail, “you’ll ruin everything.”

You snap your mouth shut. For her, this is another vacation. You know her plans don’t extend past wine and naps in the sun. And it is supposed to be a ‘family trip’. If you don’t go, your father might just tell her to stay behind too. It’s not that she wants you to go, but she wants to be sure she gets to go.

“I’ll be ready in like ten,” you spin back to your bed and tuck the skirt into your duffle.

“Make it five,” she huffs with the click of her tongue.

She prances off and you shake your head at the stacks of clothes in front of you. You cut it down as you roll up each piece to fit into your bag. You don’t need much. You shove your chest of makeup at the end and tuck your toiletry pouch inside.

You grab your leather knapsack and slide your laptop inside with your textbooks. You wonder if you’ll even have a signal all the way up north. If not, you’ll have a lot of catching up to do. Oh well, maybe it will be nice to get away. Or maybe you’ll be in hell, trapped in an isolated cabin with your own parents.

And him.

You shove a few novels in along with your computer and zip it up. You drag your stuff towards the door and grab your jacket from the clothes rack against the far wall. The long black trench goes well over your wide-leg curtain paints and razor back halter. You pop on a wide brimmed black hat and your favourite pair of sunglasses; black lenses framed with silver.

You grab your bags and haul them out of your room, making the slow and perilous descent to the first floor. You leave your bags right behind your mother’s pile of matching Louis luggage and wiggle your feet into your clunky Mary Janes. 

Your mother emerges with a sunhat and a pair of large square framed sunglasses. She winks at you as she tucks a flask into her purse. You say nothing and cross your legs, perching on the bench impatiently.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” She harrumphs.

“Yeah?” You look down.

“You don’t have anything… lighter? It’s sunny out.”

You shrug, “we’ll just be in the car.”

You stare at her bags. How much does she need to bring? The physics of packing all of it into the SUV worries you. You fully expect to be crammed in next to her bandouliere bag.

“Constance!” Your father’s voice booms as his steps pound onto the porch. You look at the screen door as he rips it open, “well,” he stops short inside, “I told you to start bringing your shit out.”

“I told you, my shoulder,” your mother pouts, “yell at your daughter, she’s the one sitting around.”

Your father huffs and grabs her largest bag, pointing at you then the rest of her things, “well, let’s get this going. I don’t wanna be driving past midnight.”

You get up and grab two of the lighter bags. You roll your eyes behind your lenses, knowing you won’t be caught. You follow your father out the front door, the weight of your mother’s excess chafing your fingers. What did she pack?

The hatch door of the SUV is already open. Your father’s things are neatly placed against the wall of the trunk. He hikes up your mother’s suitcase in the other side and it takes up much of the remaining space. You place the two in hand on top and ponder the last three. It’s like a very unfortunate game of Tetris.

“Go,” your father snaps his fingers, “get the rest.”

You don’t argue. As you come up on the porch, your mother emerges with a bright pink travel tumbler in hand, slurping on the straw as your left to wonder at the contents. You dip inside and retrieve her smallest bags; a perfect circular valise and two more oblong ones.

You hand them off to your father and he grumbles under his breath as he tries to fit them into the hatch. You return to the house to get your own bags. You won’t mind sitting with your own things. 

The backseat offers little hope as you find a large cooler taking up more than half of its length and fishing rods across the floor. So, where exactly are you supposed to sit?

As you stare, perplexed by the puzzle of your own belonging, a horn toots and a car rolls up the driveway, coming just short of your father as he turns to stare down the Bentley. You keep your knapsack on your shoulder and your bag clutched tight.

You face Mr. Hansen as he climbs out of his car, leaning on the door as he looks over it at your dad, “Ray Ray, ready to go?”

“Just loading up,” your father answers.

“Holy shit,” Mr. Hansen snorts, “you know you’re not moving in for good, right?”

“Connie’s shit,” your father snarls.

Hansen shuts his car door as he strides up the tarmac. His focus shifts as he sees you standing listless. He flicks his sunglasses up and gives a crooked smirk.

“Hey, sunshine,” he greets, “uh, Ray,” he stops, just a few inches from you, pivoting towards the back of the SUV, “where exactly is the baby girl supposed to fit? You strapping her to the roof?”

“She’ll squeeze in,” you father dimisses.

“For eight hours?” Hansen’s fingers tickle along the back of your arm and he squeezes just above his elbow, “I got lots of room.”

“I don’t care. Take her, then,” your father barks, “I got Lonny bringing up supplies, I don’t needa worry about all that.”

“Hear that, starbright, go toss your things in mine,” Hansen twirls his keyring and holds it out to you, “lots of legroom.”

“Um, it’s fine–”

“Don’t argue,” your father slams the hatch door. “He’s right, we don’t got the space.”

You could suggest your mother leaves a few things behind but you know that will only end the same. You take Hansen’s keys and thank him. He grins and steps back, not much, just enough for you to pass, just close enough for you to brush against him.

You go down the drive, surprised to find yourself trailed by another set of steps. You glance over your shoulder as Hansen circles around you, “bottom button, sunny.”

You hit the fob and the trunk pops open. He seizes your bag before you can react and puts it in next to his. You slip your knapsack down your arm and he just as quickly has it in hand.

“Couldn’t imagine eight hours in a car with those two,” he says quietly, “you’re welcome.”

“Uh, yeah, thanks.” 

You cross your arms and step back as he closes the trunk. He keeps his hand on the sleek pant and eyes you up and down. He tilts his head and his tongue pokes out.

“You feel like driving,” he asks, “I don’t mind.” He pats the butt of the car, “she handles well.”

“Um, it’s okay…”

“Come on, you get the first hour and we can switch at the rest stop,” he goads, “I woke up fuckshit early.”

“Alright, I guess,” you keep the keys in your hand and go to step around him.

“Wait, wait,” he blocks your path, “one more thing.”

“Alright?” You frown.

“I didn’t say…” he reaches to tap the brim of your hat, “you look fucking good.”

You don’t know how to respond. You’re unused to compliments and a simple thank you would do but something about his tone has you tongue-tied. You wipe away your chagrin and try to smile. Your lips just quiver and fall straight.

“Right, let’s stop dragging ass,” he spins and struts up the driveway, “Ray,” he calls to your dad, “here’s the spare key. In case you get ahead of us.”

You chew your lip and slowly walk along the side of the car. You unlock the doors and open the driver’s side. You reticently get in and take off your hat, twisting to throw it in the backseat. You turn straight and adjust the seat and steering wheel. It’s a really nice car.

The passenger door opens and Lloyd drops in, sliding the seat all the way back as he stretches his legs. You leave the keys in the cupholder and push the ignition. The engine rolls as you take in the breadth of controls. Nothing too unusual.

“What’s that shade of lipstick called?” Lloyd leans on the armrest of his seat, “how many shades of black can they sell?”

“Um, I don’t know,” you fix the mirror.

“Like those glasses. Where’d you get them?”

“Amazon,” you answer as you shift into reverse, the camera showing on the console screen. You grip the wheel and slowly back out.

“Now, don’t be afraid to put that foot down once we hit the highway,” he says, “she’s got a lot of power. She can handle it.”

“Mhmm,” you stop at the end of the driveway and look both ways down the street. “Got it.”

🖤

As promised, you trade places with Lloyd after the first hour. He’s a bit more heavy-footed and you find yourself with your hand on the door as you brace yourself with his careless and aggressive passing. You’re a cautious driver and his style has you almost dizzy. You’re not bold enough to tell him to slow down.

“Isn’t this nice?” He asks, “no squabbling middle-aged assholes to listen to.”

“Sure,” you grasp the seat belt as you keep a wary gaze through the windshield.

“Hopefully it’s only more of this, baby,” he continues, “my house, my rules. You don’t worry about mommy and daddy.”

You nod and hold back a squeak as he swoops in front of another car. You wish you had kept driving. You hate this.

“I’ll be working on my tan as daddy does all the hard work,” he scoffs, “been a long year.”

You listen, almost curious as he’s rarely anything close to transparent. You would never imagine him having a bad day. He seems to carry it with that no fucks given strut. He swerves again and you can’t help but elicit a rather pathetic noise.

“Mr. Hansen, can you… slow down a little?” You ask.

He doesn’t answer right away but he does as you request. “I get it, you wanna enjoy our time together,” he snickers.

“Uh, well, I get a bit carsick,” you utter.

“Ah,” he accepts with an air of disappointment, “can I ask you something?”

“Okay.”

“Can you call me Lloyd? This Mr. Hansen business makes me feel old as shit. I’m not, you know, I got all my faculties,” he lets out a small chuckle, “just so you know.”

“Right, Lloyd, sorry,” you say, “dad just… you’re his friend so he–”

“Yeah, real tight ass but damn good at what he does. The biggest fuckers always are,” he scoffs.

“I guess…”

“So, those girls, they bug you again?” He keeps the same pace in conversation as he does driving. You’re disoriented by the flip.

“Haven’t seen them, no…”

“You know, they’re just jealous,” he says, “I know girls like that. I’ve f– met a lot. They’re not worth it.” He shakes his head and laughs, “hate to say it, but your mom is one of those. Never a nice thing to say about anyone but herself.”

You lean into the seat and bend your arms in front of your stomach. You know that. Deep down, you know your family is imperfect, you just didn’t realise how obvious it is.

“You’re young. Shit’s tough when you’re figuring it out.”

“Yeah,” you murmur.

“You got Spotify or something?” He asks abruptly, once more jarring you. “Got bluetooth in here. May as well put something on, we got time.”

“Right, uh, I could…” you dig your phone out as he pushes buttons on the steering wheel with his thumb. The screen flashes with the pairing symbol.

You find the right connection and scroll through your playlists. You don’t know if he’ll like any of those. Maybe you could find something generic.

“What do you like?” You ask.

He answers with a chortle, “nah, you put something on. I wanna hear your music.”

“Well, it’s a bit… of an acquired taste.”

“My car, my rules, put your music on,” he demands.

You resign and tap shuffle on your weekly mix. Joy Division drones from the random selection and you black out the screen. You’re comforted by the familiar tones.

“Holy fuck,” Lloyd says, “this is old shit. Before my time, even.”

“Uh, yeah,” you reply, “it’s just a shuffle–”

“Not complaining,” he smirks, “glad I actually know this one.”

You exhale and try to relax. It’s going to be a long ride and you're thankful he opened that door. You don’t know how much longer you could handle his chaotic conversation. Only six hours or so, you can make it if you have music.

[joekeerysguitar]

erasing the lies

not friends/slight enemies to lovers <3

overview: you are an a+ student who is well rounded, very disciplined, and hard working gets asked to tutor the most obnoxious, lazy, and rude boy who ever stepped foot on this planet… steve harrington. unable to say no, you help him.. but what you uncover is something completely unexpected..

included: angst, fluff, mutual feelings, happy ending, cursing, relationships, use of y/n

authors note: heyy everyone! sorry about not uploading or writing anything in a longggg time. i’ve been super busy lately and just trying to enjoy the summer but i’m back! came up with this super cute idea and i hope you enjoy! thank you for all the love on the rest of my fics!! much love, nina <3

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“Mhm… yes.. she’ll be down shortly” The phone hits the receiver as your teacher spins around catching your eyes. “Y/N, the principal would like to see you.” She smiles her fake toothy grin as she resumes her lesson.

You feel the eyes on you as you quickly stuff your bag with your notebooks and pencils trying to get out of being the center of attention. You could hear the slight whispering of the class which feeds your inner thoughts.

“Oh shit, what did I do?”

“Am I in trouble?”

Quickly shutting the classroom door behind you, you exhale taking in the stale air of the empty hallway of Hawkins High School. You quickly walk down the hall as your heart beats wildly out of your chest. You can feel your stomach churn as you reach out for the door nob of the brown glass door that reads “Main Office.” The small bell at the top of the door rings alerting the secretary as you quickly step inside and shut the door gently. Taking a deep breath, you chase the butterflies away in your stomach as you loosen your shoulders and walk up to her forming a smile with your cherry lips.

“Uh hi, I was called down by the principal.” You mutter with a small smile.

“You must be Y/N?” She asks reading at a post it note on her desk. You nod trying to quickly get this interaction over with. “Have a seat dear.”

You walk over to the small sofa chair in the corner of the office. Bouncing your leg, you can feel the nervousness creep up from your core once again as the same questions float through your mind like clouds on a breezy day. You look around the room and notice old school yearbook photos, sports championship awards, and other boring memorabilia. Before you get a chance to read any, the door swings open to the person you did not want to see… the principal. He is older, with short small wisps of hair that adorn his mostly bald head. He is wearing a blue suit and you can see his beer belly slightly protrude from his attire.

“Come on in Y/N”

You quickly get out of the seat and follow him into the small crammed office. Your eyes immediate lock onto a very recognizable face here at Hawkins High. This face belongs to someone who’ve you have despised since elementary school. Someone who used to practically rule over the school, date every girl in the 5 mile radius, and keep his hair perfectly in place every single day. The King of Hawkins High was sitting right before your eyes.. the one and the only Steve Harrington. He just feverishly looks up at you before darting his eyes away and fiddles with his fingers embarrassingly. Your mind floods with endless questions as you take a seat next to him.

Steve Harrington is known for being the arrogant and snobby rich jock who’s only personality trait is hooking up with 50 girls a month. Rumors go around that his ex girlfriend Nancy Wheeler broke up with him because she cheated with Jonathan Byers and didn’t want to get risked getting caught. All you know is that you don’t want to mess with him or even talk to him. He fails all his classes, always goes to parties, and barely has his parents home.

Trouble.

The principal clears his throat, “I probably assume you two have never met. Let me introduce you two. Y/N this is Steve, Steve this is Y/N.”

Being polite you turn your head and put on a fake smile as he returns the favor before you both quickly look at the principal once again.

“Now I called you two down here not because you’re in trouble but I have an important question to ask.” He says flicking his eyes between you two.

Okay not in trouble.. that’s a good sign.

“Y/N, now I know you are in many advanced classes and receive very high grades.” You nod and smile agreeing with his statements. You feel Steve shift in his chair uncomfortably as you look over and see his face blush as red as a tomato. “Well, Steve here does not receive the best of grades. Right now, if he doesn’t pass his classes, he will be unable to qualify for graduation.” You nod you head as your head whirs with millions of thoughts…

“Pfft, no shit it’s Steve Harrington”

“Unable to graduate? I could never.”

“What does this even mean?”

“Well I was wondering if you would be interested in tutoring him? Either once or twice a week would suffice.” He says with a smile as he looks at you.

Your heart drops just like the roller coasters at amusement parks. Your stomach does a flip as you can feel your organs rearrange from inside. Your face starts to heat up as your palms begin to get sweaty. You’re bad at making decisions especially ones that require things you don’t like.

Tutor Steve Harrington? Shoot me now!

Looking over at Steve you notice him look up at you reading your face for any response. You just look at him and look at the principal as the thoughts zoom around your brain.

You don’t know what to do.

Should I be the better person? Should I help the douchebag? You decide to go with your gut, you can’t ever say no.

You look up at the principal. “Sure, why not.” You smile as you look over to Steve who just looks at you like his prayers got awnsered.

He knows your really smart. Really really smart. And pretty cute too. You know, maybe this whole tutoring thing would work out in his favor. He passes his classes and he gets a new chic.

“Perfect, thank you Y/N!” He smiles as he hands you Steve’s grade sheet. “He specifically needs to work on Physics and US History.”

You glance at his grade sheet as you read the grades.

Physics- D

English- C

US History- F

Geometry- B

Oh boy, these grades aren’t looking too hot.

The principal buds in again. “Tutoring could be 1-2 hours at either persons house. He must be fully prepared by the last month of school.” You nod your head placing his grade sheet in your bag.

“Steve why don’t you thank Y/N for helping you with your studies?” He demands looking at Steve.

“Thank you Y/N.” He says timidly looking up into your eyes for a split second.

His eyes were really pretty. Brown with a hazel undertone. They shined with the morning sun glimmering through the half drawn shades.

You just smile back at him and reply “You’re welcome. Does tomorrow night around 6:00 at my place work?” He nods as you exchange addresses.

You leave the office with a million thoughts in your head.

How are you supposed to tutor someone you hate. Out of all people it is goddamn Steve Harrington. The rich, snobby, and rude jock who knows nothing but of parties and alcohol. You’re not gonna enjoy these sessions, you already know it. Seeing him is bad enough, how you have to talk and teach him twice a week for the next several weeks. Might as well just dig your grave now.

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“He will be here any min- ding.. I’ll get it.” You yell through the house. Steve had just ringed your doorbell. Your blood pressure just rose off the charts. You quickly run over to the front door and open it. There is Mr. Pretty Boy himself with his books cradled in his hands. He is wearing a dark green polo shirt with his usual blue jeans. He flashes you a charming hello smile as you step to the side and let him in.

That smile. Oh boy, made you feel different.

“Hi, how are you?” You ask watching him look around the house.

I’m sure he’s definitely judging it. Rich boy isn’t used to small rooms…

“I’m fine, how are you?” He asks catching you in the eye as you find yourself get lost in them.

Shake it off.. you gotta hate him…

Steve knows that he has this horrible reputation and he knows that people who don’t know him see him as what he used to be. His goal is to change that, whatever way possible. He hasn’t had a ton of friends since the whole situation. Heck, he dropped Tommy and his silly girlfriend. He really had no one.

He had hope.

Maybe you could be his first actual friend…

If he could prove to you that he changed…

He could even prove to himself that he won’t make mistakes ever again..

“Follow me.” You say tucking your hair behind your ears as you guide him to your room.

Your room was small and quaint. White walls with white decor. The accent the room was baby pink as you had several pictures of flowers or beaches on the wall. It was your comfy spot. Made you feel safe.

As you enter the room you walk over and sit down on your bed swinging your legs as they dangle off the floor. Beside you are the books you set out to study and practice with. Steve just looked around with a curious gaze in his eyes before he set his stuff down on your desk and walked over to sit beside you.

“Let’s get started.” You say turning to face him while you grab the Physics book from off the pile.

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“What’s the awnser to Question #7?” You ask as you stare at his pondering complexion. You wait a few seconds. “Hello? Earth to Steve?” You ramble as you wave your hand in front of his face.

“What.. sorry.” He jumps back into reality looking bored.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly as he looks up into your eyes.

“Can we do something else?” He asks trying to read a reaction from your face.

“Yeah, Math or Social Studies?” You ask totally clueless.

“Not school Y/N.” He drags readjusting himself on your bed.

“Then what?” You ask a little harsher then expected. He looks surprised at your response.

“Jeez, you’re a little cranky.” He says sarcastically as he takes the book from your lap and places it on the ground. You watch as he fixes his hair after it gets into his face.

His hair is really nice. Dark thick hazelnut colored hair that is always perfectly styled and hair sprayed. They don’t call him “The Hair” for nothing.

You zoned out for a minute while studying his lucious locks and now he is taping your shoulder lightly to regain your attention.

“Sorry, just confused what you wanna do since the whole reason why you are here is to pass school.” You brush a piece of fallen hair from behind your ear.

Steve is not gonna lie to himself. You’re pretty cute, even when your cranky.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks looking confused as he looks into your darting eyes.

You search your brain for a response. You question telling him a lie or telling him the truth. Taking a deep breath you spit out the truth.

“Not currently. I mean it’s just a weird situation. You know, you’re popular and a jock and every girl on the planet is obsessed with you. And I’m not popular, a nerd, and never has had a boyfriend. So yeah this is a little awkward. Plus considering the fact that I thought you absolutely 100% hated me prior to this.” You blurt out with a nervous chuckle as you examine your fingers.

“What did I do to make you think that I hated you?” He asks inquisitively while still looking at you as he sees the blush to your cheeks.

“I mean in elementary school you did push me into a muddy puddle.” You say looking back up at him and smiling a bit.

He chuckles and says jokingly, “That’s the reason why? I’m sorry I did that Y/N but… maybe you deserved it.” His voice turns serious. “But on a serious note, let’s just scratch this whole stereotype thing and start fresh, okay?” He asks looking right into your ocean blue eyes as he extends his hand forward.

“Deal.” You laugh as you shake his hand. “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you!”

“I’m Steve, nice to meet you too!” He smiles brightly.

Hard feelings vanished..

For the remainder of the night, you two talk small talk about what you two enjoy and things that are happening in your lives. To be honest, you don’t mind him. You enjoy his quick remarks, his flirty attitude, his humor, and most of all his company.

On the other hand, Steve never thought he would speak to you a day in his life. But here he is, talking about movies, people, etc with someone he just met 24 hours ago and hell he was enjoying it too! There was something about you, something that made him incredibly happy inside. Something that filled a void no one has even filled before.

By the time the night was over, you already exchanged phone numbers and planned your next session.

Steve nor you could not wait for the next time you saw eachother!

Something definitely changed with him over the years. You’ve learned so much from him and how he has grown to better himself. It feels like someone took a pink eraser and erased all the lies right off the paper. It was good as new!

Deep down you had a feeling though and Steve was definitely feeling it too..

Deep down you had a crush..

On Steve Harrington..

The person who you refused to even speak to about 24 hours ago..

And he had one on you too..

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It was three days later and you and Steve were in the exact same spot practicing questions. You could tell by his body language that he was getting tired and bored. He got up and started to wander around your room with his usual playful smirk tugging at his lips. Steve was bored of studying, you two have been studying flash cards for two hours and he was at his wits end. Steve loved the little breaks or stupid activities the two of you would do when you both were tired and needed a break. He loved spending time with you, either if it was teasing you or just having a simple friend to friend conversation. You guys have gotten closer over the time spent together and he clearly recognizes that. At first, you used to be shy and more reserved but the more time you’ve spent with him, the more you’ve come out of your shell. He loves your fiery remarks or playful teasing you always delivered right back to him after he said something to you. He loved watching you become pissed at him or become sarcastic and quick-witted with him after he would ask a stupid question or pull a dramatic stunt. So, per usual he decided this was the time to do yet another stunt he had brewing in his heavily hair-sprayed mind.

“Steve, what the hell are you doing?” You question as you watch his eyes glaze over your desk as he reaches his purple sleeved arm over towards a book on it. “Put that down.” You bark as you get up and race towards him. The smirk only growing bigger on his face as he hears your distress.

“What is this?” He asks with squinted eyes as he begins to open the pages but before he could get a good look, you reach for it. Using his height advantage, he stretches his arm towards the ceiling which now suspended the book over your head.

“Give it to me! It’s my diary, put it down!” You beg as you brush up against him as you try to grab and reach it. He laughs as he stands in his tippy toes to get it higher as you jump to try to reach it. You’re practically chest to chest as you can feel his chest bounce quickly with each sharp laugh. He is getting a kick out of you freaking out. Suddenly, you realize you two are really close, too close for comfort. He senses your body language switch and suddenly returns to a more calm and collected state. He can feel his laughter fade as a small smile sits on his lips. He can feel his heart pick up as he locks eyes with yours as he resists the urge to pull you closer or look at your lips. You look even more beautiful up close as he notices the faint freckles peppering your cheeks and nose.

You stop as you lock eyes for a minute. Steve is a few inches taller than you but you two are face to face. Inches away from eachother. You examine his face close up. His hair is slightly disheveled with strands hang in front of his eyes. He has moles freckling his face like stars on a clear night. Your eyes flit down to his lips as you notice how cheery red they look close up. Quickly you look at him again, fearful of getting caught staring. You could feel your cheeks slightly blush and turn warm as you just stare into Steve’s brown sparkly eyes. The more you try to pull away, the more they pull you in. Steve feels the same way as he feels nervousness creep up from his core as his lips curve into a slight smile. He pulls the book down as he continues to lock eyes with yours. He has no idea how long it’s been. His mind is mush as he finds himself darting from your eyes to your lips..

“Here.” He whispers breathlessly as he hands you the book slightly backing up but keeping the eye contact.

“Thanks.” You reply as you blush a little harder now as you walk to your desk to place the book down and then you both return to the spot on the bed and continue.

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In a matter of a two weeks, you two have gotten extremely close. You would if never imagined that you would be good friends with the most popular guy in school, the one all you’re friends tell you to stay away from.. yet he just draws you in. The endless amounts of nights where he calls you on the phone asking about homework as it suddenly turns into a three hour call where you two ramble about random topics. You’re falling faster than you thought you would.. crumbling as he created cute nicknames for you and knows everything that makes you tumble over in laughter. He’s a complete opposite of you and your morals, yet you two seem to attract like a magnet.

Steve has learned to know you like a book, using his charismatic and charming personality he knows exactly what makes you blush or makes you laugh. As the study sessions go on, he picks up on your body language and your habits. He enjoys listening to you ramble for hours on end about friends or your family. He’s never really felt such an instant connection with someone before especially only knowing them for a few weeks now.

Today marks the last study session before Steve’s test. The last time you’ll see him roll his eyes at a physics question, the last time he will tease you about your stupidly high grades and how smart you are, the last time you two don’t focus on the task and do other things. You feel sadness forming in your heart hoping that after this, he continues to want to talk on the phone or even hang out. You love seeing him wave and smile at you in school or meeting you at your locker to talk. But you’re scared, you’re scared that he’s gonna put on his cocky jock attitude and won’t speak to you again… completely cut you out. You’ve seen a different side to him that you’ve never seen before. He’s sweet, considerate, and gentle around you. Never fails to have you think about him endlessly once he leaves your house or you hang up on the phone…

Little do you know, he feels the same. The same feeling poking him in the gut, the feeling where you want to hold on and never let go.

You’re suprised when your doorbell rings earlier than usually. You glance at the small watch on your left wrist as it reads “4:00 pm.” But you two agreed on 7:00 pm the night prior. You quickly brush your hair behind your shoulders as you open the door.

“Hey Steve, you’re early.” You say with a smile as you notice him blushing a bit in embarrassment. His cheeks are a slight pink as he smiles at you.

“Uh hey Y/N, sorry I’m early.” He pauses for a second. “Are you busy? Am I interrupting anything?” He asks a little more concerned now as the blush intensifies on his cheeks.

You shake your head as you chuckle a bit. “No.. no.. you’re not interrupting anything.”

“Okay good, I was wondering if I could just come now.. I know it’s our last night so I wanted some extra practice before the test tomorrow morning.” He says reading your face for an answer.

Now if he was Pinocchio, his nose would grow larger.. because he is lying. His pants are on fire.

“Of course, come on in!” You say with an enthusiastic smile as you move to the side to let him in.

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“Okay last physics question, I promise.” You say with a teasing smile as he rolls his eyes. You ask him a pretty difficult question as you could see the gears practically turning in his head. He answers correctly as a beaming smile forms on your lips. You notice the pure excitement on his face at your reaction.

Steve cannot help but to feel his heart flutter to see the reaction you just gave him. A huge proud beaming smile.. one that makes him want to melt into a big puddle on your bed. He thinks your reaction is the cutest thing, you’re the cutest thing and he feels like it’s the right time to ask his question.

Once you two calm down a bit and all the books are put away, you’re staring Steve right in the face. He’s just smiling gently at you, his eyes dazzling in the soft light of your room. You feel the butterflies form in your stomach as you break the comfortable silence.

“How do you feel for tomorrow? Good? Bad?”

“I think I’ll be okay, pretty nervous” He says with a shrug as he smiles a bit hesitant at you, you notice how his demeanor has changed. He seems more nervous and quiet now.

“You’ll do great, trust me!” You say trying to lighten the mood as you earn a smile from him. You give him a comforting smile as you grab his hand and hold it in yours gently squeezing it.

Your touch practically sends Steve to the moon. He just feels so happy, he feels all the nerves and worries washing away as you gently hold his hand in comfort. He truly believes every word you’re saying.

He clears his throat before asking a bit nervously. He’s been thinking about this plan all night and all day. He wants to celebrate with you, regardless if he passes or not. He wants to treat you for volunteering your time to help him. And of course, he just wants to spend some time with you. You make his day with these sessions as you constantly giggle at his jokes making his heart soar or seeing you smile so beautifully. You’re like treasure to him, he wants to cherish you forever.

“Y/N, do you possibly want to go and get ice cream with me when it’s all done and over with… like a celebration type of thing?” He asks with a gentle smile as a hint of pink crowds his cheeks.

You let his statement settle in the air as you feel your heart pick up at the words. Without a second thought you reply, “I would love too, Steve!” You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you smile unstoppably at him. You see his eyes open wide in happiness in response as the smile grows bigger on his freckled cheeks.

Head over heels..

¡! ❞ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ↳ ❝ [] ¡! ❞

Steve has refused to tell you the outcome of his test until you two were seated on the back trunk of his car indulging in your ice creams. His treat, of course.

“So Steve…” You say pausing to swallow. “What did you get?” You push the spoon around the sprinkled covered ice cream as you wait for him to respond.

Steve places his icecream down as you copy him looking at him more curious now. You watch the sides of his mouth curve into a grin. “I passed, everything!” He says excitedly. You can’t help but to squeal in surprise as you wrap your arms around him for a hug.

“I’m so proud of you!” You say muffled against his shoulder. You can feel his broad arms wrap around your lower back as he hugs you back. You can feel the sudden chill from the ice cream melt away.

You pull away as you look him dearly in the eyes with a sincere smile on your face. “See, I told you that you could do it!” You say smiling even wider. You’re so so so happy, this made your day.. your week even.

Steve has never seen you this happy for anything ever. Heck, Steve has never even had anyone this happy for him. He just feels this overwhelming sense of accomplishment and joy that fills his entire body.

You both are now just looking at each other with huge smiles, enjoying the comfortable silence. Steve feels like he should make a move, before he loses you. He’s afraid that after this, your friendship could disappear. You would go back to your friends and he would hang out with his. And he didn’t want that. He wanted to be with you.

“So what was the final sc-“ You’re interrupted mid sentence as he presses his lips delicately against yours. You gasp into his lips as your eyes dart shut. His hand gently caresses your cheek as your body freezes. He pulls apart smiling and blushing madly as he looks at you lovingly. You just stare like a dear in headlights at him. You’re shocked and can’t even process what just happened.

Steve Harrington just kissed you.

Your cheeks are a crimson color now as you smile shyly at him. Without a second thought, it’s your turn to confess how you feel. And by this, you press your lips against his once more. His lips are pillowy soft and taste sweet from the ice cream. One of your hands cups his cheek while the other rests gently on his shoulder. You can feel his hand come and press against your lower back as he pulls you closer to him as the other pulls hair behind your ear delicately. You pull apart with a smile as you become nervous and shy around him. You can feel the absence on your lips as butterflies course through your tummy.

Steve is genuinely surprised that you feel the same way. He would never think that you, a smart and determined girl would ever fall in love with a dumb, cocky jock. He’s only known you for about a month now but it feels like it’s been years. You two just instantly clicked. Maybe opposites do attract..

He just feels overwhelming happy as he just stares at you with the biggest gushy smile and sparking eyes as he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to him. You rest your head on his shoulder as you two just watch the sun set behind the trees, feeling totally in love.

Maybe people aren’t as bad as they seem..

People can change, people can grow..

And all you know, is you love Steve for who he is and who he became..

Because the lies were erased clean off the page.

¡! ❞ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ↳ ❝ [] ¡! ❞

thank you for reading!! <3 hope you enjoyed the fic!!

[stratocumulusperlucidus]

WIP REC

I love love love reading WIPs, the anticipation, the excitement of getting the notification for a new chapter, even sometimes the cliffhangers... So here are some of the lovely fics I'm currently reading!

Oh and if you read these, please consider taking a minute to leave a comment, let the author know you appreciate their work 💖

This Is More of a Comment Than a Question by @caterpills

Rating: Mature | Chapters: 3/10

Three weeks before Henry Fox's tour for his fourth, highly anticipated, awards-bait novel A Brief War in December begins, his publicist Janella breaks her foot on a bunny slope at Windham. Alex can't be mad at her, even though he kind of is. Saying it out loud would be like kicking her when she was down, and she already went down a literal mountain in the worst way possible. Now crammed in Rafael Luna's corner office, Janella is shooting Alex extremely apologetic looks while slumped on her crutches, wearing a bright orange cast. The conversation about who is going to be joining Henry Fox on his multi-city trek across the U.S. is also going downhill. Alex is feeling the same sort of free fall while standing still. Because out of all the publicists available in their tiny underfunded department, the only one left to escort their company's best-selling author is regrettably him. The problem is, well, Alex absolutely hates Henry Fox.

Or: Alex is the publicist for Mountchristen Publishers, and is stuck on a two-week tour with their best-selling, but frustrating, author Henry Fox.

Her Royal Highness by @tailsbeth-writes

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 5/?

'Shaan, can you please put an appointment in my diary?' 'Certainly sir, what is it for?' 'A reminder to kill Alex for getting me into this mess.' Shaan tried to hold back a smirk as he stepped back, tapping away on his tablet. 'Personally I think the blue glitter really brings out your eyes, sir.' This terrible idea had started like most of Alex’s did, a seedling planted by the most chaotic of the chaos demons; Nora.

or How Prince Henry ended up as a guest judge on RuPaul's Drag Race UK.

the full spectrum of human emotion by @firenati0n

Rating: Mature | Chapters: 3/6

Alex grips his hand tighter. They’re going to need to have a long, hard conversation in the next five minutes, or else Alex is going to combust right here in Pez’s fancy office. Explode for all of Midtown Manhattan to see. Here lies what remains of Alex, for all the world to witness—taken out by a rogue marriage proposal from his evil boss-turned-fiancé.

Or: Working under editor Henry Fox-Mountchristen was only supposed to be Step One in Alex’s plan of achieving his big dreams—but when his boss winds up facing an even bigger problem, potential deportation, Alex finds he isn’t just a beleaguered assistant anymore. He’s the solution.

It’s fine. They only have to fool his friends, his family, the United States Government…and themselves.

Life Is Not A Movie (But We Can Have The Fairytale) by @lfg1986-2

Rating: Explicit | Chapters: 3/?

Three years after the smashing success of the first Red, White and Royal Blue film, Nicholas and Taylor are preparing to return to their roles as Henry and Alex to film the sequel. After a late night of catching up with each other and reestablishing their close bond just before rehearsals begin, they wake up to find themselves in a crazy twist of fate, where fiction blends with reality and the lines between fictional characters and the actors who portray them become irrevocably blurred.

Or

What happens when Taylor is transported into the movie universe and comes face to face with Prince Henry, while Nick wakes up to find Alex Claremont-Diaz in his living room in the place of his friend and costar? Both pairs must work together to figure out how to get themselves back where they belong, and along the way they discover some things about themselves and each other that has the potential to alter their relationships forever.

take me back to San Francisco by headabovethewater / @getmehighonmagic

Rating: Explicit | Chapters: 2/8

“You don’t look like you’re having a very good time,” a soft voice suddenly startles him from his thoughts. Henry’s entire body jerks and he spills some of his drink down the front of his shirt.

“Oh, bloody-” He leans over to put his drink on the table and starts wiping at his shirt. “No, I’m- It’s not that, it’s-” He glances fleetingly at the stranger and then down at his shirt again, before his brain finally registers that oh, glasses, dark curls, white smile, exposed chest. Henry’s head snaps back up and his lips part in astonishment. Handsome doesn’t even begin to cover it. Him.

“Hi,” the man says, then chuckles. He hands Henry a napkin and gestures towards one of the other chairs at the table. “Would you mind?”

or, Henry and Alex meet on vacation in San Francisco and an instant spark between them has both of them unable to let the other go. With only two weeks to spend together and the knowledge that it can't last beyond that, it's just a massive, insurmountable recipe for disaster.

Or is it?

Unattended / Unsent mails by amnesia_on_ice / @amnesiaa-on-ice

Rating: General Audiences | Chapters: 4/?

Alex is a Singer Songwriter, henry is his arch nemesis Actor but also secretively writer. There is a long running feud between Henry and Alex. Now they are meeting for the first time in person in a vanity after party and the stan twitter have lots to digest of the meeting.

The story of Unattended/ unsent mails.

the drag of your lips by rizcriz

Rating: Mature | Chapter 2/3

Alex isn’t sure how he got here.

Here being pressed into the couch, his roommate straddling his lap and warm against every point they’re touching, soft lips moving against his own in the most sensual, leisurely pattern that Alex’s fingers instinctively flex where they’re clinging into his lower back. He’s hard in his pants, straining towards Henry, but there’s no desperate hands grasping, no drive to take this any further.

Or, Alex just really wants to make out with someone. Henry helpfully volunteers.

Foxden Park by myheartalive / @myheartalivewrites

Rating: Explicit | Chapters: 4/9

“Yes, Alex, what a terrible destiny,” Nora says. “To be hosted for a week by all these charming rich people, who have bent over backwards to accommodate us, including sending their own carriage into town to fetch us. How very dare we drag you into their nefarious scheme.”

—

Invited to a week-long house party at the Duke of Windsor’s country residence, Alex Claremont-Diaz does not expect to find anything to enjoy about his time there. What he does find is Lord Henry, the duke’s younger brother—and a boatload of things to learn about himself.

Seven days in the country in a duke's house. What could possibly happen?

[thelaughtercafe]

Coping With Hope

Tea Type: Half and Half (Fluff and Hurt/Comfort)

Potential Triggers: No twording in this fic! This whole fic centers around creating coping strategies for issues with eating, and that negative voice in one’s head! Hope this helps someone else going through this too! ❤

Pairing: Bakugou/Reader towards the end, but other characters include Todoroki, Izuku, Ochaco, Mina, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Shinsou!

Length: 1.3k+

Summary: You're so thankful for your friends, and they help you brainstorm strategies to help you with your issues.

A/N: Oh would you look at that? A follow up because I have no self control 🙃 This is more of a part 2 than anything to finish off the night so no twording yet! Next fic is where twording'll be more prominent. It physically killed me not to include Monoma in part 1 because if felt he didn’t fit the dynamic so there will definitely be a Shinsou/Reader/Monoma fic at some point.

“So. Now that we’ve established the issue; how do you want us to help?”

Todoroki sat across from you with you up by the pillow and the others all circled around you; crammed on top of Bakugou’s bed. 

You were still catching your breath a little, having suddenly been attacked by wiggling fingers and teasing for a solid 10 minutes. It had been overwhelming, but in the best way possible. No doubt Bakugou knew you needed a moment to not think which is the real reason he outed you. 

Cheeks still a little pink, the negative voice seemed too tickled out to have anything to say for once, apparently tuckered out. 

“Well…”

You nibbled your bottom lip, trying to think. 

“Maybe you guys can remind me to eat, gently?”

You fidgeted uncomfortably, shyly playing with your fingers. 

“If you ask me directly I may get defensive or anxious; the only one of you I’d say who could effectively get through to me like that is Bakugou, and Todoroki.”

“Me and Bakugou?”

Todoroki seemed surprised and almost offended and you hid a smile behind your hand as you nodded. 

“Yeah. See, Bakugou is gonna be the type to shove a cereal bar in my hand and if I try to protest he’s just gonna make me shut up before I spiral. He’ll have me eating before I have time to think about it. Whereas I could see you also giving me small snacks and such, but you have a much subtler way about you of…hm…how do I explain? Like making me go quiet and shy and just doing as asked? I guess intimidated is the right word but good intimidated if that makes sense?”

He snickered under his breath at that, making you look up as you blushed. He reached over and patted your head, affectionately.

“Uh-huh. I get what you mean cutie. That’s fine.”

You tried to move on to cope with your face burning and nodded. 

“Th-thanks! Okay um…also not treating me like different? I don’t mind subtle gestures and well-" 

You started shyly fidgeting again, eyes flicking to the mattress as you swallowed shyly. 

"Affection and physical contact could be a good way to help condition and reward me I think. I kinda forgot how touch starved I was till confronted with it and then I realized how nice it is so-but if that’s weird don’t-”

“Oh we are on it!!”

You giggled as Kaminari near tackled you before cuddling up to your side and nuzzling into your neck. tickling you slightly as you squirmed before giving up and leaning against him. Okay, admittedly that felt really nice. 

“Hey save some for us Nari no fair!!”

Uraraka pouted and made grabby hands at you as Shinsou began carding his fingers through your hair again quietly, making you melt all the more into the boy behind you.  

Bakugou snorted. 

“You really do remind me of a cat sometimes you know that? Gonna start calling you kitten.”

Your eyes popped open at that as you blushed. 

“Don’t you dare hotshot. I can think of much worse nicknames given time.”

He leered at you playfully. 

“I’m not too worried kitten~ guess you’ll have to get used to it.”

You rolled your eyes but hummed as you tried to think. Was there really anything else?

“What about when you spiral?”

Deku’s voice was kind but concerned and you stiffened a little against Kaminari before shaking your head at him. 

“Trust me; you don’t want to hear what the voice in my head shouts at me. I deal better with spirals alone. Better I break down alone, cope with it and then move on.”

He frowned at that. 

“But… you have us now. Don’t you want us to help ground you and remind you it’s not true? Kachaan used to help me with my anxiety attacks by doing that.”

You bit your lip, hesitantly but nodded. 

“I mean…I can try it. But no promises I won’t run away or something when I get overwhelmed. I get scared of having my emotions negatively affect you guys.”

“Well we’re still here and fine aren’t we?”

Kirishima piped up with a smile that made you relax again with a nod, as Izuku continued.

“Well it should definitely be an intimate group then so you don’t feel too overwhelmed. Me, and either Kirishima or Bakugou depending on who’s available…is there anyone else you think who would help?”

“If she’s not around you guys, Monoma and I can handle it.”

Shinsou spoke suddenly making you turn to angle your head towards him. 

“Are you sure?”

You knew Shinsou also struggled with spirals so you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. 

He nodded, determination clear in his eyes. 

“Mm. Yeah. And I’m sure Monoma will want to help too. He’s surprisingly good at calming people down. Who would’ve guessed him never shutting up could be useful, right?”

An amused smirk tugged at his lips that you mirrored and you nodded. 

“Okay then.”

“Ooh, ooh what about me?”

Ashido raised her hand and bounced in place a little, a grin evident as she looked eager. 

“I’m honestly kind of at a loss for more ideas-”

“Oh I got one!”

Kaminari leaned his head on your shoulder, his arms wrapped comfortably around your middle as he grinned at Ashido. 

“You like to cook right? Why don’t you make her lunches?”

You waved your hands quickly in denial at that. 

“Wha-? No no that’s okay!! I don’t want to waste ingredients or what if I can’t eat it all that day or-”

Shinsou’s utterance of your name made you freeze again and once you’d met his gaze he gave you an amused smile. 

“Breathe.”

You did so as Ashido smiled gently and put your worries at ease.

“Well I always buy too much anyway honestly. I make Kaminari’s, Jirou’s and occasionally Todoroki’s too on top of my own so if anything you’ll be helping me out! As for if you’re having trouble eating it all… I’m sure one of the boys will be ecstatic over extra food; so that way you don’t have to feel bad if it gets too hard! Sound good? Oh!”

She laughed in surprise as you hopped across the bed out of Kami’s grip who whined at the loss to hug her in answer, rubbing your back. 

At your mumbled thanks she hummed in acknowledgement. 

When you finally sat back, looking misty eyed and nervous as you glanced towards Bakugou the others knew it was time to go and began making their way out over the next several minutes as you got up to wish them well and thank them for being such great friends. 

Eventually, only Bakugou and you remained, peaceful silence between you two as you tiredly leaned against his shoulder, both of your backs against the pillows as you rested. 

Eventually, after a while, you spoke up quietly. 

“…Is it bad that I’m scared? Now that everyone knows I just…I’m worried I’ll let them down.”

You felt rather than heard him sigh and he moved to wrap the arm you’d been leaning against around your shoulders, his other hand supporting his head as he looked at the ceiling in contemplation and then answered. 

“I think…it’s perfectly normal to be afraid. Even All Might has fear, ya know? But as long as we make an effort every day to fight against that fear. Then I think we’ll also be a little better every day. That’s how I choose to think of it anyway.”

A genuine smile had bloomed across your face at that and you sighed into his neck, the elevated warmth his body provided immensely comforting and disarming.

“You’re gonna make such an amazing hero one day Bakugou. You’re already one person’s. I’m so lucky you found me.”

Your eyed had slipped shut so you missed the way his cheeks flamed though his eyes filled with pride, his grip tightening just enough to make you feel completely protective. The peck to the top of your head was quick but lingered enough to ensure you felt it. 

If you hadn’t already been starting to drift into dreamland, you surely would’ve noticed the thickness in your best friend’s voice as he murmured. 

“Go to bed, kitten. You’ve had a long day today.”

If only you knew you weren’t the only one who felt saved. 

[yallwildinrn]

Snake in the Grass: Chapter 1

For @ckhalloween23's catch-all prompt: An Empty Grave

This is a horror fic I've been working on since May or June. Given my current pace, it probably won't be out until the latter half of next year, butttt since I have this first chapter done (and I wanted it to be done in time for Halloween of this year), I figured I'd go ahead and post this as a preview and a treat! Well, treat for you guys and me haha.

Content warning for alcohol, bars, and general spookiness.

Pool balls whizz & clack against one another, but the sound is mostly drowned out. The bar, while not packed, is bustling with life, as is typical for a Friday evening; the sounds of yelling, laughter, and glasses clinking fill the already cramped space. It’s the victory cry of men who have been itching for the work week to finally, finally, end.

Dim, warm lights mask dirty floors and mysterious stains of unknown origin that seem to infect any and every upholstered seat. The single TV crammed into the back corner behind the bar top has caught the attention of several men, all shouting and celebrating – or complaining – at every pitch of the game with gnashing teeth. The bartender scrambles to sling out drink after drink of who-knows-what for the night’s customers.

Johnny himself is seated at a round, wooden table shoved near the back of the room. It’s almost uncomfortably close to the billiards tables, and each shrill hit against the pool balls becomes harder to ignore as the night wears on. He’s got some good distraction, though.

He lounges in his chair with a Coors in hand, surrounded by his friends. Bobby sits at his right, sipping his bourbon, while counterclockwise from there are Jimmy, Dutch, and Tommy. It’s tight, mostly because they had to steal a seat for Jimmy, but Johnny doesn’t mind. Not a damn bit.

He takes a long, slow sip from his drink. He still can’t believe they graduated from West Valley six whole years ago, and yet here they are, still thick as thieves. It’s not the same as it was back in high school (images of late-night, high-speed rides on their Hondas and getting plastered on the beach come to mind), but given how damn busy they all are, it’s an impressive amount of effort to keep traditions & meet-ups alive – like these monthly get-togethers at the bar, for example.

Johnny half-listens to a light-hearted argument between Tommy & Jimmy about baseball players he doesn’t give a shit about. Dutch, caught in the middle, has decided to antagonize the two of them by playing devil’s advocate for both sides. Things are getting heated, but it’s nothing Johnny finds worth worrying about. A nudge to Johnny’s arm snatches his attention away, and he turns to see Bobby with an expectant gaze and a soft, tipsy smile on his lips. Johnny reciprocates the smile without even thinking; he can thank the fact that he’s at least a few drinks in for that.

Bobby’s eyes sparkle as he leans towards Johnny. His cheeks are flushed, and his breath is rich and yeasty, laced with just a hint of sweetness. He smirks at Johnny and says, “I’ve been meaning to ask. How’s your back doing, old man?”

Anddd there it is. Johnny rolls his eyes good-naturedly as he answers, “Well, I’m no longer bed-ridden, so there’s that. I think I’ll be good to go back in a week or two once Dr. Gates gives me the green-light. I’m not supposed to see her for another two weeks, but if I feel better before then, I’m gonna see if she can squeeze me in, see if I can get back to work sooner.”

Bobby raises his brows in a look of mock shock, but it’s accompanied by a wry smile. “Did I just hear Johnny Lawrence say he’s trying to get back to work sooner? Thought you had worker’s comp to fall back on?”

“I do,” Johnny explains, snatching the neck of his Coors. The glass is smothered with wet drops of condensation that leave watery rings on the tabletop. “Just turns out that worker’s comp isn’t nearly as good as a roofing job. Pays the bills, but man.”

Johnny shakes his head and takes a swig of his beer. The icy cold liquid feels like a blessing, and he sighs as the bottle leaves his lips.

Bobby shrugs a little awkwardly. He tries to reassure Johnny as best he can by reminding him, “Hey, at least you’re getting comp this time.”

Johnny frowns harshly and shuts his eyes for a moment like he’s trying to will away a headache. He sets his beer down with a soft thunk, and the moisture clinging to the glass is already dripping back onto the table. He glares at a nearby wall and mutters, “Don’t remind me.”

“I’m just saying,” Bobby starts with a warm smile, swishing the alcohol in his glass with one hand. “Not working under the table has its perks.”

Another round of loud cheers fills the room. Sounds like someone finally hit the damn ball. “Yeah, but the government also takes half my damn paycheck. Jimmy still hasn’t helped me figure out how to deduct all my taxes yet,” Johnny says, loudly pulling Jimmy into the conversation.

Jimmy turns away from his own conversation with Tommy & Dutch. He leans onto an elbow and smiles at Johnny, but it’s certainly not genuine; if anything, there’s a bite to it. He answers, “Just because I’m an accountant doesn’t mean I can magically fix your taxes, Johnny. Become a business, then we can talk.”

Johnny flips him off, earning a round of chuckles around the table as Jimmy rolls his eyes and relaxes back into his seat. Dutch points at Jimmy with his beer bottle and asks the accountant, “Speaking of, have you finally been let out of your cage? First time we’ve seen you in, what? Months?”

Jimmy sighs, and Johnny realizes that the polo Jimmy’s wearing is probably the most casual thing he’s worn out and about in a while. “Tax season is finally over. Thank god for that,” Jimmy trails off, and he takes a long swig from his glass.

Tommy eyes his friends and pipes up, “Too late for another round of shots?”

Another round sounds fucking amazing. Johnny instead answers, “I’d love to, but my wallet says no.”

Bobby chimes in, “My liver also says no. That first round was enough for me.”

Dutch’s face crinkles into disappointment as he boos Bobby from across the table. His chair tips back an almost dangerous amount while he does. He shakes his head and laments, “Ya think you know a guy, but then he goes to priest school and becomes a damn prude.”

Bobby glares at him as his grip tightens on his glass. “It’s called seminary, and I’m becoming a pastor, not a priest.”

Tommy snickers & nudges Dutch, giving him a mischievous look. He points out, “Didn’t say he wasn’t a prude.”

Johnny snorts, earning himself a Bobby-patented glare, which then sends him into a laughing fit. Sometimes it can genuinely be scary to be on the receiving end of that gaze, but most of the time (especially after all these years,) it’s become damn hilarious. There’s another vicious clack of the pool balls; the start of a new game.

“I hate all of you,” Bobby huffs. He crosses his arms and leans back into his chair, dragging his gaze across the figures of his (almost) drunk friends, who are still much more sober than half of the room. “Why do I even hang out with you assholes? What did I do to deserve this?”

Jimmy sips on his glass and looks at Bobby. His lips curl into a wry smile. “Be a prude?”

Johnny thinks he can see a vein bulge in Bobby’s forehead, and he has to stifle another snort. Bobby’s lips pull into a tight, frustrated line across his face. He finishes the last of his bourbon with a small gulp and slaps his palm onto the table so he can push himself out of his chair. “I fucking hate you. All of you. I’m getting another drink.”

He pushes his chair back in with his foot and starts to weave through the maze of people & tables, and Tommy smiles like a Cheshire cat and calls out, “Can you-?”

“No,” Bobby yells back as he crosses the bustling room. Tommy cackles in his seat, and Dutch follows suit, clapping a hand on Tommy’s shoulder and howling beside him. Johnny simply shakes his head and leans onto the table, resting on his forearms.

The wood sticks to his skin. He can only imagine how much dust is trapped under layers of sticky god-knows-what. Probably more than he realizes. It’s kind of gross to think about, but it doesn’t really faze him, especially when everything about this bar fits that bill. Not much about this place is great: the bartender’s a dick, the bowls of pretzels are stale as shit and few & far between, it’s impossible to find a seat without a weird stain on it, and there’s never more than two beers on tap.

That doesn’t mean it’s all bad, though. Johnny never has to worry about them running out of Coors. It’s a pretty good distance between all their places. The prices aren’t half bad, and hell, it doesn’t even come close to gracing their top ten list of “Shittiest Bars This Side of California!” So yeah, really not all bad, at least if you ask him.

Tommy’s hyena-like cackle grabs Johnny’s attention and pulls him back into whatever conversations he’s missed. “No, no,” Tommy starts, smiling wide. “I’m just- can you believe any of us actually graduated?”

Jimmy levies Tommy with a self-satisfied smile. “No, I actually can’t believe any of you guys graduated,” he teases. Tommy rolls his eyes.

Dutch scowls. “Yes, yes, we know. You made an A once and got into a big boy college, keep it in your pants,” He replies gruffly, finishing his statement with a swig.

“That’s not what I meant,” Tommy elaborates dryly while gesturing with his drink. “You’re not wrong, but think about it. Our senior year was such a shitshow.”

Dutch smirks and looks Johnny’s way. “I blame Romeo over here. Had no idea a breakup would lead to all that bullshit with LaRusso.”

Johnny stifles at the comment, and his cheeks flush – now red from more than just the alcohol – as he glares at Dutch. He’s about to bark out a comeback, but Bobby cuts him off when he comes sauntering back, freshly filled glass in hand, and retorts, “Oh please, we’re all to blame. We escalated it when we should’ve just left things alone.”

Bobby slides into his chair a little ungracefully, wood scraping against the floor, while Dutch shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He nods his head down a little sheepishly because… yeah. Bobby’s right, as much Johnny hates to admit it. Back at West Valley, they were all chomping at the bit to put the twerp in his place, but none of that needed to happen or even should have happened. They saw red, and LaRusso got caught in the crossfire. It was like they didn’t even see him. Just a conveniently placed punching bag.

The table’s air stills; the rest of the bar continues to thrum with activity while the atmosphere of their little corner slowly ices over. Johnny purses his lips and sips at his beer. Guilt gnaws his ribcage. Even after all these years, after the apologies and many, many steps to make things right, he’s still stuck with bitter memories that choke him up. He opts to study the many dings & scratches on the table rather than meet any of his friends’ eyes.

Jimmy’s the first to break the tense silence. “You know, if we have anyone to blame, it’s Kreese,” he spits out. It hits Johnny like a jab to the chest. He’s taken aback as Jimmy says this, but the man continues, “He put so much bullshit in our heads! All that punch first, think second nonsense. Like, come on-”

“Wait, wait,” Johnny interrupts while waving his hand to stop Jimmy in his tracks. How can he just say that? “Look, he was a total douchebag – I should fucking know – but we’re the ones who took what he said too far. We were still the ones who fucked with LaRusso. He didn’t tell us to do any of that shit.”

Tommy shifts beside him and stumbles over his words. “Yeah, like- but- Look, okay, you’re right, it’s totally on us for taking shit way too far, but Johnny,” Tommy says, and he turns to Johnny with pleading eyes. “He literally taught us to have no mercy. Literally. That’s not an exaggeration.”

Johnny frowns. “Yeah, but we took it out of context. He obviously meant to not take no for an answer, to- to keep pushing on despite the circumstances,” he explains. Are they seriously saying this shit? Even after all these years? After everything Kreese did for them? For fuck’s sake…

Dutch is next to speak. He throws Johnny an odd look as he adds, “Did we go to the same Cobra Kai? Because the one I went to taught us to do fucking everything to the extreme. Including the no mercy shit. Hell, he even had us do karate to the extreme. All those extra goddamn practices…”

“Yeah, and they were good for us. We needed some discipline!” Johnny snaps back defensively. His blood is starting to boil with every bullshit argument that his friends make.

He starts to bounce his leg. The sounds of laughter pouring out from a nearby table makes him want to snarl. He doesn’t get it, how can his friends just- just pass the blame onto Kreese? The guy at least tried to help them and make them into better people (before his sensei lost his mind, that is.)

Johnny turns to Bobby, who’s worrying his lip and squirming like he’s sitting on an anthill. “Come on,” Johnny says. “Back me up here.”

Bobby looks away from Johnny, jaw tense, but he turns back. He lets out a breath, look Johnny square on with a worrying level of sincerity, and says, “Johnny. Kreese worked us so hard once that you forget it was Ali’s birthday. She broke up with you over that.”

Johnny’s skin buzzes. He’s all too aware of the overpowering noise of the room. Hell, he feels like he can feel the next table over breathing on him. His stomach rolls. “That is not what happened,” Johnny insists with a hard stare. “Practice that day was not that bad. I remember it. It was fine.”

Tommy scoffs, “Then why were you so quick to go out drinking with us?”

Johnny’s more tense than a stretched-out rubber band, and he feels like he’s going to snap like one, too. He scowls and answers, “I forgot because…”

Johnny blinks and turns his gaze down. Sweat collects at the back of his neck while his chest tightens.

“No, I-I forgot because…”

His mouth is a cotton ball. He’s reaching into his mind, searching for the memory, but he just… it’s not right. It’s there, but somehow, it also isn’t. He remembers being brought in for an extra practice with his cobras, Twig being brought in to watch & help, the end of practice, getting ready to leave, and then…

His temples throb as tries harder to remember, but he can’t. There’s a gap, a void where something should be. It’s not like he’s just forgotten the details, god no. He’s actively reaching into his mind, searching and grasping for what should be there, sandwiched between the sparring and the night at the bar, but he just… He can’t. He can’t get there. Every time he thinks he’s brushing against what might be the memory in question, a pulsing throb shakes his skull, and it rattles his train of thought loose.

His eyes dart between his friends. His heart pounds furiously against his vice of a ribcage, and he wipes his sweaty palms against the thighs of his pants. Their faces are a varied array of distress and confusion. Why do they look like that? Are they trying – and failing – to remember, just like him? Shit, why can’t he remember?

A chill threatens to run down his spine. Could he ever remember?

When he was fresh off the breakup with Ali, he would spend hours torturing himself with all the ways he screwed things up; it was his way of trying to nail down exactly what he did wrong. Except… he always left that practice turned night-on-the-town alone. He never touched it, to his knowledge. Is- Is this why? Every time he tried to play the events over in his mind, would he get to this downright anomaly of a gap in his memory, and did it make him feel- well, make him feel like he does now? Sick and shaken?

Is that why he never, never thinks about the inciting incident that led Ali to yell at him and tell him things were done? Did the avoidance become muscle memory at some point so he would never try to recall that night & the memories associated with it?

He knows the answer. He doesn’t like it.

It doesn’t even feel natural. It’s not like he just forgot; no, it’s more like something was ripped out unceremoniously or maybe strangled and hidden in an unreachable corner of his mind. Does it matter what type of wrong it is? He wipes the sweat from his brow; the heat from the crowd of the bar tonight has finally caught up to him, it seems.

His mind circles back. Why can’t he remember? Why is there a gap? How long has it been there? Has- has it always been there? And not just any gap. No, a gap that, when he tries to recall upon what should be there, snaps up & bites him like a cornered animal. His head is throbbing. He fumbles for his beer and takes a long drink.

He looks again to his friends. He can only imagine the expression on his own face given theirs. He takes a chance and says, “Please tell me I-I’m not the only one who…”

Bobby slowly shakes his head, eyebrows knit, but he doesn’t meet Johnny’s gaze. Jimmy and Dutch don’t move; they simply squirm and keep their eyes down. Tommy’s chest is heaving as he sits up straight and looks ahead with a mix of fear and uncertainty. Johnny knows they must be in the same boat as him. They have to be.

Tommy answers with a shaky voice, “Who what?” Johnny almost drops his mouth wide open. Tommy’s asking that even though the man isn’t meeting anyone’s eyes and looks like he wants to run out of the room?

“Who what? What do you mean who what?” Johnny asks incredulously. “Who- who can’t fucking remember what happened that night!”

Tommy’s smiling, but it’s strained. He answers, voice as tight as his lips, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Johnny grips his Coors so hard he thinks it’s going to shatter in his hands. “What do you mean what I’m-? You know exactly what I mean. Look at us! Look at yourself! Something’s not right.”

“Johnny,” Bobby pleads. At some point he rested his forehead in his hands, elbows on the table. “You’re- you’re not wrong, but Christ-”

Johnny turns to face Bobby with an eager gaze. He cuts him off, saying, “You can’t remember, either. It’s not just me. Something’s wrong.”

Bobby sighs through his nose. He’s getting frustrated; it’s a tell Johnny knows well. “No, Johnny,” Bobby says shortly. “I can’t remember. But I don’t want to. God, I just… I think I can speak for all of us when I say let’s just drop it. Please. I don’t want to think about-”

Bobby’s practically pleading, but Johnny doesn’t care. What’s more fucking important: a little bit of discomfort or the fact none of them remember the same exact damn thing?

Johnny cuts him off again and snarls, “About the fact there’s a fucking gap in our memories? The same gap for all of us, I’m willing to bet? One we’ve probably had since that night?”

Bobby shuts his eyes, and Johnny’s not sure if the man is going to cry or punch him, but given their shared history at Cobra Kai, it’s probably the latter. Dutch speaks up next, snapping, “Johnny! Just drop it! Yes, our memories are fucked, big whoop. I don’t care! I don’t want to think about it either! I don’t know about you, but I don’t like trying to remember and feeling my skin try to crawl off my body.”

Johnny drums his fingers against his bottle. He can’t fight the scowl on his lips. “Seriously? You’re just going to ignore this? Just like that?”

Dutch laughs bitterly. “Seems like we’ve been doing that for years, man,” he says with a shake of the head, but he pauses and looks Johnny straight on. “You know what? Hold on, let me ask you something. Let’s say we do talk about this shit. Have a little pow-wow and Agatha Christie our way through this bullshit. What the hell would we even do? Seriously, how in the fuck would you even recommend we- we try to fix this? Please, share with the class!”

Johnny opens his mouth to answer but shuts it tight in that same instant. His cheeks flush again. He genuinely has no idea where to start, actually. He does know that if they work together, they might have a shot, but Dutch writing him off with that cruel smile makes Johnny want to scream.

“Exactly,” Dutch says like the self-assured bastard he is, gesturing at Johnny with his drink in hand. “We can’t do shit, and since we’ve gone this long without thinking about it, why stop now? Sounds like none of us want to think about it, for christ’s sake.”

Johnny’s throat is tight. He can hardly believe what Dutch is saying. What Tommy and Bobby have been fucking saying. His blood pulses under his skin, and he turns to Jimmy, almost begging, “Jimmy. Come on, back me up. We can’t just pretend this never happened.”

Jimmy doesn’t look him in the eye, and it’s enough to make Johnny’s heart sink. The brunette swallows, lips turned downward ever so slightly, and he hesitantly answers, “Look, I-I’m sorry Johnny. I can’t. Why don’t we just… let sleeping dogs lie? All remembering does is hurt, and we can’t do anything about it, so why can’t we just…”

Johnny screws his eyes shut tight and flexes a hand in and out of a fist a few times. He brings his Coors to his lips, takes a healthy gulp, and slams the bottle back onto the table with enough force to make his friends jump a little. He glares at them all. He can hardly believe all the bullshit he’s heard tonight.

“Why can’t I just what? Drop it? Why aren’t you pussies willing to do anything about this?! It’s not right! Something is fucking wrong, and you just want to act like nothing happened!” Johnny says. His voice is starting to raise, and he’s getting the attention of a few nearby patrons, but quite frankly, he doesn’t give a shit. Fuck ‘em. “What is wrong with you guys? Who gives a fuck if it hurts to think about it! Something is wrong, and it sure as hell wasn’t just forgotten. It’s gone. Or- or it’s there and we just can’t reach it but- Who cares! It’s still weird as shit, and you’re all just pretending like nothing fucking happened like a bunch of pussies!”

Bobby attempts to soothe him by saying, “Johnny, please, I don’t think this is as bad as you’re saying.”

Johnny feels his muscles tense, and he swears to god, he might break a tooth from how hard his jaw is clenched. He gets tunnel vision for a moment, only able to focus on the traitorous words that just came out of Bobby’s mouth, and when his vision clears, everything is suddenly too much again – screeching pool balls, wails & shouts from the crowd around them, the way his body is vibrating under his skin. He has to fight against the urge to throw & shatter his beer bottle on the ground (likely only because he’s not done quite with it yet).

He can’t believe that Bobby of all people would say that to him. Talk down to him like that. That simple sentence rubs him raw like coarse sandpaper dragged his skin. It conjures up painful memories of his mom brushing aside his pleas for help and, on occasion, Kreese asking him through a sneer if he’s a loser. And worst of all, Bobby knows this, better than anyone else. He’s been the one to listen to Johnny rant and rage about being brushed off and ignored. He knows how that phrase sets Johnny’s blood alight.

Johnny chugs the rest of his beer in one fell swoop and steps out of his chair so fast & hard it tumbles. He doesn’t even bother picking it up. He bites out, “Fuck this. I’m going home. I don’t give a fuck what you do. Pretend for all I care! Don’t come crying to me when this shit blows up in all of our faces.”

Johnny ignores Bobby’s protests as he begins to chase after the taller man, trying to get Johnny to talk to him or whatever. Johnny can’t talk to him, won’t. He can’t even look at him right now. He grits his teeth as he weaves between people, and the longer Bobby follows, the more certain Johnny becomes that he really might start swinging.

Johnny has to shoulder his way into an open spot and wait for the bartender to slide by, but flashing some cash is all it takes to grab his attention. He feels like his skin is going to vibrate right off his body, and he snaps at some asshole sitting beside him who tells him to watch it.

Bobby catches up to Johnny as he’s trying to pay the bartender, worthless platitudes tumbling out of his mouth, and Johnny hisses through clenched teeth, “If you don’t lay off, I’m gonna knock your teeth out, I swear to god.”

It works as intended. Bobby steps back, startled and wide-eyed. Johnny knows he looks a little wild right now, but he just does not care. He feels like he’s one wrong word or move away from snapping, from saying & doing shit he’s going to regret. He just wants to get out of this fucking bar and away from his shithead friends.

Johnny breathes a small sigh of relief when Bobby accepts defeat and slinks back to the table stuffed in the back of the room. He always was the smartest of the five of them. He knew when it was time to leave things be before it blew up in their faces. Johnny thinks of Daniel, and he feels a little sick, but it’s replaced with another wave of hot, tepid anger again, the same kind that haunted him all through high school.

With his tab paid, Johnny shoves his way out of the bar, other patrons throwing protests, swears, & a few obscene gestures at him, but Johnny makes himself ignore it and pushes on. If he starts to pay attention and care right now, even a little, he’s probably gonna get the cops called on his ass, and he just- he can’t deal with that on top of everything else tonight.

He opens the bar door with a hard shove, and the chill night air washes over him. While the streets are neither silent nor empty, it’s still much better than the bar, and he feels his chest loosen enough that he can breathe again. He stomps over to his Avanti, and halfway through sticking his key into the door’s lock, he decides that he doesn’t have enough beer at home to deal with this night.

[excelsi-or]

summoned (pt. 7)

Hi everyone :D I'm determined to finish posting this story by the end of October. I'm in a transitionary period right now, so I have time to do this. Love yous. Hope you're all staying well xx Also, just in case some of you read your fics on AO3 more often (like I do), I'm also posting this one on AO3 (All my other stories are there as well.)

pairing: woozi x fem!reader/fem!OC

w.c. 1.8k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

"When you told me this morning your mother was a demon, you failed to mention she was the right-hand demon," Jihoon accuses.

She packs her book into her bag, as she gets up from the tree swing her father had put up after the first time she'd walked out of a conversation. She used it infrequently for the purposes of storming out on her parents, instead using it as a place to think.

Now, she shrugs. "If you haven't realized, there are a lot of things about my parents that I don't want to know about."

"I think we should speak with your father," Seokmin says. He can feel a fight brewing, and his brain is still struggling to catch up.

"I know." She glances at Jihoon, as they walk towards the car. "You might have to stay outside. Mom doesn't like angels, but Dad hates demons."

"How in the world did they even have the ability to fall in love with all these preconceived biases?" Seokmin wonders.

They climb back into the car, and she types her father's bookstore address into the GPS. The way Jihoon drives, it'll take a minute or two to get there. They could have walked, but Jihoon would have huffed the whole way and Seokmin tends to struggle keeping both feet on the ground.

Once they arrive at her father's corner bookstore, she tells Jihoon to stay put.

"I—"

"Do you really want to come in with me?" She's already halfway out of his car. "My dad will automatically assume we're dating."

Jihoon's brow furrows at this seemingly non-sequitur. "What?"

"No way I'm dating an angel." With a hand from Seokmin, she gets to her feet. "My parents are just as apprehensive about who I bring home as Hansol. So, please," she meets his eye to let her know she's serious, "stay here."

Seokmin trails after her and is surprised at how many books are crammed inside the corner store. Every perimeter wall is covered in books. More standalone bookshelves taper in towards the center of the room, where a skylight clearly highlights a man dressed in white linen. A man who must be her father. And is clearly in the middle of doing something.

"Dad?"

The man looks up and grins. "Your mother called me. She said you were bringing friends to see me." The smile on his face brightens further as he recognizes Seokmin. "An angel." He peers over their shoulder, looking for the reason why his partner pluralized the word 'friend'.

"The other friend is in the car," she says as way of explanation. "This is my dad, Tin. He'll forget to introduce himself." With a lazy wave of her hand, already walking off to wander her father's stacks, she says, "Seokmin wanted to talk to you."

The angels immediately hit the ground running, bypassing pleasantries and exchanging notes on human and angel interaction. Seokmin peppers Tin with questions about his meetings with Gabriel. 

She wanders the aisles, looking through the additions her father's acquired since the last time she'd visited. Regardless of where she is in the store, she can hear the conversation. So, she can hear Seokmin setting up a platform for his ultimate question. 

"Have you heard any chatter about a demon revolt?" Seokmin finally asks.

Her father goes silent. She peers around one of the bookshelves. Her father stares down at the top of the counter. It's a recognizable move for those that knew the angel: his thinking pose. His 'I'm considering making up excuses' pose.

"You've met Xero, so you know that she's a demon."

'Yes." Seokmin doesn't bother to add that simply calling Xero a demon brushes over the fact that she was a high-ranking demon before she and Tin had a child. And he has plenty of questions as to how Tin had managed that.

"For the sake of peace, we tend to leave the house or go to different floors when we have particular guests over."

"Like if Gabe came to visit you," Seokmin guesses.

Tin's daughter is actually surprised he's not omitting more.

Maybe her father knows she can hear them and is probably listening. Or maybe he doesn't lie to angels. She's never actually seen him interact with other angels, usually taking his business out of the house unlike her mother.

"Exactly. I tend to bring angels here," her father agrees. "But... I may have heard my wife mention something about bodies and possession. I didn't say anything, because I wasn't entirely sure. I know she's made her deals to be with me; we both have."

Seokmin nods his head. Both he and his friend are wondering if either angel or demon regretted the deals they'd made.

"I haven't mentioned it to Gabe, because frankly..." Her father looks around the store, and she ducks back behind the shelves out of view. "My daughter isn't going to live for millennia."

"You want to see her live to the end. Before the Final Day," Seokmin reasons.

"Exactly. If I were to tell any angel, other than you, that I had heard something?"

"Heaven would rain down."

"So, I didn't say anything."

"Well, we're working at trying to stop whatever it is the demons are doing."

Her father's voice quiets further. "It's not just the demons."

Her brow furrows at this. That's the first time she's heard anything of the like. But her father seems to think Seokmin doesn't know about it either.

"Haven't you noticed the increase in natural disasters? That coincide with the increase in human rights activism?" Tin prompts.

"Yes." Seokmin's already very full brain is trying to process this new piece of information. Luckily, it doesn't take more prompting or a hundred years for it to dawn on him. "Human rights activism cleanses peoples' souls, and the increase in natural disasters will wipe them out eventually when they can't shelter themselves enough."

"It's something that Gabe, Luke, and Michael mentioned to me a while back and we had discussed it. I said that maybe if we started slow, it'd be enough to keep the demons from noticing. And the humans from stirring up too much trouble to alert them."

She presses her forehead against the nearest shelf, trying her hardest not to just knock herself unconscious so she doesn't need to deal anymore.

"Obviously, natural disasters are natural because they're a reaction from climate change now. We've only just helped it along, but if humans are able to get a hold of climate change in time," Tin shrugs, "who knows?"

She knows her father's views on climate change. His usual song is: "Humans are idiots. Why aren't they doing anything about it it? Don't they have any self-preservation skills?"

Seokmin hums. "That's a fair, but currently unlikely, hope."

"As long as my daughter is alive, I'd rather that the Final Day was held off."

"Right."

Tin, seemingly satisfied with what he'd shared, calls out. "You can come out now, anghel."

She joins them and looks between Seokmin and her father. Then she kisses her father's cheek. "I'll come for dinner soon."

Her father hugs her to his side to kiss the top of her head. "Please. And bring your friends along. I miss Hansol and Seungkwan. I'll make them more puto."

She chuckles. Hansol's the only human she's ever brought home that her mom tolerates. But her father adored Seungkwan ever since he devoured all the puto last time with gusto and praise. "Yes, I'll let them know. Love you. Remind Mom for me."

Jihoon has his eyes closed when they return to the car. "So?"

"We have more problems than I thought," Seokmin announces once he's slammed the door behind him.

Jihoon looks over his shoulder, a disapproving look on his face.

Seokmin rolls his eyes. "The car? Seriously? This world could be ending and that's what you care about?"

"What do you mean?"

Seokmin explains the conversation with Tin. And Jihoon sighs loudly in response.

When he looks over at the human, she's staring out the window, no comments. Jihoon's brow furrows, and he exchanges looks with Seokmin. The angel only shrugs in response.

"I gotta get to work," Seokmin says. "You can drop me off there."

Once they're alone in the car after dropping Seokmin off, Jihoon states, "You're being quiet."

"Hmm?" She hadn't said anything the entire way to Seokmin's work. "Uh, yeah."

"For someone with demon blood, you're not a good liar."

This gets a small smile, and then she turns back out the window. "Mm."

"Nothing? Something must be wrong." With that, he lets the conversation go.

Instead, Jihoon starts coming up with a list of things he needs to do to move this sudden project forward. But the actual methodology of how to stop what's happening is not coming to him. He does know the first step on his list is to go to the hospital and see what's going on. Jihoon didn't get the name of the hospital from Xero, but he did see a list of phone numbers of places located on the human's fridge. 

It must be there. 

The human seems responsible enough for that.

They walk through her apartment door in continuous silence. Immediately, she sits at her drawing desk. Jihoon recognizes the sound of pencil on paper and figures the human won't talk until she's ready.

So, he checks the fridge. Sure enough, the hospital name is listed as the last contact. 

Jihoon picks her phone up off her desk and tries to open it. When it doesn't, Jihoon hands the phone to her. "Open."

She does so without thinking.

Jihoon doesn't bother searching for a map, as he knows this little device has one. He wills the app to the forefront of the screen and opens it. It takes him a little while to type in the name of the hospital, but he gets there in the end.

The demon is about to ask her address but accidentally zooms out. It takes him another few attempts to figure out how he did it, but once he does, he zooms out to see a little blue blip.

Your location.

According to the app, it takes about an hour to get to the hospital.

The human is hunched over the desk. The sound of her pencil scratching along paper is furious. He's surprised she's not tearing through the paper. 

Curious, Jihoon peeks over her shoulder. He lifts an eyebrow. There are sketches of faces and buildings, mixes between angels and demons. He recognizes Linnaeus. He even recognizes Gabriel, the one angel that comes to visit Hell every so often.

Jihoon backs away, deciding to leave her to it. He can't really leave without her anyway. So, the demon plucks a young adult romance shelf that he hasn't read yet and stretches himself out on the couch to wait.

part 8

[donaidk]

INQUISITIONE - PIERRE GASLY Part I

This was the first ever fic I posted here on Tumblr or anywhere else as a present for @x-lipstickstain-x. Always was one of my faves even if I abandoned it once I got myself way too deep into other fics as well. Now it's time to give it a makeover, rewriting every part and adding a few bits and bobs cause my style got better since and I'm not scared to admit it was rushed at a few bits. Hope you guys will enjoy it 🧡

Now reading: Part I (- | Part II)

Masterlist

Travelling to Monaco wasn’t exactly part of my plans, right until my invitation for the Laureus Sports Awards Ceremony. It wasn’t exactly unexpected as there has been chatter going around about a possible nomination for my performance in the last year. However, from the moment I had to miss out on a few dates in the championship calendar thanks to injuries and precautions it seemed like my chance faded away slowly but surely. Even after getting the invite the idea of getting to take the award home never crossed my mind, mostly thanks to my own brother. Julien being a well known name in the same sport on a lower level and loving to act like my manager meant our work was almost the only topic we seemed to discuss. He was always a strict person, more with keeping me in top shape than anything else in his own life, which often unfolded in using missed opportunities as a crude type of motivation. In this exact setting, he never let me forget that I would be missing out on a prestigious award because I just wouldn’t push through setbacks hard enough. His words for ‘you will get there next time around, don’t worry’ as I like to imagine.

That said, the invite was almost swept under the rug as I suspected it would just be a night of heartache and longing right until Julien caught a whiff of it. I could partially agree with him that not attending was a sore loser type of choice, but I wasn’t embarrassed to accept that it’s exactly how I was feeling. Like a sore loser. Even as I was getting ready for the evening my brain was struggling to understand how Julien managed to change my mind about attending. He tried using Charles being a guest of the event, someone who he was great friends with since they met a few years ago and who I tolerated but only considered as an acquaintance. It somehow worked in a way that we decided to accept the invite just for him to be my plus one, giving him a chance to spend some time with Charles who according to Julien was happy about the news during their next phone call.

My only relief was that Julien agreed to get a hotel room instead of staying with Charles, being crammed into a typical small Monaco flat being a nightmare of mine. Having our own rooms gave me the breathing space I sometimes needed from him and meant we could have our usual very different routines without them clashing and causing arguments like usual. It was almost a mystery how people could even guess we were siblings, with all the differences from our personality and mindset to how we looked. Patience levels being one of our biggest differences.

“ Are you finally ready? ” I heard Julien from the living room of the hotel room. He showed up half an hour ago, stating that we’re gonna be late even though we still had an hour to get into a car as we previously planned with the intention of arriving early.

“ You were the one who was too early. ” I rolled my eyes while clasping my earrings and standing up from the little desk that had all of my makeup and hair stuff on it. “ Does your patience really not exist or is it just me who doesn’t deserve any of it? ” I asked him as I stepped out of the bedroom only to get one of the bags that had my heels in them.

“ Don’t start it. Today should be a calm evening. ” He stood up, just missing my eye roll, stepping to the door while I slid my feet into the shoes and followed him outside as soon as I had my jacket in my hands. I wasn’t planning on catching a cold, even though Monaco was usually warm. It was February, and we were lucky enough to be met with quite cold weather for the weekend of the event. “ You look good. ” He added as I made sure the door was closed but then walked past him, without taking a look at him.

’ You’re not saving it with that. ’ I shook my head at my thoughts, rather just looking forward and calling the elevator as we got to it. Sometimes I hated how cold we could be to each other while just a second later we could joke around with grins on our faces. The rarer exchange between us. It was truly a strange siblingship we managed to build up. I couldn’t even call it a usual brother-sister situation. Even if on most days he truly acted like an older brother, looking out for me and making sure I wasn’t hurt by anything or anyone. There just should have been more of that than anything else he decided to add to our lives. “ Charles meeting us at the venue? ” I asked once the silence in the elevator took a toll on me.

„ I think so. ” He shrugged a little, stepping outside as we arrived and went to get us the car that was promised. “ He said he’s gonna text me if he arrives or decides to get a car with us. Which he didn’t do yet, so I’m guessing he will meet us there. ” He checked his phone again, letting me leave the building first after he opened the door. I got my jacket on my shoulders, as my dress was quite open, and followed Julien to the car that was parked next to the building.

He and Charles met at a sports event two years ago, becoming friends instantly. Since then they have spent quite some time together, visiting each other in Monaco or France, and even going on vacations when they had a break at the same time. It was quite rare, as the F1 winter break was the main part of our season, leaving only the summer break for them to travel together. Somehow I never really got close to Charles, even though I did spend time with them when they had a plan together or were spending time at our apartment while I still lived with Julien in France. I never had a problem with him, he was a great guy. We just never really connected and needed each other's company when we had the chance to be together.

Ten minutes later we were already at the venue, the opening of the car door yanking me back from my memories immediately. We managed to enter the building without any hold up, showing our passes at the entrance and deciding to walk around a bit so we could check out everything before we would have to sit down at our table. It wasn’t long before we both got a glass of champagne and found some skiing friends we stopped to talk to. Julien was in the middle of one of his interesting stories, that we probably already heard from him like four times when I spotted Charles coming our way from the other side of the room. I poked my brother on his shoulder to get his attention, almost getting a glare from him in exchange before he spotted his friend and a grin crept onto his face. He still quickly finished his story, before excusing us out of the conversation and leading both of us to Charles. I didn’t really plan on following him but he made it visible that he wanted me to be by his side so I won’t get lost in the crowd.

“ Welcome to Monaco, guys! How have you been? ” Charles grinned at us as we finally stood in front of him, greeting both of us with a short hug. He wasn’t alone though, a stranger standing next to him, with a glass in his hand. Although his face was familiar, I couldn’t really connect it to a name in my head. However, they didn’t really pay any attention to him as they started talking immediately. It was quite awkward to stand there looking at either each other or my brother and Charles. Luckily one of the hosts saved the moment, by requesting everyone to take their seat at a table, making us walk towards the sitting area. We walked next to each other, following Julien and Charles, not really knowing how to handle the situation, before getting brave enough to finally open my mouth.

“ I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Fleur, Julien’s sister. ” I turned to him when we had to wait for the queue to move. If it would have been on the two idiots in front of us, we would have ended the night not even knowing each other's names.

“ Pierre, Charles’s childhood friend. Although you wouldn’t be able to tell. ” He let out a laugh looking at his friend who was so deep in the conversation with my brother that he almost tripped on his own foot. The scene made me shake my head with a smile as we followed them through the crowd to an empty table with six chairs next to it in a half-circle shape.

The two of them straight away sat down on the farthest two of the chairs next to each other, not leaving space for Pierre who in the end chose the chair on my left as I got next to Julien. I was trying to get my jacket behind me, somehow getting it stuck every time I tried, when he took it from me and in a swift motion smoothed it onto the back of my chair. I thanked him with a quick smile, looking back forward as the hosts appeared on the stage to start the whole event.

“ I never thought I would feel such a third wheel in my life again. ” Pierre whispered to me almost ten minutes into it, as Charles and Julien were still talking between them, not even caring about us.

“ You haven't spent enough time with my brother yet. He can make you feel like that even if you are alone with him. ” I sighed, looking at him as it wasn’t even that interesting on the stage. “ I don’t really like spending time with the two of them if there isn’t someone else with us. ” I shrugged my shoulders, as I took a sip from my drink.

“ He sounds like great company. ” He chuckled, making me smile too, although it was actually sad how little he cared about anything outside of his own feelings. But that’s Julien. You either deal with it or just leave him behind. “ I think Charles already mentioned you once. You compete in skiing, right? ” His question left me stunned for just a second, his interest surprising from someone who didn't exactly plan on meeting new people tonight.

“ Yeah. Some might call me a professional adrenaline junkie though. ” I was relaxed enough to let out a chuckle at my own joke and he seemed to be on board, a smile taking over his face.

“ Think I might know a thing or two about how that feels. ” He added with a huff of air, making me finally remember where I have seen him before. His face finally connected to a few pictures I have seen of Charles and him, as well as his name was in almost every story I have heard from the other F1 driver from our few meetings.

I suspected his interest would quite soon fade as the night went on but he seemed to be an active partner, both of us falling into an easy conversation about our sports and the lives we were in a way subjected to outside of it. It was evident he was subjected to the downsides of fame as F1 took up an ever growing part of the entertainment business but he didn’t seem to be affected by it as much as I had imagined at first. It was captivating how he talked about racing and driving those cars, making me actually excited to maybe watch some races in the upcoming season. It wasn’t something I never did, as I already watched some of the races, but it was never something I paid much attention to, mostly just turning it on as background noise. It took us a moment to finally connect the dots, but once he mentioned the team he was driving for I couldn’t hold back my smile as I mentioned I just got sponsored by Red Bull at the start of my season. It was a coincidence we had a good laugh about, confused how we haven’t heard more about each other before tonight.

“ You should come out to a race if you have time. It’s a lot better in person. ” He offered with a little smile and I was about to respond when Julien chose the exact moment to finally remember they weren’t alone and started talking to me.

“ You know, you should be up there. ” He bumped my shoulder with his, making me look up and realise they were just talking about my category. Someone who didn’t know him would have thought it was sweet of him, but I just knew he wasn’t finished. “ Maybe if you would have actually pushed yourself, you know. ” He added, with a smirk on his face as my smile faded.

“ Says someone, who still didn’t get any awards either. ” I bit back at him, trying to hide how uncomfortable it made me feel that he’s doing this in front of other people. My head started to boil although I got myself together in seconds.

„ Well, the male categories are a lot harder. But getting into yours should be effortless. ” He shrugged, making my jaw visibly drop, as I couldn’t believe that my own blood would make a comment like this. I saw the surprise on Charles' face too, but he didn’t dare speak up and I just wanted to get out of this conversation before I would regret my next action. I only saw him act like this when he was tipsy, but even his champagne glass was sitting more than half full in front of him.

„ Talk to me if you come to your senses. ” I told him, standing up and leaving the table as soon as I could, choosing to sit at the bar alone rather than stay next to him. “ Calm evening my ass. ” I muttered as his words from before we left the hotel immediately came back to me.

Drinking wasn’t exactly on my list of activities tonight, as I liked to keep it light during the season, but I rather ordered a light cocktail just to give the bartender something else to do than stand and stare after hearing our exchanged words just seconds ago. With him walking to the other side of the bar to prepare the colourful drink I could finally let out the breath stuck in my lungs, holding myself back from turning on the bar chair. I knew Julien would be content enough to stay put and leave me be, inside feeling like he once again won an argument. It was easier to deal with emotions without each other. Sometimes I really didn’t know what I was waiting for when I knew quite well how he can be, and how much he doesn’t know the limits that shouldn’t be touched. These moments made me understand why I moved away from and why I wasn’t on the same team as him anymore.

“ You okay? ” Pierre wasn’t trying to sneak up on me, but still managed, my heart jumping when he appeared next to me, already occupying another chair.

“ Yeah, just the usual. I’ll just leave him to it. You can’t be next to him when he’s in that mindset. ” I swirled my drink as soon as it was placed in front of me, looking at how it went around the wall of the glass. “ Or at least I can’t. ” I huffed out, putting the glass down before I would accidentally break it.

„ He will probably realise what he said was wrong. ” Pierre sent a calming smile towards me, making me smile too although it still felt sour inside. With a little nod, I tried changing the topic back to where we left off, hoping it would make me forget the last two minutes of my life.

It actually helped, talking to him calmed me down and just minutes later I felt like nothing bad happened today, and everything was perfect since I woke up. Pierre did have this effect, probably on every person on this Earth and also on me, that you just focused on talking to him and forgot where you were and what happened before you started the conversation with him. We went over how I started ski jumping and my journey until now, but we also touched on his career and what he did since he started. I never knew people who were racing cars as a job, so it was the first time for me to learn about how their lives actually look like. It wasn’t at all as glamorous as one would think in quite a few aspects. The event was slowly approaching its end when I started feeling how tired I actually was. The only thing I was dreading was me having to travel back to the hotel in the same car as Julien. I really wasn’t looking forward to it.

“ Think I’m gonna run before it really ends. I don’t really care about sitting in the same car as him. ” I sighed, not even naming Julien as I knew he would know who I’m talking about. “ A nice walk to clear my head further. ” I sighed once I realised we came here in the same car and it would be contracted to take both of us, subjecting me to either walk to the hotel as a cab won't even be worth it.

“ I can take you back. I don’t mind leaving a little early and Charles has his own car here, so he won’t mind me leaving either. ” Pierre stood up after me, making me look up at him. I didn’t really react to him at first and I could see in his eyes that he was about to take back his offer, thinking he did bad.

„ I wouldn’t say no to that. ” I smiled at him gladly, taking my purse from the bar so we could go. “ Only if you truly don’t mind driving me and then getting yourself home. ” I added as I really didn’t want to be a burden on him.

“ I’m a driver, it won’t strain me. ” He let out a laugh, making me join in as we walked outside. It was a lot colder and even windier than when we arrived here. “ Oh, my jacket… ” I looked back as soon as it hit me that I left it inside. I was just about to go back, even though I hated the thought of having to talk to Julien as I had to take it from next to him, when my shoulders got covered with comfortable warmth and looking back forward I saw as Pierre let go of his own coat that was now on me.

“ Stay here, I’m gonna get my car and pick you up from here. ” He said before I could even react to him giving me his jacket, and the only thing I could do was wait while I watched him walk away, towards the parking lot. My surprise would have been evident for any onlooker, as I stood there clutching his jacket around myself and thinking about what was actually happening.

It wasn’t even five minutes later when he parked down in front of me and I got into the sportscar. I wasn’t really surprised that he had one but still, it took me off guard for a second before I shook myself out of it. He was a smooth driver, I didn’t have any problems with his style and he did get me to the hotel in one piece. I was actually sad when it was time for me to get out and say goodbye to him, but I really hoped we would meet sometime again, but couldn’t muster up the courage to ask for his number or offer mine to him. I would have gladly had a chat with him once in a while about anything though. He was a perfect conversation partner, next to whom you can easily mention anything without fearing his response.

[tonguetiedraven]

Hi! I've loved reading your fics on ao3 for a long time. I've only joined tumblr recently (social media stresses me out lol) and I found you by chance! A fic idea I have is basically bonrin as third years demonstrating exorcism stuff to a first year class. The class thinks they barely tolerate each other because they bicker so much but they've actually been dating for a long time. I appreciate your work so much, keep it up!

I'm so glad you enjoy my stories, and that you've joined the wild world of tumblr, lol!

This was an adorable idea, though I don't think it came out quite as bickery as intended, lol. Still, I hope you enjoy it, and you can find a link for the full story at the bottom. @marble-wolf cowrote it with me <3

-- -- (ง `‸´)ง Q(・ω・Q) -- --

Kaho was not sure why they’d all been dragged out into the warm spring heat when they sort of had air conditioning in the Cram School. It was rickety and noisy as hell, but it did mostly cool down the old and crumbling halls.

But Professor Okumura had dragged them all out to the training field in the heat and had them standing in a semi circle. She had managed to snag a spot next to her best friend, and she couldn’t help but glance at Hiroto with a slightly raised eyebrow as Professor Okumura adjusted his glasses for the fifth time. His brown hair was curling a little around his temple, hanging in his brown eyes and probably annoying him to no end. 

“Uh oh,” she mouthed, covering a smile with her hand. She turned the motion into a hair tuck, annoyed that it had fallen out of her bun. 

Five fiddles with his eyeglasses? It had only been a few weeks and she already knew that meant he was losing his patience and that the vein in his temple was going to start throbbing.

Professor Okumura looked at his watch, and it was obvious that whatever they’d been dragged out here for, it was late.

Hiroto nudged his friend and gave her a completely alarmed look at the impatient display from Professor Okumura. He leaned slightly closer to whisper as their teacher turned in a slow circle, searching for something. 

"Got any idea?" He whispered, tugging his stupid tie that was restrictive and hot .  

"Kirigakure?" She whispered back. The busty teacher had seemed to take special delight in frustrating Professor Okumura. She was pretty sure the woman had even shown up drunk to a class.

Professor Okumura straightened up and looked entirely unimpressed.

"You're late!" He called out, and Kaho let her eyes travel across the field to where he was looking, only to find her breath catching, because oh. Those were exorcist. Students? She was pretty sure she'd seen the taller one around, but he'd been in the class uniform then. 

They were both at least third years, and they were walking confidently across the field.

Well, one of them was walking. The shorter one with messy dark hair and an exorcist coat. (He wasn't wearing regulation pants. He had on ripped black pants with bright red boots.)

The other taller one was stomping. He had brown hair in and undercut, neat and tidy next to the other messy boy, and his uniform seemed to be a Buddhist robe he'd put a kesa over. He had a bazooka strapped to his back.

"Okumura is why we're late," the taller one — Suguro, if Kaho wasn't mistaken —growled to Professor Okumura. "Not that you probably couldn't guess that."

The dark haired boy grinned, almost having to run a step or two to keep up. He had a completely unapologetic grin on his face and a… a tail that wagged like a happy puppy. 

"I read the time wrong, is all." The boy shrugged. "My 'alarm clock' decided to not wake me up. It doesn't kill Four-eyes to wait." 

"That's a tail?" Hiroto whispered to make certain his eyes weren't deceiving him.  

"Your alarm clock my ass! He was sleeping in the cafeteria!"

Definitely a tail, and she didn't know who these two were, but why had they been picked?

"It's a tail alright!"

Professor Okumura exhaled a loud sigh. “You will address me as Professor Okumura when we’re in a class, Rin.” 

Rin laughed and Hiroto had never seen Professor Okumura turn that color of red before. Rin sauntered over, playing with a chain on his belt and stopped in front of the class with Suguro. The kids were staring at them with wide, curious, and completely baffled eyes that made him laugh again. 

"Hi!" He began with a wave. 

He didn't at all seem like a teacher of any kind to Hiroto. The bigger one looked very grumpy and Hiroto definitely didn't want to get on his bad side. 

"Why can't I call you Yukio?" Rin glanced at his companion. "Professor Suguro?"  

“This,” Professor Okumura said loudly, “is Rin Okumura, Upper Second Class Knight, Tamer, and” Professor Okumura grit his jaw, “Doctor.” 

Suguro rolled his eyes. 

“And Bocchan Ryuuji Suguro, Upper Second Class Aria, Dragoon, and Tamer.”

Kaho sucked in a surprised breath. These were those exorcist? The ones who had gone against Satan? The son of Satan?!

Hiroto's eyes widened and he immediately studied the new exorcists with a new interest. The rumors had flown over what had happened and some had been (or at least sounded) vastly exaggerated but the story at its core was the same. 

The son of Satan and a group of Exwires went against Satan and won. 

And these two… they were it? 

Rin tossed an arm over Ryuuji's shoulders, giving him a squeeze and shaking him. "Yup! That's us!"  

Ryuuji shoved Rin off. “We’re here,” he growled, “to help show you guys some on field meister stuff.” He gave Rin a look. “Damn sight more than they gave us, huh?”

Professor Yukio raised an eyebrow. “Your class had… extenuating circumstances.”

Ryuuji snorted. “That’s one way to put it.” 

Kaho snuck another look at Hiroto. 

Rin crossed his arms. "Exting- extan- extenuating circumstances or not, it was stupid." 

Hiroto shrugged at Kaho, baffled by the whole thing. 

Rin offered the students a grin. "I didn't even know what a meister was."  

“I’m not convinced you do now, Okumura.” Ryuuji said as he unswung his bazooka off his back. 

Professor Okumura sighed again. “Just begin the demonstration.”

Kaho, grinning at the way Rin stole a glance at Ryuuji as he hefted the bazooka onto his shoulder (she did not blame him and was lamenting the robes. He’d rock the actual uniform) leaned over to Hiroto. “Oh my god, they are so into each other.” She spoke at a low whisper, trying to ignore the way Okono looked back at her. 

Hiroto glanced her way and looked back to see and… yup. That had to be something like that. Because Rin wasn't being subtle. 

Rin bounced, like legitimately bounced, like an excited kangaroo and landed a little in front of Ryuuji. His tail was lifted high and wagging and his big fangs were bared in the friendliest of smiles. 

"How do I demonstrate?" Rin asked as the students in the front leaned back. 

(Definitely not a teacher as he looked back between Professor Okumura and Ryuuji.) 

His energy was a lot to handle but there was almost a softness in Ryuuji's eyes as he watched Rin pretty much glow in the sunlight. (With the silver of scars on both of their faces and one across Rin's neck that looked like it had been a fatal hit.) 

"I ship it." Hiroto approved, hiding a grin behind his hand. There was a soft giggle from one of the girls behind them.  

“Are you crazy?” Okono asked. “They can’t stand each other.”

“So? Enemies to lovers is a thing. And look at the way he’s staring!”

“You’re imagining it.”

Professor Okumura cleared his throat and everyone automatically straightened. (Including Rin, much to their amusement.) 

Ryuuji motioned towards his bazooka. “Dragoons are a class that fight using heavy weapons. Knights are a class that fight using swords. Tamers work with and summon demons, whether that's via a circle or through a possessed object. Arias use death verse to kill demons, as well as spells to aid. Doctors use plants, medicine and demons to aid."

"And potions! I'm a potion Doctor!" Rin's tail flicked, smacking into Ryuuji with an audible tapping noise as he pointed at himself in a proud way. He eyed Ryuuji again, grinning mischievously. "I was a Knight first though. No Aria for me. This guy is weird and can memorize entire books." 

Not like Ryuuji hadn't tried with Rin. That had failed spectacularly.

"No, that's flirting. Rin likes him." Hiroto pointed out.  

"Says the guy with a tail," Ryuuji huffed. "And you make broths. You can call them potions, but they're broths."

"The demonstration?" Professor Okumura sighed (the third time!) as Ryuuji shoved Rin away. (He was blushing! Was that from Rin? Or was it an anger flush?)

Ryuuji bowed his head a little. "Of course, sensei."

(Now Professor Okumura was the one that looked embarrassed.)

"Okumura, get over here so I can shoot you."

There was something almost playful in the buff dragoon's tone as he pushed some kind of missile looking thing into his bazooka.

"Everyone, put in the ear protection we provided."

"Oh my god," Kaho whispered again. If these two weren't dating, they needed to be.

Rin bounced over to Ryuuji, grabbing the bazooka's muzzle to aim it at himself with a tilt of his head and a teasing grin. Rin lifted aside his exorcist coat to reveal a sword and looked over at Professor Okumura like he was asking for permission. 

The ear protection muffled everything but Hiroto could see Kaho excitedly glancing his way again.  

“Not that close, moron!” Ryuuji huffed and pushed Rin back with the launch. “Get across the field. And remember, it’s not supposed to actually hit you. I’m just showing how the thing goes off and how to aim. Burn it up before it hits you and blows up.”

“You can use your sword for that.” Professor Okumura confirmed.

Rin stumbled back, and almost too fast to follow, he was further down the field and dropping into a playful crouch. Rin's hand dropped to his sword and tugged it free with a long sweep of his arm. 

Hiroto's heart leapt into his throat as blue flames roared to life. Rin's features shifted, his hair bled white and his fangs lengthened. His eyes were glowing and his tail lashed as he called out, "shoot me!" His voice was a deeper snarl that was still playful but just more wild.  

Kaho covered her mouth in shock as Ryuuji visibly rolled his eyes. He checked the rocket one last time, nodded in approval, checked behind him to make sure no one was there, looked back at Rin, scowled, muttered something she couldn’t hear but Rin seemed to because he just snickered, and held up three fingers. He lowered them one at a time, and Kaho’s entire body tensed before the last finger was lowered and the blast went off. 

It was loud. Even through the ear protection. A plume of smoke billowed from the back of the bazooka, and something rocketed out of the front and straight towards Rin. Ryuuji didn’t so much as flinch from the blast. Professor Okumura seemed to be taking the moment to clean his glasses.

Rin swung his sword, the broken sword, and the blade of flames grew longer and it was impossible to actually follow with their eyes as the two weapons made contact and exploded. The flames continued forward, brushing playfully around Ryuuji. They ruffled his hair and batted at his clothes and danced around in a show of blue.  

Ryuuji slid the bazooka off his shoulder and to the ground in a smooth moment as his hands came together. He growled something that made Rin laugh and had the blue flames ruffling Ryuuji’s hair again.

Apparently unimpressed, Ryuuji summoned what looked like a shimmery wall around himself. Kaho tugged her ear protectors off and heard the end of some spell. 

The flames were forced back from him, becoming larger for a moment before the wall shimmered once more and the flames started to shrink and darken.

Some kind of wind spell? That quickly? And these were still students?

She swallowed and gave Hiroto another glance. They had a long way to go. She was also still firmly on her ‘they should be lovers’ train. Rin certainly seemed to feel the same way. (Or at least enjoyed the hell out of annoying Ryuuji.)

Ryuuji was harder to get a read on, but there was something competitive in the smile he was giving Rin. It didn’t look like enemies at least. 

(Maybe it was more rivals to lovers than enemies to lovers.)

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 11: Don't Look Back

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Lucy tries to convince her family to move to someplace safer, but her brother was never one to make things easy for her.

Word Count: 4,602

Notes: I apologize for how long it’s taken me to update Lucy’s series, but I’m back! Warnings for depictions of minor character deaths, religious fanaticism, murder, blood, violence, and references to past sexual assault.

Previous Part • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 1: We All Fall Down

Lucy did not like London.

The city itself was fine. But the memories that the place drudged up left her on edge, nerves shot. And the closer she got to that…place, that narrow little alleyway, the closer she tattered towards an emotional meltdown.

Her mother’s home, the home she’d spent a large share of her teenage and early adult years in, was not all that far from that place.

It was with a heave of will that she pushed down the jitteriness building within her, and braved to walk those familiar roads, winding her way to the family home she’d lived in since they’d moved from Birmingham to London while in her teens. The gray stone looked perhaps the tiniest bit more beaten up than before, but everything else seemed to be utterly unchanging; right down to the street lights and moss growing over the sides of the house.

There weren’t a lot of great memories waiting for her inside.

Stealing her nerves and drawing in a deep breath, she rapped her fist twice against the wooden door. There was the sound of footsteps on the other side, then the clicks of locks being undone, and finally the door swept open.

“Lucy,” Teddy grinned at her, his hair overgrown and messy. He pulled her into a great hug that squeezed her ribs.

“Hey, Teddy,” she smiled, stretching on her toes to ruffle her little brother’s hair.

“Come on in,” he stepped aside to let her inside. The interior of the house smelled like freshly baked biscuits. Very little had changed, since she’d last been there. The decor was all the same, with books and photographs crammed into every tiny space, the red and green rug faded, even the couch and armchairs in the living room were in the exact same placements as the last time she’d visited.

“How’ve you been?” she asked, shedding her coat and hat to hang on a hook.

“Not bad. You?”

“Busy,” she said. Teddy offered her another grin.

“I bet. I’ve got some more stuff for you and Thomas. Remind me before you leave and I’ll get it for you.”

“Great, thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Tommy says thanks too.” 

“Glad to hear that the boss is happy,” he shot her a conspiratorial look. “Mum’s in the kitchen.”

“Hey,” her voice dropped in volume, catching his arm before he could turn to lead her to the kitchen in the back of the house. “Have you made any progress in getting them to move?”

Teddy’s smile fell. “Mum’s open to it, but…”

“Lucy.”

Her heart sank, turning to the stairs, where Elliot was standing with his hands in his pockets, lips pressed in a firm line.

“Hi, Elliot.”

“What are you doing here?”

She shrugged. “We’re in the city on business. Thought I’d come by to say hi.”

“We?” he asked. Lucy swallowed roughly.

“Me and my boss.”

“Hm.”

“Luce, come one. Come say hi to Mum,” Teddy said, tugging on her arm, steering her towards the kitchen and away from Elliot.

The kitchen was warm, pots and pans soaking in water in the sink, a kettle on the stove.

“Hi, Mum.”

Her mother was a short, slender woman, with long, curly dark red hair and green eyes that matched those of all her children. Her hair fell nearly to her waist, flowing loosely. Her eyes were lined with dark makeup, an obscene amount of rings and bracelets adorning her slim hands. 

“Lucy!” she flung her arms around her only daughter in a bone crushing hug, shockingly strong for a woman so small. “Oh, my baby girl. It’s so good to see you. What are you doing in London?”

“Just a quick business thing.”

“You should have said! You and your friends are always welcome to stay here!”

Behind her, she heard Elliot scoff, brushing past her to remove the whistling kettle from the stove.

“Have you been alright?” Lucy asked, shifting from foot to foot, choosing to ignore her brother.

“Oh, yes, yes of course.”

Nodding, Lucy leaned awkwardly against the wall, then wetted her lips. “Listen, Mum, there’s something that I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh, here we fucking go,” Elliot growled out. 

“Elliot, please,” her mother scolded, then turned attentively back to Lucy. “What is it?”

Her foot tapped anxiously against the floor. “There have been some things happening with the company lately, and I think that it would be better…safer for everyone, if maybe you and Teddy and Elliot all came up to Birmingham for a while.”

Her mother’s brows pinched. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Lucy said quickly. “Yes, of course, there’s just…there’s some things that are going to start happening here, and Tommy and I both think that it would be for the best if you got out of the city for a while.”

Her mother wasn’t stupid, nor were her brothers. But she’d never had the heart to fully tell them the truth of what she had been up to all these years in Birmingham. Teddy knew more than the other two, but not everything. Surely, her mother had to have heard the rumors, maybe even seen things in the paper, and she clearly knew that the kind of work Lucy had been doing for Tommy was morally dubious at best. But they’d never talked about it openly.

“You want us to come to Birmingham?” her mother asked, slowly. Lucy nodded.

“Just for a little while.”

“Oh, well, I suppose that would be alright–”

Elliot took a sip of the tea he’d been brewing while she got through her proposal.

“I’m not going to Birmingham,” he said. Lucy’s head snapped around to him.

“It doesn’t have to be Birmingham. You could go on holiday, all three of you. Go to…to America. You’ve always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty, right Mum? I’ll pay for it–” “No,” Elliot set down his teacup and saucer. “I mean, that I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here.”

She felt her temper begin to crackle under her skin. “Elliot, it’s not safe–”

“Why not?”

Her jaw set furiously. “I can’t tell you that.”

“Then I’m not leaving.”

“For fucks sake, Elliot, could you just once do what I goddamn ask you to–”

“Don’t speak to your brother like that, Lucy,” her mother said.

“I’m not going,” Elliot finished off his tea, heading to the backdoor. “And that’s final.”

Lucy watched him go helplessly, hands hanging at her sides. “Okay, well, we can at least get you and Teddy set up at…” she trailed off at the look on her mother’s face. “Mum?”

“Lucy, I can’t leave without Elliot.”

“Mum, please–”

“I’m sorry.”

She glanced over her shoulder at Teddy, who gave her a sad, helpless shrug. A furious, frustrated growl rumbled in her throat.

“Stay here,” the back door slammed shut behind her after she pushed it open and stepped through it, storming towards where Elliot was bending over a little garden they had on the backside of the house. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“I’m not leaving my home without good reason.”

“Oh and is you might get fucking killed not a good enough reason for you?”

“Who might kill us?” he asked. “Why would they kill us?” his eyes narrowed. “Do you even have any answers? Or are you just following the orders of your boss up in Birmingham?”

“I can’t tell you without compromising–”

“You know, I’ve been reading about all of the shit he’s done, the past few years. The shit that you’ve done,” he was suddenly right up in her face. “The Devil. That’s what they call him up there, right? That’s what they’re starting to call him down around here now, too. You might’ve sold your soul to him, but I’m not about to let the rest of us be dragged down with you.”

“You don't know what you’re talking about.”

Elliot leaned back, eyes gleaming cruelly. “I know what you did. What you still do. If there is anyone who this family needs protecting from, it’s you, Lucy,” he licked his lips. “You’re a monster, a demon wearing human skin–”

“Can you please stop it with the melodramatics?”

“Oh? So you're not the one that they call the Red Demon up in Birmingham?” 

She went silent, looking at him in quiet calculation. Elliot scoffed.

“None of this would have happened if you’d just stayed and done what you were told.”

“Excuse me?”

“You should have stayed here and married Matthew.”

Bile rose up in her throat at the very thought. “You would say that, knowing what he did to me?”

“It would have been better than you giving yourself away to the fucking Devil,” the next look Elliot shot her way was one of pure disgust. “I know that you’re fucking him,” at her shocked look, he laughed, humorlessly. “Please. The innocent act only works on Teddy and Mum. Not on me.” 

Crossing her arms around herself, Lucy stared at him with silent dread. He sounded so much like their father, it was as if he was standing right in front of her. The very thought had a chill running up her spine. “I’ll have Tommy place protection outside the house. If you won’t leave.”

“No. We don’t need him.”

“Elliot, I’m trying to keep you all safe you daft fucking idiot!”

“If I even think that I see Peaky Blinders outside this house, I’ll chase them off with Teddy’s revolver myself,” he looked at her hatefully. “You know I’ll do it.”

“You’re going to get you all killed.”

“No, I think that would be more your fault than mine,” he turned back to the garden.

A stab of hatred flooded over her, lips pulled back from her teeth in a snarl. “Fuck you,” she hissed at him, fighting back the desire to strangle him, spinning on her heel, she began to walk towards the back door of the house.

“Dad was right, you know,” Elliot’s voice called to her from across the yard. “You really are nothing but a fucking slut.”

Her steps staggered, the breath punched from her chest for a moment at the words, throat constricting. It took a controlled, deep intake of breath to stave off the tears suddenly building behind her eyes.

She didn’t allow them to fall until she bid Teddy and her mother goodbye, walking down the gray streets all alone. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Tommy was in the washroom when he heard Lucy come in, key unlocking the hotel room before the door opened, then closed behind her. Drawing the razor across his jaw in careful, calculated movements, he finished shaving his face, wiping the remnants of shaving cream off, splashing some water on his face, wiping over his chest, then drying off and pulling his shirt back on.

When he stepped out into the hotel room, Lucy had folded herself onto the windowsill, legs hugged to her chest, fingers pressed to her mouth as she stared out the window at the rapidly darkening city. Night would be upon them soon.

“Luce?”

She coughed. “Teddy collected some more information for us. Thought you might want to have a look,” she held out a bundle of papers that had been cradled in her lap to him. Tommy took the packet, glancing at her curiously as he set it down on his bed.

“Alright.”

She still wasn’t looking at him, instead keeping her head turned to the window. Settling his hands in his pockets, he tilted his head.

“How did the conversation go with your Mum?” he asked, even though by her grim mood, he could already have made a pretty good guess.

“They’re not moving,” she said. Tommy nodded.

“I’ll have men posted outside the house.”

“No. If you do, Elliot will just try to chase them off and probably get somebody shot,” she rubbed her palms together, looking down. Tommy felt his brows furrow, moving closer until he was right beside her.

“Are you okay?” there was something in her voice that he didn’t like.

“Fine.”

He cupped her chin with one hand, tilting her head back until she looked at him. Her eyes were red, clearly she’d been crying.

“Lucy…”

“Really, I’m okay.”

“We’ll figure out how to keep them safe.”

Her face twisted and Tommy cocked his head.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she scrubbed at her face. “Elliot’s just a dick.”

A flare of protectiveness built within his chest. Tommy had never even met Elliot, and yet he still held a not insignificant dislike for the man. It didn’t help that he always seemed to leave Lucy jittery with nerves and sadness, though her crying at something Elliot had said was new.

“What did he say to you?”

Lucy just shook her head stubbornly, jaw tensed in that way that he knew meant he’d have to practically pry her jaws open to get an answer. Sighing, deciding that it wouldn’t be a good time to push her, he just drew her into the circle of his arms, her head thumping against his chest while he rubbed her back.

“It’ll be okay.”

She nodded silently.

“We need to get going soon.”

“Right,” she stood from the windowsill, going to the washroom, blotting at her eyes and redoing her makeup, fluffing her curls. Tommy leaned against the doorframe, watching her with his arms crossed over his chest. Once she was done, she sat down on the end of one of the beds while he pulled his waistcoat and holster back on, the toe of her shoe rubbing against the carpet.

“Do you think that I’m a slut?”

He almost dropped his revolver as he tucked it back into the holster. “What?”

Lucy was looking at him with big eyes, face uncharacteristically vulnerable as she shrugged. Stalking across the room, he came to a stop in front of her, cupping her face in his hands.

“Of course not.”

Her breaths rattled, nodding once, eyes closing as she leaned into his touch. Tommy bent to kiss her lips, rubbing a dark red curl between his fingers.

“Besides, who said that there’s anything wrong with that?”

That got a tiny laugh from her, eyes darting down, to his relief a bit of life returning to her cheeks. Taking both her hands in his, he pulled her to her feet, enjoying the way that she bumped against his chest.

“Come on, let’s go cause some trouble.”   

∗ ∗ ∗

“Lucy, there’s a phone call for you.”

She glanced up from her papers, frowning. “For me? Or for Tommy?”

“For you,” Polly whisked around her. “It’s your brother.”

“Oh.”

“Phone in the back.”

“Thanks,” she put down her pen and stood, squeezing around the other men in the betting shop to get to the phone in the backroom. Picking it up, she held it to her ear. “What’s going on, Teddy?”

“It’s Elliot.”

She started. Never before had Elliot called her. Never. It was always only Teddy or her mother.

“Where’s Teddy?”

She listened as the voice spoke on the other end, a numbness seizing her bones, leaving her cold. She might have mumbled out something that could have been considered some form of instructions, or she might have just hung up the phone without an answer; she wasn’t sure, staggering back to the kitchen and slumping down into a chair.

“Oh, good lord,” Polly looked up from the kettle of tea she was making. “What’s wrong with you?”

The floorboards creaked, Tommy stepping in from the front sitting room and into the kitchen, swiping a cigarette across his lips.

“My brother just died,” Lucy said numbly, and Polly froze.

“What?” Tommy said, moving to squat down in front of her. Lucy fumbled to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah, he, um, Elliot just called me. I guess he was following someone, and the man noticed, confronted him about it…things got out of hand, someone pulled a gun…”

Tommy’s hand moved to rest on her knee, pressing circles in through the material of her slacks. “I’m so, so sorry, love.”

Polly went to close the double doors to the main part of the shop. Tommy rose to remove the kettle as it started to shriek.

“Which one is Teddy?” Polly asked Tommy in a hushed whisper as she moved to help him with the tea. “Is he the one she likes, or the one she doesn’t get along with?”

“The one she likes,” Tommy said, plucking the teacup from Polly and bringing it over to sit in front of Lucy. She stared down at her hands, the tiniest of tremors having found its way into her fingertips.

“I have to go back to London,” she said. Tommy nodded.

“Of course.”

“I should–I should see about moving Mum and Elliot closer…”

“One thing at a time, love. I’ll come with you.”

“Tommy, we need you here–” Polly began to bristle.

“You can manage a few days without me. Besides, we need to look into this man Teddy had a conflict with,” he took Lucy’s hands pulling her from her seat. “Come, let’s get you some fresh air.”

“Tommy–!”

“Not right now, Polly,” he said sternly, guiding Lucy with a firm arm around her to the door.

They stepped out onto the gray street, Tommy ushering her away from the betting shop, around a corner, and then into a secluded alley. And there, without the pressures of needing to appear stoic and strong in front of Polly or the public, she let her head fall forward onto Tommy’s chest, and began to weep.

∗ ∗ ∗

“I need to go see my Mum,” Lucy said, looking out over the expanse of the river from where they were standing on the road. Tommy cocked his head, hand reaching out to brush against hers.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I think it better if I go alone,” she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, wrapping her arms around herself and offering him a weak smile.

“I’ll go see what I can find about the man who killed him.”

“Divide and conquer, then? Meet back at the hotel around noon?”

“Alright,” he stooped to press a quick kiss to her lips. “Be careful.”

“You too.”

She started to walk down the road. When she looked over her shoulder, it was to find him still staring after her, hands shoved into his pockets and frowning. But upon her giving him a little smile and wave, his lips tilted upwards. She could feel his eyes on her until she rounded the corner. As she moved further and further away from Tommy, her smile fell, head hanging as she sniffed.

The house seemed to loom over her more than normal; its shadow dark and cold as it cast over her. Lucy gulped as she pulled the spare key Teddy had given her from her pocket, and opened the door. The hinges screamed.

“Mum?” she called out as she closed the door behind her. “Elliot?” Baskets full of flowers and baked bread were stacked neatly in the living room, the odor from the flowers sickly sweet and pungent. There was the sound of footsteps clattering down the stairs, and then a figure was flying at her, arms outstretched towards her throat.

“You! This is your fault! This is all your fault! You disgusting whore!” Elliot was screaming as he threw himself at her. Lucy’s back collided with the door, hands barely managing to catch at his wrists before they would have wrapped around her throat.

“Elliot!”

“He’s dead, he’s dead because of you!”

She lifted her knee to crash into his stomach, and he doubled over coughing, then choked as her next punch struck him directly in the throat, leaving him to collapse to the floor. Stepping over him, she rested a foot on his chest, pushing him down roughly into the hardwood. 

“Don’t ever come at me like that again.” 

Elliot looked up at her with hateful eyes, but made no other move to attack her. With a deep breath, she removed her foot to allow him to sit up.

“Where’s Mum?”

Elliot didn’t say anything, instead just rubbing his throat. Rolling her eyes, Lucy stepped past him and headed into the kitchen.

Her mother was seated in her rocking chair in the corner of the little breakfast nook, staring out the window. Her red hair was tangled, clothes wrinkled and rumpled. The rocking chair creaked back and forth, back and forth.

“Mum,” Lucy said, quietly, taking a cautious step forward. When she didn’t respond, Lucy knelt down in front of her, grasping her hands. “Mum?”

“Oh, Lucy,” her mother said, as if waking from a daze. “Lucy, you’re here.”

“Yeah, I am,” she stroked some of her mother’s hair away from her face. “Are you okay?”

Her mother’s bottom lip started to tremble. “They don’t know–the police don’t know–”

“I know. It’ll be okay,” she said, raising to hug her mother.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come home.”

They parted. “Have you eaten?”

“O-oh, no.”

“How about some of the bread and jam your neighbors have sent you?”

“Alright, I suppose so.”

She went back into the living room, snatching a loaf and a container of dark purple jam from one of the baskets. Elliot had pulled himself to his feet, and he followed her back into the kitchen. Lucy scraped a knife over the slices of bread, smearing the jam before passing a slice to her mother.

“Mum,” she crouched down in front of her again. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this right now, but after the funeral, I thought maybe you could come stay with me in Birmingham for a while. You and Elliot. Or maybe you could go out into the countryside. Join up with the caravan with your kin.”

“I said no, Lucy,” Elliot growled. But her mother looked tempted.

“Wait, Elliot, maybe…maybe Lucy’s right.”

“No.”

“But-”

“I am the man of this house. What I say goes. And it certainly isn’t going to be superseded by a disgusting slut.”

“Elliot that is enough! You do not speak to your sister like that!”

“I don’t want her at the funeral,” he growled. “It’s her fault Teddy’s dead! She has no right to go!”

“That is not–”

“No, he’s right,” Lucy said, voice quiet. “I shouldn’t go.”

“Oh, my Lucy, no. Please, come,” her mother reached for her hand, choking on tears. “Teddy would have wanted you to come.”

“That’s sweet of you to think, Mama,” she said as gently as she could. “But I don’t want to cause any problems,” she shot a glance at Elliot. If she went to the funeral, there was almost bound to be a fight between them; be it during or after. That was the last thing that her mother needed right now.

“I’m sure that it has nothing to do with you being unable to step foot inside a church, does it?” Elliot sneered. Lucy rolled her eyes.

“I’m not a fucking vampire, Elliot, I can walk in a church just fine,” thought honestly, she didn’t particularly enjoy it. Churches made her uncomfortable. Reaching out, she combed her fingers through her mother’s hair. “Think about what I said about leaving, okay?”

Her mother nodded wordlessly, and she stooped to kiss her cheek. She caught at Lucy’s hand, holding onto her with a grip like iron. “Lucy, don’t go.”

“I have to, right now, okay? But I’ll be back. I’ll come see you after the funeral,” it took a long moment before her mother loosened her grip on her and nodded. Straightening, Lucy left the kitchen, heading back to the front door.

“We’re not leaving,” Elliot insisted, following her. 

“We’ll see.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have things to do.” 

“Things with the Devil?”

“Things like tracking down Teddy’s killer. I’ll see you later,” she closed the door before he could say anymore.

∗ ∗ ∗

“You’re really not going to go to the funeral?” Tommy asked, lighting her cigarette for her as they stood at the edge of the park, the shadows of the tree above them almost completely hiding them from view. Lucy shook her head.

“No, I don’t think so. Elliot doesn’t want me to. It would just cause unnecessary problems,” she took a puff of her cigarette. “I’ll pay my respects later,” there were times where the grief that she had attempted to shove down, at least until these issues with Teddy’s killer and her mother and brother were resolved, started crawling up her throat and she had to swallow it back down, voice choking around it. 

Tommy put a hand on her hip, letting her lean backwards until his chest met her back, arms going around her. Lucy closed her eyes. They were alone in the park, it well past midnight. The whole area was secluded and not often traveled. There would be no risks of interruptions.

A car drove up to stop at the edge of the park, and two of their men stepped out, the silhouettes of their caps clear in the dim light of the streetlamp. Tommy coughed, letting her go as the men went around to the trunk, popping it open and pulling out a figure, bound and gagged, and beginning to drag him along the grass to them. He groaned as they tossed him at their feet.

“Thank you, boys,” Tommy pulled from his coat pocket a wad of bills that he split in half, handing each to the men. They nodded in silent respect, went back to get into their car, and drove off. Lucy squatted down in front of the man, her head tilting. It hadn’t been all too hard to find him. There were plenty of witnesses to the altercation between him and Teddy. After that, it was just asking around, learning which pubs he liked to frequent, then sending some of their boys to pick him up.

“Hello, Mr. Larry Baxter,” Tommy said in that deep purr of his. “Do you know who we are?”

Baxter shivered in his bonds, eyes darting from one to the other, then nodded.

“Good. Do you know why you are here?”

Baxter hesitated only a moment, then nodded.

“Good,” Tommy reached into his coat, pulling his revolver from its holster. “Would you like to do the honors, or shall I?” he asked her.

“I want to do it,” Lucy said, staring down at Baxter in silent, shivering rage. Tommy held out the grip of the gun to her. Taking it with one hand, she plucked from her lips her cigarette, giving it to him. Tommy brought it to his lips casually, watching lazily as she approached Baxter. Raising the gun to aim at one of his eyes, she cocked it.

Her brother had been shot in the face. The funeral would be a closed casket one, considering the extent of the damage.

An eye for an eye.

She pulled the trigger, and blew a bullet directly through his eye, into his skull. Blood and brains splattered onto the green grass.

Green and red. Like the faded rug in her mother’s living room.

Tommy took the gun from her, sliding it back under his coat. His hand touched her hair, massaging the base of her skull.

They weighed Baxter down with stones and tossed him into the river. And as they walked home Lucy let her head rest against Tommy’s shoulder, the scent of blood still lodged deeply in her nose, the taste of the salty tears rolling down her cheeks on her lips.

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[littlemisspessimist]

Just wanted to say I’ve been following life on mars for 2 years now and I gasped in excitement when I got the update notification it’s one of my favorite works :) glad to hear you’re doing better!

As for promts- Steddie hugs from behind perhaps? 🤔

thank you so much! I'm so shocked that people have continued to read my fic even though I've been so incredibly inconsistent these past 2 years. But everyone has been so patient, and I promise I read every single comment left on my fics--even when I haven't updated in almost a year. Thank you so much for continuing to suffer with me torturing these characters lol

.......................................................

Prompt: Hugs from behind. This one got away from me so quickly lol

Sure, Eddie had always been touchy. He’d always been in your face, in your space, and in the way.

With his childhood friends, he was the one reaching to hold their hand on the playground. He was the one who gave the goodbye hugs, the noogies, and cheek-squeezing, bone crushing embraces that left them out of breath but full of love. As time passed, as the world around him grew less accepting of his black shirts and music taste, suddenly being touched by him was met with a flinch or a shove.

A push against the lockers in freshmen year.

A gut punch behind the bleachers in junior year.

Because what other way was there to touch the town queer. The town freak.

But the few friends he was able to find—the few who stuck around through each insult thrown their way for even standing next to him—they were lucky to get his affection. To feel him press against their side, a cheeky smile on his face.

When Spring Break of ’86 changed everything, no one was allowed to touch him.

“Don’t risk infection,” and “Don’t open your stitches,” was crammed into his brain as doctors and nurses forced distance between him and the Party as they huddled around him, cataloging every breath he took and making sure no exhale was his last. Dustin would stand on his right, hands clenched and his lip stiff as he kept his body from crumbling into Eddie’s side. That first day in the hospital, after Eddie was fully awake and allowed visitors, he reached for Dustin, uncurling his fingers and letting them grasp his.

Because he couldn’t imagine the last time this kid—this brother—ever touched him was holding his dead body.

The others came as well, each one giving his hand a firm, steady embrace. Hopper even gave his shoulder a gentle pat, the kindest touch ever exchanged between the two.

The most surprising visitor was Steve Harrington. Steve usually stood in the back of the Party, letting the kids provide updates and gush at Eddie, giving them all the space they needed with their metal-head idol. In the background, Steve watched, almost standing guard among the group, looking over everyone’s shoulders and holding his breath when anyone got too close. He was the police of “take a step back, you little shits,” and they all groaned under his command. But they still followed.

Only when he was there by himself did he sit next to Eddie, his voice forced casual and his eyes darting. “You doing okay?” he asked.

“I mean, I’ve been better,” Eddie responded, and Steve gave a quick breathy laugh before gasping, leaning forward as his hands shoved into his hair and his elbows rested on his knees. Eddie watched, his mouth gaping as Steve’s hands fisted his hair, his eyes shut and his back curling into himself.

“Y-you were dead. You were dead and I carried you out of there,” Steve panted, his shoulders hunching as the pace of his breath was increasing speed, catching roughly in his throat. And Eddie could only lay there, his body frozen as the figure of strength throughout the past week fell apart. This pillar of protection, watching over the group, always standing in the front lines. So he did the only thing he could think of that moment, doctors be fucking damned. He grasped Steve’s arm and dragged him forward, and Steve sunk into him, his face pressed against Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie pulled his arm around his neck, letting Steve nearly lay on top of him as hushed words spilled from his lips.

“I’m still here, Stevie—we’re all safe,” Eddie mumbled, awkwardly patting Steve’s head before running his fingers through Steve’s hair. Steve huffed into his shoulder, pressing his forehead into the floral hospital gown and struggling to take deep breaths. Eddie let his eyes close for a moment, his attempts at deep breathing impeded by the pain in his sides. Eddie let out a mild grunt and said, “Jesus, calm down Steve—I’m the one who got eaten here,” and Steve gave a muffled groan in between aborted laughter. Eddie’s eyes widened.

“Wait wait wait wait— fuck you got eaten too shit,” Eddie pulled Steve back so he could see his face, scanning his face for marks and bruises but finding only red rimmed eyes and scrunched brows. He pulled at Steve’s shirt, seeing if he could bring it up to examine any wounds, but Steve shoved it down, his face reddening as he winced at the movement.

“Shit, Eddie,” he grumbled, trying to push Eddie back, but he retaliated, grasping the collar of Steve’s shirt and steadying them both. When he took a breath, Eddie’s eyes darted around Steve, but Steve kept his gaze firm on the man in front of him, his own hand coming up to grasp the crook of his neck and holding on. Like he was confirming that this was real. That they were both still here and still breathing. Still two beating hearts.

Eddie noted the familiarity of the position. Of how the last time he was this close to Steve, he was holding a broken bottle to his neck, his life chaos. Eddie brought his eyes back to Steve’s and they shared a simple inhale and exhale together, their hands still grasping each other. Steve held Eddie’s gaze and a small smile twitched at the corners of his lips. Eddie smiled back.

“We made it,” he said.

…………………………………………………

“What did you make?” Steve asked through a yawn years later. He stumbled, still sleepy, toward the mop of curly hair in front of him on that rare morning where he was allowed to sleep in. Eddie furrowed his brow at the coffee maker in front of him, second guessing his ratio of ground coffee to water as he tapped on the countertop to an unfamiliar beat.

“How much of this instant shit should I put in?” Eddie asked in response, holding the can up in the air for Steve to reference without turning around. He tried reading the directions on the can, but the text was too tiny and despite Steve’s suggestion, he refused to entertain the idea that he just maybe might need to get some reading glasses. Eddie grumbled to himself, squinting at the directions when a pair of arms wrapped around his middle and a body pressed against his back. Steve closed his eyes, taking a breath of Eddie’s sticky, morning-sweat scent as he pressed is face into Eddie’s neck. Eddie leaned back into the embrace, lacing his fingers into Steve’s as he rubbed against old matching scars and kissed behind Eddie’s ear. Eddie took a slow breath, bumping his head into Steve’s as they rocked together in their kitchen, listening to the blood in their veins pumping. And Eddie turned around, his own arms settling on Steve’s shoulders, their faces inches from each other and their breath settling into a familiar inhale and exhale.

“Stevie, you’re so touchy,” he said with a smile.

[rocknrollsalad]

ISO Beta reader (Steddie)

BASIC INFO:

I have two fics. One basically finished but it’s over 200k. The other is a WIP.  They’re both sort of general audiences type things. No smut, no violence. Slow burn if you squint and very slow burn. Focused on the relationship

I am a very old person but a newish fic writer. The obsession hit hard here and I don’t know how I’m cranking out all these words but I’d just really like them to be the best they can be. 

SUMMARY: 

The untitled epic - Neither Steve nor Eddie are doing all that great after everything with the upside down and, yaknow, being eaten by demobats. They find each other and sort of jump head first into this whole thing. There’s road trips and slumber parties, rock shows and drive in movies. It’s sort of cute and it’s a lot messy. 

I Search For the Beat in This Dirty Town - kind-of-teacher!steve works at a school and is learning to live his best life. His friends live all over the place and he’s kind of alone, feeling like he’s treading water and not really an adult.  There’s a lot I have planned for this but it’s actively being published so I don’t want to lay it all out there (that feels silly to type but still)

PAIRINGS

In case you have some notps; 

Steddie, vickie x robin, jargyle, jancy, (whatever jonathan, nancy, and argyle is called), jopper, byler, lumax.  past buckingham, ronance, and jason carver x chrissy 

WHAT I'M HOPING FOR:

With the one fic being so huge and my brain still wanting to cram ideas into it, I’d like a big of help with the whole plot and story. There’s definitely grammar checks needed because me and grammarly only catch so much. and maybe a few questions about the whole big fic process. The occasional “help me pick between two totally reasonable options on something that has no impact” 

WHAT I CAN OFFER: 

I’m a great hype squad and will also help you out with your fics if you’d like. I’m shit at grammar though.

 Also I can send you memes and laughs. 

Please comment or send a message (i never know what to do with likes) but mostly, have a great day/night and thanks for reading 🥰